Sunday 2 August 2020

A Gorgeous, Green Land of Castles

Carreg Cennan Castle - looming above the Welsh landscape since the late 13th century


Oh, boy - we're only halfway through, but already it's been a LONG year.

Most of us in the UK are feeling pretty desperate for a break but with travel being so uncertain, many Brits are choosing to forgo the summer holiday abroad. Kevin and I certainly have no plans to get on a plane anytime soon, and frankly I don't want to risk being stranded in a foreign country or being subject to weeks of quarantine upon return to the UK.

Thus in late June we made plans to spend a few days in a cottage in the Brecon Beacons in the second week of July - the only hindrance being that Wales had not yet announced when they would allow tourists to enter the country once again. Thankfully, just three days before we were due to travel, the Welsh government reopened its borders to the rest of Britain.


The fabulous Severn Bridge - gateway to South Wales


We've visited Wales numerous times - it's only a 2-hour drive away - but we'd never explored the eastern side of the Brecon Beacons or the neighbouring county of Herefordshire on the English side of the border. 

Our accommodation was a converted, centuries old stone barn in the village of Llangorse, situated right alongside a stream with St Paulinas Church right next-door, whose churchyard was filled with tombstones in the names of Jones, Williams, Evans, Davies and Morgan. Unfortunately, due to Wales' still quite restrictive COVID-19 regulations, the church was closed to visitors. 

(And FYI - the name of Llangorse with an 'e' on the end is the English version. Sometimes the name appears in the original Welsh, without the 'e' - ie Llangors.)



Penybont Barn, our AirBnB cottage for four nights.
The church is out of shot, on the right-hand bank of the stream



We made friends with this lovely boy in the churchyard one evening.
We think he might have been the pub cat
(The Castle Inn backs onto the churchyard - not far to travel for repentance!)


So lovely to hear the clip-clop of horses' hooves going past our cottage several times a day.
The other pub in the village was right opposite our accommodation (it had not yet reopened).


Llangorse Lake (the largest natural lake in South Wales) was a mere five-minute walk away. It's a tranquil place with Welsh ponies roaming free in the car park, swans and ducks galore, rowboats for hire, and the only crannog in existence in Wales or England. 

What on earth is a crannog? you ask. 

These ancient dwellings were once found predominantly throughout Scotland and Ireland, as early as 5,000 years ago, but people continued to build them as defensive homesteads out on the water until about the 17th century. There is something incredibly appealing about these rustic dwellings - romantic and immediately transporting the viewer back to an ancient time. 

The Llangorse crannog is believed to have been constructed in 916 AD, apparently by the King of Brycheiniog (no, I have no idea who that is - Google it!). It's now an education centre. 


Llangorse crannog, on Llangorse Lake - constructed in 916 AD


Rowboats for hire on Llangorse Lake


Ponies wandering around the car park at Llangorse Lake


Llangorse Lake


Late evening sun on a stone cottage in Llangorse


Pretty cottage in Llangorse




Mother and twins standing to attention in Llangorse


We couldn't wait to get walking in the glorious countryside surrounding us. Honestly, even to our eyes which are now well accustomed to England's verdant landscape, Wales in the middle of summer was GREEN. Even the tops of mountains are covered in a soft, lush carpet - the kind of grass people in Canberra dream about (no bindi-eyes, no thick roots... not brown and crunchy!). It made you want to take off your walking shoes and wriggle your toes in it.

So on our first morning we set off to do a loop walk that would lead us up Mynydd Llangors, one of the highest hills in the area, and down through the Usk valley.

Reviews of the walk had said it was quite a steep climb, though not terribly lengthy. We've done some steep hill walking in the past so we weren't challenged by this.


Broad smiles at the start of our walk to the peak of Mynydd Llangorse.
'Doesn't look too far' we thought....





The weather was perfect for walking - a bit overcast, about 18ºC and a light breeze. The reviews were correct; it appeared to be quite a steep gradient to reach the peak. 'We'll be fine,' I said to Kevin, adding 'I mean, it's not Golden Cap' (referring to a very arduous and steep walk we'd done in Dorset last year).

We were both feeling very energetic and the 360 degrees of fabulous views, combined with cute sheep dotted across the landscape (requiring judicious placement of one's steps to avoid their poo), meant we reached the top after about 15 minutes of dogged climbing.

Er, no we didn't.


Smooching sheep and fabulous views over Llangorse lake, halfway up the mountain
(or so we thought)



Those cheeky Welsh. Somebody clearly thought it would be fun to set a walking trail that gave an early, and false, sense of achievement. No sooner had we reached what we thought was the peak, then another peak - see photo below - was revealed to us. And so we trudged on, thinking about the good this was doing our cardio-vascular systems and our leg muscles.


The second climb revealed to us, having scaled the first one
(it's actually quite a bit steeper than it looks in this photo)


ARE THEY KIDDING?!

By now you have probably guessed that Peak No. 2 was, in fact, only the second in a series of cleverly hidden peaks. Seriously, from where the walk began to just before you reached each peak, higher land was not visible. I began to feel like I was in one of those Droste effect pictures, with Welsh hills leading on to infinity.


Yep, that's bloody Peak No. 3


You're having a laugh.
The author espies Peak No. 4, having just completed No. 3


At least the views were great - looking back towards Waun Fach which, at 811 metres,
is the highest peak in the Black Mountains



Thankfully, the fourth peak that was revealed upon reaching Peak No. 3 was the last, and the landscape flattened out for us to make our way to the trig point further along the trail. To the west lay the sprawl of the Brecon Beacons, and to the east the Black Mountains with the beautiful Usk Valley below.



The trig point at the top of Mynydd Llangors
(clouds of killer wasps about to descend)


Our reward for slogging up hills for an hour was a thermos of coffee and sandwiches, enjoyed whilst admiring the spectacular views along the Usk Valley - but not before we were chased by a swarm of wasps for a couple of minutes, from the trig point down the other side of the mountain, to the point where our loop commenced its return down around the eastern side. 

For the first 30 seconds or so we had tried to ignore the wasps, all expert advice indicating that to flap your arms about is the worst thing you can do. However it's pretty disconcerting having clouds of vicious insects surround you for a sustained period, and in the end we were racing at full speed, hoping to out-run the little buggers (which, thankfully, we did).


Green and glorious - descending for the 1-hour return to the car, this time along the valley floor




The views on the way down the mountain were every bit as fabulous as on the ascent - an incredible patchwork of agricultural land, with the wild hills above, and from the valley floor below, the bleating of lambs drifting up to us.

All was just dandy until we reached the final part of the descent. You can see from the photos above that the hillsides are thickly covered with bracken. That was fine higher up - the path was well defined. Ahead of us, however, was a 20-minute stretch of what we Aussies call 'bush-bashing.' In other words, we were obliged to fight our way through 2-metre high forests of bracken, with the path barely visible. We were both in shorts because it was a warm day and we did not anticipate having to wade through thick foliage. 

The bonus was that hidden in with the bracken were stinging nettles! Thankfully in fairly limited profusion, but all the same both of us eventually emerged with red blotches all over our arms and legs, and the burning sting that typically lasts several hours.

Wasps, bracken and nettles notwithstanding, this was a wonderful and invigorating hike. 

Yes, that's me engulfed by 2-metre high bracken, fighting my way back down from Mynydd Llangors

On our third day in Llangorse we decided to drive to Hay-on-Wye, famed for its literary festival and only 30 minutes away by car. 

I don't know what I was expecting, but I was a tad underwhelmed. It was probably a lot to do with COVID-19, as a reasonable proportion of the cute little book emporiums and antiques stores were not open, and frankly the fun is taken out of browsing when you need to queue outside with your mask on, and then resist the urge not to touch anything in the store unless you want to buy it. In any event I have been very anxious about going back into circulation, and aside from a few trips to the supermarket and local garden centres, this was my first shopping experience since lockdown began in March. 

I  did come away with some bargains from a lovely, high end homewares store that sadly was having a closing-down sale - a couple of nordic scented candles that I've long yearned to buy, but for which I could not justify the hefty price.

This adorable Irish Wolfhound appeared to be patiently (and hopefully) queuing for egress into the greengrocer
- with a stop at the hand sanitiser station, of course! 



Lovely Georgian cottage in Hay-on-Wye

So, after struggling to fill more than an hour in Hay-on-Wye, on the advice of good friend Lesley in Canberra we decided to take a circuitous route home, via the Gospel Pass, which is Wales' highest pass. The road runs through the Black Mountains, from the lowlands of the River Wye in the north (just outside Hay) to the Vale of Ewyas (near Abergavenny). 

And we are so glad we did!

The name of the pass comes from a couple of supposed origins - the first being that crusaders are meant to have travelled this route on their way to the Crusades; the second that St Paul brought the gospel to Wales via this route.

On our way up to the high point we were childishly amused to pass signs directing us to Lord Hereford's Knob (Twmpa is the Welsh name), a mountain whose summit is at 690 metres.

When finally you reach the summit of the Gospel Pass at 549 metres, you're rewarded with 360º panoramic splendour - please view the short video below. There's also a standing stone, though I'm afraid we missed that.


It was a tad windy up there, and although lots of people were climbing up one of the mountains we decided to continue on our way, descending the other side of the pass. 

This route is not for the faint-hearted driver. Here in rural Surrey we are used to narrow, winding lanes where interesting manoeuvres are required if you meet a car coming from the opposite direction. But even we caught our breath on a number of occasions as we or the opposing vehicle was obliged to reverse some distance (hoping another car was not approaching from behind) in order to squeeze into the extra 30cm or so of widened road - just enough to let the other vehicle pass at a snail's pace, both drivers hurriedly collapsing their side mirrors to gain a few additional centimetres.

Strangely enough, whilst we progressed white-knuckled on this road I realised I had been on it before, back in the dim, dark 80s, on my first trip to Europe. Back then there were way fewer cars and definitely few - if any - cyclists. Of course given Kevin's cycling obsession I will make no complaints about sharing the road with two-wheeled vehicles, and once again we are completely comfortable with it in practice, Surrey roads being rammed to the gunnels with folks on bikes. But there's no doubting it's an additional hazard, and we observed a number of tourists driving in a manner that indicated they were not used to narrow, winding roads, or cyclists.

*squeeeee!!!!* Just look at that itty-bitty foal! ♥️
Wild Welsh Ponies alongside the Gospel Pass road


This pine plantation looks like a giant bird spreading its wings


The Church of St Mary The Virgin at Capel-y-ffin (15th century), about halfway down the southern side of the Pass road
The inscription on the window is from Psalm 121:
'I shall lift up my eyes to the hills whence cometh my salvation


This lovely brook ran alongside the church at Capel-y-ffin


By the time we emerged from our nail-biting 35 kilometres of winding road, reaching the end of the pass, we were glad to once again be travelling on roads wider than single-track. 

Part of the fun of travelling in Wales is trying to get your head - and tongue - around those crazy Welsh words. I mean, what do these people have against vowels?! For example, a short distance from where we were staying is a town called Blwch. That is not a spelling error; no vowels - NONE! 

I do love the Welsh accent - lilting and musical (OK, pedants - I realise there are different, regional Welsh accents, but I am speaking generally). No wonder those people love to sing - even their spoken words are song-like.


This 18th century bridge spans the River Usk, at Crickhowell

Wales has more than its fair share of castles. Historians estimate that during the medieval period there was one castle for every 12 square miles in Wales. The reason? Three-and-a-half centuries of conflict with the English. 

There are currently about 100 managed castles in Wales - some in a state of disrepair, and some in private hands, as is the castle we visited on our last day in the Brecons, Carreg Cennen Castle. 

Kevin with Carreg Cennan Castle towering above


Carreg Cennan is on the western edge of the Brecon Beacons, an hour's drive from Llangorse (which is on the eastern side). It was constructed in the 13th century, but unfortunately most of the interior was demolished after the War of the Roses in 1462.

It was a very defensive castle - described thusly on the website:

The castle's gatehouse was enterable only after successfully traversing the unusual barbican. Here at Carreg Cennen this defensive outwork consisted of a series of bridges across deep pits, built so that anyone seeking entry was ushered along a narrow walkway complete with sharp, disconcerting turns to both right and left. At any time the bridges overlying the pits could be drawn away from their supports, creating an insurmountable chasm-like barrier.

Carreg Cennan Castle - built to last!


This is where the muskets were fired at the approaching enemy


Enjoying our lunch with a view from the ramparts of Carreg Cennan Castle


Cross-shaped arrowslit at Carreg Cennen Castle



So another day of uphill walking, and then we decided to also take the route from the road beneath the castle down to the river. It was a beautiful walk with plenty of shade from gazillions of trees, but what goes down, must come up - it was a long slog back up to the road.

We slept well that night, and rose early next morning to check out of the cottage and get out on the road again. I'd managed to book a 10:00am timed entry for Highclere Castle (AKA Downton Abbey), which was just over two hours away on the western fringe of Hampshire, and thus conveniently on our route home.


Impressively grand, and affectionately familiar at the same time - Downton Abbey
(Highclere Castle)


We were in the queue to enter the house, for a while...
looking upwards, not far from the front door



Really? Who would want a wolf's head with a deer's leg in its mouth, as a door knocker?!
It really screams 'Welcome to our home'
(you pull down on the bit of leg with the hoof, to sound the bell... *ew* )



Highclere is owned, and still inhabited by, the Earl and Countess of Carnarvon. This is evident as you make your way through the rooms that are open to the public - family photos abound, and in the bedrooms there are books and magazines. In one of the bathrooms there were half-full bottles of shampoo and other toiletries. The family vacates the house for the summer period when it is open to the public, but otherwise this is their home.

Of course this isn't really a 'castle' - it's a Victorian country house designed in Italianate style in 1842-9 by Charles Barry, who designed London's Houses of Parliament. Several grand houses had stood on the site in earlier centuries, and the park is a Capability Brown design.

I should note that access to Highclere is limited to the main state rooms and most of the bedrooms on the first floor, and unfortunately you're not allowed to take photos. 

Apparently Highclere has 'about 300 rooms' - we wondered whether nobody could be bothered counting them?! We got to see only perhaps 20 per cent of the building, but for me it was well worth the entry price.

Without the benefit of photos, you'll have to take my word that this is a really nice house. Truly. I've been in a lot of historic and grand homes, but this one had none of the shabbiness in soft furnishings and paintwork, that you often find in National Trust properties. The Music Room on the ground floor was decorated with panels of Italian tapestry from dado height to (very high) ceiling. These are 16th century and they looked brand new. Either they have been very carefully kept for all those centuries, or they've been restored. 
(Some cheeky person has managed to take a picture and post it on Pinterest - so here you can see a small section of the tapestries)

Everything was pristine.

And yes, I'm a huge fan of the Downton Abbey series and the feature film, so it was great to stroll around those familiar rooms. One expected Carson to appear at any moment, carrying a tray.
 

The Monks Garden at Highclere Castle - lawn looking a bit fried after a stretch of hot weather


Unusual variety of sunflower in The Secret Garden, Highclere Castle


These gigantic poppies in The Secret Garden look like fried eggs! 


Jackdaw's Castle - a folly directly opposite Highclere Castle


A large area sloping down from the castle has been turned into a wildflower meadow


I wasn't overly impressed with the gardens - they are clearly not the main focus - but the park is enormous. Similar to Sissinghurst in Kent, you have to drive for several minutes to pass through the grounds and return to the road. 

Highclere is only an hour's drive from where we live, so we anticipate revisiting with family or friends from abroad, in the future.



A brief word on the pandemic.

Here in the UK you are currently required by law to wear a face covering whenever in shops or on public transport, and this requirement is being expanded this week to include every other kind of place where you'll be indoors with others.

It's amazing how quickly this, and hand sanitising on entering and leaving premises, has become the norm. Kevin and I have a supply of masks to rotate between laundering, and we simply carry a mask in a protective silicon wallet, and hand sanitiser, wherever we go. We've got spares in the car. It's easy.

It would appear that most Brits are happy to comply - we're not seeing any of hysteria evident in the USA, about mask-wearing being an infringement on civil liberties. It's basic, common sense to help diminish passing on the virus, because heaven knows it's abundantly clear that there are a lot of people walking around without symptoms, even though they're carrying the virus. Why on earth would you object to doing something that could save lives? It's a relatively small inconvenience, and it's something you get used to - just like when they introduced mandatory seatbelts in cars back in the 70s, and the banning of smoking in restaurants and public areas.

A very close friend has been shielding for nearly five months due to a serious health condition, and just as the date for an end to shielding comes about, Britain gets another burst of hot weather and it appears all logic flies out the window. People cram beaches in their tens of thousands, young adults - previously mostly immune to symptoms - disregard social distancing and now the virus is spreading quickly amongst that age group. My friend now feels it's unsafe to emerge from shielding. How long is he supposed to stay a hermit?!

The selfishness of certain people is truly astounding.

JUST WEAR A BLOODY MASK!




And now, as I often do, I'll end this with an update of nature's bounties in my own neighbourhood of Frensham, as we head into the final month of summer.... hooray! (just shy of 40ºC here in Surrey yesterday *groan*) 

On the wildlife front, regular readers will be pleased to know that one of our resident pheasants, Mr Hoppy (formerly known as Mr P), has recovered! After many months of limping he is back in top form, and over the past few weeks he has become more trusting - I guess because, as his leg recovered, he's had more confidence in being able to flee, if need be. 

Mr Hoppy - who will now revert to the moniker, Mr P - now feels entirely comfortable coming up to our french windows and tapping on the glass, by way of begging for seed. I work from home from the dining table which faces out onto the garden, and on numerous occasions over the summer, given that we have the doors open, Mr P has marched straight into the living room and cocked his head to one side - 'How about some seed, Maree?'

It is hilarious to watch Mr P come hurtling up the garden at full speed, looking just like the Roadrunner, when he hears us moving about in the kitchen.


Mr P requesting seed


Our nightly visits from the badgers continue, with anywhere between one and three of these little cuties taking advantage of our generosity. We like it when there's more than one, because they always end up having a little contretemps, which is very amusing indeed. A bit like sparring Tasmanian Devils.

Sometimes the badgers even turn up while it's still light, and we get to see how incredibly fast they can run from the gate at the end of the garden up to our terrace. For stocky little creatures, badgers can MOVE.






Frensham Heights residents have also been delighting in the newborn offspring of the roe deer that inhabit the field below our gardens. I haven't managed to get a photo, but trust me when I say that the set of twins who meandered past our garden gate with their mother last week are a-d-o-r-a-b-l-e.

Not so adorable was the discovery - about an hour later - that baby deer really love the taste of fuschia flowers and cyclamen foliage.

Still, it's a small price to pay for sharing the environment with these gorgeous, shy creatures.

Carnage at the front  door. Minutes before this photo was taken,
this pot was covered in lush cyclamen foliage, just about to send up new flowers



Golden clematis (clematis tangutica)
This climber blossoms with the yellow flowers at the top of the photo,
which then develop into these silky seed-heads


New holly berries have appeared. They will turn red in time for Christmas


Hazelnuts, not quite ready for picking.
 Sadly, hazel trees are not in abundance in our local area, otherwise I'd be out there harvesting like a mad woman!


Brambles in various stage of ripeness. Some are already black and juicy,
but we expect to be properly harvesting on our walks in mid August



Shiny new acorns

I haven't yet been tempted to dine out since the pubs, cafés and restaurants opened a few weeks ago, but I daresay at some point I'll feel comfortable doing so. One of our locals, the Holly Bush down in Frensham village, always has very attractive decor, inside and out, and it is cheering to see things opening up again (although I have every expectation that by September we might be in lockdown again).

Pretty decoration outside The Holly Bush in Frensham village


Lastly, see below for a couple of the projects that have been keeping us busy during lockdown and beyond. 

We have a very exposed, south-facing garden (meaning full sun into our living room in winter, which is great) and that limits what we can do with it. Being quite elevated, we often get strong winds. Also, of course we are only living here until such time as Frensham Heights allows us to, so we're reluctant to invest significantly in plants that might need to stay when we depart.

As much as I love this place, my preference is for a green, shady, leafy garden. I can't achieve that here, but I adore Japanese gardens and so I decided to create a pocket of the Japanese-style aesthetic, with most of the plants in large pots - meaning we can take these with us when we eventually leave.

The plants are fairly immature, so it will look much more established and impressive next year, but in the meantime I'm happy with what we've managed to do (and on a tight budget as well). As usual, I design and source everything, and Kevin does the heavy lifting and digging.

My little pocket of Japanese-style garden


Bumble bees sucking every last drop of pollen from the little cone-shaped alliums in the far corner of our garden.
These were a great choice of mine - they flowered for months

After two years living with 'blah' walls we have gotten around to putting a bit of oomph into our living room - just one wall painted in charcoal for now, and Frensham may well ask us to restore the living room to full blah status when we leave... but oh! How glad I am to have some definition at last.

At last - a bit of drama in our living room!

Stay safe and well, people. Here's hoping this strange world starts to improve sometime soon.

Until next time,
- Maree  xo