June 20, 2008: Glaslyn to Talbontdrain

When I limped down to breakfast on the sixth day of our GW trip I found Tosh in conference with Mrs. Morgan as they discussed our itinerary. Here I had to interrupt – for there was no way I could walk another twelve miles today. My announcement came as no surprise to anyone and, fortunately, we were in a perfect spot to have a rest day – booked into Severn View Guest House for a second night and situated in a town that seemed to have lots of interesting places to visit in the interim. The Morgans, moreover, were excellent hosts, offering us the use of a comfortable sitting room should we want to spend a lot of time indoors. Mrs. Morgan had a lot of experience in the hospitality trade, having shared in the management of the La Mancha Resort in Palm Springs for a number of years. Gareth, her husband, was one of those old Welsh Liberals; there were many pictures of Lloyd George about the house and Paddy Ashdown’s diaries on display as well.

We had breakfast, though it was obvious that we often disappointed our landladies on this trip because we ate so little beyond eggs. I did have a sausage, which I pronounced “authentic” before we got a long lecture on its provenance from Mrs. Morgan, who twice noted that she didn’t like to put anything on her table that she did not know how to spell. Perhaps it was here that we got a second opinion on poached eggs – that is that they needed to be at least a week old for any success! Margie also seemed quite happy with a rest day and so we soon took to the streets for a look round. I continued to use my cane.

Tosh had found her missing toothbrush but her watch, the one bearing the face of Colonel Gadaffi, had stopped – so we paused at a gadget store and she received a new battery. One gadget they did not have here was a compass. I was directed to Llani Leisure on Shortbridge Street, but they were closed for the day. I wasn’t too worried for the GW was so well waymarked and, besides, as Tosh reminded me, I could get a compass bearing on my new GPS unit. I persisted in my search for a compass, however, adv  and we failed at a number of other venues; someone sent us to an art supply store – but that wasn’t the kind of compass I wanted. I did succeed in buying a replacement whistle at the newsagent – where Tosh reserved a Herald Tribune for the morrow. The people we met in this town were unvaryingly helpful and friendly.

We then went our own ways. I strolled down to have an actual view of the Severn while the ladies visited a bookstore. We all went into a store featuring wicker and wool and Tosh bought a sweater. (They had a wicker coffin for sale as well.) We had lunch at The Angel Hotel. I had cod and chips and the ladies had the curried parsnip soup – as you might have guessed. Tosh and I visited the Market Hall where they had a museum devoted to timber frame buildings upstairs. I spent much of the afternoon napping.

When we went out for our second evening meal in Llanidloes we had a look at the local hotel (site of a Chartist riot) but it seemed untenanted and we chose the Hafren Bistro on Great Oak Street, where we all had the salmon and vegetables and I had a gooey ice cream desert with fresh peaches. I had regained some of my energy and we now decided to continue on the next day to our last b&b at Talbontdrain. But where to pick up the route was a matter of some discussion when we went down to breakfast on the Friday. Mrs. Morgan felt that I should avoid the steep climb up to the ridge above Dylife and so it was decided that Dave, the handyman who (when he was not painting the ceiling) would ferry our bags forward anyway, would drop us off at a roadway near Glaslyn lake, leaving only five and half miles for us to walk.

We went out at 7:30 to pick up our sandwiches and other treats at the Spar and for Tosh to retrieve her paper. I had the bacon with my eggs and then at about 9:30, the weather again bright and inviting, we piled into Dave’s car for a journey that brought us close to many of the spots we would have visited on foot, the dam, the reservoir, the village of Staylittle, Dylife, and so on. Dave complained that he had permanent disabilities because of his career as an aluminum worker and that he spoke no Welsh. (We never heard a word of this language this week, surprisingly). At 9:50 he pulled over at the desired roadhead and we exited to begin what turned out to be a delightful day on the footpath.

We could already see the round lake from the highway, and it did not take us long to reach a reunion with Glyndwr’s Way. In fact, we continued along the latter in a southerly direction for a few hundred yards, hoping for a better view of the lake, and then we reversed ourselves to head north, the heights of Foel Fadian above us. I assured Margie that we did not have to climb this summit and, indeed, our track soon turned off in a westerly direction. We made slow progress with lots of rests, not so much because of my legs (where the walking stick helped a great deal) but because I just didn’t want to arrive at our b&b too early in the day.

Up behind us came two bounding dogs (friendly this time) and soon thereafter two women walkers, one with one pole and one with the full set, packs on their backs. They were the only other GW walkers we encountered on the entire trip.

 

Views were spectacular, with the deep cleft of Nant Fadian on our left and rounded, bare hills on the other side of the valley. Ahead there was that magical mixture of green fields, hedgerows and farmsteads.

I must say I was happy to complete this next section, an often quite steep descent, in dry weather – for wet stones would have been quite treacherous. I took very small steps anyway and the others got quite a bit ahead of me here. There were a number of twists and turns in our path and after a ford we switched to the opposite side of the stream. Eventually we ran out of rocky surfaces and retuned to earthen paths; at the first stile we paused for a rest, Margie sitting on a riser one side and I on one on the other.

There was a farmer in a tractor tilling a field on our left (and raising clouds of dust) as we continued forward in a northwesterly direction on a green track, passing a cottage below us on the right and reaching Esgair-Fochnant, where there was a small caravan camp. A lady on a dune buggy, accompanied by two running dogs, steamed up hill as we descended – Tosh convinced herself that she was taking lunch to the tractor driver.

At the next settlement, Nantyfyda, we reached tarmac again and began our first ascent of the day. We had been moving deliberately slowly to this point; now the usual ups and downs of the route would mandate the same rate of progress without our having any choice in the matter.

We passed a road junction and took the right hand fork, rising into open territory where a tribe of curious cows came over to have a look at us. A track was then followed but just as soon as we had left the tarmac behind us Tosh announced that she wanted lunch and so, with my back to a grassy bank, I slid down and opened my knapsack. This was a delightful spot, with foxgloves lining the route and the sun pouring down upon us. I ate a messy prawn and mayo baguette I had purchased this morning at the Llindloes Spar (where they make their own sandwiches).

After half an hour or so we struggled to our feet (well, I did more struggling than the others) and continued forward through a gate and followed a twisting route through trees and so back to tarmac. A nice shaded section of road walking followed and we reached a telephone call box (alas a glass not a red wooden one), soon turning off on another road to begin a steep bit of uphill in three sections as we headed west – the sun in our eyes.

At Cleriau-isaf I seemed to sense that the arrangement of gates was not exactly the same as that described in the guidebook, but there were useful waymark posts that put us above this settlement and forward along the edge of fields, still rising. We passed through a series of gates, headed briefly due south and, at a plantation, chose a fork that required a southwesterly direction, one that we maintained almost to the end. I could identify a number of landmarks using my OS map as we edged forward, on a fairly level stretch, toward more forestry.

We followed a path through the trees, crossed a road and got our first view of our white-painted b&b ahead on the left. To reach it we had a steep descent to a ford and then a climb up a track – arriving at Talbontdrain at a very respectable 3:20. It had taken us five and a half hours to cover five and a half miles.

Hillary Matthews, her face red from some outdoor chores, was there to greet us, and we were soon climbing to her top floor where the ladies were once again to share a bedroom. As in Abbeycwmhir there was just a single bathroom with a shower therein, and I took the first of these, offering lessons on the use of this space to the others when I went outside a little bit later. This somewhat Spartan but quite comfortable accommodation was not dissimilar to that encountered on my earliest ventures on the British footpath, 34 years earlier.

The ladies were stationed in the front garden in the sun. A great bonus in this situation was a triple bird feeder, a station that was being visited by a great variety of feathered creatures including several species of tit, siskins, and a red-headed woodpecker. We watched the antics of these creatures for a long time and then I went to take a nap.

At 6:00 we tried to find a way to turn on any lights in the sitting room and here, for the last time, we shared out the whiskey that Margie had faithfully dragged along all this time. At 7:00 Hillary called us into her dining room for a lovely evening meal of scalloped potatoes and lamb casserole. It was still light when I went to bed for the first time – I was often up later, either because of indigestion, which bedeviled me throughout much of this trip, or on an expedition to the loo (I was just wearing my bath towel for such adventures here).

When I rose the next morning I could see that the rain had returned in force. There were other factors that soon discouraged us from undertaking a last day of walking (seven miles to Machynlleth), though my legs were not among them.  Hillary was supposed to bring our packs to the train station, where we intended to take a 2:00 train as part of our return journey, but it was soon obvious that she much preferred delivering the packs (and us, as it turned out) as soon as possible.

So, after breakfast, we all crammed into her little red car and, a lecture on local life in progress, sped downhill to the train station, where we could now take a 10:00 train. I don’t think anyone was too upset at losing a second day of walking. We had walked 53 miles and left, should we choose to return, a nice four-day trip based at the Severn View Guest House. Tosh had passed her mile 2700 on this trip and I my mile 4100.

It was still raining as we climbed the bridge over the railway tracks to reach our train. The ticket lady had printed out a schedule for me, but it was wrong. To begin with, we were supposed to be on a through train to Birmingham New Street but at Shrewsbury we were required to change. When we did get to Birmingham there seemed to be no fast trains to London and we had to take one to Reading. Most of these trains were overcrowded and people occasionally had to stand. I parted company with the ladies at Reading, as they wanted a local to Ealing Broadway, and I found a fast train to Paddington, arriving well ahead of the time on my print-out – even though I had used four rather than three trains.

I marched through the station clutching my knapsack and wearing my backpack and took the Bakerloo Line to Maida Vale. My legs were still moving without pain, but as soon as I got to my empty house my knee and my calves started to stiffen up and it took me days to recover. At least Linda returned my Fritz a few hours later.

To continue with the 2009 walking season you need:

Day 7:  Llanidloes to Clywedog Sailing Club

To continue with the next stage of the walk from Talbontdrain you need:

Day 9: Talbontdrain to Machynlleth