Day 6/7 : Over and Out, for now!

The logistics were getting a little strained! My van was by now some fifty miles to the north of me. I sat in the pub with my phone and notebook and worked on a recovery plan. It was a lively pub, with some excellent conversation available. I had a great chat with Mick, a guy who had worked on fight scenes in many movies and had trained Marlon Brando, Tom Cruise, de Niro and a few others in unarmed combat.

Seven thirty the next morning found me at the local bus stop, having left my bag with my new friend. Three hours, three buses and £9 later and I was back in Knighton. Thankfully I remembered last minute to take the van keys out of my rucksack! I drove slowly south again, meandering through country roads, sometimes getting lost. Offa's Dyke is by far the most direct route around here! It was after 2pm when I finally collected my bag from Mick. The plan was now to position the van ahead of me, hitch back to Pandy and walk back to the van. I found a convenient rest area, parked up, sat in my seat to nibble a late lunch, read my book for a while, snoozed......by 6pm, today had been declared a rest day!

It was a beautiful warm evening and I sat reading my book until I was surprised by a man and his wife taking their dogs for an evening stroll. He was a chatty sort of person and the conversation was wide ranging for a while. He told me how he used to work all over the UK, driving heavy machinery. I decided to call him 'Digger Dai'. He was very proud of the fact that he had "built the M25!" but was perhaps less than impressed when I commented that "You could have made it bit wider!" 

Any ground lost here was rapidly regained in response to his question, "Do you know what sort of dogs these are?" I wasn't sure but I knew they had to be pretty special, so 

"Bedlington Terriers." I confidently replied.

I now have a friend for life! "We got them from Doncaster." he told me, adding that they cross breed them to put the 'kill' in a lurcher! "Oh yes, a Bedlington Lurcher will take a hare!" 

I told him of my next day's walk and he promised to keep an eye on my van. He added that he also ran a pub quiz business in Greece for a few years. You do meet some interesting people on these walks. I forgot to tell him I was vet.

For a while, I slept well in Trusty Rusty, by now recognising the necessity to fully inflate the air bed. It must have been about 3.30am when I awoke, shivering. There was a cold blast of air down the left hand side of my body, intense, like a Dyson Air Blade! The zip on my sleeping bag had broken! As I emerged for the inevitable pee, the sky had cleared to reveal the star spangled wonder of the Northern summer sky, something which is not too frequently viewed given the preponderance of light pollution, short nights and heavy cloud cover.  Jupiter was being devoured by a Pacman crescent moon and towards the east, Venus was brilliantly rising. I shivered and headed back under the sleeping bag that was now a duvet for a few more hours.

I was up and off by 7.15am heading down the road before taking up the path that led to the White Castle. The Offa's Dyke main route diverts slightly here because of a damaged footbridge over a stream.

The remains of a prominent mediaeval  castle, once owned by one of  a powerful Marcher Lords and built to keep the Welsh on their side of the border, was something of a surprise, settled as it was in gentle farm land. But it was a reminder of the torrid battles and turmoil that these parts had seen in former centuries. https://cadw.gov.wales/visit/places-to-visit/white-castle

I walked steadily on, planning to reach Monmouth mid afternoon, where, if arrangements worked out Fran would meet me.

"Where will we rendezvous?" she had asked the night before. 

"If my phone battery is down , just head to Monmouth and find the first pub on Offa's Path that is open!"

This was gentle rolling farming country, grazing sheep and cattle, or bursting with grain about to be harvested. I saw a hare running down the path head of me. Presumably it was very content to note that I didn't have  Bedlington Lurcher with me? Further along, down  country lane and little old lady in a large new car stopped to thank me for standing to one side. 

"I was so grateful  that other car reversed for me." she said "I can reverse, but I don't like doing it."  

She went on to tell me about her fall last week, which involved a ladder, and how the large area of Elastoplast on her head covered seven stitches. I was beginning to wonder if she should be driving these narrow country lanes, or anywhere else come to that. But she smiled as she waved cheerio, 

"Remember, life's not that difficult. Just say please, thank and smile at everyone!" 

What a great philosophy! I felt a bit mean then for doubting her driving ability.

Lunch was held in a sunny glade near the River Trothy. It was busy: all the walkers who had left Monmouth that morning filed past me. There were about eight of them, and a dog. Not many of them stopped to talk; unshaven, largely unwashed for last 24 hours, I guess I was starting to look a little ragged around the edges?  I wandered on into cool shade of the King's Wood. Resting under a tree, sipping water and no doubt thinking suitably Republican thoughts like,

"I don't care if a bloody King once owned this tree, I'm still siting under it!" 

Upon departing, I forgot to pick up my Raybans. Expensive rest break that one!

Eventually Monmouth hove into view. Monmouth is a pretty little town at the centre of Monmouthshire, which is now called Gwent. For some time in the past the county enjoyed a somewhat schizophrenic existence as it occupied the no-man's land between England and Wales: "The counties of England, Wales and Monmouthshire" frequently appeared in legal documents and there is even a silly rumour that because of this, Monmouthshire is still technically at war with Germany! But you only have walk the streets for five minutes to realise that it is culturally Welsh. 

I rapidly found my self inside the Green Dragon Inn, looking forward to the consumption of several pints before my wife arrived! I had just blown the froth off the first one when my Phone pinged: Message from Fran.

"Just arrived in Monmouth. I'm outside a pub called the Green Dragon. Where are you?"

So ends this section of my walk. She drove me back to pick up the van and we headed off to some friends at Rhos on Wye, for a shower and a meal out. (Thank you Nigel and Jane!) I intend to walk the last section to Chepstow in about a week, and there is a short walk near Pandy I missed during the van repositioning. Then the second part of the walk, north from Knighton will have to be completed. And I am sure a repaired "Sticky" will be right there alongside me!

Watch this space!

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