Day 2 – Knighton to Felindre

I didn’t sleep well.  It could have been Christmas Eve type excitement about starting the walk today but I think it had more to do with the fact that I was in a fairly short bed with a board at the end.  It disturbed my sleep each time my feet hit it.  So I was awake for a while at three and finally woke at six am.  I repacked my things and went out to the main pub for breakfast at eight which was the earliest the George and Dragon would agree to serve it.  It was unremarkable.  The landlord gave the impression that when he asked if you wanted tea or coffee or how you might like your eggs cooked he really wanted you to say “Not for me, thank you” so he could return to doing something of greater interest to him.  I noticed from a sign on the wall that in 1982 the landlord was Walter Melon.  Water Melon.  Gettit?  As I was finishing my breakfast a couple joined me in the dining room.  They couldn’t be bothered to engage each other in conversation so I didn’t engage with them except to say Good Morning. 

After performing some stretches I began walking at 8.50.  I’d really wanted to start at eight.  As I left the town I spotted a dozen or more dead rats hanging by their tails on a fence.  Rarely seen in Leamington Spa.  The first twenty minutes were ridiculously steep.  It wouldn’t be much of an exaggeration to say that I was vertical.  It crossed my mind that if the whole day, let alone the week, was going to be like this I would really struggle.  Once on more level ground it was all quite boggy underfoot.  Over the day I made fairly slow progress when squelching through mud but made up for it when on any sort of path and especially when on tarmac.  Quite early in the day I discovered that my two flasks are not very good at keeping liquid hot, warm or even within their walls.  If you wonder what cold powdered soup tastes like try drinking the contents of your washing up bowl after you’ve done the dishes. 

The significant incidents of the day would be....falls onto my arse = 3, human beings encountered  = 3, brief bursts of rain = 2, prolonged falling of sleet = 1, getting lost  = 2.  The real joke about spending £27 on two guide books is that Glyndŵr’s Way is very well signposted and so I barely referred to my books all day.  When I got lost the first time it was because I turned a corner and found a stunning view.  I took some photographs and then turned to my right and took more photographs.  And walked in that direction.  I realised ten minutes later that I’d lost the trail.   I was completely lost for a while and unsure of quite where I was or what to do.  For a brief, poignant, moment I knew what it feels like to be Louis Walsh.  It took me twenty minutes before I realised that the best thing to do was to retrace my steps to a point where I was definitely on the path.  It was when I did that that I realised I’d walked in the direction of the scenery and ignored a very obvious signpost.  That was around midday.  When I lost the path again around two pm I didn’t retrace my steps because that involved going back up a steep hill.  I’d slipped onto my backside twice descending it so this didn’t appeal.  So, to find the path again I looped around a hill and it took ages and added on several miles.  The arrival of sleet as daylight faded dampened my spirits slightly and it occurred to me that those who told me I was daft to do this at this time of year were right.  My rainproof coat ingeniously moved all of the water down my body and into its own pockets where my iphone, mp3 and guidebook could be found.  However, it’s been a really great day.  The forty one year old legs, knees, hips, ankles and toes have coped well and the mp3 music has kept me motivated, smiling and moving at a good pace. 

This evening I am at Brandy House Farm near Felidre.  My hosts, Richard and Medina, couldn’t be lovelier or more welcoming.  After I arrived and Richard greeted me with “Welcome, welcome old chap” I was served with a pot of tea and some sponge cake.  Although my coat and trousers were covered in mud he was indifferent to this and welcomed me in.  He said that what fell to the floor would dry and could be picked up with the vacuum cleaner.  Amazingly, I felt re-energised very quickly.  That’s the power of tea, cake and friendliness.  We had a brief chat about my day, the walk and the area.  “Would you normally walk at this time of year?”.  “No, not normally”.

I had some time to inspect my considerable blister collection and arrange my clothes over the radiators in my room before I was served with dinner.  This started with homemade tomato and coriander soup (amazing), homemade bread roll (wonderful), poached salmon and vegetables (delicious) and apple crumble (stuffed!!).  The crumble had nothing to do with rubbing flour and butter together but appeared to have been made by mixing muesli and milk or yoghurt and grilling it.  I suspect Medina has her own kiln and made the crockery too.  I may give up on the walk and stay here or keep walking and get a taxi back here to eat each evening.  Their home is extremely homely and full of books from their travels around the world.  While I ate there wasn’t the sound of television or Wii games in the background but radio three and a couple talking and helping their son with homework.  As lovely as they have been Richard and Medina have asked nothing of me or about me and I, in turn, haven’t felt the need to interview them and identify their risk of reoffending.  Bliss.