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Day 8
Hay-on-Wye is famous for its secondhand book shops. We had spent an hour or two browsing here when we came reconnoitring. It would have been an interesting place for a rest day. Yet it was a bit pointless to browse in bookshops for I would have been unwilling to carry the weight of even the slimmest volume. Moreover the weather was good, so after a long sleep and an enormous breakfast I walked out over the Wye giving little thought to the crossing. It was only afterwards that I realised that this departure marked the point of no return. After the brief flirtation here with the thought of settling for a simple one week trek across South Wales there was no other logical place where the walk could terminate with any sense of satisfaction. From now onwards I never seriously considered giving it up.
There was no need to look at the new map. I was following Offa's Dyke path which was clearly waymarked and my mind was ticking over gently to match the gentle terrain. Not that it was either flat or dry. This section of the path runs up and down over rolling hills, the raw outline of the landscape here totally under the influence of human intervention in the shape of roads, hedges, fences and farms. I climbed stile after stile and negotiated many a muddy gateway, the day dominated by sheep and lambs. I passed a large group of exclusively female walkers and was in turn passed by a solitary Chinaman, or perhaps he was Japanese. I passed him again later as he sat eating his lunch and I saw none of them again. I did not stop for lunch. I had visions of pub grub in the village of Newchurch but it had no pub, not even a shop, just a church, a chapel and a telephone box from which I rang and booked a room at the Eagle Hotel in New Radnor.
The day had started grey and misty again but now it had turned quite sunny. I climbed onto the more open slopes of Disgwlfa Hill and stopped for a snack. I had walked all of Offa's Dyke path before, although not in a single walk, but this was the only part of today's section which stirred any glimmer of recognition. This was a sign of my preference for open hills perhaps for this was the closest thing today to a mountain. The path skirts the summit but I diverted to the grassy top to get a little extra satisfaction from the walk.
The path drops to Hill Farm where a poetic notice invites walkers to take water from the tap. I filled my bottle and soon found a sheltered spot amongst some gorse bushes for a brew up. As I suspected the camping gaz canister needed changing. I had done well to get four night's camping from one of these tiny Globetrotter canisters. It went into a litter bin in Gladestry, a lucky find since these seem quite a rarity now in Wales. One is supposed to take one's litter home. OK perhaps if one is travelling by car but unrealistic for a backpacker.
I left Offa's Dyke path here and walked on minor roads and tracks to the sleepy village of New Radnor. The phrase 'sleepy village' is a cliche perhaps but I can think of no better way to describe this apparently deserted place. It has a store, a hairdressers and two pubs but only the Eagle as far as I could see offering accommodation. I walked in and a dog barked but there was no other sign of life so I removed my boots and sat reading various leaflets about tourist attractions in Mid-Wales. New Radnor did not get a mention.
Eventually somebody appeared and showed me to my room. It was not en suite this time but, since nobody else was staying there, I had the bathroom to myself and a glorious long soak. It was hardly necessary for not even my feet were wet. I had a very quiet meal but later a few drinkers drifted in and sat chatting quietly. There was nothing to do but watch the weather forecast, which was good, and retire early for another long undisturbed sleep.
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