Last night was the last night with my sis and Debs took me back to Hay on Wye to start my walk back to the tent, across the Black Mountains to Pandy. We stopped en route at a roadside fantastic cafe and had a good breakfast. It’s good for me. I last all day on breakfast and I’ll make sure I get one every day in Nepal. Can’t wait!! But hold on Smiffy. This is the most beautiful walk in the UK innit?

Well, it compares with The Scottish Highlands. Let’s face it, we live in a corner of a beautiful country and if we get off our botties and push out to the extremes we get serenity. And this trip I’m getting the weather too! And look at this poppo. Lovely.

I set off from Hay at 10.30 for an 18 mile trek, climbing up 2000 feet and making good pace (hopefully) across a 15 mile ridge in the Black Mountains, following Offa’s Dyke Path. 

The first stages were difficult, quite steep and up to a ledge before the final push up to the top. Looking back this is the ledge above Hay.

Looking to the right the mountains looked magnificent.

And looking ahead the steep face up to the top was a bit intimidating in the warmth.

The wind was blowing from the west and an acrid burning smell came across from a moor fire a few hills away. Good luck firefighters.


The climb was reasonably ok and a wind and clouds were beginning to develop to cool things down. Without a backpack my pace was better than I thought, and the top was reasonably flat. Excellent. And there were hundreds of wild horses in dozens of herds scattered around the top. 

It started to rain and I legged it fast. Really fast. The views either side were brilliant. Left and right. 

What a walk. Unbelievable. Loving it. But I got wet and cold and all good things come to an end.  I got into Pandy at 16.30. I did 18 miles, including hard going, in 6 hours. Cop that! 

Night night.

Nice steaks on the barbie last night cooked by my sister. We can argue quite well. Harsh arguments, by email, text or even face to face; using naughty words. But on these last two walks where she’s helped me out setting up camp, transferring kit and cooking nice scran we’ve not argued. I know how to wind her up but I’ve only been playful on this trip and she’s not blown up. Must be getting old. Well, obviously we aren’t getting young. Nobody is, but it’s good to spend some time together. 

She gen me a lift to Gladestry, after making ham sandwiches for breakfast. She also gen me a spare sandwich wrapped up.  Up the hill and a final look back at Hergest Ridge. Again in the sun. But I am too much in the sun, since I banged my head. Particularly when I passed the hamlet of Newchurch.

Sorry. I can’t stop looking back at Hergest from different perspectives. It’s got something that Mike Oldfield recognised. You can feel it walking on the top. 

Anyway, onward and upward and downward and upward. I dropped down over rolling fields to the hamlet of Newchurch. 

And I took a wrong turning along a country lane instead of cutting south over a hill. By the time I realised, I was just too far to turn back. Two cars passed me. One offered a lift and the other asked for directions. Interactive traffic! Not a busy route. Nice views though.

I sat at the roadside and ate my packed lunch! I got a signal on my iPad and mapped out my route to Hay on Wat. What! Who cares? In the sun, free as a bird and strolling the merry way and jumping the hedges first. So I drank the clear clean water for to quench my thirst. Sweet thing, sweet, sweet thing. A sugarbaby floated by. With champagne eyes. How good was Van the Man! No question mark needed. And I caught sight of Hay on Wat. 

Only 11 miles today. Should have been 10 but got lost. Well, maldirected, not lost as such. Per se. No no no. Not lost my precious! 

The Lord of the Rings trilogy of films was really good. It didn’t follow the book religiously, thank God! Boom boom. But it was true to the spirit of each character and the story. Gollum was down to a tee. They all were.

I crossed the River Wat by Hay and looked down from the bridge. An old dear and a ratty little dog were playing on the bankside. It were Debs! She came up to take me to another new campsite. The river – Wye really, but Wat is fun – is lovely.

We drove over the Black Mountains to Pandy, found the campsite and pitched up. Another Indian takeaway, another pleasant evening and looking forward to a great night’s sleep. 

Night night. 

Breakfast in Kington and off to Discoe. Setting off quite late nowadays, ten or half past. As long as I get the miles done I’m not too bothered. 



Discoe was soon left behind in the valley in the photo above, hidden by the trees. The country is really lovely in this part of the UK. Rolling hills with dramatic mountains occasionally showing up. Just beautiful. The weather makes a big difference, although the sun is a devil for walking, even without a rucksack it’s hard, hot and sweaty. As the actress said to the bishop. 

Look at the photo below. Five miles from Kington in the middle of the Welsh Marches and it’s fantastic.

The geographical feature of the day is Hergest Ridge. An impressive lump of rock around 5 miles long and high enough to keep small herds of wild horses safe from humans. Offa’s Dyke Path runs right along the spine of Hergest Ridge, which was immortalised as the title of Mike Oldfield’s second album in 1974.

The hike up was tough but the top was flat with great views.

And horses…….

Walking southwestwards the Ridge narrows and drops down in stages, with a final flourish falling into Gladestry.

Looking back it’s just lush.

OK Mike Oldfield you honoured a great ridge. But only by choosing it for the title. The album was crap.

Some nice houses round here. Look at this one.

Debs picked me up in local Huntington and she’d got a barbecue for us. Yippeee!!!

14 miles done today, 49 in total. Still a little behind. Boom boom!

Night night.

Well, it’s a lovely walk, via Knighton, and it’s 15 miles so I’m losing strength. Day one, 20 miles with a rucksack. Today 15 miles without. You’re turning into a wee pansie Mr Smith. And I don’t mean that in a homophobic way at all. I don’t do that stuff.

We (me and my sis) had breakfast in Clun and she dropped me off where I’d finished. Good old kid. We found the drop off location by a dead tree which we’d spotted when she picked me up, and due to a leaf of bracken that I’d picked and left in the road, like Gandalf. 

Anyroad up, I like trees me! 

Brilliant inum? But for any Lord of the Rings readers dunt the last one look like the evil willow that trapped Frodo? Thank goodness for Tom Bomadil.

It was another run of steep up and down and up and down. Looking forward…..,

And looking back.

It’s hot and as soon as I break into a sweat I get flies on me head. My new hat seems to attract the buggers. Great word innit? Buggers, buggers, buggers, buggers. 

I’ll throw in these photos at random. Oh, this when I got closer to Knighton and rain was coming in, which never caught me. Ha ha!

And this is the RAF cruising round and protecting Knighton from the Germans. Sorry, I meant Russians, but I like Russians. Sorry…. doesn’t mean I don’t like Germans. Oh bugger. Bugger, bugger, bugger, bugger.

Met my sis for a pint in Knighton but then shot off towards Discoe. One big up, one slow down and I’m there; there there. 

But what’s this in the middle of nowhere? Dunno.

I needed to drop down this hill to my sister, waiting in her van to take me back to a relocated tent. How brilliant is that?

And here she is! What a daft monkey!

A takeaway Indian, a reasonably early night and here we go!

Night night my loves.

I’m behind again. I finished the last walk in Welshpool and intended to get the train from Leeds, walk 12 miles south in the afternoon, pitch my tent and crack on. Train delays and the England semifinal put these plans in the bin so I got a room in an Inn and watched the match. Then set off yesterday morning with great sadness but national pride. And a South Yorkshire back three to be proud of, including two Blades ex-players and fans. Thank you England.

Anyway my first stop from Welshpool would be Montgomery, a classic Welsh Marches town. I needed to cover 20 miles today with a loaded rucksack so I road-walked up the Severn valley floor to gain time. The Severn is lovely at this stage of its journey.

Montgomery was a very attractive little town. Friendly folk too.

It was warm. Very warm with my back pack and I had a right sweat on. The next 4 mile stage was down to Mellington Hall. Lovely houses on the way and great gardeners. Cop these roses.

At Mellington Hall I reconnected with Offa’s Dyke Path, which I’d left in May, and looked ahead to the seriously steep hills and valleys between there and Clun. My sis, Deb had taken time off and was pitching her tent there. And she would transport this bloody, heavy, sweaty rucksack for four days. Hooray. But then she goes. Boo. 

The hills loomed.

I got up the first hill, eventually, and the line of Offa’s Dyke, an 80 mile defence line against the rebellious Welsh, became clear and high and continuous for the rest of the day. 1200 years old and still impressive through woods, down valleys and up hills. Amazing.

The rest of the walk to Clun was up and down, radical slopes and bigger sweats.

After 20 miles I was on my last legs stumbling down a lane when an old dear came up behind me and hooted. My sister! 

We marked exactly where she picked me up so she could drop me off there tomorrow. Thanks babe. 

The campsite in Clun was great. Deborah had found it and put the tent up and cooked a lovely meal. Clun is a fantastic town. Classy and historic. 

Night night.