June 17, 2008: Llanbadarn Fynydd to Bwlch-y-Sarnau
The graveyard in Llanbadarn Fynydd
As I pulled the curtains back on the fourth day of our walk I discovered two objects otherwise hidden from sight on the sill: my sweeteners and my compass. The good weather seemed to be holding and so, at 8:30, we sat down for breakfast, my back to the bonsai brigade behind me. Mr. Ainsworth was transferring our bags to Abbeycwmhir himself this morning – so it was not hard for him to load us into his car as well. We were soon back at the Llanbadarn Fynydd church parking lot and at 9:05 we took our first steps on Glyndwr’s Way.
We passed some houses and a graveyard where all the tombs were lined up to face the passers-by. Then our track took a hairpin curve to the left and we began a long, gently rising straightaway on a track that headed in a westward direction for over a mile. I used the OS map in the guidebook to measure our progress – which was steady and (for us) swift.
Eventually a hill rose above us and there were those rarest of Welsh objects, trees, but this was merely a signal for us to switch directions, crossing a stile and heading in a southerly direction onto open moorland. Waymark posts lead us through a marshy patch (there was even some duckboard) and soon we were using a faint trod to climb a flank of Moel Dod. We gained the ridgeline, with wonderful views of the valley to our right, but a descent brought us out to a saddle where we could also view the open vista to the east as well. The Black Mountains and the Brecon Beacons were far ahead of us on the horizon.
I must say that this ridgetop walking was extremely pleasant: easy gradients, great views, soft tracks underfoot. We reached a thin line of forestry pressed up against a bank next to a stone wall. One of my ideas had been to walk this far on day three, descending from this spot to Hillside Guest House far below – this would have added perhaps three extra miles to our efforts of yesterday but, as it turned out, there was really no reason to shorten day four (the purpose of such a strategy) since our next landlady couldn’t pick us up until 5:00 this afternoon anyway.
The descent from Moel Dod
We had a bit of rest with our backs to the bank and then continued forward, eventually dropping down to a house and forsaking the ridge on a steep track that climbed down to Tynpant farm – where there was a lot of animal activity for us to dodge as we crossed the farmyard and emerged onto a lonely road. Across the way more tarmac beckoned and we followed this uphill as far as the entrance to Bwlch farm. This spot, too, had once offered b&b and I had proposed a stop here in some of my planning ventures – but those days were evidently long past and we were directed to continue our route on a steep uphill path beneath a line of conifers. So we regained the ridge at last.
Ahead we could see an ordnance survey column on the next summit but our route did not rise to meet this objective. Instead we disdained the departure of a track to our left and persevered in our southerly direction until, at last, a descent began. At a saddle we said goodbye to the ridge altogether as the GW dropped down steeply into some forestry below. Tosh was beginning to agitate for a lunch stop but, at the same time, she admitted that she was afraid of forests – and so we dropped down through this one fairly rapidly. I wanted to chant, “Fee Fie Foe Fum, I Smell The Blood Of An Iowa Mum,” but, as usual, she was too far ahead of me to hear this foolishness. We caught up with her at a clearing where, no longer menaced by a ring of conifers, she had opened her pack for lunch.
We made fairly rapid progress through our sandwiches and then packed up in order to drop down to a stream and up to a roadway that would take us most of the way to Abbeycwmhir. Just as we reached this junction, however, a light rain began. I stored my sweatshirt in my backpack, pulled rain paints onto my sore legs, slipped my rain jacket over my head and stood up, painfully. As usual, Tosh was trying to find reasons not to put her rain pants on (my latest pair has zippers so high that I do not have to take my boots off when it is time to put this garment on).
I had somehow imagined that we would have some nice downhill in the valley into which we had now descended – but this was not to be the case. The road had a number of steep uphill sections as well and, warm in my wet suit, I was well tired by the time we began a descent to Dyfaenor, a Civil War era mansion. Just before reaching this spot, however, I found Tosh standing disconsolately next to a stile at the roadside. Since the publication of Perrott’s volume a diversion had superseded this approach to the house in question, and we were now directed to begin an off-road section somewhat earlier than expected.
I could see the route on the OS map but we were quite reliant on waymark posts for the next ten minutes or so, eventually reaching a section where we could follow our progress in the text again. Such an unexpected variation made me cross. At least the rain soon stopped.
We dropped down to a footbridge and climbed steeply up on the other side, west again becoming the dominant direction, and found a way around Brynmoil farm, where there seemed to be an unmarked grave on its access road. I was out in front now and thus the first to see the sights of the famous village of Abbeycwmhir – whose Cistercian Abbey lay in ruins over on our left. On our right we soon passed “The Hall,” a fifty-six room Victorian mansion open to the public (Mrs. Ainsworth’s women’s group had recently had a tour). There were no signs offering coffee to the casual visitor and so we persisted, soon reaching the church (made of chunks of old abbey, evidently) and the Happy Union pub.
Tosh and Margie at the Happy Union in Abbeycwmhir
This later establishment, so a number of sources had informed us, did not open its doors until 9:00, but there was again a post office next door and so Tosh made a left turn to check things out. It was 2:00 and we had walked eight and a half miles.
Tosh found the post office closed but the postmistress, who was also the lady publican, volunteered to open the pub for us – a happy union indeed! I had a pint of lager while Tosh drank her new favourite: orange and soda water with ice in a pint glass. We had a nice and unexpectedly relaxing time of it and learned a lot of gossip about the village (some 6o souls live here), including details of our landlady and her family (our lady publican was her sister-in-law and our packs had been delivered to the pub, as it turned out). There were also wonderful pictures here of Abbeycwmhir in the past, some going back a hundred years.
We left at 2:55 for, though this town would be our resting place for the night, I wanted us to complete three more miles to the next village – thus leaving a fifth day of twelve miles instead of one of fifteen. Our route led us up a track next to the church and we were soon climbing into an area dominated by forestry. I could tell, however, that some felling had taken place since the publication of the guidebook, and that we had emptiness (and foxgloves) where once trees had stood in their rows. Waymarking was good however, and even if the forestry roads did not all appear as expected we had no difficult in getting through the trees and, in a north-westerly direction, dropping down to a road after three quarters of a mile.
Once again, however, we were informed by sign of another diversion, though in this case we would have to use the road north rather than an overland route to Lower Esgair farm. While we were pondering this change it started to rain again! The prospect of hoisting ourselves over still more farmland stiles was not that inviting and so, when I suggested that we could use this very roadway all the way to our village, there was unanimous agreement that this we should do so now.
There was again no traffic and so progress (with its own ups and downs) was unimpeded. The rain stopped, the sun came out and on we plodded, finally rounding a hill and beginning a steep climb into Bwlch-y-Sarnau. I took a picture of Tosh sitting on bank in front of a house flying the Welsh flag and we continued forward, searching for the church which would serve as our rendezvous point. We reached it at 4:40 and had a look around. Out front there was a bench and here I sat down, still in my rain jacket, while a stiff wind cooled things down for three tired walkers. We had completed eleven and a half miles.
At 4:55 our landlady, Mrs Wozencraft, arrived in her car, and we were soon speeding south to Abbeycwmhir on the same roadway that we had just walked. Her low-slung bungalow, Erw Fair, had only two rooms for guests (and no en suite facilities this time) so Tosh and Margie finally had to share premises. Mrs. W. helped them tune in their TV and we had some scotch and crisps and took turns (after Margie had figured out the lock on the bathroom door) taking showers.
We had dinner at 7:00 (lasagna and new potatoes again) and Rebecca, the tall ten year-old, did some of the serving. The garden here was also lovely. At 8:00 we walked around the corner to the Happy Union for a nightcap. Our lady publican was still serving, slumped over the counter – working on her accounts. I would have liked another beer but the prospect of having to go across the hall all night long to offload all that liquid was discouraging and I think I just sipped at a Tia Maria. There was still light in the sky when I pulled the curtain, rubbed my legs with Deep Heat, hid the room’s flashing clock (none of these timepieces seemed to be working on this trip) and turned out the light.
To continue with the next stage of our walk you need: