Day Three - Upper Cwmbran to Abergavenny, 15.3 miles

I managed to scare myself out of my wits last night. I'd hung up my rucksack to dry on one of the rafters of the derelict campsite building, and had attached to that my waterproof trousers and rucksack cover. I came back from the pub in the dark with my head torch on and happened to turn towards the building, to be confronted with not a rucksack but 'The Rucksack', beast from hell. It took me a while to compose myself enough to take a photo!

'The Rucksack', coming to a cinema near you (maybe you had to be there!).

And the excitement didn't stop there. With the torch on inside the tent it looked very cosy, but once the Sun was up, with light coming in from the outside, I could see countless slugs sliming their way across the outer surface of the inner tent. They were everywhere! I immediately thought about my belongings I'd left in the porch area, namely my boots, shoes and water bottles. They were beyond slimed. One slug was even peering at me over the tongue of my left boot. I threw it out and was left with no choice, I had to to put my hand into each boot and shoe to check for further imposters. There were none. I dragged everything into the inner tent and relaxed. Breakfast time. Mmmmmmmmmuesli. It was ok actually because the bigger best bits had obviously settled at the top, and they were quite tasty, though it does mean that the less interesting oaty bits will dominate later on.

I soon packed and went to collect my packed lunch from the house. Then I felt guilty about moaning yesterday because it was a veritable feast, and all for £3. In fact the camping was only £3 as well so it had been a cheap night's accommodation, with added entertainment. So just the water bottles to fill and I could set off.

Ah yes, the water bottles. The two main ones have small, tubular nozzles, and in each one a small slug was lurking. I could not believe it. How was I ever going to use them again? I smacked each bottle against a wall and one slug fell out, but the other wouldn't budge. So I basically set off with a pet Gelligravog Farm slug.

At some point today it has slimed out. I have no idea where it is. Is it still in the rucksack? Is it sliming my clothes? Is it sliming the room in my B&B? Will it do the entire Beacons Way with me?

Ah yes, the Beacons Way. I've finished the Cambrian Way bit now and begin the entire Beacons Way tomorrow, in pretty dodgy weather it sounds like. This could be more of a problem than yesterday morning because the hills are higher but hey, it's all part of the fun, allegedly.

There had been a couple of showers last night and today started in gloomy fashion, though it was dry. It was a quick (well, 90 minute) up and over into Pontypool, but the up was hard work and it was very muggy (22 degrees). I was also reluctant to have a drink of water because of the slimy nozzles. From above Pontypool looked much better than previous towns, not as linear and in a prettier setting. I dropped down to it's edge and had a dilemma. Straight ahead was my path, a single hill lasting the rest of the day (11 miles!). To my left were the gates to Pontypool Park and possibly a coffee. A coffee? Cooooffffeeee!!!! I had no choice, but it turned out to be a good no choice.

All I knew about Pontypool before today was that it had a brilliant rugby team in the 70s/80s. When I was at high school all the boys had these sort of hessian mini-rucksacks which you wrote band names all over. But whereas mine and nearly everyone else's were daubed with 'Led Zep' and 'Floyd', Andy Evans had 'Pontypool Front Row' on his. Pffff! I'd like to have heard them attempt to sing Stairway to Heaven.

After only a few minutes in the (very impressive) park I stumbled upon Pontypool Leisure Centre, which had a cafe serving quality coffee (the machine is as important as the coffee beans in a place like that, and the machine was good!). At exactly the same time it tipped it down outside for about 30 minutes. As a result I managed to avoid any rain at all today, and there were plenty of showers about. One passed so close to my right at one point that all of the trees about 200 yards away disappeared, but I managed to stay dry.

The second very, very long hill was great to start with, on a ridge with wonderful views as far as the Severn bridges. The mega-shower had also cleared the air so it was less muggy, the only negative upshot of which is my sunburned head. Never mind. Things became much less interesting as the ridge widened into moorland (much like that above World's End near Wrexham) and the path stayed in the middle, so there was nothing to see except bilberries, heather and bog. During this section I did the unpleasant but necessary, and had some water. I took out the vacated bottle and, without thinking too much about its previous inhabitant...... (wait for it) ........ took an enormous slug (boom boom)! I thought I could detect slight sliminess, but I may have imagined it.

After six miles of bilberries, heather and bog, which I covered in as short a time as I could, I was fed up and grateful to reach a road crossing and car park, where I met four very nice people in as many minutes. The first two were an older lady and younger girl. They were volunteer rangers and wanted to survey me. They were very excited about my walk, but especially about me having just walked the six mile path that nobody usually bothers walking. I was asked what I knew about 'Foxhunter'. I said I knew nothing. I was asked what I knew about the area being a World Heritage site. I said I knew nothing. They hid their disappointment well. But.... I do now know, because they told me. 'Foxhunter' was a famous horse buried there, though I don't know why. And the area (known as Blaenavon) is famous for its ironworks. I promised to Google both later, but haven't yet. A couple of minutes later I met two old ladies, the only other people in a car park which is, it has to be said, in the middle of nowhere. They were looking for Foxhunter's grave and were so delighted when I showed them that they offered me a lift to Abergavenny, despite me explaining several times that I was on a walk.

My high point for the day was quite close, the summit of the wonderfully named, in English anyway, Blorenge. It didn't feel very high, yet, but I realised that I was at 559m, higher than Moel Famau, as was most of the surrounding area. A short walk later I was staring down a cliff at Abergavenny below, and suddenly it felt much higher.

Abergavenny from Blorenge.

The walk down was incredibly steep, basically the shortest route possible, straight down the cliff. It would have been pretty tricky without the pack but it was really hard work with it. I was tempted to take out my breakables, then lob the pack down and catch it up later.

An hour or so later and with throbbing thigh muscles I arrived at my very pleasant B&B in Abergavenny, which is a lovely market town that for some reason I've never been to before. One glorious shower later I set off with a plan. To have a pint in all four of the pubs listed in my Good Beer Guide app, then go for a curry. I've achieved the first part, now for some food.

-- Posted from Kev's iPhone

Day Two - Rudry to Upper Cwmbran, 11.2 miles.

Total ascent 924 metres (yesterday was 309m).

Things I knew before I set off today:
It was raining (not a problem)
It was going be bryter layter (good news)
It was going to be over 20 degrees (a problem)
It was going to be windy (possibly a problem)

Rain is fine for not too long periods and when it is cool or cooler. It rained today from 10 till 1:30, and I was in it for three hours. In November I would have been quite happy but today it was hot. Really hot. Still, I'm glad the weather was not the other way round, because at least things are dry again now. And the wind didn't turn up. My only real problem was rain sneaking into the rucksack cover and forming a puddle at the bottom, which seeped into bottom of my pack. Thankfully the only porous thing down there was my medical kit, so no damage done.

I had a decent breakfast before setting out at 10:30. Today was all about three hills, two before lunch and one after. The first was forested and an absolute nightmare to navigate, because there was nothing to see except trees. Old dipstick here had forgotten a map cover, and for this section printed the relevant OS 1:25000 map sections using Getamap, on an inkjet printer. So it only took a single drop of rain for an entire square kilometre of map to disappear in a blur of wet ink. I found a clear food bag in the end which ultimately saved the day. I needed to use a compass several times in the forest, as the paths didn't tally with my (blurred) map. One hill down and I reached the village of Machen. I hid in a bus stop to bail out the rucksack cover and carried straight on. The second hill was a long, tough climb, but there was no forest to get lost in. The view from the top was staggering. To the east I could see three spruce trees, just, which were about 50 feet away. To the south there was some bracken and a bit of gorse. To the west I could see absolutely nothing and to the north, in the gloom, was the Eiffel Tower. Or maybe a radio mast, size can be deceptive in fog.

I made a hasty descent to Risca, a quite gruesome town in the valleys, but I was hungry, and it became much more beautiful once I found a cafe. I was the only person there apart from a lad of about 20. He appeared to be revising. After a few minutes a woman came in and started to interview him! He seemed to be after funding for his theatre company, called Starstruck. She kept calling it 'Star Trek' and then apologising, which was quite funny. I hope I didn't put him off too much when I emptied the entire contents of my rucksack all over the floor. It was a strange situation and I left before the interview finished (after about 45 minutes) to be greeted by glorious sunshine, which set the tone for the second half of the day. It was another long ascent up the final hill but fantastic at the hill fort on top, where I could now see for miles, including the previous hill that I couldn't really see when I was standing on it.

An intriguing memorial in a remote place.

There followed an excellent four mile high level ridge walk which took me straight to the farm I am camping at, with NO SHOWER OR TOILET. The toilet is not a problem, or at least not a boy problem, but no shower after a day like today is not nice.

I eyed up the landlady's lawn when I arrived, but she ushered me instead towards a god-forsaken patch of grass inhabited by slugs, sheep, the remains of a fire, some rusty farm implements, a pile of gravel and a derelict building. I'm not sure it's worth the £3 she's charging me. And the tent pegs won't go in the ground properly. The last thing she said was "Have a good night", then she walked off laughing!

Gelligravog Farm campsite, sort of.

I used the rest of my water to wipe some sheep poo off my leg, applied some deodorant and set off for the Queen Inn in Upper Cwmbran, which is quite some way from the campsite ("It's only quarter of a mile, my dear", said the lovely landlady. I was a bit dubious as there was no sign of another building within a mile.). Had a good lasagne and great beer (Shepherd Neame HPA), and watched the England v Italy friendly match next to a noisy, grey parrot. Cwmbran is a dump as well.

-- Posted from Kev's iPhone

Day One (still) - Cardiff to Rudry, 12.5 miles

I work best under pressure, at work, at home and in the pub. I can stare at a food menu for ages with no idea what I want, but as soon as everyone else has decided and I have to go and order or the waiter/waitress arrives I can choose instantly. So under no pressure whatsoever tonight I stared at a food menu for 25 minutes before deciding what to eat.

As I approached the pub I saw that it was part of a chain and my heart sank, as I pictured children, a ball park and many, many crayons (and don't I see enough of those? Well, children and crayons anyway). However it seems that Chef & Brewer are a cut above your average chain. The kids are locked in the cellar, the ale is real (Otter) and the food superb. Here's an example from the menu: "Delicious venison haunch medallions in a rich red wine sauce, with savoy cabbage and bacon, rosemary roasted new potatoes and a redcurrant chutney". And I didn't even choose it! I went for the slow cooked beef rib, which was delicious. Long distance walking is completely dominated by two things: walking and food. Oh, and drink.

Anyway, I have actually done some walking today and very nice it was too, the perfect 12 mile first warm-up with just the right amount of pain. Tomorrow will be a second warm-up of just 11 miles, after which the backpack should stop hurting in time for the tougher, more mountainous days to come. No, it's great fun, really!

I love Cardiff but nearly always visit in winter, so it was a bit of a shame to arrive on the train and have to walk out straight away, as it was a beautiful day and much more laid back than it is just before Christmas (obviously!). Well almost straight away. I gave myself 15 minutes in Spillers Records (good but not as good as Probe Records in Liverpool and nowhere near as good as Piccadilly Records in Manchester), which was a bit pointless because I could hardly carry LPs around with me for 12 days. The castle is the start of the Cambrian Way so I touched the sign and set off through the delightful Bute Park. There were cyclists everywhere but no sign of the next Wiggins or Pendleton. It is six miles from Cardiff Castle to the fairytale Castell Coch (as featured in 'Jim'll fix it' in the 70s, BBC archive fans), and the path gives little indication that you are anywhere near a city, apart from passing beneath the M4. A lovely path leading to a lush tea room at Castell Coch, where a wedding was occurring.

Let sleeping ducks lie. Nature reserve somewhere in Cardiff.

Castell Coch. Bride marries photographer as bored groom clears off to pub.

The route became hillier during the second half of the walk but the path was good and I was soon up at 300 metres, looking down on the city with Somerset in the distance.

I arrived at the B&B and almost immediately my Mum phoned to ask me to consider whether to carry on with the walk as the forecast for tomorrow is so bad. Which was kind of her, I think. The B&B is near a village called Rudry, which appears to consist of the pub I'm in, a village hall, a school and two houses. The B&B is ok, though my room is overlooked by at least 15 rooms in the single, enormous building next door. And the shower's rubbish, though the blueberry shampoo is quite pleasant. Well it's been lovely spending an evening in a pub garden but the B&B's a mile away, so I'd better get back before the typhoon arrives.

Coming tomorrow:
ANOTHER 11 miles of modest hills.
BAD weather.
Camping on a farm with NO SHOWER OR TOILET.
A pub meal near CWMBRAN.



-- Posted from Kev's iPhone

Day One - Mold to Cardiff by train.

Last night the lady from the B&B I'm staying in tonight phoned and asked why I was late arriving. I hope this isn't the shape of things to come. Thankfully she still has a vacancy tonight.

So... another summer, another long distance walk, once again in Wales. Not quite brave enough to venture out into the big, wide world yet. The Beacons Way was a no-brainer after last year's relatively low level coastal walk. I fancied some high level walking which dropped down each evening for accommodation, and it fitted the bill perfectly apart from the length, which at 100 miles is a bit short. So I decided to add 40 miles of the Cambrian Way at the beginning, and include a day off in Brecon so that Jen and Liz can meet me and marvel at how I've managed to lose so little weight after walking 100 miles. Which leads into the biggest choice I actually had to make: should I stick with last year's camping heavy, lots of muesli and home-cooked dried pasta option, or revert back to previous years' entirely B&B, full breakfast and pub meal glory? A compromise is the end result, though at 48 I no longer have the desire to camp in a quagmire in pouring rain, and will quite willingly sacrifice any principles I have and find the nearest five star hotel if necessary. The plan then is roughly four camps, two youth hostels (oh yes - a blast from the past!) and the rest in B&Bs. I have not brought a cooker this time to save weight (and nearly every day ends near a pub - what a coincidence!) but have two dried meals for the youth hostels and, of course, muesli. I don't like muesli, I like cornflakes, or even better crunchy nut cornflakes, or Frosties. Basically anything that started life as a cornflake. But when backpacking I always eat muesli because it's dense, like lead but easier to eat and more nutritional. Coupled with the freak of nature which is powdered milk it results in a functional but thoroughly unsatisfying breakfast.

A bit of information:
Total distance = 140 miles.
Time = 10.5 days walking plus a day off.
Average distance per day = 13.3333333333 (etc,etc) miles, which is quite enough carrying a 16kg pack.
Main towns / waypoints = Cardiff, Pontypool, Abergavenny, Black Mountains, Crickhowell, Brecon Beacons, bus to Brecon for a rest, The Black Mountain (not to be confused with the earlier Black Mountains, though I probably will), Bethlehem. Yes, I finish in Bethlehem, with a gift of muesli for the first newborn I see.

I'm currently on the train to Cardiff for a midday start and with 12 miles to walk today, though it looks like a pretty straightforward warm-up sort of day. Will do a post-straightforward warm-up sort of day post later. My phone signal should be ok for a couple of days before I disappear into the hills, after which it will probably be the usual story of no posts for three days then the three arrive all at once. Hopefully a couple of the B&Bs will have wi-fi, or at the very least a carrier pigeon.

The view from the train. Oh.