Brecon Beacons

Captain Davies and his trusty GPS led us down narrow twisting roads through the Black Mountains of Wales on the East side of Brecon Beacon National Park by Hay Bluff- a sinuous landscape carved over millions of years out of moving ice. We were taking a day trip out from Bookton to visit Matt's friends Diana and Nigel.

"The Brecon Beacons are named after the ancient practice of lighting signal fires (beacons) on mountains to warn of attacks by the English, or more recently to commemorate public and national events such as coronations or the Millennium."- The Interweb

It was a beautiful day, sunny and warm with a cool breeze chiming in from time to time. On the way we passed a standing stone no more than 4ft tall. Chances are it was once part of a stone circle, but now it stands alone- the last of its tribe. This rock has enjoyed one of the world's best views for at least 2,000 years- rolling hills as far as our eyes could see. I imagined how the landscape has change since it was first erected; woods became sheep-speckled fields, foot paths became paved roads, a few hill tops may have rounded over. We don't know much about who first stood at that spot and thought it needed marking, but thousands of years later we're glad they took the time, the stone reminded us to slow down and open our eyes wider still.

We pulled into Diana and Nigel's cottage just in time for Tea. Matt first met our hosts about 10 years ago when he was a studying Art History in the UK and Europe and they were running a B&B hosting student groups visiting the area. Lucky for us he stayed in touch with them over the years. We sat in the garden and had our first taste of Welsh cake (a likely predecessor to now infamous holiday fruit-cake) and our first peach of the season- imported from Spain. Diana is one of those amazing people who can remember names and dates. She told us about local history, plant-lore, geology, genealogy - you name it she had something interesting to say and in-between it all she was genuinely curious about us. Nigel mostly sat back and smiled, a recovering banker, he simply enjoyed being out in his garden and seeing it through the fresh eyes only newcomers can bring. We felt very welcome there.

Sometime during Tea our beautiful day quietly tipped its hat, bid us farewell and was replaced by a lovely evening. With golden light dripping in all around us I wondered when the fairies and gnomes would come out with flutes and drums to lead us through the magical wood? That's when Diana said: "Would you like to borrow some Wellies, we have to cross the creek to feed the horses dinner?"

We waded across the stream, ducked our heads below heavy beech branches, through the gate, across the field with a 600-year-old oak tree (where the fairies and gnomes surly gather to dance on a full moon), up the hill to the horses with their epic view of the Black Mountains. We stayed there for a while listening to stories about when "the train used to come through here in the coal mining days" and how "the foot paths are ancient short cuts to get from your farm to the church on Sunday". Ryan took pictures of our very long shadows stretching across the bright green grass. Heading back we all walked slowly along the creek and communed with the sacred water-rock-tree-air spirits. It was a hard spot to leave, but eventually we had to pull Diana away from her storytelling and make it back to the Blue Boar in Hay before they stopped serving supper.

Because the UK is so far up north it's not fully dark till way past 10pm. All this light has become a traveling companion, pulling at our sleeves to go around just one more bend. Eventually we did extinguish our curiosity-beacons and made it to bed.