Blown Away

It didn’t look too bad out when I jumped in the car and set off for the hills. There was a bit of a breeze, and the radio was telling me about gale and storm warnings for Scotland and the East coast. But the sea looked calm and I wasn’t concerned.

I was heading for Pen y Fan and Corn Du. On my first trek, these were my training hills of choice. I watched my fitness improve by seeing the time it took to get to the top drop by over half an hour in the space of 6 months. But having climbed them more than 40 times, they became too familiar and, usually, very crowded. I preferred other hills and after the treks, I stayed away. But today I needed the steady climb these two offered.

I started off from the Storey Arms car park. This route takes longer and has an ‘up-down-up’ profile that is great for mental preparation as well as physical. Just as you’ve climbed the first bit, you lose all that height gain as you drop back down to a little stream. Visible ahead for the whole of this descent is the re-ascent.

Once I’d set the pace, I found the going quite easy. I wasn’t rushing – there was no need. But I found I didn’t have to take a break  and I kept the plodding pace going. Before long I was on the re-ascent and feeling great. The wind picked up a little but nothing of any note. Before long I could see the shoulder of the hill, where the path to Tommy Jones’ memorial joins the route up to Corn Du. Just before reaching there, the wind picked up a lot more and began to gust strongly. Although it was blowing from behind, it didn’t help me as it was catching my backpack, which acted like a sail and blew me off course. The further I went, the harder the wind gusted.

At the shoulder, the constant wind was strong and the gusts stronger. The path changed direction and the wind was blowing from my right side. I made sure I was away from the edge on my left as the wind was now pushing me off course most of the time. As I climbed, it got worse and I found myself having to lean to my right just to keep going straight. Every time I lifted a foot to step forward, the wind would pivot me on my other foot. I couldn’t get a rhythm going and it made for tiring work.

The last part of this route is steep, slippery and hard going underfoot. And just before the summit, the wind became almost impossible to battle. I sat just below the edge of Corn Du, using the lip of rock as a brace, which I had to hold on to with both hands. Had I stood up at this point, I would have been carried across the flat summit to the northern edge, which is the express route down. I stayed like this for a minute or so until the wind died slightly. When I stood up, I was immediately pushed with some force onto the summit and only a combination of leaning back into the wind, digging my heels in to gaps between rocks and using my walking pole as a brace stopped me from going over. Even so, I was taking reluctant steps in the wrong direction.

I spent 10 seconds on Corn Du before I realised I had to get off and in to shelter before the wind picked up again. But the problem was, which way to go. I couldn’t have gone back the way I came as I’d been blown away before I could get any firm footing. There was only one way to go – east towards Pen y Fan. Crossing the summit was an ordeal and several times I was carried forward by gusts. Then I reached the little path off the top. This is made up of naturally formed steps and as soon as I started down these, the wind began to push me off balance again. I was struggling now and a little worried about getting off in one piece.

Further down the path I spotted three people sheltering by the side of the path, I decided to join them and took a few more steps. The next thing I knew, a gust knocked my legs from under me and I went skidding down the path. Fortunately, I was off the worst of the rocks steps and although painful, I wasn’t hurt (although as I type, my left wrist is painful where I landed on it). I sat in front of the walkers and I couldn’t help laughing. It turned out that all three had gone over in the same place.

They made to move off and the wind caught them. One went flying backwards, only just staying on his feet. The other two bent low and too small steps as the forced their way uphill. I got up, got blown forward but managed to keep my balance and slowly made my way to the gap between Corn Du and Pen y Fan. I was beginning to doubt whether I should go further. The path ran close to the edge on the left and I left it to move further to the right. Even so, the strong wind was pushing me to the left, and the gusts on top were almost like someone shoving me. In the end, I decided to let common sense prevail. I’ve been on Pen y Fan in the wind and it’s worse than Corn Du. And there are more edges to fall off.

Almost as soon as I’d made the decision, I found myself flat on my back again as the wind had beaten me once more. I turned to head around Corn Du as I knew the path was a little more sheltered but it was almost impossible to make headway against the constant force and the gusts. I could barely breathe as the wind was now in my face. Each gust snapped abruptly, making it hard to compensate in time and for a third time I found myself  blown over, this time close to a steep slope which might have seen my tumbling down to the valley below.

Time for a quick exit! As I made my stop start way along the path, the wind began to die down in intensity until suddenly I found myself in a strangely calm and quiet part of the path. Corn Du was deflecting the wind to either side and I could see the mist ahead swirling back and forth. I had five minutes of this calm, which was most welcome, before the wind began to pick up again. I expected the worst to be on the bwlch where the Corn Du path meets the one coming up from Pont ar Daf. Most times I’ve come up that way, the wind has been bad at the top. Today it was no worse that at other times. I guess the mass of Corn Du was affecting the wind patterns.

Grateful for some respite, I headed down the path. It was easy going despite a constant wind, still from the right. I stopped to chat with a chap making his way up and I warned him about the wind, He dismissed it because, as he said, ‘I come up this way every week and I’m off to Brecon for a cup of coffee’. Good for him!

Getting down to Pont ar Daf was quick and I arrive back at the car only two hours after I’d left it. I was amused to see my phone GPS had logged my route as over 160km in two hours – giving me an average speed of around 80km per hour. I have been training a lot recently, but I was fairly sure there was some kind of error and sure enough, when I checked at home, it seems it had been logging me at three points some 20km apart in a triangle over and over.

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Blowin’ in the wind

It was raining as we headed off to Rhossili. Grey clouds filled the sky but I could see they were moving quickly and over to the east there was a glimpse of sun and blue sky. With any luck, I thought, it would clear by the time we got there. And it did. At Rhossili, the rain had stopped and the sky was definitely lighter. We set off through the lanes to climb on to Rhossili Down. By the time we’d got half way up the wind had picked up to a point where it made walking against it hard. At the trig point, the wind was strong enough to unbalance me, and Rufus was being pushed sideways as he walked. All his fur, left to grow long for the cold weather, was blowing over to one side. When I faced the wind direction, it was hard to breath.

I love being on top of Rhossili Down. The view is spectacular for miles in every direction. Today I could see over to Llanelli and Pembrey. A rainbow hovered over the coast between Llanelli and Burry Port. The sun shone on the ridge of Cefn Bryn and the farm land around it, highlighting the fields and hedges. The same sunlight shone on the sea off Oxwich bay. It was rough and the sun reflected off the white water. Over the village of Rhossili, Worm’s Head was lit up by a shaft of sunlight to stand out against the darker see. White waves crashed up against its side.

We moved on, battered by the wind until we left the crest of the Down and dropped into the shelter of the col where the radar station was sited. This provided a welcome break from the cold and we stopped so I could take some photos. I could see surfers in the breakers on Rhossili beach and the waves looked good. You can see our route here.

On the way back, the wind was coming from the left, and I felt the cold in my left eye for some reason. Rufus was off chasing crows, who simply floated above him on the wind, just out of reach. Negotiating the slope down, which was slick with watery mud, was tricky but I managed it without falling. At the bottom, both of us were still feeling energetic so I decided that we’d drop down to the beach.

The path down to the beach leads through the site of the Medieval village of Rhossili, now lost to the sand. Humps and bumps in the ground, along with the occasional glimpse of stonework, indicates where the village was. A small stream flows through the area and is slowly eroding the earth bank away. A few years ago, several human bones were washed out of the earth as part of the early church graveyard was uncovered by the stream.

The beach was pretty much deserted. The occasional wind gusted across, blowing sand and spray along with it. In the breakers, one or two hardy surfers remained. The wind took the spray off the tops of the waves, blowing it back out to sea. A faint rainbow appeared each time this happened. Rufus and I walked along the base of the cliffs towards the surf. Sheep grazed on the hillside, in seemingly impossible places on near vertical strips of grass. We passed the wreck of a small ship nestles, sheltering, in the folds of the cliff and half buried in the sand.

At the water’s edge, it was very windy and I couldn’t tell whether the tide had turned and was coming in or not. Not wishing to be stranded, we turned back for the beach again and we headed on to the wreck of the Helvetia. I’ve been back to this many times over the years; it features in iconic images of Rhossili beach and I’ve snapped it myself loads of times. Today, as I took photos, we were both sandblasted by the wind as strong gusts blew along the beach.

It was getting cold and dark clouds looked as if they were heading in our direction, so we climbed up the earth bank near the little stream, and plodded our way back along the rough track to the car. I chatted to a couple of surfers who had spent the early morning in the sea. They said it had been a great morning but now the wind was up, it was getting harder to ride the waves.

Back home, Rufus decided to use me to help him dry off, and he fell asleep on my lap as we watched TV.

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