Day Four of Glyndwr's Way: Llanidloes to Dylife

Roy didn't have much time to rest after preparing last night's gourmet meal; all of us demanding guests still require breakfast. He is up to the task, and I appreciate another tasty full meal with egg and sausage 'bombs' and mushrooms and toast and excellent coffee. I'm surprised at my appetite, given that I enjoyed a five course meal only a night's sleep ago. I guess all this walking is good for me.

Today's routine will be slightly different, for, though we are continuing on Glyndwr's Way to Dylife, we will be spending another night here in Llanidloes. The inn at Dylife has apparently fallen below the minimum standards for the walking tour, so we will leave the trail above Dylife, hike down into the village and be driven back to Llanidloes by taxi service. I have no complaints whatsoever about staying another night at this great hotel.

Llanidloes is a charming town with this unique half-timbered market hall as the focal point. We pop into a shop for lunch supplies and emerge with some local Welsh cheddar. In the nearby bakery, the breads smell delicious. We buy a round loaf of whole-grained goodness of the sort that would cost almost five dollars in an American store like Whole Foods. The cost? 90p. And the patroness is a sweet old lady to boot.

We start our walk, climbing out of the town past farms and houses and a golf course with signs warning of potential golf balls flying from the left. It is early yet, and no one seems to be playing, so our braincases are safe from coshing. We walk through beautiful trees and continue westward.

We soon come to an enormous dam on the river Severn that was once the tallest in Europe and remains the tallest in Britain. We climb from the valley up to the dam itself, which has a parking lot with interpretive signs. An older German couple in a teeny (and cosy-looking) camper are the only other tourists at the dam. More people are interested in the reservoir, and we pass boats and picnickers. It is quite a pretty reservoir, reminding me of a Scottish loch, and our bread and cheese tastes great as we admire the view.

The trail winds up and down, now skirting along the shores of the man-made lake, now climbing away to old ruined buildings and country lanes. We round a corner to find an idyllic scene of ewe and lamb laying in a field of bluebells. I feel bad when they get up and leave.

Once we leave the reservoir behind and cross the Afon Biga (Afon meaning river, but Biga does not mean big), our map and guide show that we are heading for evergreen forests. It is not to be. The plantations have been harvested and we must walk through scenes of desolation. Clear cuts are not nice in any country.

But the stumps and devastation are soon forgotten as we climb up into the high heathland. The clouds are low over the moors and my mood should be melancholic, but I am happy. I lay on the heather and revel in the sponginess of the turf. It is dry and springy and wonderful. I am again grateful for the recent good weather, because I know this could easily have been one boggy, squelchy, endless stretch of trail.

Sooner than expected, we reach the overlook of Dylife and leave the trail to descend steeply into the tiny hamlet. We suspect that the mileage of today's walk was shorter than the other days, since we have over an hour to wait for our ride. We trek over to the inn and pub to pass the time with refreshments. The doors are locked.

We retrace our steps to a public telephone box near the main road. Despite having a pre-paid phone card (for emergencies), the phone will not work. As we fiddle with the phone, a car with a large learner's sign drives up the lane to the inn. A few minutes later, it returns, stopping in front of us. The driver asks, "Do you need any help?"

We explain our non-dire circumstances. The driver is on his way to Llanidloes and offers us a lift. He is the son of the proprietors of the closed pub (which won't open for another few hours) and runs the driving school advertised on the car's sign, so it doesn't feel like hitchhiking.

Dan the Driving Instructor returns us to Llanidloes in about ten minutes, which is a little discouraging. It has, after all, taken us all day to walk to Dylife. But, I comfort myself with the thought that the road takes a much less scenic and more direct route. And Dan zips down the road at such a speed that, if his pupils attempted to mirror his driving would undoubtedly cause them to fail their driving tests.

We arrive in plenty of time to phone and cancel our taxi.

Llanidloes seems like such a neat little town, and I am glad to have another evening to explore it. We stop in a old pub, which is happily open and holds locals who don't mind our intrusion. An elderly Westie shuffles over to greet me. Outside, kitties say hello. Our comfy hotel awaits. This is the kind of town I would recommend that anyone go out of their way to visit. Even though it's not on the rail line, you can always hitch.