16.8 miles. Our first day on Glyndwr’s Way was cool and blustery, enough so that we broke out long sleeves, hats and gloves for almost the entire day. The chill in the sir and the blown-out fireweed like seed pods were a constant reminder that summer is definitely over, and warm sunny days ate to be the exception rather than the rule.
Although the countryside doesn’t look markedly different from the Marches, the feel of this trail is definitely different. There are fewer and smaller roads, larger fields and pastures and fewer gates or stiles. It feels… not remote exactly, but less visited. We spent a significant part of the day on the moorland of the Beacon Hill commons: rolling, mostly treeless hills covered with bracken turning gold and red, yellow gorse and purple heather. The walking was nice and we made good time today; its much easier to set a consistent pace when the terrain and weather are not constantly changing.
The villages are small – very small – and pubs don’t open until late in the evening, when farmers have finished their day’s work. We were fortunate to find a place where we could not only get beds for the night, but also both breakfast and dinner. I suspect we shall have at least one night on this leg when we will be camping due to this scarcity of traveler’s accommodations.
Shari reached her sheep shit threshold today, muttering and cursing about all the things the guidebooks don’t tell you. Touching one’s boots, or even having them too close during a lunch break, is admittedly rather revolting when they’re coated with a thick layer of yellowish-green goo!