Wednesday – Friday 1st – 3rd September 1999
With no walk to write about I thought I’d take a look back at the first time I went up a mountain, that is, up a hill more than two thousand feet high. The highest I had been, up to this point, was along the edge of Kinder Scout, which is about two thousand feet, but no higher. My first proper mountains were the Black Mountains, in Wales, and ever since, I’ve had a special affection for these hills as they were the start of something great. During the year leading up to this I had been walking frequently in the Peak District, but now I wanted to venture further afield and my eye was drawn to the Brecon Beacons National Park, or more specifically, Hay-On- Wye. This town, on the north-eastern corner of the park, is famous for its second-hand book shops, and as an avid reader of books this was particularly tempting to me so I decided I would visit it after the August Bank Holiday and maybe do some walking in the area while I was there. I didn’t make any other plans before going, not even booking my accommodation. I took my car thinking that if necessary I could always come back home.
On that fateful Wednesday morning I set off along the Motorway network, past Birmingham, and along slow A-roads to Hay-on-Wye. I really liked looking through the bookshops in Hay even though I failed to get much success from the two authors I had been specifically looking for: Agatha Christie and Ian Fleming. Despite this I still ended up buying more than £30 worth of books, which was a feat I would repeat on almost every subsequent visit. At the end of the day I drove to the youth hostel in Brecon where I was able to get a bed even though I hadn’t booked ahead. The next day I drove back to Hay-on-Wye and took a narrow country lane that climbed up the hillside into the Black Mountains (and reaches it's highest point at the Gospel Pass, 538m, higher than any road in the Lake District, and probably anywhere else in England or Wales). Instead of parking at the top of the pass, where I frequently parked on subsequent visits, I parked below the summit of Hay Bluff, though still at the heady height of 480m where extensive views of the Wye Valley could be seen.
So began my first ever mountain walk, and one that I have repeated on more than one occasion. Climbing steeply I walked up to the top of Hay Bluff where a trig point awaited me with awesome views across the wide Wye Valley. Once I had caught my breath I proceeded down the broad ridge of Ffynnon y Parc to the top of the Gospel Pass before climbing the steeper hillside opposite to the oddly named Lord Hereford’s Knob or Twmpa. These two hills are higher than Kinder Scout, at 680m, and so can easily be called the first mountains (in the British sense) that I’d ever climbed, and with tremendous views across the Wye valley as well. After leaving a stone on top of the summit cairn of Twmpa (a practice I now despise, but I didn’t know any better back then), I set off along the broad tongue south-east of the summit, along Darren Lwyd. At the end of the ridge I got my first view of the magical Vale of Ewyas, a valley that is famous for its horse riding stables, but for me will always be special due to my memory of the many walks I have had along its broad ridges.
With no walk to write about I thought I’d take a look back at the first time I went up a mountain, that is, up a hill more than two thousand feet high. The highest I had been, up to this point, was along the edge of Kinder Scout, which is about two thousand feet, but no higher. My first proper mountains were the Black Mountains, in Wales, and ever since, I’ve had a special affection for these hills as they were the start of something great. During the year leading up to this I had been walking frequently in the Peak District, but now I wanted to venture further afield and my eye was drawn to the Brecon Beacons National Park, or more specifically, Hay-On- Wye. This town, on the north-eastern corner of the park, is famous for its second-hand book shops, and as an avid reader of books this was particularly tempting to me so I decided I would visit it after the August Bank Holiday and maybe do some walking in the area while I was there. I didn’t make any other plans before going, not even booking my accommodation. I took my car thinking that if necessary I could always come back home.
On that fateful Wednesday morning I set off along the Motorway network, past Birmingham, and along slow A-roads to Hay-on-Wye. I really liked looking through the bookshops in Hay even though I failed to get much success from the two authors I had been specifically looking for: Agatha Christie and Ian Fleming. Despite this I still ended up buying more than £30 worth of books, which was a feat I would repeat on almost every subsequent visit. At the end of the day I drove to the youth hostel in Brecon where I was able to get a bed even though I hadn’t booked ahead. The next day I drove back to Hay-on-Wye and took a narrow country lane that climbed up the hillside into the Black Mountains (and reaches it's highest point at the Gospel Pass, 538m, higher than any road in the Lake District, and probably anywhere else in England or Wales). Instead of parking at the top of the pass, where I frequently parked on subsequent visits, I parked below the summit of Hay Bluff, though still at the heady height of 480m where extensive views of the Wye Valley could be seen.
So began my first ever mountain walk, and one that I have repeated on more than one occasion. Climbing steeply I walked up to the top of Hay Bluff where a trig point awaited me with awesome views across the wide Wye Valley. Once I had caught my breath I proceeded down the broad ridge of Ffynnon y Parc to the top of the Gospel Pass before climbing the steeper hillside opposite to the oddly named Lord Hereford’s Knob or Twmpa. These two hills are higher than Kinder Scout, at 680m, and so can easily be called the first mountains (in the British sense) that I’d ever climbed, and with tremendous views across the Wye valley as well. After leaving a stone on top of the summit cairn of Twmpa (a practice I now despise, but I didn’t know any better back then), I set off along the broad tongue south-east of the summit, along Darren Lwyd. At the end of the ridge I got my first view of the magical Vale of Ewyas, a valley that is famous for its horse riding stables, but for me will always be special due to my memory of the many walks I have had along its broad ridges.
After descending steeply down from Darren Lwyd I reached the valley road and the tiny hamlet of Capel-y-ffin where, after resting for lunch beside the bridge, I set off on a walk up the hillside opposite that is also one of special significance for me. Every time I have walked in this area subsequently I have tried to incorporate this path, such is the affection I have for it. After passing two chapels I followed a path across a few fields and then along a farm track before starting to climb steeply up the hillside towards open country. I remember at this point sitting, under some trees, upon a stile in the wonderful weather feeling completely relaxed and contented. This memory of being so high in spirit has stayed with me ever since and has drawn me back to the area. For the first time, I was experiencing the euphoria that comes from a great walk in tremendous surroundings and brilliant weather. It is this feeling, found time and again while walking through mountains that compels me to spend all my holidays walking.
The path I was on continued into open country as I climbed very steeply through bracken zigzagging up the hillside. I remember sweating profusely in the hot, late summer weather and having to rest frequently as I tried to make my way up the hill, the views of the valley getting more awe-inspiring the higher I climbed. Eventually the gradient eased and I emerged onto the broad ridge on whose top lies not only the Offa’s Dyke Path, but the border between England and Wales. Once at the top of the ridge I headed north following the clear path of the Offa’s Dyke passing on my way, though little known to me at the time, over a point more than 700m high, beating both Hay Bluff and Twmpa. By now the heat was getting to me as I had run out of water and I wasn’t used to this strenuous walking. Eventually I arrived back at Hay Bluff at the northern end of the ridge where the steep slope I had taken at the start of the walk brought me back to my car where, mercifully, an ice-cream van was parked nearby and after several cans of pop I was much refreshed.
That night I stayed at the Capel-y-ffin Youth Hostel, which tragically has now closed (how my heart breaks). The following day I was feeling sore from the previous day's strenuous walk, sunburn, and my cheap walking boots. Wearing trainers instead, I did a much shorter and easier walk around the southern end of the Vale of Ewyas, starting at the lovely Llanthony Priory. I climbed back onto the Offa’s Dyke Path at the top the ridge and passing over Hatterall Hill I walked to the southern end of that great ridge. Returning along the bottom of the valley I passed through the village of Cwmyoy and Llanthony Wood before reaching the priory once again. This was a lovely walk in hot, sunny weather but all my energy had gone into the walk of the previous day. It had taken me all day to complete that walk, but in more recent visits I have walked considerably further and in a shorter time, which must be a testament to how much fitter I am now. In comparison, that original walk was easy, but at the time it was a great challenge and one that had a profound and everlasting effect on my life. The following spring I was back in the Black Mountains; I wanted more.
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