Generosity

In the morning, Eileen and I unpick the stitches we've used to turn our duvets into half-sleeping bags. We consolidate the groceries and retract our belongings from various nooks of the rental van, returning to our backpacker forms. The camp host eagerly accepts our lightly used duvets, pillows, and foam pads — he says he can lend them to campers who get too cold.

"Sometimes," he says, "Someone will show up and say, I've been a bit of a dunderhead and forgotten to bring my tent. So I get to say, that's all right, you can use mine."

The young man at the Enterprise center where we turn the van in gives us a lift to Haverfordwest when I can't get my phone to load the bus stop location. "I'm ready whenever you are," he offers, keys in hand, after we finish the van return paperwork.

These are just a couple of the casual displays of astonishing generosity we've experienced while traveling in Wales.

Back in Snowdonia, after several very hilly days, we stopped into a mountain equipment store to look at trekking poles Eileen might use to aid her knee. We perused but ultimately don't buy the fancy Black Diamond trekking pole pairs — she only wanted one pole, and she already has two sets at home.

"I can make your day," the man behind the counter smiled before walking out to the back of the shop.

He re-emerged with a single telescoping trekking pole. "There was a woman who bought a pair. She didn't want this one anymore. I think it's meant to be yours." He handed it to…