Day 55
Chepstow to Bigsweir Bridge: 10 miles
Favorite castle of the day: St. Briavel's, aka the castle we spent the night in
Reason: We spent the night in a for real 11th century castle - dog wheel and all. . .
So it finally happened - I actually walked all the way to the Wales-England border. After snapping all the pictures on the bridge between the countries in Chepstow, eating all the food Cardiff had to offer while using reward points to stay in a nice hotel where everyone was kind enough to not make any comments about how gross I am (and where I also used their locker room bathing suit centrifuge to quick-dry my washed clothes during my rest day), I started back out on the Offa's Dyke Path.
Not Sure What to Expect
To be honest, I haven't been entirely sure what to expect from this path - I'd looked far more into the Wales Coast Path, and living in western Wales had far less of a sense what eastern Wales is like. People I met in Cardiff said the word 'undulating' many many times, and from the looks of the map the trail looked like it could get rather remote.
Given transport between possible stops looked close to non-existent, I decided to go about this like a proper through hike - or as proper as a foreigner who is all too aware that while rough camping is sometimes quietly tolerated it is in fact illegal in this country can do. In other words, rather than plan on illegally camping in a tent on an empty mountainside - I booked a series of places to walk into along the way. These conveniently included hostels, homestays, B&Bs, inns, but also an 11th century castle and a 12th century priory. So that should be fun.
But the main decision I had to make, then, was how I wanted to travel in terms of bags. After thinking about what to do, I bought a tiny little red daypack, possibly smaller than the backpack I had in high school, and filled it with water, a map, my compass, my waterproof jacket, my toothbrush, and a bunch of pairs of underwear and socks. I decided I could wear the same bottom and top for the next week and just wash them when I got the chance.
Anyway - the walk started out as a very nice change. Although I've loved the vistas of the Wales Coast Path, I have to say I've been missing trees. And for today at least the Offa's Dyke Path provided them in abundance. While the path rose and fell and rose and fell and rose and fell several times beside the remains of Offas Dyke, and the summer sun passed in and out of the clouds above the treetops, I really enjoyed walking in the relatively uniform temperatures of the forest. I also suddenly realized how much easier it is to walk when there's no seabreeze.
There was one point where, while walking on a tiny road with no sidewalk, I ended up screaming violently at a car who almost ran me over rather than just slow the hell down when suddenly there was another car coming the other way. But I didn't let that spoil my day.
Regardless, although at first I couldn't see much through the trees, the path clearly was continuously rising and eventually skirted a massive cliff. One of these cliffs has a spot called Wintour's Leap, named after a royalist who escaped pursuers during the civil war by jumping off the cliff into the river, far below. That said - there weren't all that many places where you could actually see out of the trees.
The Abbey on the River
But when I did find one (right after meeting up with P, who was back in town so I could again restock my supplies - although the story of how that went wrong I'll tell in another post), it had a particularly lovely view - right over the massive remains of Tintern Abbey, a surprisingly intact 12th century Cistercian Abbey. There was an even better view at Devil's Pulpit - where the devil himself was said to have preached to try to tempt the monks below. Unfortunately another walker appeared to be trying to have her own calendar shoot, and showed no signs of retreating from her spot on the pulpit anytime soon, so I don't have great pictures.
Seeing the views down to the Abbey, I decided we should make the most of our CADW membership and head down there ourselves, see what there was to see, have a drink, and then continue on another few miles.
Once we got down to the Abbey site, it was immediately obvious that the building was even more impressive up close than seen from afar. As it had been shut down by Henry VIII during the Reformation, you'd think that it would be in a similar state to other abbeys I've seen - like Strata Florida where remains are sparse. But instead of a few archways and rocks here and there, Tintern Abbey had the real deal - rows of arches, empty giant stone frames for gothic windows, many, many, rooms and layer on layer of stonework. It was easy to walk around slowly, take a seat, and get lost in wondering what it used to look like.
I can't say I understand why a building on the border, where buildings on contested land surely suffered during conflicts, would have survived so intact. But I'm glad it did - even if I only managed to see it on a grey day where my pictures aren't going to do it justice.
After soaking in the Abbey, we went for a drink at a nearby pub (there are many) right outside the Abbey's walls. Soon thereafter, I found myself back on the trail, where I was immediately almost hit by a boat - something you'd think would be hard to do while walking, except that it was attached to the roof of a car. I compromised with the driver by having them stop, then climbing slowly over the side doors of their car, half in the hedges, until they could drive along.
A few more miles of hilly trees later, we ended up at Bigsweir Bridge - another border crossing between England and Wales - and decided to call it a day. After checking into our castle digs for the evening (the UK Youth Hostel Association runs a hostel in St. Briavels' castle), we immediately went to the pub next door for food. Due to what I hope was an unintentional mix up on the part of the bartender, we ended up with two pints before learning that the kitchen was closed due to 'an incident'. It was odd because we asked for the menu at the same time as the pints - yet somehow no one thought to mention there wasn't food until we ordered food.
Anyway, what this meant was we needed to drive somewhere to eat. And we had two pints in front of us. Taking one for the team, I agreed to drink a 1.9 pints of relatively strong ale in 15 minutes so that P could safely drive us the 25 minutes to Monmouth in time to actually be fed.
Lucky for P, I'm truly a delight when I'm drunk. Or I hope for the sake of the staff at Pizza Express that I am, I'm kind of fuzzy on the details. The main thing I remember is coming back to our castle for the evening, and learning about why there was a giant hamster wheel above the fireplace in one room. Apparently it's the only remaining example in the world of a dog spit - don't worry, it's where a dog runs in a giant hamster wheel to turn the spit that's holding the meat in the fire. From what I recall I made plans to build a similar spit at home, but that it would be run by a cat. Because I like my meat done charred on one side and raw on the other.
