In which The Author and his friends go up a hill and come down a mountain
Saturday morning dawned cold and misty, and for a few moments I wondered whether I'd be taking part in the sponsored walk after all.
The night before I'd slipped at home and stubbed my right big toe hard. Very hard. In fact, it was so painful that I feared I might have broken it. Then I remembered a pub chat with Martyn E. last week. He's currently nursing a broken toe and a cracked rib – the second is the direct result of the first, which he managed to incur in work. The doctor who treated him had told him that if it had been his big toe, he wouldn't have been able to walk as his balance would have been affected. Well, I was able to walk (after a fashion), so that was a decent start.
I made my way (on foot) to Aberdare and bumped into Liam as he was coming out of the newsagent's. We made our way to the cafe near the bus station to wait for the others and had a good chat until Rhian arrived. Kate was next on the scene, with her miniature whippet Betty Boop in tow. Paul rolled up a few minutes later, and the team was complete.
Originally a few more people had expressed an interest in joining us. But Liam's parents had been doubtful from the start, as Jude injured her Achilles tendon a while ago and is recovering slowly. As they had prior commitments on Saturday, they were out anyway. Similarly, Eggy and Geraint were booked (separately) at Cwmfest, a music festival a couple of miles away in Phonicsland Cwmaman. Jason W. has had to spend the last few weekends shopping around for a new car. Alexis had something on which meant that she couldn't make it either. Anne-Marie had apparently twisted James's arm to spend the weekend in Tenby, which seemed a good call given the glorious weather. But five (plus a dog) is a nice manageable number for a first attempt like this. We were the ones who'd started Just Giving pages and collecting sponsors, after all. We boarded the 8.30 bus to Penderyn and the game was afoot.
When we arrived at the Lamb Hotel, the road was full of farm vehicles. I knew there were occasional livestock sales in the village, but I've never been to one. I must find out when the next one is happening and check it out for myself. We waited until the bus had turned around and jumped off on the return leg. It's a short walk from there to the world-renowned Penderyn Distillery, and the start of the Cynon Trail proper. I took the photos with my phone and a miniature tripod, so they aren't great, but they'll give you an idea of the sort of day we had.
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| Me, Rhian, Paul, Liam, Kate, Betty Boop (being carried) |
The path was, until relatively recently, a freight line from the quarry opposite the Lamb to the old Hirwaun Station, and thence to the national rail network. Now it's been converted into a well-made off-road path, popular with dog walkers and horse riders as well as walkers and cyclists. It runs more or less parallel to the road, but it's far enough away that you forget about the village and just lose yourself in your surroundings. My original plan had been to lay a breadcrumb trail with Anthony Nolan stickers every so often. We had hoped for a larger number of people, of course, and I anticipated us breaking up into smaller groups as time wore on. In the event we didn't really need to place the stickers, but each one has the website address and the Walking Together logo. They might encourage casual walkers and cyclists to check out the link for themselves.
About twenty minutes into the walk, Paul commented – not for the first time – that you don't notice the distance when there aren't any landmarks. If we'd on the main road we'd have been constantly saying 'We're only as far as so-and-so', and that can get a bit disheartening.
This part of the Cynon Trail is right on the fault line between the countryside and the industrial landscape. If you look to the right as you approach Hirwaun, you can see the large opencast workings just north of the village centre. Between you and the workings there's farmland. It's an odd juxtaposition, really.
At Hirwaun we took a small detour along Elm Grove and into Station Road. Paul wanted to see the site of the old Hirwaun Football Club and the Bodwigiad Inn, which features in A Pub Crawl to Die For (Part 1). Neither of these watering holes are open for business. We followed Station Road into the centre of the village, and then our cunning plan came unstuck. We had pencilled in breakfast in the cafe, but of course Betty Boop wasn't allowed on the premises. Paul compromised by buying us all bacon rolls, which we ate on the way to the next stage of the off-road walk.
Tramway in Hirwaun is aptly named. The village plan reflects the early development of the rail network which linked the industrial centres of the Cynon Valley. There's a great old photograph showing the tramlines running along what is now a minor road through the village. When we reached the southern end of Tramway, we were off the road network again and on the route of another former tramway. This one runs behind the housing estate at Trenant, skirts the school at Rhydywaun, runs behind the huge Penywaun estate, and emerges in Trecynon. It passes some industrial archaeological sites, including the stone supports of the former Gamlyn Viaduct, the stone tramroad bridge near Gelli Isaf, and the quaint cottages at Arthurs Place. It follows the river Cynon pretty closely, and it's a beautiful sheltered stretch of the Cynon Trail. This photo in particular makes it look like an illustration from a Tolkien novel.
We hit our first problem in Penywaun. A very handsome Staffordshire bull terrier had obviously sniffed out Betty Boop's presence, as he made a beeline for her and wouldn't be dissuaded. The girls were quite shocked when I – an animal lover – suggested kicking him in the bollocks to dampen his ardour. Rhian was even more amused when I clouted him on the nose with a stick. He sprinted off in the direction he'd come from, only to catch us up a few minutes later. Kate was carrying her dog by now, but the little fellow was quite determined to follow his instincts. Eventually Paul managed to send him packing, but we kept our eyes open in case he popped up again.
We arrived at Gelli Isaf, a quaint row of cottages perched on the river's edge, and from there it's a short walk to Trecynon itself. We crossed the road and picked up the tramroad again, stopping for another photo at the historic Iron Bridge.
We continued as far as Tesco, where we took turns to look after Betty Boop while visiting the toilets. Then we were back on track, crossing the railway line into Robertstown, then crossing the Cynon near the Gadlys Arms and picking up the trail on the north side of the river. This is another well-made stretch of off-road path, emerging near the new Aberdare College building. We decided to cut out the stretch through the Ynys, and made our way past Plasdraw to the start of the Aberdare Canal nature reserve.
This isn't as grand as the name suggests, but it's a lovely stretch of the Cynon Trail, following the surviving portion of the Aberdare Canal to its end just north of Cwmbach. The flowers were still in bloom and bees and butterflies were active among the hedgerow. It was the last weekend in September, remember.
We crossed the main road and decided to wet our whistles at the Ynyscynon Inn (formerly the Golden Post). I've only been there twice in the last ten years: the first time was in December 2009, when Jenny and I went on one of our very rare dates (see A Minor Miracle); the second was with some of the Plaid Cymru Cwm Cynon gang when we leafleted the whole of Cwmbach in one day. It's not a pub that regularly features on my radar because it's on the wrong side of Aberdare. But the sun was over the yardarm and it seemed rude to just walk past without calling in.
It was obvious that our little dog was running out of steam, and Kate came up with a good idea. If we took the short cut from the new housing estate to Pant Farm, we could follow the old Vale of Neath line to Blaennantygroes, drop Betty Boop off at Kate's grandmother's house, and then drop down to the village shop. It would cut out the gradual (but very exposed) climb through Cwmbach and give us a nice shady alternative. So that was what we did.
I don't know the new part of Cwmbach very well, but Kate used to have a paper round in the village. That sort of local knowledge can't be beaten when it comes to finding short cuts and alternative routes on the fly. We slipped through a small alleyway between two houses, made our way uphill through Pant Farm, and climbed the embankment leading to the old railway line. There's a stunning old tunnel there, which I need to photograph properly when I get the chance. And then we were on the Vale of Neath path. The footpath leads to the former Merthyr Tunnel, but it also forks and drops down to the top of Blaennantygroes.
Liam was definitely setting the pace, with the girls following on and Paul and I bringing up the rear. We had a good laugh when we encountered another fallen tree, which would have probably rendered the path 'impassable' on health and safety grounds if the little dog hadn't been able to just spring over it.
We branched off into Blaennantygroes, dropped Betty Boop off, and continued downhill to the shop. It's a short walk uphill to the Royal Oak, which had crossed our minds for another stop. But I wasn't sure whether the Cefnpennar Inn would be open, so I'd persuaded the gang to push on as far as that. We made our way up the tarmac part of Cefnpennar Road, where I think Paul was starting to struggle a bit. We made it as far as the entrance to Llettyshenkin House, and then hit the most challenging part of the route so far.
I've already shown you what Cefnpennar Road is like, but here's a photo I took on Friday morning. It's a road in the very loosest sense of the word. Some of my older friends have called it 'the parish road', which suggests that it was a main thoroughfare in bygone days. It certainly isn't one now.
Paul and I made it to the top a few minutes after the others, and we all decided to have a breather in the field. The views from here made the whole ascent worthwhile, but by now my battery was running low. I took one photo of us and we continued on our way.
The descent into Cefnpennar village was fairly uneventful, with Liam continuing to set the pace. As such he reached the pub before the rest of us – and it was closed. I'd had a feeling that that would be the case, so I wasn't all that surprised. But we were a bit disappointed all the same. We continued downhill through the village, with Liam charging ahead of us. We weren't sure if he was setting the pace, or simply being carried forward by the weight of his backpack. By the time we passed the entrance to the golf course he was way in front and picking up speed on the descent into Cwmpennar.
I turned to the others and said, 'Liam's broken into a sprint. Or else he's just broken.'
When we got to Cwmpennar we found out why he'd had that burst of energy. There's a bench at the side of the road. We had a little breather there, then continued to Duffryn Woods and spent a few minutes admiring Prof. James Havard Thomas's magnificent war memorial, which stands in a little clearing surrounded by trees on all sides. You can almost picture yourself in Flanders when you see it from this angle.
We stopped at the indoor bowls centre to use the toilets, then continued past the Aberdare Hotel and Mountain Ash Town Hall to pick up the Cynon Trail beside Nazareth Baptist Church. After following the river for five minutes or so, we arrived opposite our next scheduled stop: the George.
This is a rather odd little pub in Newtown, Mountain Ash. I've been there a few times and the people at the bar have always made it perfectly clear that it's a local pub for local people. But Paul knows everyone, and one of his pals was sitting outside when we arrived. We ordered our drinks and waited while the landlord set up a table and chairs outside for us. There was a diversion in effect on that stretch of the Cynon Trail, so we knew we'd have to continue along Old Cardiff Road and past Usk Villas to pick it up further south. By now the effects of the long slog over Cefnpennar Road were taking their toll. I think a couple of us were tempted to call it a day and catch the first bus back to Aberdare. But Paul, in fairness, was committed to walking the entire distance. I was still raring to go, so we talked about it over our drinks and decided to push on.
There's a new road being built across the valley just south of Mountain Ash, which accounted for the closure of the Cynon Trail. It was one of the main reasons why I abandoned our Arthur Linton Challenge cycling project for this year. It made for an 'interesting' diversion from the route I'd originally drawn up. There's a flight of steps up to the new road from Usk Villas, and Rhian was really starting to struggle during the ascent. Liam, as usual, was powering ahead of the rest of us. Paul and Kate were going to follow the A4059 to begin with until I called them back. It could have all gone wrong at this point. Can you imagine trying to co-ordinate a large number of cyclists around this section? I certainly can't. With any luck it'll be finished by next summer and I can have a second attempt at making the project come to fruition.
There isn't a great deal left of the industrial sites south of Mountain Ash. The pits were pulled down once they closed, and the railway sidings have vanished as well. The Cynon Trail winds along parallel to the river, sheltered by trees for most of its length, and without any real landmarks to tell you how far you've walked. I've walked this part at least four times in the last year while drawing up the Arthur Linton Challenge so I knew where we were, but it didn't really matter. Once we reached the Pontcynon Industrial Estate, my plans to lay a breadcrumb trail fell apart.
Rhian was lagging behind us. Kate was charging ahead to use the toilet at Abercynon Sports Centre. Paul, Liam and I got as far the sports centre, sat down to wait for Kate, and then waited ages for Rhian to come into view. It did cross our minds that she might have stopped at Abercynon Rugby Club, just off the Quarter Mile Bridge. I rang her, only to find that she'd crossed the bridge and was walking along the Old Road. In fact, she'd overtaken us and was passing Abercynon Library at the time. We grabbed our gear and set off along the final section of the route. We came out into River Row, crossed the Cynon and followed the road towards the fire station.
There's a signpost at the end of Greenfield Terrace advising you that it's 14.5 miles to Cardiff.
I pointed at it and said, 'Who's up for pushing on to Pontypridd?'
(That's the furthest point at which our Day Rider tickets would still have been valid.)
Liam gave me a murderous look, so I scrapped that idea and we headed for the Navigation Hotel, our original finishing point. Rhian was emerging with a pint when we arrived, so we grabbed a table outside and settled down to wait for the bus home. The whole adventure had taken us just over eight hours, and by that time we were all ready for a sit down and a nice cold drink.
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| Kate's expression might be the laughter of hysterical madness. Liam is definitely not amused. The rest of are putting on brave faces. |
We caught a bus back to Aberdare at just before 6.00. Paul jumped off at Asda, from where he could cross into Aberaman near his house. Liam crawled off to get a taxi home, which is almost unheard of. Kate had to run home to change for her evening shift in Jacs. Rhian hobbled as far as the Lucky Star with me, and then hobbled up the hill to Jacs with me. For some bizarre reason I was still feeling fine. Maybe it's because I'd walked about half of the route in the previous week, scoping out the extent of the storm damage. Maybe I'm fitter than I thought. Kate seemed to have got her second wind, but I decided to bale out on the 10.30 bus. The walk up to Trecynon could have been the last straw for me.
In spite of the aches, pains, diversions, horny dogs, cock-ups, and assorted niggles en route, we all had a brilliant time. We couldn't have had a better day weather-wise, and of course it's a fantastic way to raise money for Anthony Nolan. We've all decided that Walking Together from Jacs should definitely become an annual event. Every year it'll be a different route, always ending at a convivial pub for a bite to eat. We'll know the potential pitfalls next time, and can plan around them.
For my part, I've hit my £250 fundraising target. Some very generous online donations took my Just Giving total over the halfway point on Thursday. I've got to catch up with a few people who sponsored me the old-fashioned way, but I'm well pleased with the result. I don't how the others have done, as they were mostly collecting sponsors on paper as well. I'll let you the full amount when it's all paid in. In the meantime we're going to leave the Just Giving page open for a couple of weeks, in case anyone wants to chip in retrospectively. All in all it was a great way to round off a summer of friendship and fun in Jacs, and the perfect taster session for the regular event starting next year. Why not join us next time?
