Beacons Way, Day 9

One last trig point.

Definitely overdid the booze last night - I have 20 miles to do today, and my train leaves Newport at 8pm, so I was rather hoping to set off before 9, particularly as for the first time in a week there is a chance of a pub lunch.  Instead I set off after 10, muscles protesting at being asked to work after being extensively poisoned...

Archaic signage by the canal.

My route down towards Newport turns out to be a pretty good addition to the Beacons Way, the National Park extends a fair distance towards the coast and I start by climbing up along another pleasant wooded gorge, and then tramp across Blorenge, then along a last outlying ridge of the beacons, with views back to Skirrid Fawr and Table Mountain behind, and Newport in front.  As the ridge peters out I descend down towards Pontypool, my planned lunch stop... still feeling rather rough I decide against the pub, also it is half past three and I still have some way to go.  In any case most of the pubs seem to shut, as indeed are most of the shops, Pontypool has seen better days it seems.  I manage to find some lunch in a rather odd supermarket whose stock consists almost entirely of frozen food and multipacks of soft drinks.

Newport!

After a little struggle finding the cycle route that is my way out of town - it turns out to run up on stilts above a main road - I find myself still some nine miles away from Newport at 4.30.  Time to get moving - fortunately from here the whole remaining distance is along the Brecon and Monmouth Canal, so nothing but flat or gentle downhill terrain.  It makes a nice change after the preceding days of mountains and gorges... also the rain is holding off, and in the event I make an excellent pace, reaching Newport by 7.15.  Time for a quick beer before getting the train back to London, where I then have to get the tube across town and bike home - riding at 30mph through the darkened streets seems terrifyingly fast.  And, appropriately enough, it is chucking it down with rain.

Photos to go with this post can be found here.

Beacons Way, Day 8

Time for a wander about the priory before heading out.

If yesterday's weather was appalling, today's should be nice apparently.  Looks pretty similar to me, high clouds with a few tiny patches of blue sky.  At least it was a dry night, and with my tent no longer carrying a mass of water my pack feels much lighter as I climb away from the priory.  I'm into the last few miles of the Way now, though not of my route of course.  There is time for a couple of hills, the climb up Skirrid Fawr being the last.  It makes a good lunch stop, the sun has come out, my boots are dry for the first time in days, and in the distance I can see the sea.

Skirrid Fawr summit.

The Beacons Way itself seems to end - or start, given I've done it back to front - on the edge of a golf course on the outskirts of Abergavenny.  Odd.  But anyway, I proceed into the town, and then out the other side, then as has become customary on the last few miles of the day, I have a bit of fun clambering over barbed wire.  This time the problem is with my route which turns out to include the drive of a very secure looking mansion, requiring me to divert around it through the fields.


Still, I make it to the Lion Hotel before 7, time for a few beers and a meal before heading off to the campsite.  It's a mile away, but along the route so that  is OK.  On arrival I meet some friendly Welsh ladies who insist I help them to finish a jug of cocktail they've made with, I believe, peach schnapps and vodka among other things.  Well, it would be churlish to refuse...

End of the Beacons Way, more or less.

Photos to go with this post can be found here.

Beacons Way, Day 7

A slight breeze on Crug Mawr summit.

I greet the day filled with trepidation, the horrors of yesterday compounded by the memory of the pub landlord last night describing the weather forecast as 'appalling'.  It certainly rained all night, and is still drizzling as I drag myself from my tent, and proceed to fanny around, even having a shower... it is past 11 before I head onwards.

Trail magic!

At least, only 18 miles today.  And, as the day wears on, the weather starts to improve, the cloud ceiling lifts up, and the rain reaches the point that a Brummie, or I suppose a Welshman, would not call it rain at all.  Tramping over the peaks and ridges I recall why I wanted to do this, to seek out the high places, with the sky within touching distance and the land spread out around me.  It is good.

As I head down from the hills I again get lost, I swear the sign was pointing the wrong way... well, only a little fence jumping, and a few hundred yards of extreme climb up a bracken covered slope gets me back on track.  The evening finds me at Llanthony Priory, the still impressive ruins including a pub built into the remaining lower floor.  Felinfoel Double Dragon, all good.

Beer in the crypt.

Photos to go with this post can be found here.

Beacons Way, Day 6

It's a struggle to leave the tent as I hear the depressing sound of rain pattering on the flysheet, and only the knowledge that I have at least 20 miles to go drives me forth.  Before long I regret the decision to climb down to the pub last night, the ascent is brutal, and the conditions horrible.  The weather is like a living thing, a malign entity determined to drive me off the mountain, presumably so it can continue to consume it with infinite patience...

I consider turning back, but I reckon it is almost as easy to head up and over, and besides, can't let the thing beat me.  At some point I reach the summit of Pen Y Fan, highest point of the walk, and indeed Southern Britain, but I scarcely notice, locked in my personal battle with the elements.  Oddly, there is a tent at the summit - belonging, I think, to the army cadets who are the only others mad enough to be up here.

Cwmdu Campsite - first place I dared to take the camera out of its waterproof bag.

Descending from the mountain I get some relief as the Way follows an old railway line gently downhill for a few miles, but then it climbs steeply again, and I realise I've been walking for some 5 hours and need food.  It is still hammering down however, if I stop in this hypothermia beckons... I decide to pitch the tent, and indeed cook up some of the hiker staple, macaroni.  After an hour and a half I emerge, not exactly dry but ready to continue.

As it happens the rest of the day is easy enough, though I do briefly get lost, nonetheless I find my way to Cwmdu - pronounced Kmmdi - campsite.  It has that most wonderful of things, a tumbledrier... so after a brief sojourn at the Farmers' Arms I return to wash my socks, pants and shirt, the water turning a deep, rich chocolate as I plunge them in.  And then, dry clothes and a dry sleeping bag!  I think about sticking my boots in too, probably a bad idea...

Photos to go with this post can be found here.

Beacons Way, Day 5

I can see where I'm going!

So, after the trials of yesterday I'm feeling rather less than optimistic about the planned 20 mile walk.  In fact, I'm seriously intending to forgo my plan to walk an extra four miles to get to a pub, and instead camp up on the hill.  I set myself a target of 6pm to reach the point where I need to divert to the pub... if I don't make it I'm wild camping again.

As the morning wears on though, the weather is actually not so bad - it isn't raining and the clouds are high enough that once I've slogged up the hill I do get a view.  And a pretty impressive view too, on all sides the hills crowd around me, while in between little villages nestle in the valleys - it is nice to be able to see some sign of humanity, after yesterday when I seemed to be marooned in a bleak wasteland with little evidence of human impact.

It's almost... nice.

The day wears on and I walk into the heart of the national park, paths becoming more heavily trodden, although still the Beacons Way seems to be more a line on a map rather than a well used route. For a wonder, the weather improves and I get actual sunshine, and even when I climb above the cloud line it is an ethereal, glowing place rather than a damp, windy hell.  Spurred on, I reach my point of decision by 5.30, and as it is up a mountain, in a cloud, the pub seems a good plan.

I do worry that I lose a lot of height getting to the Tai'r Bull Inn, it is worth it however as the pasta is tasty and they have a nice pint of Dorothy Goodbody's.  In a moment of weakness I ask if there is room at the inn, but it's full, so, off back up the hill I go.

Some blue sky, and a view!

Photos to go with this post can be found here.

Beacons Way, Day 4

Camping au naturel.

An interesting wake up, on a hill in the middle of nowhere.  The less said about the sanitary arrangements the better... Anyway, off into the hills.  I head straight up, and before long I am unsurprisingly, in a cloud.  The Way goes up and down, I guess I am now in the Beacons, there certainly seem to be a lot of them.  The route seems to be designed to visit as many as possible, often I'll climb to one pile of stones and then turn off at 90 degrees towards another.

It's just a shame the weather is so grim, the rain is constant, with a relentless driving wind that seems to always be against me.  And of course while the views should be amazing - I spend most of the day along ridges or cliff edges - I see none of them.  At least my pace is good, there being little reason to stop, and this evening goes to plan with an open campsite, and a pub, the Gwyn Arms where I eat until my stomach hurts.

What on earth am I doing up here?

The Gwyn Arms.

At the campsite I have a small problem though - not only are all my clothes wet, but the rain has also got to my sleeping bag.  Even with the whole sodden mass wrapped around me it is very cold, and I'm reduced to lighting my stove to warm the tent up.  I manage not to set fire to it at least...








Photos to go with this post can be found here.

Beacons Way, Day 3

Oh little town... in South Wales?

Didn't sleep too well, think I should have brought the zero degree bag, even if the forecast was for a minimum temperature of 12.  That does include the night yeah?  Never mind, I still seem able to walk, back through Llangadog and along the valley, until at midday I find myself in Bethlehem.  It's in South Wales, who knew?  It's also the start of the Beacons Way, time to get up on the hills.

Finally on the Way!

Getting onto a marked path is a big improvement, while I don't meet any hikers the path at least looks used, and the signposts help, though after walking nearly a mile the wrong way I learn not to rely on them.  I eat my lunch among the impressive ruins of an iron age hill fort, entirely alone except for a number of presumably wild horses... Later on the route spirals around the magnificent 13th century Carreg Cennen castle, before heading back up yet more hill.

Come 7pm or so I have a choice, the Way continues West, but 3 miles South is a pub... OK it's a no brainer... actually the trip is well worth it, I tramp along the hill top and then down into a wooded gorge, there is a proper paved footpath and the surroundings are, well, gorgeous.  Beer and steak at the Tregib Arms is good too.  Of course I do now have to walk back up the gorge in the dark to find a place to camp on the hill.  Good thing I have my head torch...

Carreg Cennen.

Photos to go with this post can be found here.

Beacons Way, Day 2

There's a footpath here somewhere, allegedly.

Up bright and early, and at least I get a cooked breakfast at the Stag and Pheasant, before heading out into the morning drizzle.  My route is through cultivated land this morning, fine when it's logging roads, not so good through farmland.  Still little evidence these paths are used, except by cows who have churned the ground into a treacherous morass with the occasional solid hummock standing out among the hoofprints.  I find a new use for my poles, testing the firmness of the ground ahead.

Still I'm making good time, and before midday I'm in Llandeilo, a pleasant little town perched above the river Towy.  Also my last chance to shop for six days, so I stock up on cheese, biscuits and chocolate.  Better yet there are pubs, time for a pint of Cwrw - yes, a beer called 'beer' - in the White Horse.  Pity I wasn't here on Friday for the beer festival...

Approaching Llandeilo.

The afternoon doesn't go quite so well, the rain is still coming down, and for some time my route is through fields of long grass sodden with water.  The poles are useless, before long the waterproofing on my boots gives up, and I'm quite wet by the time I reach the campsite.

The Red Lion, Llangadog.

At least it is open... in fact this evening goes to plan, I get some beer and a proper three course dinner at the Red Lion.  Just a shame it is a mile and a half from the campsite, there is a nearer pub but it is shut and indeed for sale.  A fine opportunity I'm sure, given the prime location in Llangadog's surprisingly large industrial zone, opposite the silage depot, next to the scrapyard, and just across the tracks from the dog food factory...

Photos to go with this post can be found here.

Beacons Way, Day 1

The Grand Hotel, Swansea.

A rather more serious adventure this week.  Taking advantage of the two bank holidays, I've come to Wales to spend the week hiking the Brecon Beacons.  The Beacons Way itself is a 100 mile route through the national park, I've added a bit extra so I start in Swansea and finish in Newport, plus a detour or two to pubs, for a total of 170 miles or so.  Hopefully I can manage it in 9 days...

Last night went well enough, though the train out of London was horribly crowded.  I got to the Grand Hotel in time to catch the last hour of a live band - seems there was a wedding reception.  Lots of drunken grannies are dancing with surprising energy... and why not.

A well-used footpath... not.

Morning arrives, and after a fine Welsh breakfast (lava bread!) I head out, first hike with full pack this year.  And for the first time ever, I have poles, which seem pretty useful, especially on the hills.  But to begin with the way is flat as I follow the river out of town, and keep by it for some miles.  It is rather scenic, particularly when I reach the Clydach Gorge.  It's time to climb now, steeply out of the gorge, and I'm on moorland, following roads Northeast.  Probably a fair bit more of this to come, with more gradient and fewer roads...
Some time after lunch I reach Ammanford, and grab a brief pint, mustn't tarry though as I have a few miles left, mostly off road.  This turns out to be bad, these paths show no sign of use, a lot of tramping through heavy growth and climbing fences follows.  And when I finally reach the Stag and Pheasant in Carmel, it is of course shut.  At least the B&B is open, but there's no food now... I, however, am prepared.  Bring on the sausage casserole!

Full of calorific goodness.

Photos to go with this post can be found here.