We traveled by train and taxi to Hay-on-Wye, a sister town to Timbuktu. (For reals.) The connections were easy, and it was nice to see the countryside en route.
After checking in to the B&B, we had lunch at a place Sarah's friends recommended, the cafe at Richard Booth's Bookshop:
Thus fortified, we set out on the first of our four half-day walks. We headed south on the Offa's Dyke trail toward Hay Bluff.
The first field contained a flock of sheep, some of whom (not pictured here) were lying down in a circle around a tree.
I dubbed that first group the Blue Flock, due to the farmer's choice of spray paint. As we went on, the sky was overcast, but not threatening. Yet.
As we ascended a very gradual slope through a meadow, we quickly gained some nice views:
We went through many pastures with varying stiles.
Then we spotted this sheep - well, I mean, I guess it was already spotted before we got there, really...
This one (part of a rival Red Flock) I thought had a rather bovine pose and expression, as opposed to a classically ovine one:
Soon after we saw these three sheep, we saw two old men sitting on a rock at the field we'd just entered. They were resting, or eating snacks, or something. They didn't say hello, and we didn't either. We were too busy trying to read the faint imprints that would reveal the path of the official trail through the pasture. We concluded that it must veer a bit to the right. Before us, there were patches of sun on the fields from time to time, giving them a preternatural glow:
This was the first and only ladder-style stile that we saw. It was very easy to climb:
Which turned out to be a good thing, because by the time we reached the far end of the field, it became clear that there was no stile to exit that side.
And so we walked the entire perimeter of the field - I was going to say "bootlessly" but we were, in fact, wearing boots.
We finally climbed back into the previous field and set off in what we were reasonably sure now was the correct direction.
and some trail markers:
Things were definitely looking up.
We weren't sure, especially after the big detour, if we'd be able to make it to even the base of Hay Bluff, let alone all the way to the top, and then make it back in time for our dinner reservation. But we gave it a shot, and the bluff kept getting closer ... and closer ... and before we knew it, we were passing by the mountain sheep on our final approach to the top of the bluff. The one in the middle seemed more menacing in real life (I think it was a ram), but I love the Poltergeist-style neck spinning of the one on the right:
The clouds became more ominous, but if you look closely, you may be able to see the "rays" streaming down in this photo:
Atop the bluff, fields of heather made me feel like I was back in Scotland (Ah! to be in Scotland as summertime turns to autumn!):
I think this picture of Sarah was the most successful of my experiments with the self-timer on my camera:
We did a lot better when we collared a passing walker to take the photo:
Sheep nestled in the fold of the hillside as we began the descent:
We'd climbed up the long and difficult way, so we took a "shortcut" down.
Sarah thought the yellow flowering bushes were gorse. After seeing gorse bushes in literature for so many years (in works by Richmal Crompton, P.G. Wodehouse, J.R.R. Tolkien, C.S. Lewis, etc.), it was really cool to learn what gorse actually looks like! I'd had no idea.
The return trip was far quicker and easier, a pattern that would be repeated on each of our outings. I liked the bits of fleece left on the wire fence (presumably from itchy sheep):
On the way back, we saw all the trail markers we'd missed in the big field where we'd gone astray earlier in the afternoon. Including the very first and very large trail marker that we should have seen on entering the field, the one that the two old men had been obscuring by sitting on it!!! Because of course it was only their interference, and not our tracking or map-reading skillz, that caused us to miss our way.
I stopped to take pictures of the beautiful brown chick, perhaps a sport?
So cute on promenade!
Taking refuge behind Mom?
Back in Hay-on-Wye, we had time to stroll around the town before our dinner at the Old Black Lion.
Based on the profusion of bright flowers in Cardiff and Hay, we thought it might be "Britain in Bloom" week.
Contrails in the twilight:
Hay Castle:
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