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PembrokeshireWalk Details:
The Walk: |
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I'd been looking forward to this one - I fully expected it to be the best county top to date. From the OS map printout from Streetmap.com I could see that the top was unforested, reasonably pointy and crowned with both a trig point and a couple of cairns. It was also the one that I most wanted to complete this weekend, simply because it was stuck out on its own at the far end of South Wales, and I didn't want to have to make a second journey this far! That had been my view on leaving home. However, following the horrendous weather we're endured on Craig y Llyn earlier in the day I didn't really care what the hill was like provided it stopped raining on me! Fortunately as we drove westwards the rain stopped, the cloud lifted slightly and there were even occasional glimpses of sunshine. All looked good for the ascent. The obvious place to park is the intriguingly named village of Rosebush. I only saw the turning at the last minute, but managed to haul my car into it with a pretty impressive rally-style turn. The village is quite charming in a deepest Wales type of way - the pub is made of corrugated iron and the village post office doubles as a delightful looking tearoom. It was a shame that we wouldn't have time to sample them - it was already 3.40pm and we had a hill and a long drive to fit in before making the 6pm deadline for dinner orders at Manorbier Youth Hostel. The path out of Rosebush starts a hundred metres back down the road from the pub and runs through a farm guarded by one of the laziest dogs I've seen. In fact, we thought it was dead. The retriever in question didn't move a muscle as three pairs of walking boots tramped past a few inches from its nose. Further up the track we were ambushed by a small yappy-type dog which danced madly around us barking in a particularly offensive manner. The retriever was obviously afraid of being shown up by this young upstart for it heaved itself off the ground and slunk along behind us for a few metres before returning to its former moribundity. The path meandered through a couple of fields before turning left onto a broad track which ran up an arm of Foel Cwncerwyn. Though it was still overcast, the clouds had lifted enough for us to see a pretty decent if very hazy view across Pembrokeshire to our right. To our left conifer plantations unfortunately blocked the view, and we were glad to look ahead to the inviting cone of the summit. We were annoyed to see that someone was there ahead of us, and hoped they'd leave before we got there. The path became slightly boggy, and Jim, seeing a large puddle, succumbed to his vice of "fording". It was a lot deeper than he expected, and he disappeared up to mid-shin level. Earlier on Craig y Llyn, he had said that the first person to sink above boot level had to get the first round tonight, so now he was doubly upset! Ahead we could see that the lower slopes on the right hand side of the hill had a few rocky outcrops, and we had high hopes that the hill might have a rocky summit which would (according to some sources) make it a mountain. In these rocky, heather strewn fields sheep were playing a game which we had previously seen on the South West Coast Path. They would start off grazing, scattered evenly over the whole field. At some unseen signal, suddenly every sheep in the field would sprint at high speed into one corner of the field, were they would pile up into a big squashed ovine heap. Then they would all back out and return to their former positions with an expression that can only be described as sheepish. We've never yet been able to ascertain the purpose of this "game". Soon the forestry on the left came to an end (many of the trees had been blown over and lay dying, suggesting that sheep farming may actually be a more suitable and certainly more aesthetically pleasing land use). Through a gate we came to the grassy hundred metre high cone of the summit, and the path (which up to now had been fairly level) suddenly got much steeper. Even us SWCP walkers had to take a couple of short breathers and poor old Justin trailed behind, red in the face & looking knackered. It was all worth it at the top though - even though the top wasn't rocky. Even in cloudy conditions there was a stunning view of more hills to the north and west, with a broad panorama laid out in the opposite direction. I felt that in better conditions there was probably a good chance of being able to see the sea. The person we'd seen from below turned out to be the trig point, conveniently situated on the highest point. The wind was ripping across the summit and we could barely stand up on the ground - we certainly weren't going to risk standing on this trig point. I did, however, haul myself to a sitting position on it.
We had been planning to have tea & biscuits at the summit but it was just a mite too windy. We headed back to the car as fast as we could, bearing in mind our dinner deadline. I briefly tried a gallop, and had to bring myself to a panicky halt teetering on the edge of the very boggy hole that Jim had so abysmally failed to ford on the way up. By the time we'd returned to the car, changed out of our filthy boots & had a foul cuppa from the communal flask (oh how I wished we'd had time to visit the tea room) it was 5.20pm. Justin wanted to head back home (mainly because he didn't want to stay in a hostel) but there was no way I was driving all the way back home that night. It was a mad dash across Pembrokeshire to make Manorbier YHA in time to get our dinner order in, but we made it with a whole minute to spare! Manorbier YHA is quite astonishing, and I'd highly recommend it. It's a former MoD building and is still surrounded by MoD land. It appears to bemade out of some form of children's building kit - brightly coloured triangular sections protrude in odd directions. And hidden away in the heart of it is something I'd never seen in a youth hostel before - a conservatory, full of comfy chairs and subtropical plants apparently fed by water from the roof. The showers were breathtakingly hot, as was my dinner of chicken balti followed by treacle tart - we started to think that perhaps the YHA was heated by an old thermonuclear pile left behind by the MoD. We'd discovered that we were the only people in our dorm - a relief for Justin who is used to hotels and didn't relish the thought of company, but a disappointment for us who like to swap experiences with other hostellers. Dinner showed that there was a surprisingly high number of people staying there (possibly because so few Welsh hostels are open and serve food in October). However, they were entirely comprised of several families and one very large works party. Manorbier is the first British hostel I've stayed in that sells beer, and it also has a pool table. However, we felt that with just families and a works party there, we might have more fun exploring the village pubs, over a mile away. In fact there was only one - the Castle Inn, but it was excellent - good beer, a pool table, an excellent female guitarist/singer playing live, a menu featuring "curried penis" (we were glad we'd already eaten!), and the realisation that the locals pronounce their village as "Manbee". Between them Foel Cwmcerwyn and "Manbee" had restored both
our faith in county tops, which had been seriously tarnished by the atrocious
conditions on Craig y Llyn. Foel Cwmcerwyn seemed to be the perfect mini-mountain
(despite failing the height and rocky summit qualifications) and I'd love
to return to it in clearer conditions. I went to bed looking happily forward
to the next day, despite the forecast rain and gales.
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Nearby
was another mini summit crowned somewhat bizarrely with a pond of almost
exactly the dimensions of a bath - we easily resisted the temptation to
try it out though.