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A summer’s day revisit (11 June 2021). Fancying a trip to the Wye Valley and realising it’s been a decade since my previous visit, this seemed like a good place to combine with a couple of quiet hills on the border between Herefordshire and Gloucestershire.

The bus drops me at Goodrich, and a steep climb takes me up Coppet Hill from where I can survey most of western Herefordshire, across to the Black Moutains in the west and even as far north as Titterstone Clee in Shropshire. Everything is beautifully green and lush. A superb start to the day.

From here I can also see The Queen Stone, which I’ve never visited but which I really should. The excellent aerial view unfortunately also reveals that the farmer is busily spraying the crop in the stone’s field today, which puts paid to that idea. Instead, after a pleasant wander along the ridge to take in the excellent views, I drop down to the valley and cross the river over Huntsham Bridge (not a very nice road for pedestrians).

A footpath runs southeast along the banks of the beautiful Wye, through lush grasses, to the bottom of Huntsham Hill. From the riverside there’s a fine view up to the sheer cliffs of the hillfort and Yat Rock. The towering location of the fort is very imposing, clearly no-one would be attempting any kind of attack from the river.

Leaving the river bank through a short stretch of chest-high nettles (shorts seemed like such a good idea earlier), I climb up through Elliot’s Woods to the top of the hill, before heading to Yat Rock for the stupendously picturesque view of the Wye and back towards Coppet Hill.

A quick cup of tea at the cafe, and it’s into the trees for a revisit to the fort. The last time I came was September, it was really quite overgrown but just starting to die back. Unsurprisingly, June is just as bad in this height of the growing season. The western ends of the ramparts are a choked tangle of briars, hazel and nettles. Luckily, the tall tree cover is thicker to the east, so the shin and ankle shredding undergrowth is less deep and difficult to get through.

I’d forgotten just how impressive the inner banks and ditches are, the earthwork standing well over my head from the ditch. A winter or spring visit would almost certainly be better to reveal more, but it’s very pleasant here in the trees and no-one else seems inclined to leave the paths and roads.

After exploring as much as the vegetation allows, I head off along quiet footpaths, to catch a bus from English Bicknor. It’s been a lovely revisit to this scenic part of the Wye Valley, and definitely worth approaching the fort from below to truly appreciate its daunting location.

Now I have been aware of this ‘Black Cairn’ for about a decade now, initially following TSC’s visit, then having baulked at an extra 2 mile diversion while scanning the map upon the summit cairns of Coedcae’r Gwarthog – to the southwest – back in 2013. Jeez, time flies for us humans, does it not? Although for Carn-ddu... hell, that was only yesterday!

I start from the A470 service area beside Llwyn-onn Reservoir, the haunt of comically posturing local boyos emerging from moron-mobiles to consume fast food from a vendor clearly onto a good thing. One might even credit that the occasional rustle in the trees represents the perennial landscape ‘sighing’ at such puerile nonsense... if it wasn’t for the near-constant interruptions of the morning traffic rendering any thought at all pointless. So, time to don boots and ascend steeply past Fedw farm, continuing through forestry prior to a traverse of the soggy crest of Garn Ddu rising beyond. Upon the conclusion of a c1 hour slog the cairn, standing aloof above the source of a stream (hence some industrial-strength bog must be negotiated), is not immediately obvious, despite my compass bearing being more or less ‘on the money’. For once. This state of affairs is somewhat ironic, given the fact that the great stone pile is almost 60ft across! Yeah, this is a top-rate upland cairn, make no mistake about that.

The central peaks of The Brecon Beacons grace the northern skyline in a linear array, no doubt overflowing with punters on a clear day such as this. Here, however, all is quiet, save the wind... and the farmer pootling about on his quad bike in the distance, engaged in moving sheep here and there. To the east, the great ridge Cefn Yr Ystrad is crowned by numerous great cairns of its own, rising beyond the Pontsticill Reservoir, the latter cradled unseen within the folds of the mountainside.

The topography of Garn Ddu is not in itself dramatic. No, the palpable sense of drama – for it is indeed to be found here, regardless of the dearth of exposed rock face or soaring arete – is derived instead from the acute sense of isolation; from the massive skies putting everything ‘earth-bound’ into perspective. Yeah, Carn-ddu is a place for those who appreciate the chance to chill out away from the constant information bombardment of the ‘modern world’. If only for a few hours.... for there can be no subterfuge here, no hiding from what one really feels. Only a naked truth arising from unfettered input of the primary senses.

Speaking of ‘truth’.... having just listened, with utter incredulity, to the moronic monotone rantings of pathetic Putin puppet Sergey Lavrov – apologist for an indefensibly evil gang of Communist criminals – methinks the existence of such physical oases as Carn-ddu suddenly becomes all the more precious, allegorical to human beings possessing the fortitude, the courage to think for themselves, to reject the demonstrably false dogmas and cowardly unsubstantiated belief systems of violent extremists. Whether such lunatics be Communist, Fascist or religious, wherever they may infect this planet.

Hey, having now (hopefully) come to terms with one Global pandemic, what say you we concentrate upon consigning another mindless, murderous virus to the dustbin of history? Once and for all. So get yourself to your personal Carn-ddus whenever possible... and never stop thinking for yourselves.