Day Four - Abergavenny to Llanthony, 13.1 miles.

Total ascent 933m (yesterday was 723m).

Note - the gremlins took my first draft of this day when I tried to upload it. It may appear again one day, who knows.

I was going to start this post with "I frogmarched the first 2 and a 1/2 miles today", but have spent some time thinking about it. I could only think that it originated from the French Foreign Legion or something, so I decided not to.

It was still dry when I started today, so I aimed to reach the top of Holy Mountain before the predicted downpour arrived. I f*********d the first 2 and a 1/2 miles (oh dear, that sounds worse!) as it was a link between me leaving the Cambrian Way and the official start of the Beacons Way. And it was along a road.

I was delighted to find that Holy Mountain is owned by the National Trust, so you get a nice shiny bench to mark the start of the walk and a nice path to the top of the hill.

'The Rucksack', this time auditioning for a role as a beetle-like monster in Doctor Who.

This path worked its way up through woodland to emerge on the summit ridge with superb views of ................. nothing. Not a sausage, just greyness. I didn't hang around long and soon found the nice National Trust path down the other side.

The non-view from Holy Mountain.

Holy Mountain looks like a normal hill which has fallen into two pieces, a big bit and a smaller bit. This is because when Jesus was crucified the earthquake which ensued caused the hill to split. That's what everyone round here thinks anyway, apart from the ones who don't. They think that it was caused when it was hit by a passing Noah's Ark during the flood. Ooh, what to believe, what to believe? Better stick with Jesus I reckon.

It had been drizzling for a while and was getting heavier when I reached the half way village of Crucorney, which happened to have a pub. The oldest pub in Wales in fact (yes, another one!). It was quite busy and the clientele looked suitably horrified as I slithered past (I am Slugman!). The lady behind the bar was lovely and found me a quiet spot where nobody could see me. She also let me eat my packed lunch there. I had a phone signal so took the opportunity to send and receive some texts. I was hoping that Jon could come for a day of the walk but he's just got back from Cuba and starts work again on Monday, so not this time. Anyway he said he's got the sh*ts so it's probably for the best. Oh and he complained that he hasn't had a mention in this year's blog yet, so there you go, Jon.

As I was leaving a man sitting at the bar said, "You're going to get drenched, mate." I was tempted to say "Ditto" and empty my water bottle over his head, but wisely resisted. Anyway I got the next to last laugh because within a minute of leaving the pub the rain stopped. Sadly the last laugh was his because it soon started again.

Then everything changed. As I reached the summit of Hatterall Hill (which happens to be higher than Holy Mountain, duh!) a battle which had been raging all day reached its climax. Michael, God of Weather had held the upper hand against Alfred, God of Walking, but it suddenly became balanced. During the next hour I was in cloud, out of cloud, in cloud, out of cloud. One minute I could see nothing, the next the landscape stretched away in the distance, the wild and rugged hills of Wales to my left, England's green and pleasant land to my right. It was stunning and the highlight of the walk so far. I could have stayed up there for ages, but Michael was starting to win the battle so I began the descent into Llanthony.

Llanthony Valley is, with in my opinion the exception of Wasdale in the Lakes, as good as valleys get in England or Wales. Very long and narrow with ridges towering along either side. And at the bottom stands Llanthony, with its medieval priory, a few houses, a campsite and a pub. Oh yes, a pub. When I was booking accommodation for the walk this was the last night I booked. I kept phoning the campsite as I knew it would be a busy Friday but got no answer, so in the end I booked the pub instead. As I walked past the sodden tents I was quite relieved.

The Half Moon advertises itself as basic, but aside from shared cubicle toilets and showers it is great, and the proprietor was the first to know what to do with a walker, taking my wet waterproof coat, trousers and rucksack cover away to dry.

I'm now sitting in the bar having eaten. It's quite busy, presumably with the campers from along the road. I had to laugh earlier. The landlady was behind the bar and said to her daughter, "It's Friday night, let's go girl!" They then both moved from behind the bar and sat on chairs in front of the bar, and there they presumably will stay.

Sent from my iPhone


-- Posted from Kev's iPhone