The Brecon Beacons has broken me. Well not so much broken as nudged me into a tactical retreat and reassessment of what to do tomorrow. But more of that later.
The day starts with some mild amusement on the way down for an early breakfast. Very childish I know, but being in a Schindler’s Lift always makes me grin. I guess you have to be of a certain age.
Moving swiftly on…
I am up early as I intend to get some walking in today, but want to swing by Trellech first to visit the various places mentioned yesterday. I’m not exactly sure where they all are, but they look reasonably close together, so shouldn’t take too long … although crossing roads in Trellech proves to be quite a challenge. Hard to understand how you design a village with so many blind spots on roads that need crossing. I don’t suppose cars were much of a concern when the village was built.
First stop the Trellech Tump. Obviously I had to visit this, if only because of the ridiculous name. Turns out to be a small hill or, more specifically, the motte of a motte and bailey castle built in early Norman times. Cool. Seems like Trellech was very much the place to be for a period of time.
I will not attempt to find the Lost City though. It sounds from the website as though it is purely an archaeological site and only occasionally have open events.
So on to Harold’s Stones. There is no signpost for this but there is a footpath heading in the direction which I think it is. I soon regret not putting my boots on as the early morning dew and long grass is taking its toll. Oh well, no point worrying now. The stones soon come into view. They are fine examples of standing stones. The story about them being there to commemorate King Harold slaying a British Chieftain is clearly apocryphal as they are much older… but could have been renamed at this point I guess. It’s interesting that in some of these historical stories, when the British or Britons are referred to, these generally refers to the Welsh and others who were here before the Saxons. Harold, of course, was the last Saxon King before the Norman conquest. What with this story and the Tump, there was clearly some activity around here in the mid-late 11th century.
The well turns out to be harder to find. Largely because I went tramping across a field following some local info in the car park, only to find a closed and overgrown footpath. I decide to try and approach it from a side road and this turns out to be much more sensible.
The well has evidence of offerings and so is presumably still a site of pilgrimage for people seeking healing. The well is associated with St. Ann … not to be confused with St. Ann's Well in Nottingham. I’d always wondered where that was supposed to be.
History dealt with, I head off to do battle with some geography.
Now I always make the same mistake of thinking that, because I walk a good deal, the odd hill walk will not be a problem. At some level I know that this is a very different beast from walking long distances on relatively level land. I should work up to it with some minor climbs, but do I? Of course not. I have limited time and so obviously have to go straight for the highest peak in the Brecon Beacons - Pen Y Fan. As if that wasn’t enough, I had planned to do a circular route that would also take in Corn Du. Idiot.
The initial climb is quite steep and I’m thinking that my monitoring ring might actually register some strenuous exercise for once. Silver linings etc. Talking of silver linings, once I get up onto the ridge, I am completely surrounded by cloud and mist, which is quite spooky. When the wind stopped it was preternaturally silent and its like floating in some sort of liminal space! Except every now and then when some bird of prey would swoop down out of the mist. I reckon it must have sussed that I might be easy pickings at some point…
As I continue climbing, it seems that the sun is trying to break through. I then realise that it is me who is about to break through the clouds and things take a turn for the spectacular.
After a number of false summits and things gradually coalescing out of the clouds, I finally see the last section of the climb to the summit of Pen y Fan.
I pause to survey the scene. I reckon I could get up there, but doubt my ability to get back down with out inflicting damage on myself. Of course the route I had planned on taking was up here, down the other side and then back up Corn Du (that’s the one just behind poking out of the clouds).
At this point my corn du attitude deserts me and, in contravention of my own rules, I opt to head back down the way I have come, rather than take the circular route. The unearthly silence and the spectacular view from above the clouds is enough for me. I have no need to stand triumphantly on the summit with the particularly loud group of yoofs who are hovering there. Time to descend. As I say, undefeated, just a temporary tactical retreat. Or so I tell myself.
This turned out to be the right call as my knee takes a battering on the way down and by the time I get back to the car park, my legs are approaching jelly mode. Definitely need to work up to this sort of thing.
This gives me a dilemma for what I will do tomorrow. I had been considering another walk on a section of the Offa’s Dyke trail, mainly because I learned that I could do this and get up to Hergest Ridge which, as a childhood Mike Oldfield fan, seems like somewhere I should visit.
The other option is to go back via a slightly different route for some more historical stuff…
I’m thinking it may be time to head out for some food and maybe a few pints of Old Ditherer’s Indecision. That may help to clarify matters…
A wise man always uses poles when descending hills young grasshopper 😊
Looks like you are having some good old hippy fun.