Glyndŵr's Way: Comments on this Long Distance Walk through Mid Wales

Glyndŵr's Way is a 217 kilometre, 135 mile walk through Mid Wales, which I completed in 9 days. The start and finish are close the Offa's Dyke path, which offers a means of extending your hike or creating a circular walk. I began by walking from Abergavenny to Knighton on Offa's Dyke path before starting Glyndŵr's Way.

Beginning with the good points, Glyndŵr's Way passes through small towns, whose centres have a vaguely Victorian feel, with clock towers, old buildings and small shops lining their main streets; butchers and bakers, shoe makers and gift shops. Pubs with old wooden beams were in plentiful supply and evidently enjoyed by the locals. There was usually a pub in the larger villages, full of character, in part due to their clientele. Apart from one night in a camping pod, an upmarket shed with a mattress for your sleeping bag, I slept in a Bed & Breakfast, pub or hotel every night.

Outside of the towns the route consisted of hills, green fields of sheep or cows, moorland and some woods and commercial coniferous plantations. A few months earlier I walked the Cambrian Way, another long distance walk that passes through Mid Wales, so naturally I made comparisons. I found the Cambrian Way a more exciting route, climbing most of the Welsh Mountains, crossing some wild and rugged terrain. Some of it was tough walking as it crossed pathless moors of tussocky reeds, not easy walking. Every day was a bit different as one progressed from the rounded hills of South Wales, to the rugged peaks of Snowdonia via sights such as Devil's bridge and Strata Florida. Glyndŵr's Way is better waymarked and, being a National Trail, somewhat better maintained. Although it avoids the rougher ground found on the Cambrian Way and does not climb 1000 metre mountains it was surprisingly tiring. Every day it repeatedly went up and down hills, none of them that high, but the repetition accumulated large total ascents. My GPS claimed the daily ascents were consistently greater than reported in my guidebook, averaging over 900 metres a day. I was told many people give up or shorten their trip on finding the trail so hard. In terms of countryside, the trail does not really progress, one day could easily be substituted for another. There were a few sites of note outside of the towns: two reservoirs and the scant remains of an abbey.

Of course November was not the best time to complete the trail. Some days of wind and rain were inevitable and added to the mud and sodden ground. Daylight was short making it inadvisable to loiter, as otherwise a difficult walk in the dark to reach my lodgings was required. In spring or summer, the bare branches of the trees would have been replaced by green tunnels and I would have been trying to name all the wild flowers. So maybe I gained an unduly negative impression.

My blog of my trip starts here.

The start of the Glyndŵr's Way section is here.

For a GPX track of my route look in wikiloc.com

Meiford to Welshpool on Glyndŵr's Way: Day 9

My last day on Glyndŵr's Way but no respite from the hills, with short but steep climbs.

Today was much like previous days on Glyndŵr's Way: large green fields, hills, a bit of woodland, some quiet roads, some farm tracks, some crossing fields of sheep and grass, some paths through woodland. There was a tumbledown, abandoned farmhouse, a holiday "village" of green trailer homes similar to others on my trip, and a section with a lot of pheasants which squawked noisily as they took to the air, flapping manically as I walked by. I have always thought of them as rather stupid birds.

Another typical view on Glyndŵr's Way, green field, sheep and trees.

The final hill, beyond a golf course shared with sheep, gave a splendid view. The Welsh hills to the west and to the east, Long Mountain and beyond the plains of England. 

View from my last hill of the trip with Long Mountain in the distance. 

Welshpool, my final Mid Wales town.

I hurried on into Welshpool, not wanting to miss my train, but arrived in time for a coffee and sandwich for lunch. Another Mid Wales town with a clock tower, this time on the Town hall. My final stop before the railway station was an engraved stone pillar on a patch of grass by the Montgomery canal, which marks the end of Glyndŵr's Way and the end of my walk.

Stone memorial marking the finish of the Glyndŵr's Way and the end of  my walk.

Lake Vrynwy to Meifod on Glyndŵr's Way: Day 8

Mist on the lake and riverside walks made my penultimate day a bit special. 

After ordering a "Californian Breakfast" at the Lake Vrynwy hotel, I admired the view from the window of the restaurant. Ethereal clouds of mist were gently drifting across the lake, whose still surface reflected the sky and trees opposite. A Californian breakfast turned out to be small slices of avocado, tomato and bacon stacked in a small piece of bread roll and topped with a poached egg. There were two of these structures to accompany my toast, coffee, orange juice, fruit salad etc..

Morning mist on Lake Vrynwy. 

Taking the quick route back to the lake on a mud slide of a bridle path, I returned to the dam. The RSPB visitor centre was closed due to Covid but someone was still leaving food out for blue tits to feed on while a peacock looked on. 

Today, as usual, I climbed up and down hills (with a long flight of stairs at one point) and crossed green fields of sheep (including a flock of black sheep with white faces), but unique for this section were long riverside walks in sylvan glens. The river, the Afon Efyrnwy, raced down the valley, the water either black or foaming white as it dropped over rocks. In places the path clung to a steep slope above the water, but most of the time the hike was quite "tame". There was also a dark path through a coniferous tree plantation which I rather liked.

Walk beside the Afon Efrnwy.

Tree on the November skyline.

The farms on the Glyndŵr's Way tend to have large barns, surrounded by muddy yards, dirty cows, wandering hens and barking dogs. Wisely, the path usually diverts around them, although the route can be complex and difficult to spot. I wandered around one today, where they were in the process of digging a large hole. Looking in the wrong places I missed the Glyndŵr's Way markers and took the wrong route, fortunately I was not noticed.

There are many chapels of nonconformists strands of Christianity dating from the 19th century such as the one above. Most are no longer in use for religious services.

As sunset approached the clouds made attractive patterns in the sky, so entranced was I that I missed a turn and had to retrace my steps a few hundred yards. I am now at a Bed & Breakfast a few kilometres outside the village of Meifod. Picking up some food for diner at the shop, the owner, seeing my rucksack, commented that tomorrow would be my last day on Glyndŵr's Way.

Llanbrynmair to Lake Vrynwy on Glyndŵr's Way: Day 7

A rain free day but a long one at over 30 kilometres. 

After two days of rain and wind today there were blue skies visible beyond the clouds. After a big breakfast the first part of the walk took me up a ridge. From the top, thanks to the clear weather I could see hills or mountains in all directions. Green where they were farmed for sheep, or else straw coloured grass or red, dead bracken where the hills were topped with moorland. The valleys were neatly divided up by hedges with the occasional farmhouse and its associated collection of modern barns. A flock, or rather a murmuration of starlings was moving around, all the birds landing on a patch of grass or some trees, then all taking off again for no particular reason

Blue skies after days of rain giving some distant views. 

Path over moorland, some of which was pretty boggy threatening more water in my boots, note the yellow topped post marking the trail.

There was a long road section which I appreciated as I could cover the ground faster. The earlier sunset at this time of year meant I needed to get to my destination before it was too dark to see my way across uneven and wet ground. Nevertheless, the café in the village of Llangadfan was too tempting to speed past, I had a quick latte and Bakewell tart. In the afternoon there was an extensive forestry plantation with lots of signs warning of forestry operations. I saw no evidence of any work in progress and as it was Sunday afternoon I thought it most unlikely that anyone was working, so continued along the forest tracks. I finally sighted Lake Vrynwy as dusk was falling.

Finger post showing the way into the forestry plantation, the lichen growing on it suggests it has been there a while.

View of Lake Vrynwy and the retaining dam in the darkening light. Excess water is spilling over it.

The lake is a reservoir for Liverpool. Recent rain had made it so full that water was spilling over the top of the dam, its foaming whiteness standing out in the surrounding darkness.

Leaving Glyndŵr's Way, I followed the road across the top of the dam, then up to the Lake Vrynwy Hotel for the night. Dating from 1890, this large hotel is much posher than I am used to. They checked my temperature with a wall mounted "gun" before letting me check in to confirm I was not suffering from the Coronavirus. It kept reporting my temperature was "Lo", but the receptionist kept trying until it volunteered an actual reading. I have been assigned a time slot for dinner and breakfast to minimise crowding. My room and its associated bathroom is large and I was given two free face masks and a dinky bottle of antibacterial hand gel to protect me from the virus. Diner was of the style that artistically arranges a smallish portion of food on a large plate, which meant I managed three courses. While I preferred the lamb shank I had last night, which was rather less expensive, I did enjoy the opportunity of sampling their port with my cheese course as an Edwardian gentleman might do, and enjoyed a glass of whisky as a digestif, Penderyn as I was in Wales (and as they had no Macallan's).

Machynlleth to Llanbrynmair on Glyndŵr's Way: Day 6

Another day when I was battered by wind and rain.

Machynlleth town centre with clock tower.

Local butchers shop and small shops rather than large supermarkets seem typical of towns in Mid Wales.

I briefly visited Machynlleth town centre to see it in daylight, it was another attractive Mid Wales town with a clock tower. The clock face showed 9:30 (the same as when I passed it last night as it struck 8:00). A sign in the butcher's window said he had received an MBE, not normally a profession in the Queen's honours. I had planned to buy something for lunch at the bakery but decided not to, deciding the large size of the generous breakfast filling my belly would mean I was unlikely to feel like eating again until the evening.

As it rained most of the day, this proved a wise decision, stopping for lunch would have been a miserable experience. Sheets of rain were driven across the hills by strong winds, pelting me with rain drops and rapidly wetting anything exposed. I started with the rain cover on my rucksack but this blew off as I crossed an exposed ridge. All my dry clothes and electric goods were in dry bags in my rucksack so they were protected, but the rucksack itself did drip rather badly when I reached my Bed & Breakfast. 

The initial part of the walk, on roads out of Machynlleth was not too bad, but as the path started crossing hills, it was a matter of just keeping walking. Not that there was much of a view, most of the surrounding country was obscured by clouds. There were a few villages with houses and modestly sized, old mills built of the local grey-green  sandstone, which splits easily into flat but uneven pieces of building stone. As I passed I could smell heating oil, or wood smoke or the dusty taste of coal. Old tractors gave off fumes of diesel. No cafés though. 

Again today I was squelching up and down hills, across large green fields, now saturated with water, the sheep staring at me. Some looked like they had recently had dealings with a ram (based on the coloured patch on their backs, left by a sack attached to the ram). There was a little moorland as well and one section of clear cut forest, but very little shelter from the rain and wind. I was therefore glad I was not camping but could dry out in the Wynnstay Bed & Breakfast at Llanbrynmair. On arriving the owner welcomed me with a cup of tea and a slice of excellent fruit cake (a light texture with some nice bits of dried fruit and glacé cherries). This was despite me dripping everywhere.

One of the enjoyable parts of this trip are the pubs where I have my evening meal. The Wynnstay Arms looked a bit run down from outside but inside it was warm and friendly. I had an excellent lamb shank for my dinner. The sprightly old lady behind the bar cooks the food as well as pulling the pints, so a little wait for service but it was worth it. Only a handful of people were present, one produced films, and I was persuaded to buy a DVD on the history of various sights in Wales.

Dylife to Machynlleth on Glyndŵr's Way: Day 5

A day of rain, water and wind.

Rain fell with variable intensity all day. On more exposed stretches, the wind made the rain colder and more penetrating, splattering rain drops against my face and driving them into cracks between my waterproofs. Streams, already swollen by recent rain, became miniature, foaming torrents. Pools of water were everywhere on the sodden ground. My boots, having kept my feet dry until now, gave up the fight and by afternoon water was squelching between my toes on each step. As far as I could I avoided doing anything but walking, as any disturbance of my clothes or entry into my rucksack let in water.

Not that it affected my spirits. The first part of the walk over moorland, by an old mine and the lake of Glaslyn was an area I also enjoyed when I  walked the Cambrian Way, which Glyndŵr's Way briefly follows. After that there was, as usual for this trail, plenty of ascents and descents on paths, tracks and small roads, mostly through sheep farming country, with a few pine plantations. Pheasants and grouse scattered ahead of me a few times, and there was the sound of extended gunfire in one valley. A pheasant shoot I assumed.

Not stopping for lunch and navigating mainly by waymarks, by 3:00 pm I was wondering how much further I had to walk. Apart from a man and his dog racing past on an All Terrain Vehicle, I had seen no one all day, then I met a couple walking their dogs. Dog walkers are usually a sign that a town is nearby, and so it proved. By 4:00 pm I was outside my guesthouse in Machynlleth, struggling to get into my face mask as required by Covid regulations. Now after a welcome hot shower I have various items of wet clothing scattered about the room to dry.

The only photo I took owing to the rain, the road approaching Machynlleth, which is barely visible through the drizzle.

Llanidloes to Dylife on Glyndŵr's Way: Day 4

A day of rainbows, a reservoir and a ruin.

Llanidloes is a typical Mid Wales town. In the centre is an old black and white market hall where two main streets cross, no longer used for markets there is a more modern (19th century) market nearby where a butcher was already open for business when I left town in the morning. There are plenty of pubs, probably all with old black beams like the one I visited last night, and a variety of small shops, with attractive things to buy but which I did not need or wish to carry in my rucksack. Llanidloes church is said to contain arches taken from Abbey Cwm Hir which I visited yesterday, but it was locked so I could not see them. In the church porch a suggested prayer was written on a drawing of a rainbow, a symbol of hope in the time of Covid 19. As suggested I tied a coloured ribbon on the wrought iron porch gate to represent my prayer. I saw more rainbows later as showers of rain alternated with patches of sunshine, a sign that the world will continue, summer and winter, seed time and harvest, despite the occasional crisis. 

17th century market hall at Llanidloes.

Rainbow, sign of a promise.

Glyndŵr's Way leaves town by crossing the River Severn, briefly following the same path as the Severn Way, a long distance path which follows the river from source to sea. The first stretch of my walk was through woods of oak, beech and holly, before the now familiar hills of sheep and cow pasture. 

The major sites of interest today were the Bryntail lead mine and the dam retaining the Llyn Clywedog reservoir just above it. The former consisted of the ruins of the ore processing plant. Dating from the 19th century, water wheels powered mills that crushed the ore. It was then washed and allowed to settled in tanks which were made of large stone slabs bound together by iron bands. The reservoir was built in the 1960's to prevent flooding of the River Severn downstream. I saw no evidence of any hydroelectric being generated, the substantial energy of the water being released from the dam seems to be wasted, disappointing given the current emphasis on renewable energy. There was a café at the top of the dam, sadly closed until March.

Llyn Clywedog reservoir.

The trail went up and down and around the reservoir over the subsequent kilometres until it eventually headed off into a coniferous forest. Then it was more green fields and a climb. The setting sun was creating beautiful cloudscapes, of blue, white, grey and a smoky orange, too transient for me to capture them on my camera. Eventually a sign advised me to "turn off here" for the Star Inn, and my bed for the night. When I visited earlier this year while walking the Cambrian Way it was full of people, but today, out of season, I was the only person staying the night in this lonely, isolated Inn, where I was welcomed with a much appreciated cup of tea and a wood burning stove in the bar. I was glad a group of four were also having dinner that evening otherwise I would have felt I was putting people to too much trouble.

I took this photo as it felt as if I was walking up into the cloud.

Abbey Cum Hir to Llanidloes on Glyndŵr's Way: Day 3

In addition to hills and valleys of green fields today included some woods and steep sided glens.

The weather forecast was for heavy rain but fortunately it was only drizzle as I visited the ruins of the Abbey that gives the village where I spent the night its name (Abbey Cwm Hir). Little is left, much of the stone was taken to re-use in more modern buildings, but the remaining stones outline a very large church. Sheep looked at me suspiciously as I walked around the 13th century site.

Remains of Abbey Cwm Hir

Leaving Abbey Cwm Hir, the route was on a good path through woodland, and there was more forestry later on. Fir trees, a dull resolute green and silver birch, white trunks and thin red branches bare of leaves. Later there was pine, larch and oak. The older deciduous trees were coated with green moss, thriving in the moist atmosphere. 

Final autumn colours in a tree filled valley.

Moss growing a tree branch.

I has hoping the Glyndŵr's Way Cafe in the village of Bwlch-y-sarnau would be open, but no, another victim of the Coronavirus pandemic. So I just kept walking, not wanting to stop in the rain. There was as usual much ascent and descent although today some of it was into steep sided wooded valleys. At one point I missed a turning, a farmer directed me to the correct gate for the Glyndŵr's Way. Despite being a lesser known National Trail, the local people are familiar with it, although it seems few people walk it in November! The amount of mud I encountered certainly suggests it would be a more pleasant walk in the summer. Overhead I had saw crows and buzzards but also birds of prey with a forked tail silhouetted against the sky, which I took to be red kites. Apparently there is a feeding station nearby to help preserve this species.

For the last hour of my walk I was rewarded with periods of sunshine. Low in the sky, the yellowing sun gave the landscape a honey coloured glow. I was glad to reach the final road section, the previous zig-zag path across fields was a little frustrating. Llanidloes is an old market town with a number of pubs to eat in. After I checked into the Trewythen hotel (scene of a riot by people wanting the vote in 1839), I walked to the Whistling Badger for dinner where a Wales - Finland match was just beginning...

Felindre to Abbey Cwm Hir on Glyndŵr's Way: Day 2

A day walking in drizzle over ridges of green fields and gorse.

Drizzle fell for much of the day from grey skies as I walked along farm tracks and quiet roads, up and down hills. Green fields in the morning with sporadic stands of pines and larch, the latter losing their final orange needles. Deciduous trees were now bare, their exposed naked branches not longer veiled by a cloud of leaves. I deviated from the path at one point, distracted by the elegant backward curve of the blades on a group of wind turbines, slowly turning in the breeze. Typical of this time of year there were a variety of fungi, orange blobs scattered in cropped grass and inconspicuous brown growths among trees, most attractive were some red spotted toadstools.

Wind turbine, note the ends of the blades turning back, maybe to shed vortices.

One of the prettier toadstools.

At noon I reached Llanbadarn Fynydd, a collection of buildings including the New Inn, which looked to have been closed for some time, and a community shop and petrol station. The shop sold me a coffee and muffin, and let me sit down inside to enjoy it. Serving a farming community they had three different magazines just for classic tractors on display. Spray cans of dye for marking sheep were available in different colours. The markings on the sheep (indicating ownership) now seem to be in particularly luminous colours, such as shocking purple and fluorescent orange.

In the afternoon much of the walk was along gorse covered ridges on a grassy path with views of the valleys of hedge rimmed green fields beneath a lowering sky. Although bleak the landscape had a desolate windswept beauty.

Green fields crossed by Glyndŵr's Way, the drizzle obscuring the more distant hills.

My Bed & Breakfast booking stated 5:30 pm was the earliest check in, so to avoid arriving early I enjoyed a leisurely late lunch snack in my bivi bag to shield me from the wind. Darkness falling early at this time of year, the last kilometre or so was in darkness using my head torch as I walked through woodland into Abbey Cwm Hir. Although the pub was closed Tuesday's, my room at the B&B was warm and comfortable. 

Knighton to Felindre on Glyndŵr trail: Day 1

My first day on Glyndŵr's Way included a pleasant walk out of Knighton, crossing many green fields in the morning, and walking in the rain over Beacon Hill Common in the afternoon.

Gyndŵr's Way began at a slate marker in a narrow street on the first hill of the walk. It continued through alleys and lanes through the suburbs before following a path around the hillside. Exchanging greetings with morning dog walkers I looked through the trees, with their yellowing leaves, back at Knighton and the valley below.

Starting point of Glyndŵr's Way in Knighton.

Being watched by sheep, a common sight on Glyndŵr's Way.

Being watched by cows, although most cows were black or black and white.

Later I hike through large fields of grass watched closely by sheep and cows and trying to avoid the mud. Llangunllo was the only village on my way today. The pub was closed, the windows whited out. A sat by the bus shelter opposite and ate a tea cake. The shelter was full of books and various notices, such as asking if you wish to learn how to play a brass instrument. 

Lunch was in the shelter of some pine trees at the start of Beacon Hill Common as it started to rain. Vegetation on the rough ground of the common was showing its autumn colours, the red areas of dead bracken, browning heather, grasses, rushes and sedge either bleaching a shade of white or turning a reddish hue. Only the wet moss was a bright green. Pools of water were everywhere and the track frequently descended into mud where the grass had been broken by vehicles or grazing animals. The ground would likely remain waterlogged until spring or summer brought some heat and less rain. The path was well marked with wooden posts with the National Trail acorn symbol and the two legged dragon indicating Glyndŵr's Way, topped by a yellow plastic cap. As I approached my destination skeletal grey trees appeared out of the increasing mist.

My destination was a camping pod at Brandy Farm. There is no electricity in the pod and outside it us surprisingly dark. A little cold and damp after eating my tea, I followed the owners suggestion and walked down to the nearby village pub. Although not the most lively place, there were a few regulars, and I enjoyed by beer in the warm bar, which had the air of someone's "sitting room". I was worried I would leave wet muddy marks.

Crossing Beacon Hill Common in the rain.

Old Radnor to Knighton

Today a walk along sections of Offa's Dyke while a cold wind blew.

After leaving the Harp Inn I looked in on the village church opposite. No services today even though it was Sunday, due to Covid restrictions, but the door was open so I looked in the admire the finely carved, wooden rood screen. The building dates from the 15th century, replacing an earlier church destroyed during the Glyndŵr uprising.

St Stephen's church in Old Radnor.

Although the first part of the day was sunny, bringing out the orange and russet colours of the autumn trees, there was a cold wind and I was glad of my gloves. A bit of road walking was needed to re-join Offa's Dyke. A sign indicated I was leaving Wales, then a little way down the same road a second sign welcomed me back into Wales, the border seems to move around somewhat erratically. Such transiting through England is I understand within the Covid regulations, but I was reminded of a conversation I overheard in the bar last night. Apparently in a nearby Welsh town the police were checking car number plates in a pub's car park to make sure they had not crossed the border from England to obtain some refreshment, contrary to the current rules. One man was questioned. It seems that he now lives in Wales, but he neglected to update his car's registration document from his earlier English address.

Joining Offa's Dyke path I followed it up and down hills beside green fields, some populated with sheep or cows. Groups of trees broke the skyline. It took me a little time to realise I was walking on a section of Offa's Dyke, consisting of a grassy, often tree lined bank and a ditch alongside. Much of the structure, built in the 8th century by Offa, King of Mercia, has disappeared, eroded away or flattened by farming, and Offa's Dyke path does not always follow the Dyke, but today the bank and ditch that forms the Dyke were visible over considerable distances. I wondered if King Offa had people walking the Dyke, as I was today, watching out for any marauding Welsh who might attack his dominions. 

Section cut through Offa's Dyke by a farm track.

Rain approaching in the distance.

 

By lunchtime the sun had long gone, and the cold breeze brought occasional showers, so I set up my bivi among a few pine trees to give me some shelter while I ate my lunch. A couple of hours later I was walking into Knighton. As I was early, I visited the Offa's Dyke visitor's centre (closed) and peered in the windows of the small shops, a number seemed to be selling "Airfix" models, which you build by  gluing plastic parts together and then painting, they have become popular during recent Covid lockdowns.

The Horse and Jockey proved very much a local's pub, with much bantering between the customers. Cauliflower cheese with garlic bread and a pint of beer for dinner.

Walking down into Knighton. 

Hay on Wye to Old Radnor

A walk up and down through a patchwork of green fields.

Fortunately the weather did not match the forecast, although there was some heavy rain, for much of the day the black, threatening clouds just glowered in the sky. I began by window shopping around Hay on Wye, in addition to the bookshops for which the town is famous, there are lots of quirky little stores and several interesting bakeries. I did not get passed the first one without stopping to buy my lunch, everything looked so attractive to eat, I bought more than was good for my figure...

Streets of Hay on Wye

Offa's Dyke trail took me out of town on the road bridge across the River Wye and then on a path following the wooded river bank before turning into fields on the flood plain to the first of the hills. I had forgotten that much of Offa's Dyke path repeatedly climbs up and down, into and out of valleys and over ridges. The hills are not high but there are a lot of them. This first section included a path between hedges, and through trees by a stream. Later I crossed grass fields and uncultivated common land. Russet coloured trees and reddish bracken marked the approach of winter as I hiked along single track roads, lanes and footpaths.

Trees in their autumn dresses caught by a fleeting pool of sunlight.

St Mary's church in Newchurch looked worthy of a closer inspection. Not only was it open, there were also tea making facilities, so I put the kettle on and enjoyed a cup of tea with my lunch, leaving a modest donation and my thanks in the visitor's book.

To avoid entering England, illegal due to the current Covid 19 regulations, I left the Offa's Dyke Trail as it climbed Hergest Ridge, and followed roads to reach the tiny village of Old Radnor. Not ideal as for much of the way the road was bordered by hedges rising vertically, directly from the edge of the road, giving me no verge to jump onto if cars came too close, and at bends, the hedge made me invisible to approaching cars. As streaks of pink appeared above the massed, dark rain clouds I was glad to turn off onto a quiet single track road to climb up a final hillside to reach the welcoming Harp Inn and my bed for the night. Another night with some excellent food. An older couple at a nearby table questioned whether the vaccines for Covid, which were expected soon, would be safe, given the speed at which they were developed. I assured them that they would be given the enormous focus on their development and testing.

The welcoming sight of the Harp Inn as darkness was falling

.

Abergavenny to Hay on Wye

Today I walked the length of the Black Mountains on a long ridge overlooking England.

The weather forecast looked good. I caught a gap between two weather fronts bringing belts of rain sweeping from the west across Wales (most weather in Wales comes from the west). And so it proved, although there were a few showers, much of the day was dry, although a cold wind made my windproof, rainproof jacket, gloves and hat which covered my ears, essential on the high ground. 

Leaving Abergavenny Train Station my first task was to find a toilet, a sign I was joining the cohort of middle aged men. Then after passing through the pretty centre, ready with Christmas lights, I left Abergavenny through the streets and a park onto a quiet single track road. Although there was no pavement, people were out walking their dogs. They thinned out as I walked further from town until eventually it was just cars, pick ups, tractors and me enjoying periods of sunshine as the road wound between green fields and trees shedding yellow leaves. 

Leaving the tarmac I crossed a field, a railway line (waiting for a hooting train to pass heading southward) then more fields as I started climbing into the Black Mountains. A cyclist passed, my route crossed a tangle of rough cycle trails, before deviating to join Offa's Dyke path. After my climb it was a little sad that Offa's Dyke path initially lost height on a leaf clogged road before climbing again. I remembered how cross I was several years ago when I was walking in the other direction on Offa's Dyke that I had an unnecessary climb after a long day, although my performance today suggested I was fitter than in those early days of my long distance walking career despite being several years older.

The path then turned upward passing an ancient hill fort before gaining the high ground on top of Hatterrall ridge. I was impressed by the ridge when I first hiked it, with its long views over England as well as the sheer length of high moorland. Today the grasses were either bleached or an attractive autumnal red, the heather, which formed most of the cover, still had some green shoots but much of it was turning a reddish brown. Efforts had been made to improve the path, appropriate as Offa's Dyke is a National Path. Gravel was laid in parts but in the wettest areas, rectangular slabs of rock had been placed to form a dry and secure trail. In places the water had covered some of these paving slabs and there were "dams" made of sheep's wool and netting. Not a practice I had seen before, I assume it was designed to minimise erosion by flowing water. Horses, maybe wild, gathered near the trail, a common sight on walks throughout the Brecon Beacons. 

One of the three trig points I passed on the ridge, English fields spread out to the right.

The paved path among the autumn red grasses, flooded by water.

As the day wore on, after each summit on the ridge I was expecting to see the town of Hay on Wye in the distance, instead there was a slight rise to yet another summit. Eventually the meandering River Wye could be seen in the far distance. Offa's Dyke path shied off to the right but I walked on to the final trig point (Hay Bluff) from which the lower lands were spread out beneath me, and the steep scarp slope of the northern end of the South Wales Coal basin stretched out to the west. I ate a cereal bar admiring the view. It tasted of nothing which made me worried that I had caught Covid 19, but the smell of manure a little later reassured me I had not. Instead the manufacturers of the bar had succeed in making something entirely bland despite the raisins they included.

Dropping down off the Black Mountains the sky was becoming increasingly dark. Hiking from November to January in Britain has the added thrill of darkness falling early, so that frequently the day's walk ends in darkness, adding the possibility of hidden dangers. A decision needed to be made as to when to start using my head torch. While this gives a small circle of clear vision, it makes seeing distant objects more difficult. Without a bright light my eyes would adjust, developing some night vision and maybe able to distinguish things in the middle distance at the risk of tripping on some unseen rock. However, as the owls starting hooting, and the trail entered dark woods, I dug out my head torch and focused on not falling over.

After the trees there was a steep slope, with mud made slick by recent rain. If I tried to stand still my feet would start sliding beneath me. The trekking pole I had brought helped to provide some stability, maybe I should have brought a pair as the inevitable happened and I collapsed; my bottom, arm and hands becoming smeared with mud. Across the final fields the darkness was so complete that I was reliant on my GPS, a sort of magic compass pointing the way until each kissing gate appeared out of the darkness before me. Horses' eyes caught my torchlight making the middle distance a ghostly scene of suspended eyes. 

Reaching Hay on Wye and the Old Black Lion, my home for the night, I removed my very muddy boots and donned my face mask before entering. I have now enjoyed a meal at a Covid separated table, taking a beer from a tray as instructed by the waitress. The food was attractively laid out on the plates with little green sprouts of something, the portions modest enough that I managed three courses. 

Tomorrow promises heavy rain.

Glyndŵr's Way: Plans and expectations

2020 is the year of Covid 19, the coronavirus pandemic. Rules and regulations, designed to prevent people dying of this new disease, are constantly changing. After being locked down in my home city by local restrictions and then the Welsh "firebreak" for several weeks I will shortly be able to travel around the nation of Wales, but no further. During the lockdown I have watched films and documentaries about famous long distance walking trails, such as the Appalachian Trail ("A Walk in the Woods"), the Camino de Santiago ("The Way") and the Pacific Crest Trail ("Wild"), but as I will not be allowed to leave Wales for the foreseeable future my choice was more restricted, the two on my short list were Glyndŵr's Way and the Wales Coast Path. As it is now November I felt the Coast Path might be a better choice at some other time of year. I have walked parts of the Pembrokeshire Coast path and the South Wales Coast (which are sections of the Wales Coast Path) at different times in winter and in summer. Rain and wind prevailed in winter. While this was a good test of my clothing, I enjoyed the beaches, villages and ice creams more in spring and summer. Rain and wind was unlikely to make the Glyndŵr's Way pleasant, but in general I had lower expectations of this route. Now seemed as good a time as any to walk it.

One of Britain and Wales' National Trails, Glyndŵr's Way is 220 kilometres, 135 miles long. Forming a "V", it starts at the town of Knighton on the Welsh border with England, heads west to Machynlleth then returns east to Welshpool. Other than covering much of Mid Wales, admittedly a neglected part of the country, the logic of the switchback is not obvious. Named after the Welsh hero Owain Glyndŵr, who fought the English between 1400 and 1412, the route passes close to where he fought a number of his battles. Machynlleth is famous as Glyndŵr assembled a parliament there with his allies (and also for its Alternative Technology Centre, established many years ahead of the current interest in climate change).

I recently walked the Cambrian Way. Unlike Glyndŵr's Way it has not been awarded the tribute of National Trail status, but based on my research and travels through Wales, I am expecting the Cambrian Way to be the more scenic, dramatic and challenging trail. I will probably find more comfort on Glyndŵr's Way as I have been able to book accommodation for most nights, unlike the wild camping that was necessary on the Cambrian Way when bed & breakfasts and hotels were either closed (due to Covid 19) or full. To avoid that outcome I have booked lodgings for all but one of my nights on the trail (I am still awaiting a response from the final place). Not normally my practice as it limits the freedom to walk for longer or shorter days depending on how I feel at the time, however, the area is in general not the best wild camping country with much farmland (as well as being illegal in Wales) and November is not the best time for sleeping out due to the rain, mud and fewer hours of daylight. The other risk is that the Welsh government will change the rules again if hospital admissions and deaths shoot up. I have bought a small bivy bag in case of problems making it necessary to sleep out, always useful in an emergency anyway. 

Knighton, the starting point of the trail, is on the Heart of Wales railway line, but at the time of planning the line was closed due to storm related landslips, so I considered alternatives. Bus links were not good from where I live and ideally I needed to avoid transiting through England (which may or may not be within the rules). I decided to catch a train to Abergavenny and walk from there up to Knighton on Offa's Dyke trail over three days. This is another National Trail which follows the border of Wales. I have walked Offa's Dyke Trail before and the section I will be repeating includes a one of the best sections, a scenic ridge walk along the Black Mountains, with extensive vistas across the border into England, to reach the book filled village of Hay on Wye. Another 78 kilometres on my trip, but so what.

After three days on Offa's Dyke I expect to complete Glyndŵr's Way in nine days based on the Cicerone guide. I am hoping the timings in the guide are correct as Bed & Breakfasts and hotels have been asking for my arrival times, and I have based them on the guide. I will also be walking in the dark if they are on the optimistic side.

Sheep are ubiquitous on Glyndŵr's Way