Ges Armor walking Offa's Dyke

2008-10-13T05:07:00.000-07:00

Last orders!

2008-10-13T04:40:00.000-07:00

We are 90% of the way to target!
I am currently sourcing a llama for a re-creation of R L Stevenson's romp with a donkey sur le plateau de Haute- Soane.

www.justgiving.com/gesonoffasdyke

2008-10-07T12:13:00.000-07:00

The moorland past World's End. (missed the path cost 2 hours)
The path regained.
The ford at Worlds End. (note the stepping stones for the more cautious-thx walker)
First set back that day- no way down the front. (cost 2.5 hours)
Herbert Jones(82) Inspiring 29th Independent Ulster Rifleman. Veteran

2008-10-07T12:02:00.000-07:00

Railway viaduct a little closer.
The magical Wednesday with a pot of gold at paths end
The ubiquitous view.
The trail is well marked with binary choice.
Llandegla forest darkening.

2008-10-07T11:54:00.000-07:00

Field bridge on the Llangollen Canal.
Walking into Llangollen along the towpath.
Railway viaduct from the aqueduct at Pont Cysyllte
About to walk across the aqueduct in high wind.

2008-10-07T11:48:00.000-07:00

The 'Lilliput Arms' closed when I passed, due to staff shortages.
Montgomery canal crossing the Severn River.
The Severn River near Llanymynech.

2008-10-07T11:38:00.000-07:00

I stumbled on this secret Mafia meeting. ( Gun dog trials)
The Herberts at rest in St Nicholas' Church, Montgomery.
Montgomery from its castle.
The walk following secret paths of old.
looking back at the limestone outcrops of Llanymynech

2008-10-06T13:10:00.000-07:00

The Wye from the A438
The Hills Have Eyes.
Hergest Ridge. Slept here 4th night.
Sam Gamgee with lurchers. 34 foxes and 84 rabbits and the season barely started!
Monkey puzzle trees commemorating Mrs Banks atop Hergest Ridge.

2008-10-06T13:00:00.000-07:00

Hay on Wye Castle. Now with an honesty book shop within.
The clock tower H-on-W
The Seven Stars Inn, swimming pool, sauna and diabetic dog.
Back on the trail over the Wye.

2008-10-06T12:48:00.000-07:00

View of the Black Mountains ahead.
Hatterall ridge
Black Darren
Looking back at Hay bluff never more exhausted and about to get lost.

2008-10-06T12:25:00.000-07:00

White Castle (Cadw), near Treadam.
Monmouth from the Kymin Tower

Big moles at Llantilio Crossenny.
St Cadoc church at Llangattock Lingoed.

2008-10-06T12:09:00.000-07:00

Plenty of deep woods.
.Wrestling bulls was a daily pastime
The Oak Tree. Cover for the second night.

The Wye
The fortified bridge at Monmouth.
Split personalities catered for!

2008-10-06T11:54:00.000-07:00

A posh pile by the Wye
The Wye from the cliff edge. Looking south.
Looking north west
Tintern Abbey (just a photograph!)
End of the first day. The v. comfortable Florence BB at St Brievels.

2008-10-06T11:09:00.001-07:00

Practice was a walk along the Mersey at Parr's Wood
Pre-walk R&R in London
Chepstow Castle on the way to the start.
Bridge over the river Wye.
An early Dyke modification.

2008-10-05T15:51:00.001-07:00

http://www.justgiving.com/gesonoffasdyke

2008-10-05T15:47:00.001-07:00

2008-10-05T02:06:00.000-07:00

On my final day, due to unofficial meanderings yesterday, I had to walk 30 miles. I knew the 11 days training would make this a breeze. I jogged the last half mile to beat the fading light. It felt great to finish. It still does.

There are about ten hills on this section along the Clwydian Range with god-like views of both England and Wales. I watched a heavy shower inundate the valley from St Asaph back to Ruthin while I remained sun drenched on the hills.
From Moel Dywyll I could see Ty Coch the farmhouse run by my great x 4 granddad Edwarde Armor.

This whole walk centres on Offa's desire to delineate the border between England and Wales and though it describes a later time Gaunt's panegyrical speech in Richard ll sums it up

This royal throne of kings, this scepter'd isle
This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars,
This other Eden, demi-paradise;
This fortress built by nature for herself
Against infection and the hand of war;
This happy breed of men, this little world;
This precious stone set in a silver sea,
Which serves it in the office of a wall,
Or as a moat defensive to a house,
Against the envy of less happier lands;
This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England,
This nurse, this teeming womb of royal kings....

Wild Wales to the east of the dyke for the most part hidden in hills what quote could sum it up?
Take your pick:

To be born in Wales, not with a silver spoon in your mouth, but, with music in your blood, and with poetry in your soul, is a privilege indeed.
Brian Harris

Moving from Wales to Italy is like moving to a foreign country.
Ian Rush

Restoring the Welsh language in Wales is nothing less than a revolution. It is only through revolutionary means that we shall succeed.
Saunders Lewis.

Keep the money rolling in those who waited for me to finish and thanx again to those who supported me. xx

Graham Martin Charity Marathon

2008-10-04T12:07:00.000-07:00

Doug Martin's brother Graham is running in a marathon today for the worthy cause of The East Cheshire Hospice. Their dad spent his last few days there. They did a sterling job of looking after John Devine too, so forget the credit crunch and put your hands back in your pockets for Graham.
Here's the link:

http://www.justgiving.com/grahammartin2

2008-10-04T11:11:00.000-07:00

2008-10-04T04:55:00.000-07:00

Wednesday was an extraordinary day, It began with Lance Collyer, colleague and friend from the old days in Brighton getting in touch and immediately sponsoring me. When my brother died he stuck me on a plane to Manchester, and a number of strange encounters all involving fully grown men and women bursting out crying in front of me. I almost signed up to the Seventh Day Adventists, Jehovah's Whatsits, or making a sect of my own. It showed me I suppose that we communicate to each other in more ways than one.
That day the wind blew hard, stirring the trees in the wood, and my feelings as I thought back to those days in Brighton/Manchester. I followed the model of the oaks and bore the ferocity of the winds with equanimity. Great arking rainbows appeared all day to compensate, (the pictures are being processed as we speak. -the battery ran out on my digital, I've resorted to throwaways-)

Paul Banks has donated, Thanks Paul, I'm sure you know I was only recording what I perceived the feelings among the rest of us to be when you were jumping around that dance floor at Toft Cricket club in a white suit! Where are you 'cutting a rug' these days? I'd love to know. (Before Paul & I swapped 'tashes. John Green is now a gaucho in Argentina, Hiya John, pesos welcome,gracias)

http://www.justgiving.com/gesonoffasdyke

Thursday, (after a pleasant walk along the Llangollen canal had taken me into the town itself and an evening of sophisticated repast care of Gales wine bar), was a day best summed up by Burns: "The best laid plans of mice and men oft gan awry" The plan was to walk twenty miles today and leave plenty of time to saunter into Prestatyn.
Leaving the town center and climbing up around the old hill fort of Castell Dinas Bran, I came a junction at the foot of the craggy Egiwyseg. Instead of turning left to creep around its lower scree slopes I turned right and ended up at the Prospect tea rooms. After a refreshing cuppa and my sense of direction re-tuned I marched back towards that junction, passing as I did a 90 degree path which seemed to cut right across the top, so up it I went.
The theory was correct but in practice it took me straight over to the cliff edge. I walked along it to see if there was any way down. Only one. I had to shuffle down the mountain to find no stile in sight and while there are never any passing cars on these lanes, you can be sure of one appearing as you ungainly catch your pants on the barbed wire.

despite losing 3 hours on that wrong turning, the silver lining was meeting an octogenarian on that path who was steadying himself to take a picture of the valley below.
"Bore da" he said to me,
"bore da" I replied.
"Are you Welsh?" he asked. I told him that a lot of me was and when got into lengthy discussions about Welsh names and his life. He was 82, the same age my father would have been. You're never far from the circle I thought. His name was Herbert Jones, He had married an East German girl whilst stationed there in the fifties, a survivor of a pow camp in Korea where they had been marched 400 miles. This put my little jaunt in a different light, 176 miles, a mere bagatelle! We swapped addresses he said "I'll send you a Christmas card" well you could have knocked me down with a feather, hadn't I only referred to Christmas cards in an earlier blog! I skipped along towards the right track trying to compose a pithy maxim that might bring this experience to future generations. "When one dad dies, you're sure to meet another in the mountains", "friend in follows father out", er.. well it needed some work but I had plenty of time.

World's end is the appropriately named place one enters as one turns away from the great limestone outcrops aforementioned at the hairpin bend just before the dreaded ford in the road.
The ford ( see photo on Monday) was like any other, two inches of water crossing ten feet of road like a flattened weir. But underneath that water and before road starts is 3mm of algae that is lying in wait for the unsuspecting, late, overburdened, not to say weary, hiker. Putting my foot on to the ford caused my whole body (and spirit) to stiffen as the absence of traction sent me and my backpack searching the known universe for sufficient equilibrium to prevent a thorough soaking. That 8 inch slide seemed to take forever but now almost enlightened from this fantastic trip I must have subconsciously tapped into forces previously unavailable to me and all was not lost! Not yet anyway.

For World's End read black hole of Calcutta with heather. The road wound on forever through an unrelenting vista of bleak coloured peat plants, sufficiently uncut that it hid the stone shaped way sign from view leading me to over shoot by a good mile ( i.e. a mile and a half) the path of towards Llandegla Forest. I called over to the farmer's wife at the first farm I met coming back UP the hill, having sensed a missed turn.
"I'm looking for the dyke" I mumbled through a crafty mouthful of chocolate.
"You've missed Brighton by 300 miles" Oh why couldn't that have been her droll rejoinder!
Instead she eyed me quizzically, beady brown Welsh eyes stood out on clear skin under a shock of graying straw ends "You're well passed that, it's at the rock in the passing place." With all the precision of an accountant she had helped me not a jot. The narrow road awash with passing places and the landscape generally rock strewn. So I softened her up by retelling the history of Welsh names according to Herbert Jones. Fascinated she quickly elaborated upon her earlier directions.

The right path took me through Llandegla Forest, atmospheric in the rain, and the Crown Inn where the cross-eyed landlady looked after me. more anon

2008-09-30T02:13:00.000-07:00

Leaving Knighton with warnings of hard climbs ahead ringing in my ears. I remembered meeting an ex-countryside ranger while only a few miles into the walk back in Chepstow. After telling me how hostile the locals were to walkers, how they were the principle vandals of waymarking signs, he left me with the encouragment "Don't worry, there are a few flat bits."
So I walked off glancing suspiciously at net curtains, imagining pernicious locals clutching loaded air rifles in their sweaty hands, waiting for the click, ping, wizz, ouch of their success. I should have paid more attention to the 'few flat bits' repeating it over in my mind like a new age mantra. I left Knighton via a very, very steep grassy climb. On reaching the top and after pausing to take in the view of Peinghton down the valley. I noted how it was then straight down into the next valley bottom (a cwm). That went on all day! It was like alternating every half hour of a working day on a stair machine on its highest setting. I dropped into more bottoms than I care to remember that day!

Relief came in the shape of some r&r with Carol, (visiting billynomatesonoffasdyke.com on her way to see her daughter in Nottingham), in Bishopscastle, an h'or d'oerve of Three Tuns Bitter-brewed inhouse- followed by some particularly satisfying Russian cuisine.

The second of the trails flat bits -the first being The Hatterall Ridge on the Black Mountains-lay ahead from Welshpool to Llanymynech along the now restored Montgomery Canal. Stopping for a quick half in the Powis Arms with Dave and Deryn (my xmas card list is growing exponentially!) I set off waterside.

A beautiful walk along the canal culminated in the sight of the aquaduct over the Severn. Though I was due for another dose of night terrors the suggestion by a local that I might like to stay at the Bradford Arms Hotel seemed invitation enough.

Bob Hedley, who runs it with his wife Cathy offered me a five pound discount if I could crack the maths home work of their 10 year old.

"Can you get across the river using 3,5,7,8 each time plus minus brackets, blah blah blah"

"NO"

They gave me the discount anyway, Bob owning that jovial effervescence that seems to be the default of Northumberlundrians, (Corbridge)he also gave me £10.00 sponsorship, being well acquainted with Diabetes through both his parents having it.

This is a four star hotel masquerading under three, The leek, mushroom and onion pancake with white wine sauce, washed down with a couple of pints of Black Sheep Bitter was worth what ever it was of anybody's money.

With a talking three legged cat called Charlie "'meowt....neow" (let me out...now).
And a wife that cuts the jewels of every male within a machetes length of her, (Bob's been done twice!) - a predeliction I thought perculiar only to my own mother before today. Replete and recharged I legged it!
On their recommendation next stop Selattyn.

2008-09-29T13:57:00.002-07:00

EEE me 'n computors!

http://www.justgiving.com/gesonoffasdyke

That's it!

Here's a little recky of what's gone on:

Mon. Sedbury cliffs - Bigsweir 11.5 miles
Tues. Bigsweir Bridge - Llantilio Crossing 16 miles.
Wed. Llantilio - Hay on Wye 24 miles
Thurs. H-on-Wye - Gladestry 10 miles
Fri. Gladestry- Knighton 19 miles
Sat. Knighton - Cwm 13 miles
Sun. Cwm - Welshpool 20 miles (incl. div. to Monty)
Mon. Welshpool - Llanymynech 12.5 miles
Tue. Llanymynech - Oswestry 9 miles
Wed. Oswestry - Llangollen 17.5
Thu. Llangollen - Llandegla 9 miles
Fri.Llandegla - Prestatyn 30 miles!!
Total 180

2008-09-29T13:57:00.001-07:00

http://www.justgiving.com/gesonoffasdyke

Sponsorship. Home of Herberts

2008-09-29T03:06:00.000-07:00

Don't forget this is not just a self absorbed trip down the Welsh side of me.

http://www.justgiving.com/gesonoffasdyke

is the link if you would like to sponsor me (your amount is hidden!)

I'm in Welshpool now about to tackle the climb up to Powis Castle (there's bound to be one) and look at the seat of the Herberts. The picture below are two of them resting up in St Nicholas' church in Montgomery. But it's not uploading (aargh! Rufusonian Technophobia is setting in)

On my first night I stayed in a splendidly isolated guest house called The Florence. In the garden was a forty foot monkey puzzle tree. I missed it at the time but this was an appropriate symbol of the connection between the Wales of my father's youth and the country he died in. The monkey puzzle tree is indigenous to Chile (Its seeds are a delicacy there).

Up on Hergast Ridge, where I spent a magical night under the stars, I came across six of them silouetted against the morning mist. They were planted by a local big boy to commemeratethe death of his wife. Lawrence Banks (No relation to that mascara wearing, John Travolta mimmicing all round good bloke- Paul).

Then again, and maybe not finally, at a forest just outside Welshpool where they stood among redwood at over 90 feet tall and celebrating 50 years next month.

half way house

2008-09-29T01:54:00.000-07:00

Stayed in this wonderful drinking hole 2 nights ago. Knighton is the theoretical halfway point of the walk so I celebrated with steak and chips and a couple of pints of the guest bitter Reverend James. Justin the owner, was very accommodating. One needs maximum succour here as the next stage is back breakingly, knee wrenchingly, heart strainingly difficult. Luckily I could still taste the Reverend James in my mouth which helped to sustain me whilst traversing the half a dozen or so valleys to Cwm!

2008-09-29T01:15:00.000-07:00

Eureka! Well Sabine actually. So how is a chance meeting with an East German responsible for me at last being able to upload pictures?

The answer's in the photo. This is half way up a very steep hill- one of many that day- so I stopped to swap pleasantries, and catch my breath, which took a rather circuitous route via the sun and Wiemar Republican Gun dogs to my guess, looking at the size of the camera bag, that she was a photographer, thence to the problem of resolution and the subsequent resolution of my problem by an adjustment to my camera.

2008-09-25T04:24:00.000-07:00

After a slow start yesterday, and wth no where booked to aim for I set off wth purpose through Monmouth. Stopping only for a brief two hours in a costa coffee to upload images.
I walked through sme of the oldest woodld in England, my magination leaping through the pages of Lord of the Rings, the spectactular open views ver the Wye valey replaced by the claustraphobia and intimacy of mile after mile of woodlands innerds.
Atfer drk i switched on my hedlight and carried on through farms, orchards and backyards(!) until at about 9 o'clck i dropped down behind one of the oldest, hollowedout, oak trees in Christendom in the middle of a fied(the 'l'is hell n this keyboard!) in Llangattock Lingoed. Three quaters of an hur later i stopped struggling Norman Wisdm (the'O's too) style with the new tent and sept n top of it looking up past the dark boughs above me at the proliferation of stars abve , my only fear, wking up in rain, or so I thought!
That dreamy state before lightsout had , in my mind, cows licking my head, foxes chewing at my ears, rats gnawing at my toes, and the strong northerly wnd ripping off my skin before a text message arrived from a friend that amost arrested my cardiac.

Next morning I walked non-(more than 5 min)- stop to Hay on Wye where I arrive 12 hours later at Russel's Seven Stars Bed and breakfast abut which more anon.

getting started

2008-09-23T06:22:00.000-07:00

Well after a sojourn in our glorious capital over the weekend I eventually arrived in Chepstow 1994 guide book in hand, looking for the start of the walk at Sedbury cliffs.
To get to the start is not straight forward and decidedly Krypton Factorish. I weaved through ex-squaddy estates, swamps, bull filled fields and buildng sites, stopping only to take an over 50's vitamin tablet before the final lung bursting rise up the Dyke to the starting stone. Perched on the edge of cliffs overlooking the Bristol Channel, wth striking views of the Severn Bridge to the south. NORMALLY. Today, however the seamist was so thick they must have shipped it over from Ir.....(sorry, an old Stanley Baxter joke!)
Two grass tenders at the stone suggested I could wait an hour for the tide to come in and the mist to rise.

I decided to crack on. After having my photo taken by the stone and weaving my way back to Chepstow, I met an ex-squaddy, geordie who told me that he was daily helping people find their way to the start (or finsh) "Why man ornly last week ah helped a coople oot the marshes. They were com-pleet-ely knackered" he managed to make 'knackered' sound like two half bricks cracking nuts,

More later when I manage to upload the pictures successfuly.

I reached Bigsweir last night but today I'm only managing a weary 1 mph!

The walk has been breathtaking so far as the photos will show.

2008-09-18T04:31:00.002-07:00

http://www.justgiving.com/gesonoffasdyke

2008-09-18T04:31:00.000-07:00

My bags are packed, I just need to shave my head and book into a hotel for the halfway point at Knighton ('en suite' of course!).
The widget explains part of the purpose of the walk. Mainly however, I will be losing weight.

2008-09-15T15:28:00.000-07:00

On the 22 September, I'm setting off to walk the 180 miles between Chepstow and Prestatyn. Also known as The Offa's dyke National Trail it runs from coast to coast: Bristol Channel to the Irish Sea. Crossing the Wales/England border several times.

I had originally intended to take a llama with me, for company, to carry things and to create a bit of interest. The trail, however, is famously studded with an inordinate amount of styles and kissing gates, so unless I can find a llama that leaps (in the next few days) I'm going alone.