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Day 9
I started quite early and in little over an hour of steady climbing was at the first of the day's three trig points, Bache Hill. It was not misty but it was a very grey day which seemed to fit the nature of these gently rolling heathery hills. There were clear paths most of the way with only a few boggy patches. Obviously these hills are less popular than the Brecon Beacons and the Black Mountains and the paths are far less eroded although there were plenty of bootmarks.
Black Mixen is dominated by a radio mast, completely dwarfing the trig point. When we collected these hills for Bridge's tables there was a fourth top, one of those completely vague and ill-defined summits of which little trace now remains even on the map. Great Rhos is the highest top which, like its two neighbours, is marked by a trig point standing on a grassy bump amongst the heather. Here I decided to take one photograph of the Radnor Forest hills although there was little chance of it being very successful in these drab conditions. Although there was no mist the flat top and the maze of tracks amongst the heather meant that compass navigation was needed to locate the bridleway, a lovely grassy track which ran high above a deep valley very reminiscent of the Howgill Fells at home in Cumbria.
By 1.30 I was in the village of Penybont and today there was an inn as marked on the map, the Severn Arms, oddly named as the river here is not the Severn but the Ithon. It looked a bit pompous and offputting from outside but once through the door I found a delightful and friendly bar where I enjoyed a pint of lager and a ploughman's lunch. Another of the delights of backpacking, on the rare occasions when opportunity permits, is not only a midday brew up but a midday booze up, free from the constraints of a vehicle.
Having vowed not to turn this into a guidebook I will not elaborate on my route from here to Llandrindod Wells which included my only unfriendly encounter of the whole walk apart from a few dogs intent on defending their territory. Ironically I was trying to follow a right of way at the time. Enough to say that it turned into a hot and sunny afternoon and for the first time on the trip I stripped right down to a t-shirt. Here, away from the mountains, the land was intoxicated with spring; that first drift of green in the hedgerows, a freshness which is never quite recaptured as the days slide into summer.
Llandrindod Wells is an old spa town, as its name suggests, and still retains a hint of Victorian gentility. I had not booked accommodation ahead because I knew that there was plenty and with Easter now well out of the way there was unlikely to be any shortage. I still ended up at a B&B out of the Ramblers book, Rhydithon, conveniently situated near the town centre. I went to the outdoor shop and was dismayed to find that they had run out of the small camping gaz canisters. This was worrying because I was about to embark on the remotest section of the whole walk and, assuming a rendezvous at the Milltir Cerrig pass as planned, the longest bit of continuous camping. I was also irritated because we had made a special journey to this town last month to make sure that it was available. Had we failed to find any here then I might have buried a canister at some key place en route or carried an extra one from the start. Nevertheless after I had calmed down and eaten a good meal with two pints of lager I began to take a more philosophical view of the situation. Only three nights camping should be needed before Machynlleth where we had found a petrol station which stocked camping gaz. Since the last canister had lasted four nights I had good reason to feel optimistic although I wished I had not had that brew up yesterday.
There was no problem renewing my food supplies at Gateway which was conveniently open until 8pm. Although I had brought some dehydrated backpacking food and put more in the box to be brought to the Milltir Cerrig I actually preferred pot noodles which come with a sauce to liven them up a bit. Since I always like to start with a cup-a-soup which is tasty, hot and liquid, if not very nutritious, I found the dehydrated meals too large. It is difficult to eat so much of this dry and usually rather tasteless mush. The problem with pot noodles is that their bulk makes it impractical to carry more than two at any one time. It is fortunate that the camping on this trip was interspersed with good meals in pubs because it would be dreadful to live on the dehydrated stuff for any extended period.
Map 148 was sent home in immaculate condition. I had not had a drop of rain since leaving Hay-on-Wye. Along with each map I sent the latest pages of my log and with this one as well went a message that I might be sending out an SOS for camping gaz if I failed to get any in Machynlleth.
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