Seventeen Miles Later ...

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.

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.

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?

The Doctor Won't See You Now

In which The Author has a surprise tour

If you've read Trains and Boats and Planes, you'll remember my last excursion in search of the Last of the Time Lords. That impromptu day trip to Barry came about because a friend gave me a tip-off ('on very good authority') that the BBC would be filming Doctor Who that morning. In the event, I failed to find Peter Capaldi or Jenna Coleman, but I made the most of a sunny day and went exploring instead.

This morning I had an email from Geoff E. – oddly enough, the father of my previous 'snout'. He'd heard on the grapevine that the BBC had set up a temporary base at Penderyn, and that the little car park and lay-by were full of location crew. Unfortunately I only picked the email about thirty seconds before the (hourly) bus to the village left Aberdare. I emailed him back, wondering if it was worth making a special trip for what might conceivably be nothing.

He emailed me back, suggesting that they might be filming at St Cynog's Church. After all, they filmed a story ('The Hungry Earth' / 'Cold Blood') at St Gwynno's Church in Llanwynno a few years ago (see Frustrations of a Solitary Walker). The medieval limestone church at Penderyn, high on a hillside above the village and with superb views across the dramatic Brecon Beacons, would indeed be an exciting location. If nothing else, there's a memorial in the graveyard that you definitely don't want to blink near.

I did some work on yet another project to kill time, and jumped on the 1330 bus. I got to Penderyn just after 2.00, jumped off outside the Lamb Hotel, and made a beeline for the church. On the way through the village, I'd seen a host of trucks and vans near the community centre. Since Church Road is quite narrow (single track, pretty much) and there's nowhere else to park up, it seemed likely that they'd had to haul their gear up from there.

It didn't take me long to walk up the hill from the pub. I was expecting to see the entire area taped off, and security people patrolling the perimeter. (Maybe even my old pal Jimmy N., who does some security contracts for BBC Wales.) Instead, the whole place looked like the buffet at the Dippy Bint's wedding reception: not a sausage. I can't say I was particularly surprised, but I was a bit disappointed.

I was, however, pleasantly surprised to find the door of the Red Lion wide open. It's one of those country pubs that keeps odd hours; I can't remember the last time they coincided with a visit to the village. I went in and was greeted by a very pleasant young barbint. I told her I was quite surprised to find the place open, and she told me that they closed at 3.00. I also told why I was there. It was news to her, so I guessed then that the BBC hadn't been anywhere near the top of the hill. I had time for a can of Pepsi, so I warmed myself by the wood-burning stove and admired the work that's been done on the interior.

As well as retaining its traditional layout and cosy atmospheres, the extension to the side and back now contains sizeable dining areas. I didn't look at the menu, but I'm sure that the prospect of a good meal will make the pub even more of a magnet for tourists exploring the southern edge of the national park. If it wasn't so far off the beaten track – and totally inaccessible by public transport in the Twilight Zone – I'd suggest it to friends for a pre-Xmas treat. Never mind, that's South Wales in 2016 for you.

It had started to drizzle when I left the pub, so I headed down Church Road and emerged just above the community centre. There were more trucks in the packed car park, one of which bore the logo of a location catering company. Further along were at least three from a film & tv rigging company, two from a special effects company, and one specialist scaffolding rigging firm. Say what you like about the BBC, but they certainly don't travel light.

I wondered if by any chance they were filming on the old mineral line, so I crossed the road and had a little peek down there. Nothing. I made my way back to the community centre, and spotted my friends Gwyn and Joyce converging on the line of vehicles. It turned out that we had the same idea. They'd decided to go in search of the action, in the hope of including something in Clochdar, our local Welsh language newsletter. We spotted a crew member leaving one of the vehicles, so Joyce buttonholed him and explained why were we lurking around with a camera (in my case) and a tablet (in Gwyn's). He was very cagey about the exact site where they were working, understandably. If word had got out, the valley's schools would have been empty within minutes and the next bus to Penderyn would have looked like an Indian railway carriage. All he said was that were 'on the mountain up on the right' – which didn't give us a lot to go on. Apparently, they'd had use 4 × 4s to get their gear up. That didn't sound very promising.

Gwyn and Joyce decided to stroll back down the mineral line. I offered to send them some photos if I did come across the film crew, and headed towards Cwm Cadlan. I think I've only ever been across Cwm Cadlan at night (see Night Terrors), but I knew it was a bloody long way from the upper Cynon Valley to the reservoir on the Taff. I decided to walk for a mile or so, and if I didn't spot any sign of activity I'd turn back and grab a pint in the Lamb. I set off along the single track road between the fields, aware that I was heading towards grey clouds. A few minutes later it started to rain. I was debating whether or not to press on when I heard a car approaching from behind. I stepped onto the narrow verge to let it pass, and then heard a familiar voice.

'Where are you off, then?'

I looked in through the open window and laughed. It was none other than Huw F.

We'd had a similar idea, to make the most of the weather before winter really sets in. Like me, Huw has exhausted pretty much all the local walks, but he's started exploring further afield. He was just out for a drive; he knew nothing of the BBC presence in the village. When I told him why I was there, he offered to drive around so we could search for the elusive Time Lord. It seemed like a half-decent plan, so I jumped in and we carried on eastwards.

Cwm Cadlan winds through farmland and then climbs towards open moorland, where pylons, flocks of sheep and thick stands of pine trees provide the only signs of contemporary human activity. In spite of this, Huw told me that he'd recently found the remains of some prehistoric roundhouses. I knew they were marked on the OS map, but I'd never been far enough along the road to search for them. You need a car to go exploring off the beaten track, unfortunately, or else you're in for the long haul.

We drove the length of Cwm Cadlan without spotting any sign of extraterrestrial activity, though. Huw suggested that they might be filming on the dam on the reservoir, so we decided to check it out. There was no sign of life there either, so we headed north on to the A470 and then took the A4059 back towards Penderyn. It was still fairly cloudy and grey, but the sun was breaking through to the west and the south. I'd forgotten just what spectacular views you get when you're on that road, so it was a very pleasant change to go across the top for once.

Huw suggested that the BBC might have packed up early because of the weather, which seemed quite plausible. However, when we reached the minor road leading to Ystradfellte, there were a number of vehicles in the lay-by and parked up on the verge. Huw decided to explore that option, in case they were around the village. It was just possible that the heavy presence in Penderyn was just a red herring, after all. He swung the car around in the entrance to a farm, and we hit the minor road.

We hadn't gone far when a car coming uphill blocked our progress along the single track. Huw had to reverse for a couple of hundred metres to a small passing place; meanwhile, another car had come along, so we had to sit tight while they both passed us. A few minutes later, we had to pull in to allow a tractor to pass us. It's actually no wonder Ystradfellte doesn't have a bus service, when you consider what the access roads are like. (See Further Up the River.)

We swung past the church and the New Inn (which took about ten seconds) and took the road towards Pontneddfechan. On the way, I told Huw about Helen from Servini's, and her attempt to set up a dating agency a couple of weeks ago (see A Quick Single). He could fully understand why I never go to the New Inn; if you don't have a car, it makes the Red Lion look like it's in the middle of Piccadilly Circus.

From there we drove to Pontneddfechan. It's only now I've done that journey in a car that I can appreciate the distance I walked on my previous couple of explorations. If nothing else, our outdoor hiking trips keep us fit. We drove through Glynneath to get some petrol, and looped back to Aberdare.

I may have drawn another blank on my quest to find the TARDIS and its crew, but I had some welcome fresh air before the weather breaks, caught up with some old friends, found some possible walks for the spring, and established a new watering hole for a future date. It was much more fun than sitting in the library and listening to the Debating Society, that's for sure.