The Black Mountains
From glorious beginnings.
The Black Mountains consist of several ribs of mountains, joined together with steep buttresses at their northern end. Between the ribs are 3 main river valleys; the Grwyne Fechan, the Grwyne Fawr, and the Honddu. All are very beautiful at their upper ends, with the Grwyne Fechan and the Honddu being particularly nice. However, both soon become farmland, and have only forestry tracks or roads, without many usefully placed footpaths. The Grwyne Fawr contains more open countryside and paths.
There are also ridge routes, but these consist mostly of boggy ground, and almost no significant changes in terrain to make them interesting. Generally, the ridge routes and valleys are best suited to cycling, and they have several excellent cycling routes through them. The Grwyne Fawr is an exception, in that it also served very well as a walking route, so that is the route we would take.
The other alternative, on the ridge beside the Honddu, is the Offa's Dyke Path, on the border between England and Wales. Offa's Dyke itself was built over 1200 years ago, and was designed to protect the Anglian kingdom of Mercia from the Welsh of Powys. Though obviously interesting, this was too far out of the way for our route.
The walk starts at the base of Y Dâs, one of the imposing buttresses at the northern end of the Black Mountains. It does not have a true summit, but tops out at around 680 metres, just below the line of fresh snowfall.
As we begin the ascent, we get a superb view over to the Brecon Beacons, with a fresh cover of snow. From left to right; Waun Rydd (769 metres), Fan y Bîg (719 metres), Cribyn (795 metres) and Pen y Fan (886 metres).
Waun Rydd.
Cribyn and Pen y Fan.
The largest wild animals in the national park. There are apparently four types of Welsh pony, of which only two are well known; the Cob and the Welsh Mountain Pony. Most of us are unable to tell the difference, so the identification goes like this; if it's on a mountain, then it's a Welsh Mountain Pony. So here you go. This one is actually in a field so it could be anything. What do I know?
If you are the sort of person who will shout "OMG, ponies", then perhaps you can use these pictures to satisfy your curiosity by working out what it is. To me, it is a pony.
Want to find yourself a sheep? Then call Sheep-Line. Loveheart shapes charged at premium rate.
The northern buttresses, with Rhos Dirion (713 metres) near the camera, and Lord Hereford's Knob (690 metres) in the distance. For those who don't realise that knob is not just a slang word, and who can't abide hearing anything related to a phallus (you're probably on the wrong planet if you are so easily offended), there is also the Welsh name Twmpa. But you will only get strange looks if you try to use that name.
Cloudburst over the Wye Valley.
Glider ridge-soaring over the Black Mountains.
The pass, and our highest point in the Black Mountains, at about 695 metres. Seen here is the route to Waun Fach, the tallest summit in the range at 811 metres. There is a ridge walk along here that ends at Crug Mawr - it would allow us to stay in the wild country for longer, but it is basically a bog the entire way, with nowhere to stop.
Instead, we drop into the head of the Grwyne Fawr valley, which takes us off the bog.
Tributaries feeding the Grwyne Fawr.
The Grwyne Fawr Reservoir, nearly 100 years old, built between 1912 and 1928. It was a massive engineering feat that would supply the valleys 20 miles to the south, passing through a 1.5 km tunnel (that's nearly a mile) to get past the mountains in the South Wales Coalfield.
The Grwyne Fawr weirs, where the river spills into the reservoir.
Cwm Clŷd (with a glider), draining the central ridge.
The cliff where Cwm Clŷd enters the reservoir.
Looking across the dam towards Waun Fach. Yes, that indiscernible rise in the ridge is the highest peak in the range. Impressive, huh?
Pen y Gadair Fawr (800 metres), the second tallest mountain in the range. This is far more obvious from all directions, and looks much more like it is the highest point. It is therefore often mistaken for Waun Fach.
The second largest wild animals in the national park. OK, not truly wild since they do have an owner, but these are mountain sheep (identified by their long tails), and are left to roam freely in the park. At random intervals, a farmer will collect and shear them, then return them to the mountains. The paint on the sheep lets the farmers know who owns them, and whether they have been inseminated. By a ram. Not a Welshman.
Look at that dam view. The view from the dam. Of course. The road at the bottom was built on the old railway line, which itself was built for the purpose of building the dam, and transferring workers and materials to it. Several remnants of old buildings are visible nearby from when it was in use.
Reservoir.
Rainbow in the water cascading down the dam.
After lunch we begin to head down the Grwyne Fawr, towards the Mynydd Du Forest, which covers the entire middle portion of the valley.
Suddenly a rainstorm hits the other side of the valley, with thick bands of rain throwing vast quantities of water at the main ridge.
Just two minutes later, and it has gone, without any more than a few drops landing on us. Like it was never there.
Down at river level, we take a muddy path beside the river.
Goatse tree. And if you don't know what that means, save yourself the experience, and do not go looking. Don't say I didn't warn you.
A moss hare, guarding the path.
The moss kingdom, where moss builds its cities. Shortly after here, we take a forestry track that crosses the river and joins the road, which we then follow.
After 1 km, we leave on the other side of the river, at a tree that is supported on its own rock plinth.
This path begins as a somewhat boring forestry track.
A massive pile of vegetable roots, seemingly left for the sheep to eat. It's not going to smell pretty once it begins to rot. We take the path leading upwards, and I begin to feel the first symptoms of my knee problem.
After following the forestry tracks for a while, we see this moss covered wall, which attracts our cameras.
Claudio tests the ground beneath the trees, which turns out to be dry.
So we establish camp 1, sheltered, and mostly hidden from any paths. By the end of the first day, my knee injury had failed me. This was not good news, as it would probably mean that if I could not get it to behave, the whole walk would have to be abandoned.
Though mostly managed coniferous forests, there are a few little patches that are natural, and day 2 begins with a walk through these, as we head for the far end of the forest.
Our moss lined path descends beside a small stream, before spitting us out at a stream crossing, where we finally leave the forest.
Bâl Mawr (607 metres), on the ridge between the Grwyne Fawr and the Honddu. Having left the forest, the path remains obvious through farmland, but seemingly less trodden. Most of the gates that must be crossed are tied shut and poorly maintained, with no stiles. Cross with care.
Sunlight streaming through the storm clouds onto Twyn y Gaer, an iron age hill fort (around 1500-2500 years old).
Sand dance. Our path has become a road, which is annoying, but thankfully short-lived.
The Welsh Mafia. They're watchin' ewe.
Then we get our first view of the Sugar Loaf (596 metres). Despite its relatively low height, its shape dominates the view from most directions, and is recognisable from as far away as the Black Mountain, at the other end of the national park.
Way to the hill. The wrong hill (Crug Mawr), and part of the bizarre Beacons Way.
The Sugar Loaf from Partrishow.
Partrishow is an absolutely tiny village, consisting of one farm, and this church. The number of gravestones is about ten times as large as the congregation.
After a short stint on the road, we took a footpath. Or at least the map said it was a footpath. Go up someone's driveway, under their washing line, past the rabbit hutch (containing a dead rat in a trap), under the low hanging trees, through the broken gate, over the mess of cut branches, then under these trees. Now do it with a full sized pack, and don't rip it.
A sunbathing rabbit. It was happy for me to take my pictures, but finally got upset when a group of ramblers got too close.
Farmland at the pass between Bryn Arw (384 metres) and the Sugar Loaf. Our route took us down to the road, left to the "main" road, hairpin right, across a field, and up to one of the paths up from the northeast corner of the Sugar Loaf (near the post office, if that helps you locate it). We were getting bored of farms. No pictures.
The Skirrid (486 metres), one of the most striking mountains in the Black Mountains, though the reason for that cannot be seen here, and will have to wait for the next gallery.
Note that the OS Explorer map of the Sugar Loaf is wrong, and has not been properly updated for the last 20 years. This path does not exist, OK? The map shows a wall/dyke running almost to the summit with a path beside it, connecting to the main path. The path does not actually follow the dyke all the way, since it starts much earlier along the main path, just where it reaches a wall after crossing an open section (the map shows an oxbow there instead).
Sunlight on Crug Mawr (550 metres), with Pen y Gadair Fawr in the background.
Sunlight on the heather slopes of the Sugar Loaf.
Looking down the dyke path towards a distant rainshower.
A thick red glow in the rain, like the top of an enormous rainbow.
The view to the south from the Sugar Loaf summit, showing the Northern Outcrop (limestone) at the edge of the South Wales Coalfield. Always looking into the sun, this is very hard to take a good picture. From left to right are The Blorenge (561 metres), Gilwern Hill (441 metres), Llanelly Hill, Mynydd Llangatwg (529 metres), Mynydd Llangynidr (557 metres), and the Brecon Beacons in the distance. This is cave country, where the next day will be spent. Behind The Blorenge, the black ridge is Coety Mountain (578 metres), whose name sounds a lot like the plural form of coitus. Perhaps that is appropriate.
The 200 metre cliff that is the Llangatwg Escarpment. This is partly natural, caused by glacial and river erosion, and partly artificial, caused by quarrying. It is one of the places where cavers have to thank the quarriers, since they exposed several cave entrances, giving access to the Llangatwg cave systems like Agen Allwedd and Daren Cilau.
An extremely rare picture of The Blorenge. Rare because it is actually visible, and looks good from this angle. Below is the forest of St. Mary's Vale, the route we would be taking down the Sugar Loaf.
The Black Mountains, as seen from the Sugar Loaf. The three main valleys can be seen, with rain pouring over the Honddu, and in England in the distance. The outlying mountain on the right is the Skirrid, and the two previously unseen mountains on the ridge to the left are Pen Cerrig-calch (701 metres) and Pen Allt-mawr (719 metres).
Wild mountain ponies on the flanks of the Sugar Loaf. This group, apparently, are not Welsh Mountain Ponies (due to their coat patterns). They must be lost.
The Sugar Loaf.
A Solitary Stand. One of my favourite pictures from the entire holiday. No tweaks, and no edits needed (except to remove that supid piece of dirt from inside my lens).
Resting tired feet in St. Mary's Vale.
Oak trees in St. Mary's Vale.
St. Mary's Vale.
Mighty beech trees.
By now, my knee had had enough. I was walking like a cripple, and it would be unlikely that I could make the rest of the trip. We got a lift down into Abergavenny to stay with family. (Note that there are plenty of places in Abergavenny to stay even if you do not have family there, and it is easy enough to walk to Llanfoist to pick up the next part of the route.)
Thankfully, we were also able to pick up some walking poles and support bandages, and I donned the official "cripple" badge. It took some practice learning how best to use poles, and it did not remove the problem completely, but by walking with them in a really strange motion, I was able to keep up a good pace, without making the problem worse. It helps to have strong arms, since the poles basically serve as crutches - thankfully, as a caver, I have such arms, and the rest of the trip was done part on leg power, and part on arm power, even racing up the mountains.
The walk starts at the base of Y Dâs, one of the imposing buttresses at the northern end of the Black Mountains. It does not have a true summit, but tops out at around 680 metres, just below the line of fresh snowfall.
As we begin the ascent, we get a superb view over to the Brecon Beacons, with a fresh cover of snow. From left to right; Waun Rydd (769 metres), Fan y Bîg (719 metres), Cribyn (795 metres) and Pen y Fan (886 metres).
Waun Rydd.
Cribyn and Pen y Fan.
The largest wild animals in the national park. There are apparently four types of Welsh pony, of which only two are well known; the Cob and the Welsh Mountain Pony. Most of us are unable to tell the difference, so the identification goes like this; if it's on a mountain, then it's a Welsh Mountain Pony. So here you go. This one is actually in a field so it could be anything. What do I know?
If you are the sort of person who will shout "OMG, ponies", then perhaps you can use these pictures to satisfy your curiosity by working out what it is. To me, it is a pony.
Want to find yourself a sheep? Then call Sheep-Line. Loveheart shapes charged at premium rate.
The northern buttresses, with Rhos Dirion (713 metres) near the camera, and Lord Hereford's Knob (690 metres) in the distance. For those who don't realise that knob is not just a slang word, and who can't abide hearing anything related to a phallus (you're probably on the wrong planet if you are so easily offended), there is also the Welsh name Twmpa. But you will only get strange looks if you try to use that name.
Cloudburst over the Wye Valley.
Glider ridge-soaring over the Black Mountains.
The pass, and our highest point in the Black Mountains, at about 695 metres. Seen here is the route to Waun Fach, the tallest summit in the range at 811 metres. There is a ridge walk along here that ends at Crug Mawr - it would allow us to stay in the wild country for longer, but it is basically a bog the entire way, with nowhere to stop.
Instead, we drop into the head of the Grwyne Fawr valley, which takes us off the bog.
Tributaries feeding the Grwyne Fawr.
The Grwyne Fawr Reservoir, nearly 100 years old, built between 1912 and 1928. It was a massive engineering feat that would supply the valleys 20 miles to the south, passing through a 1.5 km tunnel (that's nearly a mile) to get past the mountains in the South Wales Coalfield.
The Grwyne Fawr weirs, where the river spills into the reservoir.
Cwm Clŷd (with a glider), draining the central ridge.
The cliff where Cwm Clŷd enters the reservoir.
Looking across the dam towards Waun Fach. Yes, that indiscernible rise in the ridge is the highest peak in the range. Impressive, huh?
Pen y Gadair Fawr (800 metres), the second tallest mountain in the range. This is far more obvious from all directions, and looks much more like it is the highest point. It is therefore often mistaken for Waun Fach.
The second largest wild animals in the national park. OK, not truly wild since they do have an owner, but these are mountain sheep (identified by their long tails), and are left to roam freely in the park. At random intervals, a farmer will collect and shear them, then return them to the mountains. The paint on the sheep lets the farmers know who owns them, and whether they have been inseminated. By a ram. Not a Welshman.
Look at that dam view. The view from the dam. Of course. The road at the bottom was built on the old railway line, which itself was built for the purpose of building the dam, and transferring workers and materials to it. Several remnants of old buildings are visible nearby from when it was in use.
Reservoir.
Rainbow in the water cascading down the dam.
After lunch we begin to head down the Grwyne Fawr, towards the Mynydd Du Forest, which covers the entire middle portion of the valley.
Suddenly a rainstorm hits the other side of the valley, with thick bands of rain throwing vast quantities of water at the main ridge.
Just two minutes later, and it has gone, without any more than a few drops landing on us. Like it was never there.
Down at river level, we take a muddy path beside the river.
Goatse tree. And if you don't know what that means, save yourself the experience, and do not go looking. Don't say I didn't warn you.
A moss hare, guarding the path.
The moss kingdom, where moss builds its cities. Shortly after here, we take a forestry track that crosses the river and joins the road, which we then follow.
After 1 km, we leave on the other side of the river, at a tree that is supported on its own rock plinth.
This path begins as a somewhat boring forestry track.
A massive pile of vegetable roots, seemingly left for the sheep to eat. It's not going to smell pretty once it begins to rot. We take the path leading upwards, and I begin to feel the first symptoms of my knee problem.
After following the forestry tracks for a while, we see this moss covered wall, which attracts our cameras.
Claudio tests the ground beneath the trees, which turns out to be dry.
So we establish camp 1, sheltered, and mostly hidden from any paths. By the end of the first day, my knee injury had failed me. This was not good news, as it would probably mean that if I could not get it to behave, the whole walk would have to be abandoned.
Though mostly managed coniferous forests, there are a few little patches that are natural, and day 2 begins with a walk through these, as we head for the far end of the forest.
Our moss lined path descends beside a small stream, before spitting us out at a stream crossing, where we finally leave the forest.
Bâl Mawr (607 metres), on the ridge between the Grwyne Fawr and the Honddu. Having left the forest, the path remains obvious through farmland, but seemingly less trodden. Most of the gates that must be crossed are tied shut and poorly maintained, with no stiles. Cross with care.
Sunlight streaming through the storm clouds onto Twyn y Gaer, an iron age hill fort (around 1500-2500 years old).
Sand dance. Our path has become a road, which is annoying, but thankfully short-lived.
The Welsh Mafia. They're watchin' ewe.
Then we get our first view of the Sugar Loaf (596 metres). Despite its relatively low height, its shape dominates the view from most directions, and is recognisable from as far away as the Black Mountain, at the other end of the national park.
Way to the hill. The wrong hill (Crug Mawr), and part of the bizarre Beacons Way.
The Sugar Loaf from Partrishow.
Partrishow is an absolutely tiny village, consisting of one farm, and this church. The number of gravestones is about ten times as large as the congregation.
After a short stint on the road, we took a footpath. Or at least the map said it was a footpath. Go up someone's driveway, under their washing line, past the rabbit hutch (containing a dead rat in a trap), under the low hanging trees, through the broken gate, over the mess of cut branches, then under these trees. Now do it with a full sized pack, and don't rip it.
A sunbathing rabbit. It was happy for me to take my pictures, but finally got upset when a group of ramblers got too close.
Farmland at the pass between Bryn Arw (384 metres) and the Sugar Loaf. Our route took us down to the road, left to the "main" road, hairpin right, across a field, and up to one of the paths up from the northeast corner of the Sugar Loaf (near the post office, if that helps you locate it). We were getting bored of farms. No pictures.
The Skirrid (486 metres), one of the most striking mountains in the Black Mountains, though the reason for that cannot be seen here, and will have to wait for the next gallery.
Note that the OS Explorer map of the Sugar Loaf is wrong, and has not been properly updated for the last 20 years. This path does not exist, OK? The map shows a wall/dyke running almost to the summit with a path beside it, connecting to the main path. The path does not actually follow the dyke all the way, since it starts much earlier along the main path, just where it reaches a wall after crossing an open section (the map shows an oxbow there instead).
Sunlight on Crug Mawr (550 metres), with Pen y Gadair Fawr in the background.
Sunlight on the heather slopes of the Sugar Loaf.
Looking down the dyke path towards a distant rainshower.
A thick red glow in the rain, like the top of an enormous rainbow.
The view to the south from the Sugar Loaf summit, showing the Northern Outcrop (limestone) at the edge of the South Wales Coalfield. Always looking into the sun, this is very hard to take a good picture. From left to right are The Blorenge (561 metres), Gilwern Hill (441 metres), Llanelly Hill, Mynydd Llangatwg (529 metres), Mynydd Llangynidr (557 metres), and the Brecon Beacons in the distance. This is cave country, where the next day will be spent. Behind The Blorenge, the black ridge is Coety Mountain (578 metres), whose name sounds a lot like the plural form of coitus. Perhaps that is appropriate.
The 200 metre cliff that is the Llangatwg Escarpment. This is partly natural, caused by glacial and river erosion, and partly artificial, caused by quarrying. It is one of the places where cavers have to thank the quarriers, since they exposed several cave entrances, giving access to the Llangatwg cave systems like Agen Allwedd and Daren Cilau.
An extremely rare picture of The Blorenge. Rare because it is actually visible, and looks good from this angle. Below is the forest of St. Mary's Vale, the route we would be taking down the Sugar Loaf.
The Black Mountains, as seen from the Sugar Loaf. The three main valleys can be seen, with rain pouring over the Honddu, and in England in the distance. The outlying mountain on the right is the Skirrid, and the two previously unseen mountains on the ridge to the left are Pen Cerrig-calch (701 metres) and Pen Allt-mawr (719 metres).
Wild mountain ponies on the flanks of the Sugar Loaf. This group, apparently, are not Welsh Mountain Ponies (due to their coat patterns). They must be lost.
The Sugar Loaf.
A Solitary Stand. One of my favourite pictures from the entire holiday. No tweaks, and no edits needed (except to remove that supid piece of dirt from inside my lens).
Resting tired feet in St. Mary's Vale.
Oak trees in St. Mary's Vale.
St. Mary's Vale.
Mighty beech trees.