BRECONSHIRE HOLIDAY AUGUST 1950 

Saturday July 22^nd

Llangynidr 9 am.

Came down here last night by car from home.  We^[1] had a lovely run down, it being a very beautiful evening, warm and sunny.  There was one of the most lovely sunsets I have ever seen, changing from yellow to gold to crimson.  The sky at one time was a mass of dull red cloud which suddenly seemed to light up and change to a vivid scarlet, almost overpowering.  After that it soon got dark and it was trying driving as the lights were not too good and the road was very winding and I don’t know it all that well.  However, I drove all the way and enjoyed it.  We stopped for a picnic dinner near Compton Abdale shortly before the turning off to Gloucester, where there was a charming view over the village and the hills beyond.  It was lovely to get here once again and to hear the babble of running water.

Woke up this morning to a very dull day and it soon began to rain.  Still I don’t mind too much as I have got three whole weeks to wait here and choose my days, and there are so many things I want to do.

Monday July 24^th 6pm

On Saturday evening I went out salmon fishing with Daddy, Dennis and Major Evans^[2] at Scethrog, after running Arnold into Scethrog.  So far the day had been pretty miserable, with heavy rain clouds lowering over the hills, and with frequent showers.  Then for a time there were some really lovely cloud effects, with the sun shining out from behind heavy clouds, reflecting on the water and casting long shadows on the hills.  But this did not last for long, and it soon clouded over and then became very dark and quite cold.

The fish were not obliging and though we worked our way up the water to the top pool we touched nothing.  The only sign of life was a salmon that jumped early on in the evening.  We had to give up fishing about 10 o’clock as the river was beginning to rise as a result of the morning rain.  Saw quite a few duck, a kingfisher and a heron.  Pa caught a salmon of 14 lbs in the morning.

Sunday was a disappointing day as it rained consistently on and off all day.  We all got up very late and didn’t do much in the morning.  After an excellent lunch of boiled mutton we went for quite a long drive.  First to Crickhowell, then up the Llanbedr road and along the Grwyne Fawr running below the Sugar Loaf which looked most inviting.  Then we turned left and went up the Grwyne Fawr valley following the stream.  I think it is the wildest of the Black Mt. Valleys probably because of the pine plantations.  The pines are quite small.  We stopped where the road ended and got out and it immediately began to pour with rain harder than ever.  So we gave up waiting and hoping for it to stop and came back.  It turned out a lovely evening, with the hills standing out, smooth as velvet, in the evening sun.

Monday , and Ma and Pa had to go home.  They were going via Cardiff as Pa had some business to do there.  I went salmon fishing with Major Evans and for the first time tried a bit on my own.  It was a very pleasant morning, warm in the sun but with a cold wind.  We caught no fish.  Had a glass of very excellent cider at the Royal Oak at Penkelly and were joined by a man who was going to the Usk Hotel with the thought of taking over the lease from Colonel Davidson.  He was very lucky as Major Evans, being Col. D.’s solicitor, was able to give him all the gen.

After lunch it turned out really nice, with sun and cloud intermittent.  I took advantage of this and went up Tor-y-Foel.  I went up the track the whole way, through Bwlch Farm near the top and from thence to the summit.  The Sugar Loaf stood out very clearly and seemed quite close.  The Black Mts. Themselves were shadowed by clouds most of the time.  It is a wonderful view from the top there.  Every time I see it I love it more and more.  To the North and West there is the long plain stretching into the distance, with the curve of the Usk and Llangorse Lake in the foreground and melting away into the distance is a patchwork of field, of all colours but predominantly green.  To the West there is the massive and towering Waun Rydd and the long valley formed by the Caerfanell, which is the main stream supplying the Talybont Reservoir.  Then over the other side, to the East and North-east is the magnificent panorama of the Black Mountains themselves.  The Mynedd Troed on the left then coming round that is Warn Fach, Pen-y-Gadair, Pen-Cerig-Calch and the Table Mountain.  Then there are two valleys, one of the Grwyne Fawr, one of the Usk, with the Sugar Loaf sticking up between.  Though how it came to be called the Sugar Loaf I don’t quite see.  At its feet nestle some of the prefabricated houses of Crickhowell.  Then to the right of the Usk valley lies the long line of the Llangattock cliffs and if you move over to the right of the hill you can see the whole length of the Crawnon valley, another patchwork with barns and farmhouses scattered at intervals up the valley, ending up in a steep slope that is black in the afternoon sun.  Below you lies the village of Llangynidr in which you can pick out every detail.  To the left is the curve of the Usk, Buckland, then the Mill and the white of the waterfall and further round still is one arch of Llangynidr bridge peeping out from the trees.  In the centre is the canal of which there are occasional glimpses between its well-wooded banks, easiest to see of all being the bridge in Lower Llangynidr.  And through the village wind the many roads and tracks and the scattered houses.  Standing out at the near end being the Coach and Horses.

In the evening I went again to Scethrog salmon fishing and again there was no sign of anything, still it was a lovely evening, calm and still with a lovely half moon, which, as we came back, was silvering an occasional cloud, one especially I remember, that looked so soft, resting gently on Tor-y-Foel, was lit up from behind and gleamed like silver.

Wednesday  9 am

Tuesday was another very dull day all the time up to about 6.30 pm.  There was a continual succession of dreary showers.  But then miraculously the sun shone, the clouds disappeared and all was lovely.  I borrowed Dennis’s car^[3] for the day.  I went first to Crickhowell, then on to Abergavenny by the Gilwern road.  I went up the huge hill on the Blaenaevon road, but before I got to the top the engine boiled, so I had to stop & turn round.  I couldn’t see much of the view anyhow as it was drizzling.  It’s amazing how quickly the coal mining atmosphere appears.  I definitely felt it up there.

Then into Abergavenny; it was packed; market day I supposed.  I wasn’t in a mood to appreciate that so I went quickly, out along the Hereford road, intending to climb the Skirrid Fawr.  I never did because of the rain and other things.  I felt very grumpy and annoyed with everything.  The Skirrid is an isolated knoll jutting out and the view from it must be very lovely.  I had a very pleasant run along the little road that runs around it, narrow between high, green banks, with streams running down it.  I went back via the Grwyne Fawr valley, after first visiting Partrishow church.  I left the car on the road and walked up to the farm where one collects the keys – delightful massy keys – then on to the church which is tucked away on the side of a mountain amidst a knoll of trees.  Not from any angle can you see very much of it.  Inside is delightful.  A low curved roof, whitewashed walls, on them the remains of coloured paintings that must be many centuries old; & the famous rood screen that looks almost new, made of intricately carved oak.  It is very beautiful.  I didn’t stop for very long as I’m not very good at appreciating churches.  I came back here in rather a bad mood, improved a bit after Patrishow.  I sat down and read for two hours, had tea and felt much better.  I started reading ‘River Diary’ by Dorothea Eastwood[4].  It is about the Usk near Clyro.  It gives a lovely picture of the Usk, the sights and sounds & smells, the animals & birds.  I then went to pick up Dennis who is working at the farm next to Llansantffraed church where I dropped in to look at Henry Vaughan’s tomb.  Most disappointing in the bad way it was preserved – though what else I expected I do not know.

I was then introduced to Mrs Richards^[5] by Dennis & had some tea.  She mentioned H.V. & said she couldn’t see what all the fuss was about, & how ridiculous was the annual commemoration service.  How they put a large wreath on the tomb & the only person that appreciated it was herself when she fed the ducks in the morning.  She then went on about the hunt they were forming here. There was one apparently in pre-war days, but it lapsed during the war.

After a salmon dinner went fishing with Dennis.  The river was lovely; a beautiful evening, calm and still.  This was one of my first efforts at fishing & I only caught one tiddler.  How I did that I don’t know.  Rose two or three more but didn’t succeed in hooking them.  A wonderful end to a melancholy day.

Friday 6 pm

I don’t seem to have written this for three days so there will be a lot to write.

Wednesday was a lovely day all the time.  Warm and sunny with billowy white clouds and the gentlest of gentle breezes.  I went for a walk up the Grwyne Fechan valley.  10.30 bus to Crickhowell and then up the Table Mountain.  Though interesting to look at from below the Table mountain is very ordinary once you are on it, but the view from there is wonderful..  The main view being right down the Usk, from Abergavenny on the left in the distance to Crickhowell nestling at your feet, with Llangattock on the hill just above & then to the right winding its way through the wooded banks, past Tor-y-Foel, looking very small dwarfed by the Beacons behind, & then hidden behind the Black Mts.  In the other direction is the Grwyne Fawr valley with the Sugar Loaf towering above it, and again, nestling at the foot of the hill is Llanbedr, in its sleepy hollow.

The medley of sounds on that warm summer morning was exquisite. There was first of all the general background of sheep, though even that noise was varied, sheep of all shapes & sizes each with a different noise, all calling from the many slopes; then other particular noises, a dog barking & a cock crowing; and from the field below, where miniature men are loading hay onto a miniature cart, with a miniature horse in the shafts are the sounds of men’s voices, calling to each other & to their dogs.

Then down the hill, through the thick bracken, surrounded by swarms of flies, & eventually onto the road.  I took a turning too soon which led me back into Llanbedr; but I didn’t mind as it is a pleasant little place with a charming church.   Walked past the vicar buying provisions from the grocer’s van.  And then off the main road onto a farm track which leads down the valley on the opposite slope to the main road – I say main though that itself is little more than a track.

The road swoops down, crossing the Fechan by the Upper Cwm Bridge & climbs up the other side in a series of bends.  I took a short cut up a steep winding, red, stony path that wandered up through the hazel bushes onto the track again.  Ahead of me flitted a pair of chaffinches & a robin.  There is a lovely view of the church from this side, across the bountifully wooded valley.

Then for an hour and a half I walked along this track that wandered along the mountain side, now up, now down, crossing streams, following the slope, through farms and pleasant meadows.  The valley has an atmosphere all its own.  As indeed do all these valleys in the Black mountains.  Until one comes out above the Hermitage, onto the bare mountain slopes, it is very domestic, very quiet and not too wild; peaceful and unhurried.  The Grwyne valley always seems to me so much more wild, overpowering, threatening, almost sinister.  Perhaps that is only imagination.  I always seem to go there when it is raining & stormy.

I wandered on, through the pine plantations, where the domestic atmosphere ends in an odour of pine needles.  One comes out into a wild glen that is entirely different from the rest of the valley.  Very lovely and enticing in the warm sunlight, it is very bleak in cold and stormy weather.  I sat down near a waterfall & had lunch.  It was very lovely\ to sit down & relax; no sound but the babbling of the waterfall; no sights but the green of bracken & brown of heather, the blue of sky and whites of clouds.

I started the energetic part of the day.  I climbed straight up Pen-y-Gadair; it’s quite a climb, scrambling through thick bracken, or closely-knit clumps of heather is not easy work.  However, I got there eventually, although I missed the summit, coming out on top nearly a quarter mile south of it.  I discovered on the way what a hieroglyphic on the map, which looks like ‘Maen Clwyd’, was.  It is a large stone that I suppose must be druid or celtic.  It is then & about four or five feet high sticking out of the ground.

It was quite cold on the top as the sun was behind cloud but I sat on the cairn & drew a sketch of all the peaks one could see.  There were enough of them.  It was too misty to photograph.  By the time I was finished I was quite cold with the wind and I was glad to walk on to Waun Fach.   This, unlike Pen-y-Gadair, which has a very small summit, has a large plateau about ¼ mile by ½ mile; very boggy.  The view isn’t as good either.

I started to walk down, first to the top of the pass& then down the slope the other side.  I picked up a horse’s skull we had found last September for Dennis, but he didn’t want it when I got down.  By the time I was going down the other side I was in the sun once again.  It was casting lovely shadows down the slopes of Mynydd Troed & Llangorse.  Half way down I read for about twenty minutes & it was very warm & peaceful.  Then on down where Dennis picked me up.  It was very nice to see him.

I was too tired to go fishing in the evening so I went with Dennis & watched.  Although the fish were rising well I didn’t see him catch anything.  Walked back along the river in the cool of the evening.

Saturday  9.15 am

I don’t seem to be getting on very fast with this, so I will try & catch up.  On Thursday, as on Wednesday, the weather was again very lovely, although it always seemed to be cloudy when I wanted to take photographs.  I went for another long walk, starting off along the canal, as far as Talybont.  It isn’t as nice down that way as it is down to Crickhowell.  Then up the side of Tor-y-Foel by the road that rises to Bwlch Waun.  It seemed a very long pull up, but the view from there was wonderful.  It was much clearer than Wednesday.  Then along the ridge, first on the old Roman road and then the old railway track up to the head of Dyffryn Crawnon.  I got there about 1.30.  So sat down by the stream & relaxed in the sun.  It was wonderful.  The whole length of the Crawnon before me and the mountains rising up behind.  All my senses were gratified; even down to the very good sandwich lunch.  Going down wasn’t so much fun s I decided to go down the stream which is almost precipitous.  So I slid down rocky slopes, through bracken.  Eventually I did come to the bottom, and after following a track for some way came onto the main road.

I had walked about two miles of the way along the road when someone on a motor bike gave me a lift for the last four miles which was a great help and I only had to walk the last half mile back here.

Daddy rang up in the evening to say that Dennis had passed his exam but that Bristol University would not take him.  What he does now no one quite knows.

Went out after dinner Badger watching.  The sett is in a lovely position above the Usk on top of a bank that slopes directly down to the water’s edge.  The main road runs about a hundred yards behind.  I hadn’t been there five minutes when out came the first brock.  There are three setts; the badger came out of the farthest.  It stuck out its nose and sniffed for some time, then went back.  Then out again slowly, cautiously, peering all around.  Finally it decided it was safe.  It came slowly towards me, grubbing in the bracken and scratching.  It paused on top of the nearest sett & looked me straight in the face, & came on.  After a while it seemed to become frightened; it probably smelt me, & retreated into the nearest hole.  Meanwhile another had come out at the top and walked down to the river in the opposite direction.  I didn’t see them any more for over twenty minutes.  Just sat there patiently watching the river, and the reflections changing from silver to gold and finally go out altogether.

By the time they came out again it was too dark to see much except forms moving and the occasional white of the nose.  But it was really a most exciting time as I have never seen a badger before.  They are beautiful creatures: white face with 2 black stripes running lengthwise over the eyes.  The fur a beautiful silvery-grey darkening underneath almost to black, and a silver-grey tail darkening towards the tip.

Friday started off badly, cloudy, with a certain amount of mist.  I took Dennis’s car to the garage at Bwlch where it was to be greased and went up onto Mynydd Llangorse while it was being got ready.  The view from there is lovely.  The Beacons are visible & in the palest of sun they appeared almost scarlet.  Elsewhere there was much low-lying cloud mist, especially over the river valley & Llangorse.  The clouds were lovely, a sort of mackerel with scattered patches of blue.  I thought it was going to clear, but it never really did until around 3 o’clock.

When the car was ready I drove out to Llanthony.  A very bald statement this, but a lovely journey.  Through winding narrow lanes, with high steep banks surmounted by hedges of hazel, hawthorn and holly, over little hump-backed bridges that cross small rushing, tumbling brooks; and up on either side tower the mountain sides and the steep little fields, multi-coloured, a patchwork of greens and browns and red, and the mountains a mass of variegated greens, broken here and there with outcrops of rock and dotted with grazing sheep and occasional ponies.

Llanthony Abbey itself stands in such a valley, wild, lonely and deserted; a lovely old ruin it is, sadly neglected.  Apparently much more used to stand than is currently visible.  There is little left of the east end, but at the west there is the Inn which uses one of the towers and the other is supported by props.  Down below, amongst the outbuildings is a farm and sheep and cows wander round the Abbey, using its very stones as a rubbing place.  The Inn itself is an adapted part of the Abbey and in the kitchen is a mass of arches, now under a coat of whitewash.

I drove on up the valley and left the car just past Capel-y-ffin and walked up to Gospel Pass.  Although I had been there before I was amazed by the vast views.  I mounted up to the right and walked right up to the summit of Pen-y-Beacon[6].  The view grew larger as one walked along the escarpment on the very northern edge of the mountains.  Then from the top the scene is wonderful.  On the left the Beacons and Carmarthen Van, then the whole country round Brecon.  Coming round there is Builth and the Wye valley, partly hidden in its own little hills, and crossing the whole of the middle distance is the Wye as it wanders through the fields until it turns into the Golden Valley and is lost to view.  Most of the Golden Valley is visible.   It seems more wooded than most of the rest of the valley.  And away in the distance is the Housman Country^[7], the Wrekin and the Clun hills: ‘On Wenlock edge the woods in trouble’, and directly to the north what I can only suppose are the hills round Rhayader, and Plynimon Fawr.  I walked back through the deep heather that is beginning to flower, here and there patches of purple stand out against the universal dark brown and the massed green humps of whortleberries.

By now the weather had cleared and it turned into a beautiful very hot afternoon, after having been cloudy and rainy.  I stopped to look at Capel-y-ffin Church of England chapel, lately whitewashed, with its quaint little wooden bell tower standing out against the deep blue sky.  I didn’t go and look at Father Ignatius’s monastery, but I did stop at Llanthony Abbey again, besieged by tourists from a charabanc.  I cursed, as Kilvert cursed eighty years before me at the way trippers pointed to architectural features, the one knowing, the rest gaping^[8].

Fishing in the evening.  Though a lovely evening I caught nothing.

 

Monday July 31^st,  9.15 am

I didn’t do much on Saturday.  Wrote up the diary, read a bit.  Trying to work slowly through Marshall’s ‘Principle (of Economics)’ but its heavy going.  Read ‘River Diary’ for an hour by the edge of the Crawnon and the Usk.  A beautiful setting for such a book.  Dennis had to work in the afternoon so we couldn’t go to the Elan Valley as we had hoped.  Although the morning had been fine it clouded over in the afternoon; it was thundery and oppressive.  Fishing again in the evening.  Rose quite a few fish and hooked one for a bit but he soon got off.

Tuesday 9.00 am  The First of August

On Sunday Dennis went fishing in the morning.  I didn’t follow as it was raining but went down later on hoping for a lift back.  I walked the whole way along the river.  From the top of the Crawnon Pool at the top of Mrs. Llewellyn’s water right down across the bridge the length of Worcester Cottage water.  When I got there Dennis was gone so I walked back along the canal.  I was walking too fast to see much, although I did see a couple of herons.

After lunch we went for a drive up the Elan Valley.  Our route lay up to Talgarth, then through Builth and on to Rhayader.  A very lovely drive.  Through the deep valley of the Rhiangoll first, then down into the lovely Wye valley.  It is a shame it is as well known as it spoils, for me at least, the full beauty.  I like things to be on my own, my very own.  The same applies to the Elan Valley.  There were hoards of cars, motor-bicycles and cycles all going up and down, in spite of the weather.  The valley must have been heavenly before they built the reservoirs.  Even now it is very majestic and immense, and the three reservoirs are certainly a tremendous and impressive sight.

At the head of the valley the road gets very bad, but we drove on hoping the road would improve but it was a stone track for nearly five miles and then a narrow winding lane for nearly another ten.  Suddenly we came out at the Devil’s Bridge.  This again has been exploited and there are hotels, caravan sites and wayside cafes.  We didn’t go down to the actual bridge but drove on to Llangurig through the driving mountain rain.

It was nice to see Llangurig again, although my memory of it is a bit hazy.  Again we didn’t stop as we were a bit short of time.  But we both decide that we must go back there again sometime.  Perhaps we will.  It was quite a relief to get into the hotel and have dinner.

On Monday I made a trip to Brecon for the day.  I didn’t do much sightseeing but wandered round the shops.  There are two nice antique shops, Hutchinsons and one very Welsh one (I must be referring to Odwyn Jones where in later years we bought several pieces of furniture, some of which I still have).  I went into both and had a look round.  I was very envious of some of the things.

After lunch I went down and had a look at the source of the canal.  The main head of water comes out of a tunnel.  I suppose it must originally have flowed into the Usk.  There is also a deserted wharf to one side.  I then went to the Museum where there are some most interesting things.  What I liked best was the extraordinarily good collection of stuffed birds and animals.  There was a Little Auk picked up in Brecon in February this year at the same time as it was said ‘to have rained Little Auks in Bristol’.  To see some Roman coins, denarii, dug out from a Roman fort was most exciting.  Also an intriguing collection of old wooden farm implements, ploughs, harrows etc.  I bought a copy of ‘Mountains and Moorlands’[9] by W.H.Pearsall.  I shall have to study the flora and fauna of the district now, besides the geology and animal and bird life!

Later in the evening I went for a walk up the Myarth, going via the ‘Maen Hir’ near Gliffaes which is some Druid or Celtic stone.  A tremendous thing some twelve or fifteen feet high and three or four foot in width and breadth, rather hidden now by a thorn bush.  As I was standing there the farmer came along and I apologised for trespassing but he didn’t mind a bit.  That is so typical of all the people around here.  They are all so friendly and charming and always ready for a chat.  And their sheep dogs are almost all the same; whenever one goes through a farm, with certain exceptions, they wag their tails as if really pleased to see one.

I asked the farmer about the stone.  He said it was something very old and had a great history though he couldn’t rightly say what it was.  People were always coming to see it.  He supposed they saw all about it in guide books.  Why, only three or four months ago he had had a letter from some people in London telling him to look after it carefully.  He thought he ought to cut the thorn down so that it could be seen from the road.  I agreed.  He went on to say, how, in the days of the late Lord Glanusk , who had been very keen on shooting and had held partridge drives on these fields, his (the farmer’s) uncle used to have to go on top of the stone as look-out boy.

I then strolled on up the hill.  As I did not find a track I was forced to plunge for ages through very thick bracken but underneath there was a matting of blackberry bushes and it was most unpleasant.  I eventually found a track and went on up.  I found half an egg shell under the trees.  All the way up there were several buzzards above me, wheeling, turning and circling, diving and soaring, or just hovering in the breeze, screaming all the time.

I went out to look for badgers after dinner but the wind seemed to be blowing in small circles and I didn’t see them as my smell was being blown over the sett wherever I sat.

Wednesday 12 midday

I went up the Myarth again on Tuesday morning and wandered around through the pines, over long carpets of pine needles, everywhere their delightful scent perfuming the air.  It was very wet but I didn’t mind.  It was all so peaceful.  I saw a great spotted woodpecker, which is quite an uncommon bird I believe.  On the way back, over Llangynidr Bridge, I stopped to watch a heron fishing, saw it catch an eel and eat it.

The afternoon turned out really beautiful and I spent the time photographing the river.  It is really enjoyable doing this when it is fine.  I took a lot of pictures against the sun.

Then in the evening it was very wet though the rain stopped about 8.  Dennis and I went rabbit shooting.  He shot six, two of them quite young ones, which we gave to Mrs Richards.  The view from the Allt is very lovely.  On the way back through the farm we had first to put out a fire that was burning in the dung heap & then find her young guinea fowl in the long grass.

Friday night 4^th August

Wednesday was a pretty miserable day for weather.  It rained on and off for most of the morning.  I walked along the canal as far as Llangattock, but there were some very heavy showers and I got quite wet.  So I got onto the road where it crosses the canal and got a lift back in a jeep.  I spent the rest of the morning reading and writing.

I spent the afternoon likewise, reading ‘The Golden Bough’; all about Adonis and Altis.  The evening turned out fine so Dennis and I went out to see the badgers.  They were more obliging than the last time I went out.  There was a strong wind blowing and so it was easy to position ourselves.  One of them came right underneath my feet.  Immediately he got there, of course, he could smell me and he scuttled back.

On Thursday the weather changed and it was lovely right from early morning.  I took the opportunity of taking some photographs of Crickhowell; it was market day there.  I went in with Mr Morgan (the landlord of the Coach and Horses) and wandered around.  It is quite a pretty little town with steep winding back streets fronted with small tidy houses painted cream and grey.  Some of them are a bit ramshackle.  The bridge is delightful.  Similar in design and structure to Llangynidr Bridge it is at the same time wider and longer with more arches.  It has an atmosphere all its own, this old grey mellow stone.  I also went up to Llangattock which is a pleasant little place perched on the side of a hill, with the cliffs of Llangattock caves towering above, blue in the morning haze.

After lunch I went over to Llangorse.  I started off on the back of a wagon delivering soft drinks.  I left this at Bwlch and walked for about 1 ½ miles, when a dry cleaners van picked me up and took me to Llangorse village.  This is popular with trippers and has consequently been spoilt, Inns and cafes are everywhere, and camping sites on farms.  I walked slowly round the lake, just absorbing everything.  The breeze, the sunlight, the colour of the water and the trees and the distant views of the Beacons.  Here is what I wrote as I sat by the water’s edge.

Sitting in the sun by the side of Llangorse Lake.  Quite a strong breeze blowing, ruffling the placid waters in little wavelets that wash up against the stony shore in miniature breakers.  Further out into the lake the sun is catching the tops of the waves making them glint and sparkle as it runs across the surface.  All the reeds are swaying gently in the breeze.  No sound but the washing of the waves, and the wind in the trees.  The sky is blue with the puffiest of white clouds sailing across its bosom.  In the distance is the outline of Pen-y-Fan and its surrounding peaks and ridges, showing dimly in the haze.  Nearest at hand is the long, high slope of the Allt, much clearer, the trees showing distinct.  Below it is the square tower and the steeply sloping lichened  roof of Llangasty church.

My peaceful reverie is disturbed as I sit on this little jetty running out into the water, by a white-painted dingy that comes by with two men in blue suits rowing clumsily.  Two women also, one in a vivid pink petticoat and two babies, two fishing rods trailing lines behind.  They have anchored so I must go on and search for a more peaceful spot.

And again: I’ve round a bit further now, but it’s just as lovely.  The sun is hotter than ever but the wind has freshened and the wild white horses are playing on the lake now.  The Beacons have more or less disappeared behind the slopes of the Allt, all except for Pen-y-Fan itself.  Where I sit there is a mass of water lilies, not the coarse kind one finds in goldfish ponds but a smaller more delicate yellow flower.  They stretch out in serried ranks some fifty yards into the lake and are scattered in patches along the shore for about three hundred yards.

The sounds are still the same only are added the occasional croak of a raven as he floats above me, and the swoosh of a swallow sweeping by me, low down over the water.  I can see all the fields on the Allt distinctly now.  In one there is a big round tree, an oak I think, casting a large, round, black shadow on the green grass.  In another they have almost finished cutting the corn.  All that is left is the small triangular patch in the middle of the field, with the stooks piled symmetrically all round.  I can see the glint of the tractor in the field.  One field below that the corn is already cut and laid out neatly in rows.  I shall be passing up there soon.

In a matter of an hour I was up there, having passed round the end of the lake, waded through the Llynfi where it flows out and crossed the Pennorth road.  There is a path up the side of the Allt, through bracken and grass, through a pine plantation and up into the thick matted bracken onto the summit.  From there Llangorse looks small, dwarfed by the surrounding mountains, which are all round it.  The western escarpment of the Black mountains being visible over Mynydd Llangorse, and in the other direction the towering Beacons hazy against the sun.  I struggled down, unable to find a path and ended up at the farm below where Dennis took me back.

The badgers in the evening were not obliging.  The midges on the other hand had an excellent feed.

On Friday I went for a long trip in Dennis’s car all the way round the Black Mts.  My first stop was Abergavenny where I did a bit of shopping.  Then I started off up the Golden Valley.  First to Pandy, then Walterstone and Rowlstone.  There is a delightful old Roman church here at which I stopped.  It was a lovely warm morning and inside was lovely and cool.  My next stop was Dore Abbey and inside was even more cool and far more lovely.  It was almost a revelation coming in there after the hot summer morning and the sultry air.  It was lofty, cool and beautiful.  My knowledge of Cathedrals & Abbeys is limited but one could hardly desire anything more lovely than this.  One breathed an air full of beauty, purity and holiness, a spiritual calm pervaded everything.  I could have stayed there for hours but I must confess that the urge for sight-seeing, ‘le tourisme’, which seizes me – horrible dictu – on occasions pushed me.   I pushed on up the hill on the east of the Golden Valley, along the ridge for a bit, down and up on the west slopes; through Bacton & St Margarets where I got very lost, wandering through narrow lanes that wound along, going nowhere, with no purpose behind them, and not a signpost for miles.  With a mixture of good luck and judgement (?) I came out just short of Peterchurch.  I climbed from there up Stockley Hill, where I had my lunch.  There is a long view from there over the Herefordshire plain across a network of hedges and multi-coloured fields to the ridges of hills beyond, unnamed and unknown.

My route was then Bredwardine, Hay, Clyro, Glasbury, Talgarth and back here.  I went very slowly along the little roads taking in the warmth and the beauty.  I think I prefer the Usk valley though; it is a little more wild and a little less domesticated and tame.

Hay is delightful, charming, full of the feeling of peace.  It is beginning to be touched by the materialism of the tourist trade – but hardly yet.  As I wandered through its narrow streets a funeral passed, a procession of black cars, with numerous men in black walking round the hearse.

Clyro was rather disappointing.  Even the guiding spirit of Kilvert, which gave the place a meaning, failed to give it life or colour.  The church is charming but the rest of it isn’t.  There are some magnificent views of the Beacons from the Clyro-Glasbury road and more of the Northern escarpment of the Black Mountains.

I was very tired when I got back.  I took some pictures of the Richards’s horses when I went to pick up Dennis, as they wanted some taken.

Tuesday 3.30 pm

I have left this rather long so I will jus fill in the week end.

Saturday

Went up Tor-y-Foel in the morning.  Climbed as fast as I could to see how long it took & I did it in just over 35 minutes.  Started reading F.S. Smythe’s[10] ‘Mountain Vision’ on the top.

Waited for lunch for Dennis but he rang up and said he couldn’t get back but would be back after tea.  He didn’t get back till half past eight and so I just read all afternoon.  Charles (Osselton) arrived for tea and after supper Dennis & I went out and watched him fishing down at Worcester Cottage.

Sunday

Dennis had the day off & so we went up the Grwyne Fechan valley.  It was very lovely though there were quite a few people there.  Fished in the evening.  No fish.

Monday

Spent almost the whole day down at the river fishing and only caught one small dace.  Still I suppose that is better than nothing.  It was a glorious day all the time and beautifully warm & sunny.  After dinner I went up Tor-y-Foel to see the sun set.  A marvellous evening.  I have never seen it so clear.  A lovely golden red sunset.

Tuesday 9.30 pm 8^th August

It has been a mixed day today.  In spite of last night’s beautiful sunset the weather this morning was cloudy.  It cleared up about 10 and we looked all set for a pleasant day.  Then about 12 it started to rain.  It came on properly about 2 and has rained solidly ever since and does not look like stopping.

Dennis took me to Talybont and I started walking from there.  First along the reservoir road for half a mile then up to the right into the Blaen Cwm and its forest reserve.  It was lovely walking through the pine trees along a pleasant level grassy track.  Once I left that I was on to the foothills of Waen Rydd.  About forty minutes of hard and steep going brought me to the top, through a pleasant cwm, where I saw a snipe and found the skull of a horned sheep.  It was very cold on top and there was a cold wind blowing.  I walked across to near its second summit and slowly descended into the Caerfanell valley.  There is a lovely view from the top.  The Usk valley in one direction, the tops of the Beacons in the other and to the south the mines.  One can’t see much sign of them and the hills look much like any other hills, except for a solitary slag-heap on the skyline.  You can just see the sea.  The Caerfanell valley is very lovely before it meets the road; running through little rocky gorges, between mountain ashes; with rapids and tall waterfalls.  One of the loveliest of small valleys.  Once past the road it is shallow and rocky and not so exciting.  The rest of the way back was uneventful, consisting of walking and lifts.  The only event of major interest was seeing a lizard.

6pm Friday 11^th August.

Wednesday was a fairly uneventful day.  I went with Dennis to work in the morning as the Richards wanted me to take some photographs of three ponies they were sending to America.  I did this and accompanied them down to the station at Talybont where they were starting off.  There was a special train there waiting to take them.  They were all very quiet at getting on and quite well-behaved.

After that I went into Brecon with Dennis and was very extravagant.  I bought 3 old prints at the ‘Books & Crafts’ shop and ‘A Walk through Wales’, 1787 by the Rev A. Warner[11].  An interesting little book very much of its period (i.e. Lyrical Ballads).

After lunch I walked up Buckland Hill & surveyed the view and spent a pleasant hour or two up there.

In the evening I again tried to photograph the badgers but they never came out and everything seemed to go wrong.  There were people shooting on the other bank, I couldn’t get the camera to work, & then, packing up, & to crown everything & to add injury to insult the bulb went off in my face. 

On Thursday I did what I think was my longest walk to date.  I took the bus to Crickhowell.  Being market day it was very crowded and I had to stand most of the way.  I ascended the Table Mountain from there by much the same route as I took last time.  The view was again lovely though not quite so clear.  The weather was very varied all day.  Most of the time it was hot and sunny with masses of white cumulus while every now and again a large mass of rain cloud would come across the valley from the Beacons and there would be a sharp, stinging shower.

I ridge-walked from the Table Mountain via Pen-Cerrig-Calch, Pen-allt-Mawr and Pen-Twyn-Glas and then descended in the Grwyne Fechan valley roughly opposite Pen-y-Gadair.  It was lovely on top in the sun.  The heather is beginning to purple though from a distance it still looks a dark brown, but nearer the purple is visible.  It contrasts vividly with the dark green of the bracken and the darker green of grass and bilberry.

I walked slowly up the stream.  Once when I stopped preparatory to taking a photograph a dipper hopped out close to me and I took one of him.  He didn’t fly away but hopped from rock to rock, evidently a bit anxious about me, stamping his feet.  Eventually he flew off.  Later on I disturbed a heron, which flew off and began to circle round in the hills which made a majestic setting for it.  The stream is charming, small, clear and rocky, running for most of the time in the flat valley floor, some of the time it rushes beneath red, rocky cliffs and purple heather-covered banks.   I had lunch near a little pool at the head of the valley.

I climbed up the hill then, up Mynydd Llysiau and along the ridge back to Pen-Allt-Mawr, then down into Tretower.  The formation of the hills is most curious consisting of a series of parallel steps, about 100 feet high.  I counted ten of them going down to Tretower.  Tretower itself looked lovely from above and as charming as ever from below.  I had to walk the final three miles along the road back to Llangynidr, stopping at the Half Way House for a much-needed glass of cider.

Friday

Didn’t do much as I felt quite tired.  Went for a walk up the Cwm Claisfer which runs through Llangynidr Upper.  There is quite a good track that runs right the way up the valley.  It came on to rain when I got near the top and continued on and off till I got back.  They are building a reservoir up there, though the only signs are a road running up the valley and a hideous little red brick house.

I went into Crickhowell in the afternoon and had a haircut.  In the evening I went fishing with Dennis and caught my first decent-sized trout, a bit over half a pound.  When we got back Mummy and Daddy had arrived for the week end.

Saturday was a miserable day, and it rained pretty continuously all the time.  I went out salmon fishing with Pa in the morning at Penkelly.  We saw one salmon leap out of the water but caught nothing.  After lunch we went into Brecon to fetch Arnold and Michael Jones (Michael was Arnold’s son, a bit younger than me) who were coming for the week end.  In the evening I went fishing again but saw or caught nothing.

Sunday

Was a glorious day.  Bright hot sun all day, with almost no cloud and a perfect evening.  Its funny how the weather alternates.  Dennis & I went for quite a long walk.  We took the car to Tretower and went up into the Black Mountains from there.  The same route as I took four years ago almost to the day with Ted Raikes.  It’s quite a stiff climb as it is solidly up all the way.  The view was wonderful.  .Tretower nestling at our feet and valleys stretching away in all directions.  To the left to Crickhowell and Abergavenny, to the right to Talgarth, and in the centre a small one joining the Usk valley at Llangynidr and stretching up towards Talybont and Brecon.

In the hills the colouring was marvellous.  The bracken had turned more purple since I was there and the heather almost seemed to be greener.  We saw quite a number of men on ponies rounding up sheep & the mountain ponies.  We went from Pen-Allt-Mawr to Pen-Twyn-Mawr & then down into the Fechan valley where we ate lunch & lay in the sun for half an hour.  Then we walked further up the valley and built a very creditable dam which raised the level of the water quite considerably.  After eating handfuls of bilberries we walked straight up the hill and back along the ridge to Pen-Allt-Mawr.  We didn’t go up it but walked along the side half-way down through the screes.  It was terrible going, & we were quite glad to get back. 

In the evening I went out & watched badgers.  I saw one for a short time but when I took a photo the flash failed to go off.