Black Mountains, bogginess and (near) brushes with death...

Yesterday Diana and I went out training in the Black Mountains. We had decided to go over to Wales a) in order to attempt some hills and b) because we were having a manicure each in Chepstow! We set off bright and early, but despite leaving at 8.45 am we didn't start walking until noon - a combination of the manicure being very relaxing and the Black Mountains being further away than we thought! I'm sure we were the walkers with the nicest nails up in the hills though...

We began our walk with immediate hard work - climbing up to a cairn, which we could just about see in the rolling cloud that intermittently shielded the summit. Unfortunately my back has been playing up this week, partly because I had a difficult spinal tap done on Monday, and it didn't take too kindly to the strain I was putting it under, so I had to pause more often than I would have liked. I'm very aware I need to improve my speed up hills, as currently even without back injuries I'm something of a tortoise! Three-quarters of the way up I think if someone had offered to magically fly me home I would have seriously considered agreeing, but I realised it was all worth it when we finally reached the first summit. The view was amazing! Diana was very intrigued when she spotted something that looked like a crashed light aircraft in the valley on the other side, but I was more concerned by how high up we were and how windy it suddenly seemed. I haven't done any proper hillwalking for about 10 years, and thought I'd grown out of my childhood dislike of heights. Turns out I haven't completely! I was trying to suppress twinges of fear as we set off along the ridge. Diana's assurances that it had been lots windier when she and her mum climbed their Scottish munroe helped a bit, as well as thinking to myself that although my jumper was very baggy it was hardly going to turn me into a human kite and sweep me down into the valley! Gradually I forgot to be worried and concentrated on admiring the view, in between making sure I didn't fall over my feet.

The ground underfoot on the mountain was very weird - we think it must have been peat. It looked like very black mud but although feet did sink into it slightly, it was really springy and not at all sticky. It did make walking down slopes more like skiing, as every now and again you would slide as it was so loose! Here is a picture of the odd path, along with the nice nails(!):

(I think my facial expression also shows just how barmy hillwalking can make you. Or maybe I just can't take a good picture...) Anyway, whilst the soil was interesting to walk on, it definitely wasn't easy. There was no way we could have sped over it unless we wanted broken ankles! As it was, we picked our way along the ridge for an hour or so, which was rather cold, blowy and wet. At first I was excited about my first experience of walking through a cloud, but soon realised that it does make for a rather damp and viewless expedition! So, we were quite pleased to find the path down. It wasn't peat, but it was covered in loose rocks which meant that my descent was to the tune of gentle whoops of surprise as every now and again I nearly lost my footing! I think I've forgotten to warn the team that I do tend to make odd noises on walks, especially when concentrating. Oh well, they'll have to put up with it!

Back on solid (for solid, read extremely muddy) ground, we wound our way through fields and lanes on the way back to the car. We had heard a dog barking from some distance off and I remember hoping that it was locked up. However, as we climbed a hill towards an isolated farmhouse, said dog suddenly appeared and crouched right in the middle of the road, looking decidedly threatening. We came to a halt, both rather unnerved, and debated what to do. I'm no great fan of dogs I don't know, having been bitten on two separate occasions in the past, once by a similar border collie working dog. Diana bravely volunteered to take a few steps towards it, but it still didn't look friendly. When I walked forward as well it suddenly started snarling ferociously and dashed at us. It took everything not to turn tail and run - but previous bad experience had taught me that running just makes a dog used to herding sheep chase you! Instead we turned around and swiftly walked away, praying it wouldn't follow. Luckily it didn't, but it did mean we had to retrace our steps for half a mile to a footpath. Jokingly I remarked that it would be ironic if that way was also blocked by a dog - I couldn't believe it when it turned out to be the case! We crossed a cattle grid towards some buildings and all of a sudden THREE dogs pelted out, also barking madly. Given our previous bad experience, we had no desire to try and walk past them, so re-crossed the cattle grid and considered our options. By now it was half past four, and we really needed to get back, so a huge detour was not an option, especially as my back was giving up slightly. We were just attempting to phone for a taxi and trying not to think about how much it would cost when a car drove out of the gliding club by which we were standing. Diana flagged it down and luckily the man inside agreed to drive us past the original Hound of the Baskervilles. Thank goodness for knights in shining armour!

He dropped us at his house, which wasn't far from where Diana's car was parked, so we quickly wandered back, sadly without the time for a hot chocolate in the pub next door. But at least we arrived back in Bristol without being savaged, blown off a hill or abducted by a dodgy gliding enthusiast! All in all, we walked 25,500 steps, climbed about 1000m and covered roughly 10 miles - not so impressive distance-wise but given the terrain hard enough work for four and a half hours!