Outdoor adventure in
The Brecon Beacons
Adèle Donaghie heads for the Brecon Beacons and discovers walking heaven

Designated a national park in 1957, the Brecon Beacons in mid-Wales is a Mecca for ramblers. Adèle and her mum, took to the hills to try out four walks in the area.

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Adèle Donaghie and mum, Brigitte
Outfit used
Ford Focus CC and Eifelland Deseo Plus

The Brecon Beacons is one of those rare areas that never seems to get clogged by the crawling conga of tourists on the trail of beautiful Britain. I visited with my mum, Brigitte, during August Bank holiday, but there was little traffic and parking was a doddle. For that reason alone I can see why my mum, a keen walker, and her group of ramblers often opt for the Beacons over the Lake or Peak districts.
The Brecon Beacon National Park, in south Wales, is home to sheltered woods, windswept moors, dramatic peaks and sparkling waterways, as well as Welsh legend and history. Its glacier-carved landscape is dominated by flat-topped, green-clad sandstone formations. The shadows of the clouds that sweep their flanks make them look like verdant waves about to crash on the plains below. Place names such as Mynydd Du, Bannau Brycheiniog and Fforest Fawr seem to belong in some Tolkienian fantasy land, which mum and I were going to explore through a series of walks.
The park covers three main ranges:
the Black Mountains that stand watch over the English/Welsh border; the somewhat confusingly named Black Mountain (to avoid any muddle, some people refer to these peaks as the Carmarthen Fan); and the eponymous Beacons between them. Any walking trip here should start at the Mountain Centre, in the shadow of the central Beacons, where you can pick up leaflets, maps and books, and get detailed guidance from the super-helpful wardens about the paths that will suit you best.
The wardens are fastidious in their advice because, although the hills are blessed with some fantastically easy routes, many walkers have come a cropper on these hills when the weather changes quickly or cloud settles over the moors. Staff advise walkers always to take plenty of food, water and warm clothes even for short strolls on sunny days. We were blessed with fine weather all week, but the wind was vicious on the summits, which made me grateful for my woolly hat and thick fleece.
Kitted out with Ordnance Survey Explorer maps 12 and 13, plus helpful hints from the wardens, mum and I returned to Pencelli Castle Caravan & Camping Park, our base for the week.

Time 3.5 hours

How strenuous 4/5

How technical 1/5

Refreshments Snack vans in layby

Start/finish Storey Arms car park

This pair of scowling, sandstone hunks are the stars of the park. You can see the brooding flat-topped giants from most places in the area. Just when you think you've evaded their gaze, they re-appear from beyond a lonely moor to remind you that, at 2907ft, Pen-y-fan is the highest point in south Wales. No trip to the park would be complete without a bracing hike to their peaks. Although it's a yomp through dramatic landscape, it's no walk in the park; any of the many approaches involves a fair share of going straight up. But with the right weather any pain from sore legs and aching lungs melts away when you take in the breathtaking views from the top. If you follow our route, the steepness of the ascent will be the only troubling factor. The paths are as easy to navigate as highways, so you can concentrate on the vista.
Boot up at the Storey Arms car park. Don't be fooled into thinking the white buildings house a pub; they are actually home to an educational centre. The car park, however, is free for public use. Get here early, though; by 10.30am the 50 or so spaces are likely to be full.
Cross the road towards the buildings; a telephone box stands to the right. Climb over the wooden gate next to it and you're on the pathway that leads to the top of Pen-y-Fan.
This is affectionately called ‘the M4', due to its width and partly to the traffic that passes over it. However, once you see the spongy bogs this terrain is famed for, you'll be thankful for the paving beneath your feet.
Depending on your fitness, you might want to take a breather; I certainly did after about 20 minutes of going uphill. I masked my unfitness with the excuse of looking at the view, which was thoroughly rewarding. The ascent faced the grassy flanks of Fan Fawr; due south I could see the Beacons Reservoir, a glistening gash in the sun-washed landscape.
A couple of gulps of water and it's up, up and away - quite literally. Your interim goal looms progessively larger above you: the flat top of Corn Du, 2864ft above sea level. The path flattens over moorland, but it's best to keep your head down or keep your eyes left or right - looking ahead will only reveal the steep final ascent to the summit. So I did as my mother was doing: head down to watch one foot step before the other. It was working for her: she was soon a long way ahead of me.
However, she did start to slow; I wondered, uncharitably, whether age was catching up with her. After catching up, I realised it wasn't the tide of time but, rather, a wind blowing across the Usk plain that hit the flanks of the Beacons like a freight train. If you come with children, hold onto them, and keep dogs on a tight lead, because the wind is very strong, even on the clearest days, and the drop to the north is sheer.
Peering over the edge carefully you can see Llyn Cwm llwch. Legend has it that a terrible being rules this lake, which the villagers of Brecon had planned to drain into a trench. However, the sky blackened, the wind howled and a fearsome eddy boiled up within the lake. A spirit rose from the water and threatened to drown the town and the whole of the Vale of Usk. Sensibly they desisted and went home.
This was the hardest part of the walk, but it was a sharp shock that would last only 35 minutes. So with our heads down, we pressed on. The Beacons have an invigorating power: you can be toiling uphill, silently cursing whoever had suggested the climb and then you reach the top. Magically, all the pain, gasping and recriminations melt away as you reap the rewards of having made it.
These summits are actually fairly modest, but the flat land around them makes you feel that you've climbed a towering peak. We allowed ourselves to be seduced by the scene before following the path for another 20 minutes to our ultimate goal: Pen-y-Fan. We stood on the summit for two minutes before the piercing wind forced us to take shelter on the south side. With our retreat, the seasons changed, and we peeled off our fleeces and woolly hats. This would have been a brilliant, sheltered picnic spot, had it not been for a couple of pesky sheep. We were just tucking into Welsh cakes, bought from our site's shop, when the fluffy thieves descended upon us. They had no fear of humans, despite my mother's admonishments and startling ninja moves.
I, however, was more preoccupied with the risk of aerial bombardment by crows. It was time to descend.
We followed the south path below the summit of Corn Du, which is much gentler than the ascent, so we met many people going the opposite way, including couples and families, young and old. But, personally, I prefer the short sharp shock of the ascent.See the Jan 08 issue for walks 2 and 3.
Extract

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SEE ALSO IN THE JAN 08 ISSUE OF PRACTICAL CARAVAN
The above full article with all its photographs, full info on each recommended caravan park, places to eat, places to visit, and details of useful local services.

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