WYE WYE WYE DELILAH 2-6 JUNE 2025
- davegush
- Jun 6
- 4 min read
Eight fossilising Penguins, with a combined age of 500, visited the beautiful Wye valley for a few days of walking, canoeing, bar games, impromptu singing, japes and buffoonery, and to celebrate Pat Davis’s entry into his 7th decade. We were housed in a very pleasant converted chapel in Crickhowell (from Crug Hywel ‘Hywel’s Mound’, possibly related to the nearby Iron Age hillfort on Table Mountain, and even more implausibly to Table Mountain in Cape Town) the historic capital of Brecknockshire, conveniently close to several well-appointed hostelries. Dai Evans had kindly shouldered the significant burden of assembling, cajoling and administering the opinionated, stubborn and sometimes patronising octet.
We assembled at Ye Old Ferrie Inn in Symonds Yat (mentioned in the 1256 Patent Roll and probably meaning the gate of Sigemund), enjoyed a substantial lunch and then climbed up Symonds Yat Rock for outstanding views along the valley and of the Seven Sisters.
Later we journeyed to the Mound and went to the Bear Hotel, a coaching inn founded in 1432, and enjoyed salt and pepper squid (not local obviously), Welsh beef, Welsh faggots and chicken and leek pie. The traditional pool competition commenced with the Giants gaining an early lead, Hobbits in hot pursuit and the Transients taking a while to get going.
The following morning saw a relatively early start, miraculously with breakfast of sausage, bacon and eggs, for an ascent of Sugar Loaf (596m), formed from Old Red Sandstone, and the southernmost of the Black Mountain peaks. It was gifted to the National Trust by the suffragette Lady Rhondda (1883-1958). Historically named Y Fal by the local Welsh, the name ‘Sugar Loaf’ was introduced on the 18th Century, presumably by the English, or possibly the Brazilians. The summit was very windy and after a reasonably quick descent, at very short notice, we descended onto Dai’s cousin and her husband and drank all their beer. A late lunch in the Abergavenny Weatherspoon’s pub followed and, recognising that we were to visit his grave the next day, a toast to Paul Scanlan was suggested. Kolin therefore went to the bar to order a round of port. A few minutes later the barman appeared with 8 pints of Coors. Kolin did accept that there may perhaps have been a communication error, and also admitted that he had been curious to see the barmen pouring pints of lager immediately after taking the order for port, but did not wish to question why. We eventually returned by bus to Crickhowell and had an excellent evening in the Dragon Inn, enjoying Welsh lamb cawl, haunch of venison, and Dragon burger with some pub games miraculously won by Team Transient.
Day 3 saw an early start and drive to Glaysbury. We paid a tribute at Paul Scanlan’s graveside, drank a toast to his memory (in port this time) and then set off to Wye Valley canoe hire.
Following a safety briefing and donning of life jackets we set off as a small flotilla. The Hobbits and Transients seemed relatively competent, and the mixed Dwarf/Orc crew, in HMS Dorc, managed well enough. It was assumed that the Giants, having by far the greatest mass, would ride a little low in the water but would be very stable. Au contraire! Come the first rapids (well not really rapids, more slightly ruffled water) the Giants capsized and were left floundering. They eventually dragged everything to the bank, tipped the water out of their canoe and continued downstream, wet, chastened and being derisively congratulated by the rest of Middle Earth. Lunch was at the superbly located Three Tuns pub in Hay on Wye (which despite its name is in Wales) and was a languid affair. In the afternoon, we continued paddling, sighting Egrets, Herons, Sand Martins, Kites, Great Crested Grebe, Swans, Buzzards and, luckily for Geraint, no Pterodactyls, until having completed 14 miles we disembarked at The Boat Inn, Whitney on Wye.
We returned to The Mound and embarked on an evening celebrating Pat’s 60th birthday. A relaxed drink in the tropical paradise that is the Brittania Inn before returning for ‘Dai Evans unplugged’ with his ukelele, some excellent home made cider, some questionable singing, reprising of oft told anecdotes and a ‘who is best at imitating Tarzan’s chimpanzee Cheetah’ competition.
The next morning it was raining. What to do? Obviously stage a mini Olympics tournament (table tennis, bag game, dominoes and crash jenga). Debate continues as to which team won but it is clear that the Hobbits had a calamitous ending to the Jenga. Eventually the sun came out and we walked along the canal towpath to the delightful hamlet of Llangynidr and the marvellous Coach and Horses Inn. The games continued with hard fought dominoes, and backgammon with some suicidal doubling. The Transients were victorious in all of these but argument still rages over whether this was a designated Olympic venue. Eventually, unable to resolve the issue, despite a quantity of Butty Bach, we rang for a taxi. Unfortunately the number given was someone’s answering machine. Following expert negotiation from our principal organiser we managed to strike a deal with the off duty barman to drive us back to The Mound for a very reasonable fee.
An outstanding few days of beautiful scenery, great food, endless 20th century reminiscences, buffoonery and questionable singing. Many Thanks to Dai Evans for his organisation, good humour and tolerance. Next year will see us in one of a number of places, possibly Exmoor or The Cotswolds or indeed The Isle of Wight or Brazil. Dates will be advertised in good time.
The Octet: Jem Boothroyd, Dave Evans, Mick Martin, Geraint Thomason, Tony Wilson, Charlie Beardmore, Pat Davis, Nigel White.
