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Dyfed & CarmarthenshireWalk Details: Top details (1):
The Walk: |
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We were up at our parents’ house in Wiltshire for Father’s Day weekend. On the Saturday we had been planning to take our Mum & Dad out to bag the unitary tops in the former county of Avon, but they already had plans for that day. Given that clear blue skies were predicted, we decided it would be a good time to bag our first 2000-footer, and so headed off to South Wales. I was a little worried by forecast temperatures in the high twenties (I suffer easily from heatstroke), but was hoping that it would be cooler up in the hills. Our target for our first 2,000-footer was Fan Brycheiniog, 802m above sea level, a sub-top of which would let us notch up a couple of county tops at the same time. Being such a hot day (and wanting time to bag other tops) we tried to park as close to the hill as possible – on the pass called Bwlch Cerrig Duon.
We walked back to the start of the path; even at 10:45am it already felt hot in t-shirt and shorts. A faint but discernable path led down the slope behind the farmer’s vehicles, crossing several small streams on the way and eventually leading us to a ruin - a “series of small walls” that Tony Robinson’s Time Team would have been proud of! These appeared to have once formed a building – there seemed to be rooms within – but it looked enormous. We could not work out what it was or why such a large place would have been built in so remote a location. Maybe the walls were just old sheep pens, but it didn’t look like it – and again, why so big? It was a mystery to us. Just beyond the ruins (and possibly the reason for their location there) was the Blaentawe, the main stream at the valley bottom. Marginally too wide to jump and slightly too deep to ford, we crossed it via some improvised, wobbly and semi-submerged stepping stones – after heavy rain I could imagine this being rather a tricky barrier. Now at last the ascent of Fan Brycheiniog began. It was a shallow slope, but taxing nevertheless in the heat – all the more so because the faint path now vanished altogether. We toiled up the slope on a series of different might-be-paths, which rapidly came and went. Eventually we stopped for a sit-down and some water and Kendal mint cake at a handy rock. We heard loud bleating from over the top of the slope, and realised that – bizarrely for open land in Wales – we hadn’t seen a single sheep so far. We soon found out why – the local farmer was out rounding them all up, albeit in an unconventional manner. Hundreds of sheep suddenly came over the top of the slope, carefully chivvied by a couple of quad bikes. There was a sheepdog there too, but he appeared to be involved in only a photogenic or traditional role – shepherding has clearly moved into the 21st century. We moved on, passing the beautiful but surreal white heads of cotton grass and frequently crossing small streams and marshy areas. The twin peaks of Fan Brycheiniog stood proud against the skyline above, the sub-top of Fan Foel just peaking out around the right-hand side. The steep escarpment in front emphasized their height; we could see from the map that the path wound its way up to a low point of the escarpment, but from this viewpoint it looked pretty tricky.
Now the real ascent began as we hit the clearly visible path up the escarpment to the left hand side of the lake. Somewhat eroded, the rocky path was a lot less steep than it looked from a distance, and we had no problems following it as it wound up the hill, and we quickly passed the 2,000 foot mark. Halfway up we stood aside to let a troupe of fell runners through, all a worrying shade of puce with sweat streaming off them like rain off a hiker’s waterproofs. Not for them were the careful twists and turns of the path – their leader led them straight over the edge instead. His ardent disciples did not doubt him for a moment. A murmur of “never been this way before” was heard in place of the more appropriate “I say old chap, that route looks terribly perilous”. At least it was better than the potential “aargh!” – these guys were nutters. But incredibly fit nutters. We soon made the top of the escarpment at the col between Fan Brycheiniog and Fan Hir, and turned northwards for the marilyn. After passing a steep gully to our left there was one final pull up to the top of the hill, marked by a trig point and a small circular stone shelter. Suddenly the hill erupted into life, with other walkers arriving from all directions. It seems like the hill might be a bit of a honeypot and we just came up by a quiet route. The shelter was occupied by three lads who looked like they’d settled down for the day, and after the obligatory photo at the trig we headed onwards. A few hundred yards to the north a cairn surmounted a bijou headland. This was Tar y Fan Foel, marked on the map as being the same height as Fan Brycheiniog, so we thought we’d best visit it on the “just in case” principle. In fact the GPS showed it as being a metre higher, but then I tend to trust the skill of the OS more than I trust electronic altimeters.
The view from here more than made up for the quality of the immediate surroundings. As on the other two hills you had huge (albeit slightly hazy) views out to the horizon, but here you could also see the escarpment snaking its way further westward. At this height there was the cooling breeze I had hoped for, giving relief from the pounding sun beating down from above. Strangely there was a ring of thick black clouds encircling us at a distance in all directions, looking as if they were being held back from the hill by some supernatural force. If the sun shines on the righteous, then we were possibly heading for sainthood! Unfortunately there was no easy round walk to take us back to the car so we had to return the way we’d come. We descended at pretty high speed, and once again lost sight of the path between Llyn y Fan Fawr and Blaentawe. In this weather there was little chance of getting lost, and it wasn’t long before we were toiling back up the other side of the valley to the car. We were now into the hottest part of the day, and this insignificant climb cost me dear. I was shattered and headachy by the time we reached the car, but a good lunch soon set my right and ready for our next hill. Our first 2,000-footer had been an unparalleled success – maybe
not the nicest hilltop we’d seen, but certainly amongst the best
views. The lovely Llyn y Fan Fawr was certainly a highlight of the walk,
but I was disappointed on getting home to find that in having not bothered
climbing Fan Hir we’d missed out on an easy bonus Nuttall &
Hewitt – not that we’re doing those hill lists (yet…)
but it would have been a nice bonus.
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Until
this month, Fan Brycheiniog had been legally off-limits to walkers. Although
the OS orange map shows paths heading up the hill from three directions,
none of them are public footpaths; however, with the whole hill now being
given open access status, we were free to ascend. I think there’d
always been effective “open access” though; there was certainly
a well-worn (if small) parking area at the roadside where the path led
off from the top of the pass. Unfortunately it was full of farmer’s
trucks, but there was plenty of roadside parking a little further along
the road.
Soon
we were at a major landmark on our walk – the beautiful turquoise
lake of Llyn y Fan Fawr, nestled beneath the steep escarpment. A small
mound stuck out on a promontory into the lake. He immediately ran to bag
it, with me following behind somewhat reluctantly. It was a superb viewpoint
though! More to the point, it had a beach of orange sand next to it, where
Jim wrote an informative “Hi” for the edification of future
hikers.
After
Twr y Fan Foel the escarpment turned sharply westwards, and sticking out
from the corner was the headland of Fan Foel, our main destination for
this walk. The path to it was rough, but eroded to a great width –
in fact the hilltop here looked pretty desolate. Fan Foel itself, the
county top of Carmarthenshire and the former county of Dyfed was if anything
slightly worse. It looked like someone had tried to begin a huge cairn
with the laying of a circle of stones. Their vision had been too grand,
and the cairn had progressed no further. Jim did add the stone that we’d
bought from the bottom of the hill though.