Total ascent, 642m (2106ft).
Sunday, 28th July.
I had a good night out in Llandrindod. A pint in Arvon Alehouse followed by a curry in Zeera (I abandoned Fabian's Kitchen for something more 'no nonsense') followed by more beer in Arvon. And Greylands Guest House was by far the best place I've stayed at in Llandrindod Wells, even though every square inch was filled with an ornament of some sort.
The couple who owned it were from the south east and were big on the home produce, which made breakfast into quite an event. There were homemade juices, fruit salads and compotes galore, so I had very little room for the traditional breakfast things when they arrived. I decided to follow my mother's example and hide the bacon I couldn't eat in my pocket wrapped in a serviette. Why I couldn't just leave it I've no idea! I shared the breakfast room with a friendly man with a superb Welsh-themed prosthetic leg, a seriously unhealthy sweating hippie and a lad with a stinking hangover who left before his cooked breakfast arrived. What a motley crew we were!
I left in high spirits and had yet another good look at Llandrindod, concluding as I walked through town that the reason it seems so run down is that it had the furthest to fall from its lofty position, and sadly it just can't afford to maintain its fabulous architecture. Towns such as Knighton were never prestigious places and still aren't, so they look just fine.
I was shunning the HoWLT again today (for the second and final time) to explore the hills south east of the railway line, as I didn't feel the need to visit Newbridge Station which kept the official route at a lower altitude. Whereas I couldn't wholeheartedly recommend yesterday's route as an alternative to the main trail, today's was superb from start to finish (apart from a 20 minute episode, of which more later). Also superb was the weather, the best for walking of the trail so far; 50% cloud, 50% sun and the perfect temperature.
I left Llandrindod via the lakeside path, already busy with women pushing children in buggies, then ascended a lane past the golf course, already busy with men pulling golf clubs in buggies. The demographic was strangely predictable, as it had been last night in the 'Gaming Hub' next to the alehouse. It sold board and electronic games but also appeared to be somewhere you could eat, drink and play online to your heart's content, and it was full of fathers and sons. And it was still going strong at 10:30pm.
Looking south from Gilwern Hill.
My route took me to Gilwern Hill, the beautiful Castle Bank, east of Carneddau and down to Builth Wells; all joyful experiences aside from the aforementioned 20 minutes. I approached a house called Cwm-berwyn down a long track, and from the in the garden it was obvious that an event was about to happen or had happened. I could tell from the map that a good path went left of the house and a poor one went to the right, so I aimed left. I could hear children and adults playing and shouting but had no idea how to get to where they were.
I gave up and stood in front of the house pondering, at which point a young woman came out of the front door. After saying hello I said something like, "Sounds like you're all having fun!" to which she replied, "Yes, it was my father's funeral yesterday." I had absolutely no idea how to respond to this, so I just said how sorry I was and stood there trying my best to disappear into thin air. At this point I'm convinced that every negative emotion she'd been feeling came out in one decisive, vindictive direction. "Go to the right of the house and follow the stream until the paths meet."
I didn't want to go right, I wanted to go left where the happy, shouty, smiley people were, but I dared not contest her decision. I went right, through the nettles, up the steep slope, through the head high bracken, beneath the waist high tree branches, down the steep slope, across the stream, over the barbed wire fence and joined the wide, clear track coming in from the left. I hope she feels better now.
I had a coffee in Builth then headed to Caer Beris Manor, just west of town, to meet Jen. She's forgotten to bring a rucksack for tomorrow's walk but has everything that needs to go in it. This of course is my fault because I didn't tell her to bring one. Thankfully I have a plan.
Builth Wells.
The Royal Welsh Show was in Builth Wells last week so it's dead as a dodo now. We walked back into town for a very average meal in one of the few places that could be bothered cooking anything.
Caer Beris Manor.
Finally an aside from Greylands Guest House that I'm still laughing at now. As the landlord was showing me to my room I noticed a print of 'The Accolade' by Edmund Leighton on the staircase wall. I pointed at it and asked him which of them was interested in the Pre-Raphaelites. After a few seconds, during which he'd obviously only registered the 'lites' part of the question, he gestured towards the wall light next to the painting and said, "We got them from IKEA.”
Pre-Raphaelites and IKEA lights.
No comments:
Post a Comment