Published in the GLOBE AND MAIL TRAVEL SECTION NOVEMBER 2.2013
Ominous
storm clouds framing her jolly face, Mary Whistance offered us some pre-walk
advice in her cheery Welsh lilt: “Tomorrow is the best day of the whole trail.
Hergest Ridge is a right lovely walk. Steep though. And if a storm comes on,
you’re in for it. A walker died up there last month, so he did. Poor lad, a boy
and a half he was! Three days before they found him.” Her smile fizzled when
she stole a furtive glance at the brooding sky.
It was the third day of our 136-kilometre walk north along the Offa's Dyke Path, which loosely follows the Welsh/English border. While we ate our Welsh fry-up breakfast ("Job done tidy! You slaughtered those sausages , you did!") Mary's warning added fuel to the theory forming in my mind: Nothing on this long-distance path is as it first appears. This is a land of mist and magic.
The Offa’s Dyke Path is named
after King Offa of Mercia who, in the 8th century, built the dyke as a sort of
poor man’s Hadrian Wall to keep the marauding Welsh mountain men at bay.
Zig-zagging from Chepstow in the south on the Bristol Channel, north to
Prestatyn on the Irish Sea, it is sometimes a great bank up to almost eight metres
high with a deep ditch to the westerly Welsh side. It is a fascinating raison
d’être for a National Trail: a route that follows a engineered landscape rather
than a geographic feature such as mountains or a coast line.
That does not mean the path,
Llwydr Clawdd Offa in Welsh is an easy stroll through a bucolic British
postcard. To be sure, it has its moments of breathtaking views across lush
green valleys dotted with remote villages, hills rolling off into the distance.
But once up close and personal, the green hills are two-hour uphill slogs
littered with climbs over countless styles,//what do you mean by this?/// the
path itself strewn with ankle-twisting rocks or mud the consistency of
sticky-toffee pudding. It is wild country, this border land known as the Welsh
marches, home to centuries of raids, skirmishes and midnight sheep-stealing.
Fortunately, the wild is tempered by the homey pubs and friendly B&Bs
spaced at walkable intervals.
My wife and I had chosen to do
the southern portion of the path – considered by many to be the best half –
from Chepstow to Knighton, a doable six-day walk. (Those wishing to do the
whole 285 kilometres should allow at least 12 days with rest time added.)
Since it was mid-September, we’d
prepared well for rain but soon learned that British weather reports are
notoriously pessimistic and usually wrong. Every night we’d hear rumblings at
the pub and earnest predictions on the BBC: tomorrow will be wet, windy and
turning cold.
But our heavy rain pants and
ponchos stayed in our packs and we went digging for sunblock instead.
As Mary had warned, it was just
as well. Several sections of the path are well above 500 metres, and what can
be an annoying breezy rain in town can be deadly on the heights of the lonely
Black Mountain Moors.
We learned quickly that the path
is a smorgasbord of variety. One moment, it traverses a cool, wooded ridge high
above the Wye Valley. The next it drops down and passes the magnificent ruins
of Tintern Abbey, founded by hardy Cistercian monks in 1131. A few miles later,
it crosses a cast-iron bridge, built at the smokey heights of the Industrial
Revolution, when the Welsh Hills were ravaged for coal and slate. Then it’s
through a lonely windswept moor with distant views west to Brecon Beacons and
east to the Malvern Hills, mountain sheep our only company.
Some days we’d never meet another
soul for hours, leading to suspicions that the Offa’s Dyke is Britain’s
best-kept long-distance hiking secret. But just as the changeable weather was
never predictable, suddenly a bustling town would unfold in front of us.
Two hours after a knee-popping
descent from the desolate heights of Hay Bluff in the Black Mountains, where on
a clear day one is treated to a good view of magnificent Lord Hereford’s Knob,
the path bisects the town of Hay-on-Wye. We made straight for the Granary Cafe
for two bowls of organic Gooseberry crumble and coffee.
“Something really smells in
here,” said Katy, tactfully surveying the room.
“Yea. Us.”
But sheep dung and mud is a
ho-hum reality in Hay, famous for its 30 bookshops – including the Murder and
Mayhem Bookshop, the Poetry Bookshop and the Sensible Bookshop – the popular
Hay Festival and Richard Booth, the self-styled king of Hay, who lives in the
castle surrounded by groaning shelves of ancient books and notices brashly proclaiming
political independence from Britain. We’d scheduled a rest day here and it was
worth it. For a couple of Canadian bibliophiles, Hay-on-Wye, the world’s first self-proclaimed
“book town,” was bittersweet: So many books, but no way to carry them.
It was good we didn’t try, since
the next day, our second last, was a gruelling 27 kilometres up and down over
some of the most heart-stoppingly picturesque A.E. Housman countryside
imaginable, liberally strafed with more than fifty stiles, a few questioning
bulls, a fierce (but muzzled!) Rottweiler and hundreds of sheep.
The last night, tired but
unbowed, we reached the comfy, isolated hill town of Knighton, the official end
of the south half, start point for the wilder northern section and home to the
Offa Dyke Centre with T-shirts, books and strange King Offa mannequins.
Staying with the Sharatts, who
had a cozy sitting room well-stocked with maps and trail guides, was a fitting
end to our trek. Not only did Pat tackle our long overdue laundry, but Geoff
was a fount of helpful advice and knowledgeable comment.
“Too bad you’re ending it here,”
he said in an enthusiastic lilt. “Because tomorrow’s stretch is the best part
of the walk: most variety, best scenery … and toughest. Steep too. If the weather
comes, you’re in for it.”
Now, where had we heard that
before?
IF YOU GO
Getting there: Buses run daily to Chepstow, the southern start point, from London’s
Gatwick and Heathrow airports. nationalexpress.com Train service to Chepstow is
also good, typically running through Newport. nationalrail.co.uk
When to go: The trail can be walked any time, but prime season is April to October.
(In the off season, accommodations will be harder to find.) In spring, the days
are longer and sometimes a bit wetter. The fall is a beautiful time to walk,
but days are much shorter.
Where to stay: The Bear Inn is an atmospheric 16th-century coaching
inn. Located in the middle of Hay-On-Wye, close to all the bookshops,
restaurants and pubs. Inventive local cuisine and snug, well-decorated rooms
make it a memorable stopover. Double rooms from £70 ($118) a night; thebearhay.com
Geoff and Pat Sharratt have been
hosting walkers since 1999 in their spacious Victorian house, now known as Westwood**, a B&B in Knighton. They have lots of maps and
guides and are well-versed on the trail and the weather. From £25 ($42) a
person a night; 1-54-752-0317
For more information,
visit the Offa’s Dyke Assocation atoffasdyke.demon.co.uk for planning tips, accommodation
ideas and to order guides and maps.
