Day 16 - Crickhowell to Bwlch
A glovely day indeed. We breakfasted in the Courtroom Cafe then bought filled rolls from the bakery for a packed lunch.
Out of Crickhowell, which I was sad to leave as it's a great wee town, the Beacons way rises sharpy up the Southern slopes of Pen Cerrig Calch, the Southernmost of the Black Mountains, and follows the side of the hill. From here you can see Crickhowell framed beautifully against the mountains.
Walking though a field, we had an interesting conversation about grasses (bear with me!) and how the whole of human civilisation depends upon them. We use grasses for everything from building shelters to make fabrics, nets and ropes, to eating starchy grains so all the bread, pasta and rice we eat, all the bread we eat etc to feeding livestock that produces meat, to fermenting alcohols for driving and medicinal uses... the list goes on. Who'd have thought that humble grasses could be so indispensable to our way of life?!
We stopped at a ruined house where I took this next photo for a quick rest. About half an hour later we’d walked right round the side of the valley (out of view to the right of the picture) until we were at the line of trees you can see in the far background when I realised that I had left my water bottle behind at the place we stopped so I had to backtrack all the way back to the foreground of this pic again then back, but even worse I missed the path and ended up having to scale a very steep bracken covered slope to refind it. It took me an hour and I was knackered by the time I refound Rory sat under an ash tree.
Talking about trees, throughout the day I got Rory (a trained horticulturist) to teach me how to identify the trees we saw there, so that within a couple of hours I could tell an ash from an elder, and an alder from a hazel. It's sad that most children don't learn this kind of thing anymore - I spend more time in nature than many of my friends yet I'm only just learning this now. I decided that I will pass on this knowledge to Isabelle and anyone else that will listen! So do test me on trees when you see me next!
We stopped for lunch at a grassy patch with great views. Shortly after I saw a man on a digger. He looked so ridiculous with his little yellow horse digging ditches that I just had to laugh. Maybe you had to be there.
After the village of Cwmdu, we walked a short way up a small valley to the farm of Blaen-y-Cwm, the first but not last of the Blaen-y-Cwms that I will be visiting on this trip (the next being Kate's family's cottage near Dollgellau). The path then climbed steeply up Cefn Moel. My calves really felt that climb, I had to stop and stretch them at the top to stop them seizing up.
The top of the hill was pockmarked by these grassy knobs. I couldn't tell if they were man-made or naturalbut since the OS map shows every ancient structure even when there nothing left of it remaining to see, I assume they're natural.
The skies were brooding but it made for some gorgeous pictures. Mynydd Llangynidr opposite looked like Mordor. I couldn't get enough of these views. All through down the descent towards Bwlch we were treated to an ever changing drama on the horizon. I'll give it to Wales, she does make rain and storms pretty at least.
Bwlch is a tiny hamlet spread along a road. We were staying in the backpackers hostel above The New Inn, and were the only guests that night.
Sadly the pub closes Mon/Tue and there’s nowhere else to eat in Bwlch, so we walked 2 miles down to a pub at the far end of nearby Llangynidr via an apparently famous old bridge. On the way three giant geese charged at us from a garden giving me quite a surprise!
Llangynidr was more of a smattering of houses over a large area than a proper town. Nonetheless The Red Lion was a welcoming and friendly place and bustling with locals, diners and passers through. We dined well there and relaxed for the evening by playing pool and darts. The only downside was the 2mile uphill walk back to the hostel! ‘Twas a grand evening, to be sure.
