THE Brecon Beacons
South Wales, Late Winter 2019
Not long after passing a road sign that confirmed we had entered the National Park, a red kite appeared from somewhere above and hovered for a moment before us, just long enough to take in splayed burnt orange feathers against a pop of yellow claws, before disappearing back into the lonely hilltops.
The Brecon Beacons are home to a mix of mountains and moorland that extend 42 miles east to west. Villages and hamlets lay scattered among sheltered valleys echoing the settlement patterns of invading Norman armies. Sheep and cattle are left free to wander the hilltops, grazing beside hardy plants and ancient standing stones that have seen Neolithic sunrises.
Squinting into the wide open sky after the red kite, I scribbled some excitable notes as F drove us along the winding country lanes in search of our first destination. We were staying at Bryn Eglur (around a fifty minute drive from the western edge of the Brecon Beacons) and had planned a handful of stop-offs in the National Park en route.
When it came to the end of our stay at the cottage, the Brecon Beacons drew us back in with the promise of endless wild spots for a swim and the desire to spend a night in a small bothy that lay hidden in the Black Mountains. I’m longing to venture back here, to be surrounded once again by peaks scoured by harsh winds funnelled inland from the Atlantic.
