Offa’s Dyke Day 1.
Distance today: 18.8 miles.
Total distance: 818.7 miles.
Accommodation: wild camping.
10 years together and all I could manage to sort out in time was a (lovely) cake from Baked By Beth and some flowers from The Lily Pad. Sorry Pen. Love you.
Before heading off from the campsite, I made a mental note that some day I would definitely return. It was a special place. What was hard to believe was that it was barely 10 minutes walk from the busy A483 – a road I had driven along many, many times on my way to North Wales. And should you need it, there was also a McDonalds. Mel had told me the best route to get to Chirk and this involved taking the quiet lane which joined onto the B5070. If ever I needed an example of the direct correlation between the fast food industry and the amount of litter/waste it generated, I need look no further than all the discarded McDonalds wrappers, cups and boxes strewn everywhere along the lane. I found it very distressing. What is it with some people? That is just pure fucking laziness. Not forgetting the business model which encouraged this to happen. What do they call it? Negative externalities.
I got to Chirk and decided it didn’t really have much to offer. I couldn’t find either a decent café or a place to buy a map. I stocked up with a few bits and pieces at the Spar convenience store where I very nearly lost my trekking poles. (I left them there and it later took a worryingly long time for my brain to retrace all my steps). Heading along the B4500 as it followed River Ceiriog, Caffi Wylfa was meant to provide tourist information as well as being a café. Sadly, Information was closed so still no map. After a quick cup of tea, I carried on along the road for a couple miles until I reached the point where I turned off to join Offa’s Dyke.
Offa’s Dyke. Section 19 out of 26. At 129+ miles, it was a big one, and more significantly from looking at the altitude plot, I knew I was in for a serious amount of hills. By way of introduction, my first job was to climb up a lot of steep steps which continued on as a steep path. The contrast to the infuriating Maelor Way was almost immediate. The views were just better. And, get this, someone had been along and strimmed the path! It might be the honeymoon period, but I was already feeling a lot happier.
The route passed through some lovely wooded areas and in one of them, I bumped into a woman walking her dog. We chatted as we walked, putting the world to rights, particularly when it came to the environment.
When I reached Trefonen, I was going to treat myself to a pint but the Barley Mow Inn didn’t open for another hour so I had to settle for an ice cream from the post office instead. As it got later, I realized I wasn’t going to find a campsite and started to keep an eye open for wild camping possibilities. At Porth-y-Waen, the trail passed near to Vownog Farm which also appeared to be home to a business called Lavender Kitchen. Subconsciously, I was maybe hoping that people trading under that name would somehow be sympathetic. Happily for me, they were. I found a woman in her garden and asked if there was anywhere I could pitch a tent. She was very cheerful, running through the various options – I think they’re going to put sheep in this field but you should be okay in that field. The field in question was just a little bit back up the lane and would do me fine. I picked a corner hoping that from a distance my tent would blend into the hedge behind. I just needed to clear away a couple of thistles before I pitched my tent and that was me done.
