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August 1985 - My Solo Walk from Brecon Beacons to Snowdon
"The Southern Section"
I asked my Mother to drive
me to the Brecons. We stopped off at the Brecon Mountain Centre
for a cup of coffee. It was the last time for a fortnight that I
looked and felt respectable. We then drove round to Storey Arms
which is the nearest the road comes to Pen Y Fan. Mum was going
to come with me for the first part of my walk, so we both got our
boots on and I shouldered my sac which weighed about thirty five
pounds including tent. We set off. Two hundred yards from the
road was a small stream which had to be crossed using stepping
stones, I nipped across but Mum refused at the first fence and
said that's far enough. We said our good byes there and I set off
again. Next time I turned round she was gone and I was alone.
Well, I wasn't entirely alone, there were a few other walkers as
well and I wanted to keep ahead of them, so when I arrived at the
top of Pen Y Fan I was in a bit of a sweat. It was quite sunny
and warm, I thought I was going to be lucky with the weather for
the rest of the trip, but it was not to be. I ate some sandwiches
and some of my goody bag (nuts raisons Smarties) and an apple
feeding the core to an 
inquisitive sheep. The summit was
getting a little busy so I decided to set off on the first proper
stage of my journey.
Before I left I had to pass some young soldiers, they didn't appear to have a clue as to where they were or where they were going so I helped them out. I was a bit surprised they were lost because you could see for miles and they should have been able to map read.
My journey from Pen Y Fan
was designed to take me North, so I headed off over Corn Ddu down
the ridge past an obelisk. This was erected in memory of a young
boy who became lost on the Brecons.
The path continued down to the
Main A470 at Libanus where I crossed over and trudged up the lane
which led back to the Mountain Centre where Mum and I had had our
coffee. It was now packed with tourists and coach parties. I felt
almost out of place in my breeches and carrying a rucksack. It
seemed as though true mountain users weren't welcome. No hot
drinks this time, I bought a can of drink and a lolly neither of
which lasted very long. It was mid afternoon and still quite hot
and seriously considered putting my shorts on, but decided that
caution was the better part of valour.
This map shows the first
part of the journey: 
On the map it says that
the Army have firing ranges on the Mynydd Eppynt. This was an
interesting looking range of hills to the North of the Brecons. I
had previously checked with the Army and they said it would not
be safe to cross them that weekend so I had to go round. I was
disappointed about that as I hadn't been on them before and now I
would have to take a diversion round to the east. I set off north
heading towards the A40 and the River Usk. I crossed both and
continued through the pleasant Usk valley following a lane which
intertwined itself with a disused railway. I thought I might walk
along this but I could see some of it had been turned into back
gardens. I left the Usk valley and set off up Battle Hill. 
It was early evening and I was
looking for somewhere to camp. There was a forest on Battle hill
and this would give me some seclusion. As I approached I realised
that I didn't have much water with me and I guessed that there
would be few streams in a forest on top of a hill, so I started
looking out for some. I was just about to go over the stile into
the forest when I noticed some greener grass in a depression in
the field. It wasn't a stream more of a puddle but the water was
clean enough so I filled my bottle and went into the forest to
camp.
I thought I'd done quite
well for my first day, 15 1/2 miles. I must have been tired, I
was in bed by 8.30pm but didn't sleep much even though the tent
was pitched on a mossy patch. I was a little worried about
camping in the forest but I was careful with my Primus stove. It
was unlikely that anyone would come along there at night. 
Got up early 6ish to find it drizzling heavily, it was to last all morning. Didn't bother with breakfast as my water was low again and I hoped the weather would improve. I followed part of the Sarnia Roman road and crossed the B4520 at Lower Chapel I remember the locals were on their way to church (or was it chapel). My route took me up into the Brecon Forest, there seemed to be very few streams there, too. I stopped for a brew up about 10.00 am just as it brightened up for a moment. My shelter was provided by an old rusty water tank dumped by the forest path, someone had scratched the message 'No water for 50 miles.' That would certainly have been the case the previous day as the only water I had seen was still falling out of the sky.
Pressing on along forest tracks and small moorland lanes I crossed a corner of the Mynydd Eppynt. The wind and rain picked up again making the place seem wild especially when passing a lonely reservoir and exposed outcrops of rock next to the road. There was no sign of the army and no red flags out so chances are I would have been able to walk across the middle of the Eppynt had I wanted to.
The road was leading me down into
Builth Wells. As I approached the town I passed a little boy who
asked me where I was going, I thought about telling him I was
going to North Wales but decided to say I was on my way to
Newbridge on Wye a few miles further on. He volunteered that his
father worked there in a sawmill. I had noticed that there was a
lot of Forestry Commission and privately owned forest land and
sawmills in the area. In fact nearly all the forests were pine
and larch which made them a little tedious. The drizzle was
easing off. There was a tea room in Builth and I succumbed to the
temptation and stumbled in for a cup of tea and a toasted
sandwich. The other customers gave me some funny looks as I
entered dripping wet and bedraggled.
Just across the river Wye is the
Welsh Agricultural Show Ground it looked as though they were
either setting up or dismantling the tents as there was some
activity in the field with tents and trucks. I had to walk along
the main A470 at this point, it was quite busy as it was getting
on for tea time. The road cut into the hillside at this point and
exposed the underlying rock. This was a broken shale probably
Cambrian as it had Graptolites in it. These are small feathery
fossils about half to one inch long. I spent a little time having
a look here, I thought I might find some Trilobites but didn't
have any luck. Further on I passed a sign of the times, a school
with a for sale notice in the window, it was only a small village
school which must have outlived its use, but it seemed strange
that there were still desks in rows and paintings on the wall. It
was a sad sight.
Arrived in Newbridge on Wye at about 6 pm, I'd done 18 1/4 miles. Put up my tent in the campsite which I'd seen marked on the map, had a fairly good tea and then a wash. Thoughts of having a beer came into my mind but it was too much like hard work to get out of the tent and tidy myself up so I doctored my feet instead, which were starting to get sore and went to bed.
Monday morning, I got up
fairly early had some breakfast and went to find the campsite
owner, couldn't find him so I put some money through the
letterbox. I set off up the road to the shops in Newbridge where
I stocked up on chocolate. 
I wanted to head for the hills. I
saw on the map that Elan Valley Reservoirs weren't that far away
so I headed up the lanes until I came out onto the tops into what
used to be called the Desert of Wales. I crossed over a ridge and
stopped for a moment to admire the view overlooking the Elan
Valley reservoir. It was very scenic here especially as the sun
came out. The Black Mountains and the Brecons could be seen until
I dropped down into the valley.
After lunch, I started up the
valley towards the Claerwen Dam, there were some Sundew plants
growing in a boggy patch. The valley was quite spectacular, it
was certainly the largest dam I'd seen and water was pouring over
the overflows down the face of the dam. it gave me an uneasy
feeling standing at the bottom with millions of gallons of water
hanging over me. As I walked up to the side of the dam, the sun
was glinting on the artificial waterfall and causing rainbows in
the spray. Reaching the top of the dam the wind hit me. There
were white waves driving towards me. It was getting late in the
afternoon and it was time to think about looking for somewhere to
camp. Bad News. At the start of the path around the north side of
the reservoir was a sign which made my heart sink: "No
Camping in the Catchment Area". Looking at the map I
realised I was smack bang in the middle of what would be the
catchment area, the nearest watershed was around ten miles away.
I either had a long walk or I would have to be careful. I could
see some small valleys running off north away from the lake and
mad my way towards them. It was getting on for 7 o'clock when I
got to them. I could see a nice sheltered hidden grassy spot. I
hadn't seen anyone for miles and thought this was the place. In
fact the spot was perfect sheltered by a wall and out of sight. I
settled down for a comfortable night.
Morning came and with it the rain and wind. I had breakfast and packed away the sodden tent. Cagoule and gaiters on, I went back to the path round and followed it to the west end of the reservoir.
I soon decided it didn't
matter whether or not I was wearing waterproofs Goretex or not I
still got soaked, my Dachstein mitts were still warmish but had
become channels for draining water off my sleeves. From the
Claerwen Reservoir I was hoping to head northwest to Ysbytty
Ystwyth and Devils Bridge. As I left the reservoir behind, the
path disintegrated. I had to bog hop as the puddles were getting
larger and muddier. And the rain came down and it blew and blew.
I was stopped by a rushing stream which cut across my way. I
couldn't call it a path. Heading a long way upstream, a crossing
became possible with a leap and a grab for the heather on the
opposite bank. A little further on I came across the end of a
metalled road. This was used for parking by anglers using the
ponds nearby. I think they must have been as mad as me coming out
in that weather. This would be a pleasant spot in summer. (This
was August!!) A mile or so down the road I struck north west
again to keep going in the direction of Ysbytty Ystwyth using
another system of tracks and paths through the heathery moorland.
The compass came in useful as there were some cliffs nearby and
it was still misty and the ground hummocky. 
Climbing to a higher point
I could see through the cloud down to my next objective - Blaen
Marchnant - an isolated farmhouse. This building looked as though
it was only used when the sheep were brought in. I tried a door
and to my surprise it opened into a sort of stable. The door to
the main rooms was locked. Looking through a dirty window, I
could see an old settee littered with empty beer bottles there
was a gas stove and some other rickety furniture. The stable I
was in had a chair which came in useful. I wrung out my socks and
had a bite to eat. It was mid day and looking out, the mist and
cloud was starting to clear and to my amazement a shaft of
sunlight came though the door. Making the most of this I set off
down the track towards Ysbytty Ystwyth in the valley. I could see
over the hills and forests around Devils Bridge. It reminded me
of the Black Forest and the foothills of the Alps in a small way.
The sun was shining on field and forest, a good sight. Entering
the village, it was essentials first, the shop for a can of drink
and sausage rolls. The shop had a couple of customers, the
conversation was in Welsh. I think they were doing it to impress.
I had wandered westwards instead of North as was my intention. The mid afternoon sun was starting to move to the west as I set off along the road towards Devils Bridge. Each step was getting harder and harder. My shin was starting to ache, then I realised it was hurting. Each mile I went my shin was crippling me. I hobbled on hoping the pain would pass, but it didn't. The way I was walking, trying to favour my bad leg, was giving me another blister. I limped along trying to take it easy picking billberries and blackberries, raspberries and wild strawberries putting them in a bag for tea. I made it into Devils Bridge and found a campsite. Well it was a holiday camp really, with a field at the far end for tents. I thought it was quite expensive for a small tent and no car!! I got the tent up and collapsed into my sleeping bag. I made my evening meal on my cooker in the entrance way of the tent so that I didn't have to go far. The fruit I'd picked was lovely but it would have been better with ice cream!
I realised that I'd overdone it. I'd covered 65 miles in 3 1/2 days. I hadn't done much training for my walk as I thought I would walk only as far as was necessary each day. I would need to rest my leg. I decided to stay at Devils Bridge for a day or two.
The tent I was using was a Marriot
Solite. It was so light it originally didn't have a door. A
couple of trips to the Lake District and North Wales had made me
decide to put a door on it, which I had hand sewn on a year
previously. It was somewhat basic but it did the job. My cooker
was a small Primus Paraffin Pressure stove with spare fuel in a
large Sigg Bottle. This cooker had had a varied life. It had
belonged to my father and hadn't been used for a while but I
cleaned it up and found it worked. It had suffered though, it
blew up once on a previous trip to North Wales when my friend and
I used a Calor Gas stove which got clogged up with fat and
wouldn't work. I set up the Primus in the car park and I couldn't
have screwed it together properly because it leaked caught fire
and melted the legs off. These were later soldered back on and
with a new central 
spout, was back working again. The
cooker worked perfectly on this trip. My boots were leather and
veterans of Wales Scotland and the Alps. They were starting to
wear out and I thought this might be their last trip.
Next morning, Wednesday, I
knew I wasn't going anywhere. I could hardly walk to the toilet
block, consequently by the time I got there I was bursting. I
felt I couldn't stay in the tent all day as it was lovely
weather. I hobbled the hundred yards or so to the centre of
Devils Bridge, had a look at the Rheidol Steam Railway, decided
it was too expensive and had a look for the Devils Bridge
Waterfall. This cost me 50p and took me almost an hour to get
round. I'm sure it should only take half that time. It was worth
it to see the 3 bridges built one on top of the other and the
falls below. I dragged myself up the path back to the road and
went in the hotel for a meal and the first beer of my trip. I
bought a slightly humourous booklet teaching me Welsh and how to
spell 'Llanfairpwllgwrngllllantisiliogogogoch' There were many
tourists and more than one gave me a sideways look. I made it
back to my tent feeling shattered. I lay out 
in my sleeping bag but couldn't get
comfortable however I put my leg. It had become a little swollen.
Hopefully, if my leg felt better next day, I would head back into the hills again and find somewhere cheaper to stay as I had a limited budget. I also had a plan, if my leg didn't improve I would hitch out of Devils Bridge. It might take some time but I would get home sometime.
When I woke up, my leg was
still sore but felt better. I strapped it up and packed up the
tent. I would try to reach a bothy about nine miles away, it
would be cheaper to stay there and should be more comfortable if
it rained. Should my leg still play me up or the weather get
really bad, I could head to a main road which was not too far
north. I had plenty of food and would be OK for several days if I
got stuck. The sun was out and I put my shorts on, easier to
dress than breeches. 
Gingerly, I set off leaving the
road for the forest tracks. The rest seemed to have done my leg
some good and I could move OK. I was using Ordnance Survey
1:50,000 maps and at this point I had come to the edge of one map
and had to use the next. They overlapped for a mile or so but I
found the overlap was drawn differently on the two maps. One
showed a forest and the other didn't. Using one map I found I was
walking along a non existent track surrounded by non existent
trees!
I kept my shorts on
although it was windy as I climbed out of the valleys but this
dropped in the trees. It was getting cold even though the sun was
still shining. I was getting near the bothy so I didn't change
into breeches. My leg was starting to hurt and I was keen to get
to the bothy. 
Going by the compass it looked like
a firebreak might lead me in the right direction. It didn't help
my leg and didn't get me where I wanted to go but eventually
discovered the bothy in the forest.
Bothies are usually
abandoned buildings in the mountains which have been maintained
by walkers or climbers with the permission of the owner. They are
adopted by the Mountain Bothies Association who liase between
their members and the owners. They organise maintenance trips to
conduct repairs. Visit their Web Site at http://www.mountainbothies.org.uk/ for details of their users code
and membership. This bothy, called Nant Rhys, was an old three
bedroomed two story farmhouse. The upper floors had been removed
and now the whole interior of the building was divided by a
single wooden partition from 
roof to floor. One side was a
storage area for wood with a chopping block, saws and axe. The
other half of the building was the living area with sleeping
platform, tables and chairs. An old pot bellied stove had
recently been brought to the hut but apparently not used yet. I
set it up and lit a fire. It worked quite well. When I read the
bothy log book I had been the first person to visit for over a
month. I had a bite for tea and settled down to read a book I had
brought with me, then when the light went, retired to bed to rest
my leg.
Next morning, Friday, it was pouring down outside and I found a small leak in the roof just above my sleeping bag! Looking outside, only the nearest trees were visible in the mist. Not a nice day. Telling myself that my leg was still not right, I went back to bed with my book.
Boredom and the need to go outside forced me to get up. I tidied and swept the bothy, a bucket of dirt went outside, firewood was chopped and stacked. Later in the afternoon, while finishing off some more logs, the door rattled. Opening it there was a figure shrouded in waterproofs. It was still raining and he was soaked to the skin. His name was Ken Knight and was from Cheltenham. Coincidence as I was living in Cheltenham at that time. Before he took his waterproofs off we went to the stream to fill up our water containers. Yeuck the stream was horribly brown and peaty but wandering around we came across a small clear stream. It probably didn't normally exist except for the rain. We got back to the bothy. Ken to sit in front of the stove while I cooked my tea.
That evening we talked about our experiences. He had only come out for the weekend and had to get back by Tuesday to sign on the dole. He was a member of quite a few outdoor societies. We both knew the Gloucester Mountaineering Club I had climbed with them on Cleeve Hill near Cheltenham but I had never joined. Ken was put off by the formality. At the time they had a probationary period before people could join as full members.
A long time after I got back I read some of the Mountain Bothies Association's newsletters and found him mentioned helping with repairs at another bothy in Wales, it sounded as though things never seemed to go right for him.
Saturday
night we went to bed quite late but managed to get up at a
reasonable hour next day. The rain had stopped, my leg felt a bit
better and the blisters were healing so I set off. I was still
unsure that my leg was truly better and the weather was still
uncertain. To continue my route I had to get over Plynlimon which
could be difficult with a bad leg and bad weather. However I
decided to head north and see what things were like when I
reached the main road. If things were bad I could abandon my walk
and meet up with other members of the Avon Mountaineering Club to
which I belonged I knew they were staying in the Lakes for the
Bank Holiday. I was trying to be as flexible as I could with my
options especially as I would be relying on hitching to get
anywhere.
