Day 4 - Knighton to Llangynllo, 15.6 miles.

Total ascent, 745m (2444ft).

Friday, 26th July.

The food & drink set up in Knighton last night was perfect. An alehouse that serves great beer but no food next to a chippy that serves great food but no beer. And you are allowed to eat the food in the alehouse. I was staying in the Red Lion and was a bit surprised when I was greeted with, "It looks like a pub but it's not." She was right, it had hand pumps on the bar with nothing in them, and empty optics. Nevertheless it was a good non-pub to stay in, and there was another good breakfast.

I've always been a sniggerer, as those who work with me will agree, and I had a moment at breakfast that caused an outbreak of serviette stifled sniggering. The landlord obviously prided himself on serving local produce, one item of which was Mr Pugh's bacon. He was trying to explain this to a Dutch couple at a nearby table, and evidently to promote his own cosmopolitan approach to bacon sampling said, "I love tasting pork of different nationalities." At this point my inner Viz reader mentality took over and I suffered the aforementioned outbreak. I need to grow up.

Today's walk wasn't far off a complete loop. There was very little accommodation to be found between Knighton and Llandrindod Wells, so I settled on a shorter day to Llangynllo with a longer day tomorrow to Llandrindod. I noticed that Llangynllo Station was a long way from anywhere (including Llangynllo!) and the detour involved to get there was unlikely to be taken up by many people walking the route. As I was staying reasonably close I decided to include it in my plan. Basically I left Knighton on Glyndwr's Way and finished on Glyndwr's Way but in the opposite direction, as the HoWLT had taken a huge looping route right round and beyond Llangynllo. It was a fab day's walking.

Part one was an 'up and over' to Knucklas, which had an impressive viaduct. I was starting to get into the station visiting thing (of course I was bound to!) so took a short detour to Knucklas Station, one of the many request stops (you just wave at the train!). There was a shelter, a few 'tired' pots of plants and very little else, though I'm not sure what I expected to find really. 

Knucklas viaduct. 

What Knucklas also had up its sleeve though, was a castle. The signs for the castle showed a turreted tower, much like the chess piece. It was on my route so I climbed the hill with great anticipation. I think the picture below is the castle, but I'm still not sure.

Knucklas Castle???

However what the castle lacked in rocks, or indeed anything you might make a castle out of, it made up for in location. It was the most impressive viewpoint of the walk so far, and would have been a great spot for a drink and a biscuit had I not only just had a drink and a biscuit in the shelter at Knucklas Station. 

I descended to Lloyney and took another detour, not even slightly optimistic that the pub would be open when I got there. Not only was it not open, but it appeared not to exist at all anymore. I did a U-turn and rejoined the trail, which climbed steadily and for a long time up to what looked like a bench perched on the top of the hill. When I arrived it was not only a bench, but a fenced enclosure with a sign stating that it was private land but I was welcome to 'rest awhile'. The perfect lunch stop.

Ruth, whoever you are or were, thank you so much for this bench!

The remainder of the day was a fantastic ridge walk, at least 4 miles worth, followed by the backwards part of Glyndwr's Way down to Llangynllo Station and the moment I realised that I'd completely underestimated the importance of the stations to this trail. At the exact point where the station was supposed to be there were two houses. One looked modern and lived in, the other older and empty. I'd been standing outside the gate for some time looking utterly bewildered when there was a knock on the window of the modern house and an old lady gesturing to me. She wanted me to go into the garden. I walked over to the window and was informed that the station was through her back garden, and indeed it was! It was an amazing moment and made me even more incredulous that Mold station, in a town of 9000 people, is long gone, but a village of less than 100 still has one.

Station Approach.

Keep to the left of the Hebe...

...and you’re there. Direct train to Crewe too. 

Having said that, it was still a mile to Llangynllo itself and most of another to my B&B for the night, Little Hencefn. I was met with coffee and biscuits and as I'm half board here will soon be eating. Then I'll drop down to the village to revisit the Greyhound Inn, where I had an interesting experience in 2010.

Day 3 - Hopesay to Knighton, 19 miles.

Total ascent, 718m (2356ft).

Thursday, 25th July.

The Kangaroo Inn was completely dead last night, and it wasn't long before I was inclined to leave and get an early night in my far more welcoming B&B. I had another dream about white flashing lights and this turned out to be real as well; a really annoying flash every minute or so from a plastic thing on the ceiling. 

The landlady was happy to make breakfast for me at 7:30 (earlier than she usually does it) so I could be away by 8:00 in cooler temperatures. They only have one room so at least she was done once I'd eaten. As usual the B&B experience was miles better than staying in a pub; the room, the breakfast, the personal touch (no not that sort of personal touch!). 

Speaking of which, however, a peculiar thing happened early on in the walk today, at about 8:30. As I walked along a lane I passed a field gate on my left, behind which a man was standing. In one hand he had his glasses and in the other a hankie. He looked a bit surprised to see me but nevertheless when I said, "Morning" I expected him to reply with a similar greeting. Instead he said, "Blimey, water meters, they're so hard to find most of the time", which immediately aroused my suspicion as to his intentions. I'm trusting that the hankie was to clean his glasses with, and that my suspicion was the only thing aroused.

Phone box conversion - I could use this just now.

My Met Office app was forecasting wall to wall sun today, with the exception of 4 hours this afternoon. It was predicting a 50% chance of a thunderstorm in my vicinity at 2pm, 3pm, 4pm and 5pm. My thoughts immediately turned to a probability lesson I'd done with my Year 4 class a few weeks ago. Lots of the children had 'got it' at the ridiculously basic level we are supposed to introduce probability at and things were getting far fetched (eg. "How likely am I to go to the moon before school finishes? Is it certain, likely, unlikely or impossible?" "Well, a moon alien could land on the back yard and knock you out and put you in its spaceship and get you there really quickly, so I think it's likely."), so we moved on to coin tossing. The chance of tossing 4 consecutive heads is 1 in 16 (½ x ½ x ½ x ½, Pascal's Triangle and all that, stay with me), so I translated that to the 50% per hour storm forecast. I had a 1 in 16 chance of avoiding a storm, not great all in all. 

The morning was glorious and the trail good for the most part (a couple of fields of crops and a hideously overgrown stretch of path notwithstanding). One of the features of The Heart of Wales Line Trail is that it gives the option to visit all of the stations on the line, via optional 'station links'. This isn't something I intend to do as I want to spend more time on higher ground, but I did detour to Bucknell station after eating lunch on a bench in the lovely churchyard. While I was there two things happened. One, a train pulled in to the station. I'm not sure why I was so pleased, but I wasn't expecting one so I was. Two, I walked around the end of the station building and there was a shop selling ice creams. Oh joy! I don't think I've ever had an ice cream that tasted so good (it was blueberry and clotted cream btw). Context is everything.

Bucknell Station. 

A long climb through a wood followed, and at 13:36 I heard the first clap of thunder, a long way to the east. I wanted to get to the top before rain arrived so I increased my pace, the thunder getting ever nearer. It was only when I emerged from the wood that I could see that the once blue sky was now a very dark grey. The irony of wanting to get to the top of a hill to witness a thunderstorm wasn't lost on me, but I pressed on to a copse at the highest point, ducked under some heavily leaved alders, got waterproofed up and waited. 

And waited.

And waited.

The storm wasn't going to make it, and I watched gloomily as it headed northwards to my left and became increasingly pathetic. By now there wasn't a flash to be seen or a rumble to be heard. I have no idea why I was so disappointed.

My route now skirted around Knighton to the north and joined Offa's Dyke Path. I was on familiar territory and the descent into Knighton was as enjoyable as ever. Knighton sits right on the border of England and Wales. In fact of its population (as of 2011) 3007 live in Powys and just 140 in Shropshire. I'm not sure that's a balanced fight when the pubs close on a Friday! I can't imagine a fight on a Thursday evening but you never know.

Looking down at Knighton from the new, improved bench (the old one fell to bits).

I didn’t bother.

Day 2 - Wentnor to Hopesay, 17.5 miles.

Total ascent, 661m (2169ft).

Wednesday, 24th July.

I was staying in a lovely little village called Wentnor last night, in the Crown Inn. It was still really warm outside at 10pm and my room was roasting. I'd made the mistake of ordering one of their 'classic' steak and ale pies, which would have benefitted from not being microwaved, and just made me even hotter. Other than that the pub was great, as was the beer. 

I was so shattered that neither the heat nor the lock-in downstairs (well it was Tuesday) stopped me getting to sleep. I had an odd and strangely vivid dream that guests kept urinating out of the windows into the street, so the pub installed security cameras that flashed brightly and illuminated the culprits. People kept weeing and the camera kept flashing, but after one particular flash there was an almighty booming noise. I was awake in an instant; no urinating guests, no camera. It was the beginning of the most violent thunderstorm I have seen and heard in this country. It was BIBLICAL! The lightning flashes were every couple of seconds and the street was a river (of water, not urine). Rain was pouring onto the window sill so I had no choice but to shut the window and make the room even hotter.

The storm was the talk of breakfast, though the landlady had slept through it. I'd got up early to stretch my back out, and it seemed much happier than I'd expected. I've realised recently that the reason I'm reluctant to take medication, in this case co-codamol, is because I want to know how bad things are. If I don't take them I can say, "Blimey, my back's really bad", then the following day, "Wow, it's not getting better at all", and the next, "Is this ever going to end?" And so on until it gets better. Now in this case I can replace, "Wow, it's not getting better at all" with, "Ooh, it's much happier than I'd expected" and feel pleased with my body's natural healing capabilities. Jennie would definitely not agree with this.

The average temperature today was 4°C less than yesterday and it made a massive difference. Miles 2 to 6 were sensational. I was back on the Long Mynd (it's reallllly long, so I'd detoured off it last night to stay in Wentnor) and the views were glorious; so glorious I was too distracted to take any photos.

Oh, apart from this one.

I was surprised how much I recognised today, such as Montgomery Castle to the west and later the Malverns in the distance to the east. There was one very prominent hill to the east I couldn't place, so I was quite pleased when the only other walker I met today (to go with the one yesterday) turned out to be local.

Me: Do you know what that tall hill in the distance is?

Man: I planted the trees on that hill.

Me: That's amazing! I didn't mean that hill though, I meant the tall one behind in the distance.

Man: Forty years I worked in that forest.

Me: That's brilliant! Do you know what the tall hill in the distance with no trees on it is called?

Man: And now I'm 75.

Me: Well, enjoy your walk.

If anybody knows the name of the tall hill in the distance with no trees on it please put me out of my misery.

Miles 7 to 13 were over small, steep hills followed by a lane down into Craven Arms. It was all very pleasant in the less unpleasant temperatures, and I saw several red kites and a hare. 

5 red kites (no, really)...

...and a hare. Look, I haven’t got my superzoom with me, ok?

Craven Arms isn't a beautiful place, but it is the start of the Heart of Wales Line Trail. I wandered over the railway bridge to the station, congratulated myself for starting the walk, then stopped at the supermarket. I had to get an evening meal as the chef in the pub near tonight's B&B has gone on holiday, which is pretty inconsiderate. I gathered some salad stuff and headed for the Secret Hills Discovery Centre for lunch; we'd stopped here for food on the way home from the Green Man Festival a few years ago and enjoyed it. 

Today's visit would prove to be memorable for a different reason. I was second in the cafe queue behind a woman and her son who were buying ice creams, one chocolate and one raspberry ripple. The woman serving had painstakingly scraped out the chocolate tub to fill the second cone, put them in the holder on the counter, and was pushing in a flake at the precise moment the customer opened her bag to get her money out. The end result - a chocolate ice cream upside down in the bag and a raspberry ripple ice cream wedged upside down between the bag and her cream top. The highlight of the trip so far came when the woman behind the counter said, "I'll make you some new ones, but the last of the chocolate's in your bag so you'll have to choose another flavour."

I've therefore done just four miles of the official route so far, ending with a small detour to Linley Cottage B&B in Hopesay. Time for a salad in the garden and a (mile each way) stroll to the pub. As I demanded, today was indeed good.

HoWLT waymarkers!

Wot???

Day 1 - Shrewsbury to Wentnor, 22 miles.

Total ascent, 754m (2474ft).

Tuesday, 23rd July.

As Noel Coward rightly stated, "Mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the midday sun". There were no mad dogs on the walk today, so "Englishmen go out in the midday sun" it is then, though without the 'mad' it's a pointless line. I suspect he therefore intended 'mad' to precede both dogs and Englishmen, leaving "Mad Englishmen go out in the midday sun", a perfect headline for today's exploits (as I saw another late in the walk so the plural applies).

Though Noel wrote the song about Englishmen in tropical climes, the fact that the average temperature today, over 10 hours and 22 miles, was 28°C surely put Shropshire in the tropical category. Mind you I was more prepared than those he wrote about, wearing sunglasses throughout and a rather fetching cap with neck protection, in addition to being seriously lotioned up. On the flipside I was wearing 2 pairs of socks and leather boots, comfortable if a tad warm, and totally forgot to apply lotion to an important exposed area…

Legionnaire selfie!

So today panned out as follows:

The plan - A 13 mile warm-up through the undulating Shropshire countryside, followed by 7 miles of proper hill walking amidst the beautiful scenery of the Long Mynd.

The reality - A 15 mile (I underestimated) endurance test through the undulating furnace of the Shropshire countryside, followed by 7 miles of proper hill walking amidst the beautiful scenery of the Long Mynd, with bonus endurance testing.

I also managed to sit in my train seat at Wrexham feeling great and stand up at Shrewsbury 25 minutes later with pains in my lower back, which hung around for quite a bit of the day. No idea what caused those, but no doubt it'll stiffen overnight and annoy me for a few days yet as usual (or at worst bring me to a complete halt).

Looking ahead to the Long Mynd.

If the 28°C average sounds high, it's because of the numerous long spells walking between hedgerows, the ultimate sun-traps. My Garmin's temperature graph showed several 35°C spikes between midday and 3pm, as I battled through nettles, brambles and sundry other invasive species. Thankfully there was a substantial breeze when I reached the higher ground of the Long Mynd, so I couldn't feel how hot it was, even though it definitely was hot.

No more hedgerows. Pleeeeeaaaase!!!

The Long Mynd is a beautiful area, as is all of South Shropshire. It looks like an enormous half sausage sticking out of the ground (cut lengthways obviously, it would look stupid and be impossible to climb otherwise, and have a terrifying cliff at one end). I'm not sure many people visit at all, other than Brummies as it's relatively close. It's even got a narrow road along part of the top, which is easily avoidable when walking. I'd managed to convince myself that there would be an ice cream van at the summit car park today and lo and behold, there wasn't.

So why was I bothering to walk from Shrewsbury at all? Well the brand spanking new Heart of Wales Line Trail begins at Craven Arms but I've always considered Shrewsbury to be the starting point of the rail journey, so it made sense (to me) to add two days to the route, mostly on the Shropshire Way, and include the Long Mynd. Do I wish I hadn't? For 15 miles yes, and for 7 miles no, so tomorrow needs to be good!

Drink a pint o’ milk a day.