Easter in Wales

I’m writing this in the afterglow of having been soooo good, spending 35 hard minutes on the treadmill whilst learning French (this of course *technically happens every night after work). I’m happy to report that the treadmill is now in its appointed position down in the cellar, which has just enough head height to allow me to get it up to the full 18 degree incline (key criteria when I was house-hunting btw). This took a little while to achieve, on account of a) the treadmill is about 2 m long, over 1 m wide and weighs a whopping 100 kg, b) when released from the packing material (mistake) and its own weight, the hydraulic incline arms are impossible to keep closed, c) the fact that the stairs down to the cellar are not of the dimensions one would wish for when contemplating shifting something that size and d) the delivery guys were already a little peeved by the time they turned up at my place after having first tried to deliver it to work, much to the utter horror of the office manager and the amusement of my colleagues. So it sat in the kitchen for quite some time.



The plan was to have it operational in time to get super fit before I went skiing in France. Well that didn’t quite happen. The next plan was to get super fit for easter, and that also didn’t happen and this time it mattered!

This year Emma and Gerard kindly invited me to join them over the easter long weekend at the Brecon (pronounced breckon) Beacon National Park in south Wales. The original plan involved camping but a quick look at the weather forecast for this very early easter quickly put paid to that idea. The general plan was to do a fair bit of outdoorsy stuff and the plan allowed for a bit of rain, but not full on blizzards! The first afternoon we set off on a small 7 km hike up one of the main peaks. We start off with a little bit of rain, and gradually this becomes a little more like sleet, and then it’s what I’ve learnt to call “snow grains”. At this point, there was a bit of discussion about whether it was real snow, or just weird hail, however that question was well and truly resolved by the time we reached the top! This photo of Em and me is after the climb. The hill had been green (ish) when we set off!

That was a pattern that was to repeat itself for each of the three hikes – no snow, we arrive, snow. Of course, on the second day that was after the wind …

The wind was absolutely incredibly. Here’s Gerard showing how far he can lean into it, and the photo doesn’t really do justice. At one point, about halfway round the 18 km loop after battling it almost full on I realised that I could turn my back and virtually sit down into the wind and relax.

There was still a way to go to the top, which consisted of a couple of peaks (and before that a lot of false peaks where you thought you’d made it until you wiped the snow out of your eyes and saw the next one) joined by a cliff towering over a valley formed from glaciers just like this one. The landscape was amazing; when you stood at the top you could see exactly where all the glaciers had been.

Well off the ridge and down into the lovely valley full of sheep and all their little early spring lambs and it was quite a different story. This was nice snow! A very pleasant end to the day.

The next day those mad over-energetic two went for a ridiculously long and hard mountain bike ride while I eased my aching legs into the car and headed to Hay-on-Wye, famous for, wait for it – second hand book shops. Now was there any doubt whatsoever that I was going to be there at some stage? The only surprise is the level to which I restrained myself in this little slice of Welsh heaven! (btw, there are actually people there who speak Welsh, it’s not just a set of random road signs designed to confuse you). And there was even a fudge shop! That evening I curled up with a book and an ale in front of the fire near the bar waiting for the rather exhausted pair (at least half of the pair) to get home from their huge journey.

The final clamber up the hill on the last day’s 13 km quick walk was, ummm… interesting. As Em said, probably best we couldn’t see what was ahead of us! And then these absolute nutters come flying – downhill – down this icy path dressed in virtually nothing (at least relatively to me, I lost count of my layers and I was still freezing)!! Turns out they were “fell running”, which is a sport that seems to combine the need for incredible fitness and immunity to cold with a certain level of sheer insanity.

Past the most exposed part of one of the ridges, with the sun shining again (waves of what I can only term “weather” were rolling over us endlessly) and with fingers once again attached to hands I managed to look reasonably happy here I think!

That’s not to say that I didn’t enjoy the rest of it. It’s hard to explain the sheer joy of finding ourselves so very far away from anyone else. I was very glad of the weather because otherwise I think the place would have been packed with hikers. It was also great to just be outside. Perhaps the only bit I didn’t like much was the stop for lunch on the ridge. Some kindly (and knowing) folk had built up a cairn in a circle, over a metre tall which you could climb down into out of (sort of) the wind. No photos as I was genuinely frozen in that time. My cheapskate jacket is quite warm but not breathable and I found out later that it was saturated inside. I was therefore still shivering all the long way back to Mossely. But very glad I’d made the effort.