Nothing was going to stop us having a good weekend in the Brecon Beacons as we gathered on Friday evening at the Old Chapel. There were 15 of us all together, although there should have been more but a less than pleasant weather forecast seemed to have deterred some, not that they would admit that that was the reason.

During the evening the collection of empty bottles in the corner increased as the supplies of full ones dwindled! Tongues loosened and laughter echoed around the room as the heat from the wood burner condensed on the cold, stone walls.

As forecast, the rain started to fall heavily at about 4.00am and was set to last well into the next night. Those of us who were camping emerged from our tents on to an already soggy field.

Crossing the swollen Afon Tarell

Fortified with a full Welsh, we drove over to Storey Arms determined to fulfil our walking ambitions, if only to respond to the derisory remarks from ‘lounge lizard’ Crowcroft, safe and warm in his Northants home. It was wet. Very wet, and windy. Fortunately, as we set out, the wind was behind us, pushing us along the Taff Trail towards the youth hostel. The ground was absolutely sodden, muddy and very slippery and we found ourselves using a lot of energy trying not to slip.

Lunch!

Remarkably, it was somehow enjoyable. Our kit was being put to the test, and largely failing. It was also stunningly beautiful. Although the higher summits were hugged by dense, water laden clouds, the slopes were streaked with gashes of rushing streams tumbling erratically down, filling and flooding the larger tracts of water in the valley floors. Fortunately it was not particularly cold, even in the strengthening wind. The only time we began to cool down was when we stopped for a quick ten minutes to put some fuel into our bodies, just prior to the longest climb of the day.

The climb took us up the narrowing valley beneath the towering cliffs of Craig Cwm-du with many tumbling waterfalls cascading down them. The path was perilously close to the raging stream, so much so that we had to climb above it and cut across tussocky heather to Fan Frynych. On the top the wind cut loose and blasted us with needles of face peircing rain, forcing us to squint to protect our eyes.

Cutting across the open moorland that makes up Fan Frynych, we picked up the path that skirted along the edge of the impressive cliffs that make up the sweeping arc of Craig Cerrig-gleisiad. In places the path went worryingly close to the edge. This would not normally be a worry but in the strong wind an unexpected gust could easily catch you off guard. Eventually leaving the edge we again cut across the tussocky grass, crossing numerous swollen streams towards the car park, visible for a long time but slow to reach. By the time we did reach it at 3.30pm it was virtually empty, only the hardiest of walkers still out on the hills.

Having finished the walk we were keen to head back quickly to change before heading to the Red Lion in Llanbedr for the Scotland v England match – not pretty but the right result. It had been a while since I had visited the Red Lion but it was great to be made to feel so welcome by everybody, irrespective of which side of the bar they stood.

Peter Hardyman

In the evening, having feasted well and drunk considerably more, the conversation and laughter rang out. The most amusing among us was the usually reserved Peter Hardyman. Having only brought a pair of walking boots with him, he had nothing dry to wear on his feet. The stone floor of the chapel was cold, so he fashioned out a pair of slippers made from a discarded wine box and a discarded beer box. He really shouldn’t mix his boxes! The mop head wig and ice axe completed a very bizarre picture.

There will be headaches in the morning!