To Monmouth and beyond

 

Monmouth and beyond


After a reasonable night's sleep, I was awoken at about 4.45am the following morning by a very inconsiderate blackbird. A really vibrant dawn chorus soon developed as I stretched my stiff limbs and began to break camp. Suddenly a dog appeared from a hidden side path and was rapidly followed by a young man who, considering the climb up from the town below, looked far too sprightly for that time of day. We were both a little surprised to see each other and after a brief conversation I continued to load the rucksack, eat some porridge and set off  again, following him along Offa's path.



I soon discovered a strange building which was marked on the map as a "Naval Temple". I had ascended 'The Kymin", which at around 800 feet was the highest hill in the immediate vicinity. The early morning views down to Monmouth below and onwards to the Welsh Hills were hazy in the morning mist. And the sound traffic was unmissable as the town below came to life. I was a little dismayed by how quickly civilisation had invaded my rural idyll. 


The early 19th century monument had been erected, by an apparently grateful nation, to celebrate the memories of mighty admirals and their naval victories. Nelson made it to the hit list, by virtue of his victory on the Nile, where as naval legend tells us, his blind eye had failed to spot the "withdraw" signal and his insubordination resulted in a famous victory against revolutionary France. It is a little ironic really; if they had waited a few more years before building, they could have added Trafalgar to the memorial. As it is, the building does sport a painting of  ‘The Standard of Great Britain waving triumphant over the fallen and captive flags of France, Spain and Holland’. George III was still on the throne at this time and the country had recently lost the USA, as a colony. Maybe there was a need for a little jingoistic boosting of the nation's morale? 
I walked on past a nearby round tower which was a dining club venue in times past, before beginning my steady descent to the increasingly noisy town of Monmouth. 7.30am saw me at Monmouth bus station where I caught an efficiently little electric bus which returned me to Trusty, and some fresh coffee, in the Chepstow Castle car park, about 40 minutes later.


As I sipped my coffee, I studied the map. I knew I had a few gaps to plug before I could claim completion of the lower part of Offa's trail. One of these lay immediately to my south where a short section of path led to the Sudbury Cliffs and the estuary of the River Severn. As I walked towards the river, along a rote roughly parallel to the River Wye, many thoughts played through my head as I viewed the first Severn Crossing, "The Old Bridge" in the distance. I well remembered visiting and wondering at the construction of this feat of engineering in the early sixties, viewing it one blustery afternoon, and watching the ferry departing from Bechley to Aust on the far shore. 
And later in that decade I recalled the unrestrainable excitement of a nerdy kid, who no doubt knew all the facts and figures about length and height and cost of the bridge and would have spouted them with enthusiasm, as Uncle Bowen drove the family across for the first time before purchasing ice creams at the new fangled service station which looked backer over the river. There are, the boy would have informed anyone within earshot, two bridges: the Wye Bridge and the Severn Bridge. And it still seems a little incredible to me that these two rivers rise on the slopes of Plynlimmon, some 100 miles to the north west, and come together again at these bridges. 

It is still an inspiring construction, now looking slightly forlorn as the more modern so called "Prince of Wales" bridge has usurped it. But it its till a useful crossing, even if it does say a little in high winds. I stood looking at the Severn's muddy shore, with the rather disappointing Sedbury cliffs behind me. And then I turned on my heel and retraced my route of three or so miles, back to Trusty.
Before leaving the locality I called into the friendly local butcher shop of A&H Jones,at Tutshill (NP16 7BN). Here I purchased cheese and sausages, and they were excellent. I will be back for more next time I'm passing - you should call in if you are in the vicinity!

I drove north to Pandy, where I had left a fiddly bit of the path un-walked. I joined these dots in two sections from each end; each was only a few miles long. The first part I walked during the late afternoon, before a sausage feast back at the van. And the remainder was traversed the following morning, managing to conclude my walk with a pint at the local pub, the Hunters Moon Inn, in Llangatwg Lingoed. This, despite its obvious lack of an apostrophe, proved to be a friendly little pub adjacent to a medieval church, in a very pretty village. I have vowed to return soon and experience their B&B and Beer!



So now I have walked the southern half of Offas Dyke, from Knighton, south to the Severn. Knighton is also where the Glydwr trail begins, so I can claim to have walked to Welshpool, by a slightly convoluted route. It is surely time to update the map and plan the next expedition? 

(PS: Cousin Linda - should you chance to read this..... I was in a hurry - I will call in next time!)

We live in confusing times,
Holly berries in summer,
and people can't read signs!









More soon! I will be posting regularly on this blog. If you are interested, become a follower and you will be notified about new posts. Just click on the button top left of this blog, to follow me and be informed of future posts. And tell your friends!

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