Offa’s Dyke Day 6.
Distance today: 20.3 miles.
Total distance: 919.1 miles.
Accommodation: campsite.
Apart from being a little bit too hot, it was a lovely day’s walking today. As ever, the number of photos taken is always a good indicator. After leaving Hay-on-Wye, it’s a steady climb for about 6 miles. The route passes through a mix of pasture and woodland, bracken and common land grass kept short by the grazing sheep. A sign outside a house encouraged walkers to ask for their water bottle to be refilled if needed. The higher up you went, the more open and panoramic the views became, with the significant landmark of the day being a very long steep-sided flat-topped hill called Hay Bluff. From the top it genuinely felt like I was looking down on the world. I’m not sure how far it was to the horizon, but it seemed to go on forever. Breathtaking. In the spirit of transparency, the best parts of walking on the bluff were the beginning and the end where the surrounding countryside came more prominently into view. Some of the middle section was a little bit featureless to the extent where it would be very easy to get lost were it not for the well-trodden path. Speaking of paths, at some point in the past there must have been a monumental effort to put down miles of paving slabs to allow walkers to traverse the potentially very boggy terrain. Thank you to whoever was responsible.
It was fairly easy to see what was responsible for the occasional mound of pony shit that had been deposited on the path. Wild ponies roamed the bluff, with one or two of them getting quite territorial if you happened to stray too close. I was intrigued as to whether the deposits were the result of a single sitting. It looked suspiciously like these were the designated pony toilets.
I passed a couple of groups of less than enthusiastic youngsters who were probably either doing or training for their Duke of Edinburgh awards. Apart from one or two fellow hikers, the other visitors to the bluff were generally on mountain bikes. I’ve had similar experiences along canal towpaths where you are left in no doubt as to who gives way to who. Coming through. Understandable but still irritating if it is accompanied by a sense of entitlement and very little courtesy.
As I started my descent, I missed one of the waymarkers which led to some confusion when I next saw one because it was a north bound sign trying to send me back up the hill again. I eventually made it to level ground and the village of Pandy. It’s not quite the same as having a Mike Oldfield album named after you but when I was young, we did have a Labrador called Pandy. There was not much in the way of shops so I ended up walking up the road to Llanvihangel Crucorney and picking up a few supplies from the garage. It felt rude not to stop for a quick pint at the Skirrid Inn while I was in the neighbourhood, particularly since it claimed to be the oldest pub in Wales.
There were meant to be one or two campsites in the area but I picked The Rising Sun because it was the closest to the trail. I could feel there was something slightly wrong with my right foot and there didn’t seem any point pushing it any harder than I needed to. The camping field was behind the pub and for once I wasn’t the only one in a tent. An English guy was walking Offa’s Dyke in the opposite direction and a young Belgian guy was … drum roll … doing Land’s End to John o’ Groats. We had a good chat about the trail and he confirmed what I already suspected: the South West Coast Path was tough going.
In the evening, the pub was hosting an event for a group of bikers (think classic bike enthusiasts rather than the local chapter of the Hell’s Angels) with the bonus being that even though the kitchen was normally closed on Tuesdays, they were happy enough to feed the campers as well as the bikers. I can’t remember the last time I had ham, egg and chips.
