The weather goddesses decide - for once - to give me a break. C'mon, whoever heard of a capricious weather god? Yeah, the day dawns above Cwm Berwyn in a manner that is truly a joy to behold for this traveller camping rough in the hills. With this privilege, however, comes opportunity... the realisation that now is the time to once again either put up or shut up. Another potentially exhausting excursion into obscurity beckons, with every possibility of the failure that may bring. Speaking of which, I've still yet to figure out how the hell to approach Banc-y-Gwyngoed in the first place?
Yeah, Mid Wales is like that. What might look straightforward enough upon the map... invariably is anything but: a paucity of recognised tracks to the tops (if any) exasperated further by the frustrating lottery of locating anywhere to park a car that doesn't add prohibitive extra road-bashing into the equation. Or seriously piss off the locals. Now I'm aware that some view the latter as a laugh... reckon all farmers struggle with copious anger management issues when, perhaps, they should be looking a little closer to 'home'? For what it's worth, The Citizen Cairn likes to treat as he may find; to engage locals in conversation wherever possible. Granted, some landowners are clearly beyond reasoning with. Others, however, can teach you a lot if you are prepared to listen.
After extensive deliberations (yeah, right) I decide to climb Banc-y-Gwyngoed from the north-west(ish), initially heading for Tregaron prior to travelling south upon the B4343 to arrive at Llanddewi Brefi. As is customary, my route finding is not, ahem, precise; I, therefore, overshoot a little prior to locating the minor road (a little due north of town) accessing the local cemetery. This thoroughfare services the farms of Gwyngoed-fach and Gwyngoed-fawr, beyond which the traveller must don boots to enter Cwm-du. Sure enough, my size 9's might've been made for walking, but Gwyngoed was, as I feared, certainly not made for parking. Thankfully I eventually manage to squeeze in beside titanic black bales of animal feed between said farmhouses and head for Cwm-du, eyes peeled for a route to ascend the towering bulk of Banc-y-Gwyngoed looming to my right.
Upon passing through a ford, I see my opportunity: an open field gate servicing green pasture, rising above which hillside beckons beyond a low fence juncture. Keeping to the left (east) of said fence-line I struggle (rather badly, to be fair) against the gradient to quickly gain height during the heat of the morning, the combination of angle of attack/conditions ensuring frequent pauses are a necessity. These 'breathers' also afford the opportunity to gauge the ever-expanding retrospective panorama taking in yesterday's ascent route. A tumbling watercourse has carved its own path of least resistance to my right; I decide to conserve my energy reserves by sticking with it and only finally striking off west(ish) for the final ascent to Banc-y-Gwyngoed's summit near its (apparent) source.
Thanks to the rough, trackless topography, I make hard work of what is after all (once again) a 'minor hill', the vision of the large cairn surmounting the near crest arriving not before time. Like its neighbour standing proud upon Bryn Rhudd almost exactly due east, the monument crowning Banc-y-Gwyngoed has been disrupted over the millennia, a 'sheep shelter' having been fashioned within the stone pile at some (indeterminate) point during times past. Although clearly not a welcome situation by any means, in my opinion, this is nevertheless preferable to the usual farcical muppet shelter one tends to encounter upon the uplands nowadays. As it happens, sheep are conspicuous by their absence today - however the same can not be said of the local honey bees. Hey, tell me about it!
Sure enough, as I advance to check out the cairn in detail (as you do) I'm met by an advance picket guard of several aggressive insects literally smacking into my body in an attempt to drive me off. I can sympathise, but hey, live and let live, right? As in the past, I try to blag it out... but these Banc-y-Gwyngoed bees are made of tougher stuff and are having none of it, quickly summoning reinforcements to counter-attack the intruder. Realising I've met my match this time - in no uncertain terms - I withdraw to hang out upon the cairn's grassy extremities instead. Luckily the stripey little Apis mellifera are cool with that arrangement and settle back down to doing whatever it is bees do when no one's looking - presumably content that I'm no wannabee (sorry) Honey Monster. Like yesterday, the upland vibe - the occasional 'buzz' notwithstanding - is truly exceptional, this hilltop the perfect place to laze in the sunshine and not do a great deal, if the truth be told.
Eventually, curiosity - and inactivity - get the better of me and I go walkabout to the south-west to overlook the aforementioned Llanddewi Brefi; to gaze towards Tregaron; and, upon the northern horizon, Pumlumon herself... prior to returning to the summit once more. Exquisite vistas, these. Suddenly I'm aware of peripheral movement and completely unexpected noise. Noise? Here? Yeah, quad bikes carrying the landowner and a visiting guest who, inevitably, make a 'beeline' for me. The farmer appears bemused that ANYBODY is up here at all, let alone an English chap professing to be here to inspect the cairn. Whatever for? I decide to control the situation and proceed to ask far more questions than I receive.
The farmer appears convinced and is happy to chat: yes, he does see a future in Welsh hill farming, no matter what other ill-informed 'doomsters' may say; no, he didn't fashion the 'sheep shelter' within the cairn... it's been in situ as long as anyone can recall; no he's never considered the cairn as particularly ancient or special... although, come to think of it, it is a local tradition to scatter funeral ashes here (if that's not lingering folk memory I don't know what is!); oh, and that circular 'silo' across the valley is part of a 'bio farm'... which recently leaked into the river duly poisoning wildlife for miles around.. although you wouldn't have heard that since, well, it was 'hushed up'. Can't have people thinking environmentalists can do damage as well, can we? All in all, it's an education. I'd like to think for the three of us.
I'm left alone once more to ponder stuff upon my rocky seat for a while - hey, even the bees have apparently accepted me as part of their world and allowed me back on - before advancing time inevitably prompts the final descent. You know, it's all very well ostensibly diffident comedians attributing success to the simple ability to arrive somewhere... to merely 'turn up'. However, I reckon life's rather more complicated than that.
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Posted by GLADMAN
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