Brecon Beacons, March 2003

A giant stone hand lies palm down on the green land of South Wales, the Brecon Beacons and Black Mountains jab finger-like rocky ridges Northwards at distant Snowdonia. Each knuckle is a 600m+ peak from which the rest of the range is visible on clear days.

The Beacons

As is par for the course, we rocked up at our chosen campsite in the early hours. Actually we didn't, we turned up at our chosen campsite at midnight to find it had been turned into a bottling factory and the other nearby campsite was both closed and host to a range of alarming looking standing stones that leant it the eerie air of a graveyard.

From the back of my memory I guided us to a five star campsite (ie it's got lights and showers) near Pencelli and we pitched and fell into bed with the normal alacrity.


A cabby	Carla forgets the Kit-Kats	Gorilla in the mist	No comment	Atop Cribyn

Yet again the planned Alpine start failed to happen, the whiskey from the night before and the glorious, sleepy warmth of the down-filled sleeping bags made us all stay in bed till gone 8am.

By 9:30am we were starting a 15 mile loop of the Brecon Beacons. The route ran over Fan y Big (snigger) (the snigger is apparently mandatory for Barry), Cribyn and peaked at Pen y Fan before dropping off onto the roads that run along the Northern tip of the ridges. We slogged steadily up the first major climb of the day, the peaks ahead of us only occasionally visible as dark shadows under the robe of clouds worn by the range.

We gained the ridge and, as sometimes happens on these days, the rain showers stopped and the cloud began to thin, first revealing the sharp drop to the valley floor on our right, and then letting the humped mounds of Cribyn and Pen y Fan stand clear in the white sky.


Descending Fan y Big (snigger)	Carla on Pen y Fan	Cribyn from Pen y Fan	Descending Pen y Fan	The wrong way, again

We got a clear view of the whole range and could see far out into the valleys.

Dropping from Pen y Fan

The long slog back to the campsite over quiet country roads was enlivened only by the substantial rain fall that soaked us through.

Gus had turned up from his other commitments by the time we returned to the campsite, so we installed ourselves in the pub until we ran out of energy (a pathetic 10:30pm).

By morning (still no Alpine start) the air had cooled and cleared, even threatening blue skies in certain quarters. Together with the Stone Roses Greatest Hits we drove through serene valleys to Llanthony Priory which lies between Offa's Dyke and the Black Mountains.

We set off on another large route, North along the Dyke to Hay Bluff, across the Gospel Pass at the head of the valley, up Lord Hereford's Knob (fnarr) and back South along the ridge to the Priory.


Llanthony Priory	Atop Black Darren	Lord Hereford's Knob (chortle)	Looking towards Hay-on-Wye	Descending to Llanthony

Despite the tiring distance, this proved to be a perfect hill day, crystal blue skies, far reaching views and a cool breeze. Thoroughly satisfying.

The final treat of the weekend was a sun drenched drive back over the Severn Bridge.

If you would like a high resolution copy of any of these pictures, mail me