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| We nearly adopted the border guard! |
A somewhat chilly dawn greeted those sober
enough to see it, and hot showers were most certainly in order. Then, after the ritual downing of coffee and
the ceremonial dropping-out of those too heavily-refreshed to ramble, the less delicate walkers saw
that the sun had his hat on after all, convened over maps, and extemporised creatively with some rapid routage.
Our hastily masterminded tour started in the middle
of a wood near Pen-y-fan, cut through brambles to the water’s edge, and took in
another beautiful stretch of the Wye, which led along a disused railway line to an old Victorian railway bridge, complete with old pub, even more ancient pub-goers, and massively cute husky guarding the crisps.
After lunch beside that very fine Victorian railway
bridge (we may have banged on about the architecture a bit), we climbed up to Offa’s Dyke for more fine views interspersed by
woodland dense enough to prove that even short people can wallop their bonces
on low-hanging branches if they’re that low.
Then, tired and bruised-in-the-bonce, we staggered back into Monmouth for tea and bara brith and ice cream and chips (why choose?), then
back to the sleeping bags one last time.
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