Llwybr Clawdd Offa

Welsh is apparently one of the hardest languages to learn. But it’s alive and thriving in Wales. Our taxi driver told us this morning that 20 years ago it had almost died out. Now it’s the first language of his family and many if not most Welsh people.

It’s a language that must feel good in the mouth. Lots of rolling and grinding and phlegm expulsion. We are trying some basics on Duolingo, but today we learned how to say Offa’s Dyke Trail: Llwybr Clawdd Offa. The first fun thing we learned was that to say a word with two L’s you first clear your throat and end that excellent sound with an L. Two d’s are th. The vowels are generally large and open. You will fail absolutely if you try anything phonetic :)

Cymru is Wales and pronounced something like Gum-ree!

We are sitting in a little church in the tiny (and unpronounceable)village of LLANGYNHAFA. It’s in capitals cos I copy and pasted it and don’t trust myself to spell it again. We are here because our accommodation, The Golden Lion Inn, doesn’t open until 4pm. We got here around 2pm and the village is so tiny this is the only shelter we could get. It’s a cute little place, many hundreds of years old with an interesting juxtaposition of frescoes and flat screen tv.

The wind is absolutely howling outside and we’ve had enough of it having been nearly blown off the mountain today.

As the profile pic shows (attached ) today was not gentle! We started with a massive climb up to the ridge of the Clywdian Hills (440m). It was a benign start with nice farms, tree lined lanes and lots of sheep including one breed with black and white patches on their faces. Most still have their tails and there are a lot of lambs. Sadly we also found a dead one.

Once we reached the ridge it was a different story and we got absolutely hammered by a massive Westerly. I was literally blown off my feet on occasion and if I lifted my poles they just flew. I’ve attached a video for your entertainment.

We hammered on for a couple of hours, with another descent then precipitous climb to an Iron Age hill fort called Moel Arthur. Almost got blown off it! It was a relief to eventually get off the ‘hills’ and head down into the lowlands and this gorgeous little town. As an Australian I find it disconcerting how something I consider a respectable mountain is dismissed as a hill…

We are now in the hotel and the innkeeper, Brian has poured me a Guinness so life is good. Grant and he are talking rugby and there’s a 70’s playlist in the background.

This community is thriving, with a lot of money coming in with retirees from Manchester and Liverpool. It means the old buildings have been beautifully renovated and new retirees bring the energy to create activities that time brings. Just in this pub I can see they have a weekly quiz night, book club and ladies walk and talk. This place maybe seats 20 and all the locals who come in are on first names. I do love this! Apparently the ‘whole pub’ are going on a three day cycling holiday next month.

Tonight we dine here and then slog our way up to the ‘hill’ ridge again and turn right.Read more