Offa's Dyke - Day 0 and Day 1

It's been a while since I did an update. Things change and sometimes it is difficult to keep up.

I had a stressful week in the office. I should say that the stress is largely brought upon myself for attempting to do to much. So, this weekend, when I had planned to walk in the South Downs, I opted to see one of my favourite bands play in a village hall in Garway (and if you don't know where it is, look it up), and then do some walking along the Offa's Dyke Path.

The weekend started off well as I was given some stunning and unexpected news in the office (but very good) and then went off to see another favourite band – Panic Room – at the Stables in Milton Keynes. That is one venues I like to visit – comfy seats and ice cream in the interval, which is very civilized. This was one of the first shows without guitarist Paul Davies, and Pete Harwood did a wonderful job, but it is going to take time to bed down again. Still, I always have a great time watching Panic Room, and Friday night was no exception. It was also great to chat to James Allen, one of the nicest record company executives in the world (the other one being his partner David Elliott), and fellow fan of live music.

Saturday I got up way too early, and eventually left for Chepstow about lunchtime and got stuck in a massive traffic jam because of an accident on the M4. I never worry too much about these things as the emergency services need to do their job and, of course, I'm grateful for being in the traffic jam instead of the accident.

So, I arrived at Chepstow (or Cas-gwent) later than expected. The plan was to walk out to the start of the Offa's Dyke Path at Sedbury Cliffs. The entire path is 180 miles and runs roughly along the border between Wales and England from (approximately) Chepstow in the South to Prestatyn in the North. My plan for the weekend was to do the Southern most part of the walk. On Saturday, I walked out of Chepstow over the river Wye into England, then through some houses and across some uninteresting scrub land and up a short band to the start of the walk which looks over the River Severn. There is even a commemorative rock there with a plaque in Welsh and English.

After walking back to the car, and driving to Monmouth to eat and then to the most remote Travelodge in the universe to shower and get changed, I drove on to Garway. I am so pleased that SatNavs exist as this place was off the beaten track. Magenta were playing in the village hall and as I drove along the village road looking for the place, I spotted Tina & Mike Booth and Dan Nelson walking along in the other direction. We had a brief chat - “we're off to the pub – you can't miss the venue” - and indeed, much to my surprise, I didn't. After finding a part of road to park in, I wandered into the village hall, got greeted and bought some raffle tickets, found a drink and sat down. I chatted to some other people in the audience. Most people were local to the village and were shocked to think that anyone would travel from Reading to their little village to watch a concert. There were a few friendly Magenta faces and I chatted to Neil Palfreyman a while, warning him the record company who are releasing the forthcoming Shineback album (pre-order it from the merch desk at the merch desk link) were making careful note of who has pre-ordered.

The evening was being broadcast to the world via inashed.com. There is an event about every month at the village hall and about a 50 of the 300 villagers come along to be entertained. This is not just music, but theatre and other arts. They are a very forgiving and considerate audience. Magenta is not an easy listen for the first time, but the audience were warmly appreciative of the songs – I'm Alive & Anger were well received and we clapped through much of Pride. More information about these events is at garwaylive.com.

The next morning (or this morning as I write up the journal) I got up and drove back to Chepstow and parked at the station. The plan being to get a taxi to drop me off about 12 miles away at Redbrook and walk back down. Stations are good places to find taxis, but not necessarily at 8:30 on a Sunday morning. I started to walk along thinking about a plan B when I happened to notice a taxi fuelling at the local supermarket. He couldn't give me a lift but contracted a colleague and about 8:50 we were on our way. I got dropped off in Redbrook which is on the English side of the river Wye. The route would take me along the hills overlooking the river back to Chepstow. After getting my bearings, I managed to find a friendly acorn sign that marks all National Trails.

The first thing was to go uphill. I have done many walks along other National Trails over the last year, and every time it seems to start with a long walk up hill. Up and up, through woodlands with occasional peeks through to the river.

 

It was a long way up the hill and I was soon panting trying to get more air. After an hour of walking along the top of the ridge overlooking the river, the path descended back to river level at Bigweir. For that part, I passed virtually no one; I had the whole trail more or less to myself.

Of course, what comes down has to go up again. But, before I got anywhere close to going uphill again, I came across lots of people. There were two things going on. Firstly, there was something called “Offa's 'Orror” - a race along forest trails including the Path. I was warned that there would be a couple of hundred people running down the path by some marshals. The only thing that they suggested was hitching back to Chepstow. Well, that was not going to happen, so I carried on along the trail.

There were some young people – I'd guess at 16 year olds who were out doing a weekend trek in the area. I met two groups – the first were army cadets from Cinderford. The second group were doing practice for Duke of Edinburgh's Silver award. They were hiking for the weekend, carrying all of their kit.

Anyway, I climbed up to the top along a very steep trail with lots of flints and uneven footing. This was the path the the running would be going down later. Rather them than me. I struggled to the top; it was really hard work – and they were going to run down it and then back up another hill several times. Another marshal passed me on the way up telling me that he was late. I got to the top about the same time as the youngsters on their trek – I really didn't want to be with them and they deserved their own space, but we walked along the trail at the same time until we came to a narrow point where we waited for the runners to pass. They had only been going for about 2 miles so they were fresh and not spread out.

Having got to the top again, the walk headed away from the river, so there were no more river views for a while. I walked along more uneven tracks generally flat, and along some country roads so narrow that I had to clamber onto the bank of the road to let a car pass me. I came back to the runners' path and down a hill to a valley – and then back up the other side. I was now heading in the same direction as the runners. The leaders had long since gone, and most of the rest were walking up the valley albeit faster than me.

Eventually the Path and the runners' route separated and I had the Path to myself again. Up to then, I had been very aware of the runners and was allowing them to pass whenever they got close. Between that, the steep hills and the uneven ground, the walk was taking me longer than I expected.

The path arrived at a promontory called Devil's Pulpit which had a terrific view of the River Wye below and across to the ruins of Tintern Abbey in Wales. This is one of those moments that make a 5 hour slog along country paths worth while.

At this stage, I had done all of the significant climbs. I walked along the top of the ridge and then away from the river through woodland, until the Path came out to roads. For the last 3 miles to Chepstow, the Path was along a mixture of footpaths and roads with no consistency. Sometimes there would be a vista of the River Severn.

Then, the path would go the other way, and it would overlook the River Wye. But finally it settled for being in the middle without giving a view of either and was rather dull. But, finally I arrived back in Chepstow, arriving as the clock struck 3. That was about 5 hours and 45 minutes to cover about 12½ miles. Rarely have I walked more slowly.

As a co-incidence, I was sitting in my car munching a sandwich I'd bought from the local supermarket when the taxi driver (M&R Taxis) who took me to Redbrook pulled up on the road nearby and I ambled over to say hello and thank you again.

So, after about 7 hours of walking over two days, I have achieved 13.9 miles of the trail which is very nearly 8% of the complete distance. I shall return.