Finished; failed; learned; excited for the next time.

This blog post has been two months coming - apologies for the delay. 

I'm getting settled into the new job and new circumstances now, so 

hopefully from now on the gaps will be much smaller!

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We made it to the coast! But while that is where the story meets its logical conclusion, that doesn't really sum up the story very well. You see, our adventure didn't quite go to plan.

Rob, my younger brother and adventure companion on this trip enjoying one of the briefer than hoped for spells actually in the water, upper Ystwyth Valley. This picture (and several of the others below) was taken on an Olympus TG-5 waterproof camera kindly lent to me by Olympus UK for this trip, I'll be writing a brief review of the camera in due course. 

The goal was simple enough: travel from the source of the River Ystwyth in the hills of mid Wales, to it's mouth at Aberystwyth. The plan was to spend as much time in the water over the course of that journey as possible. As such we were travelling simultaneously light and heavy.

Light in the sense that our normal 'camping' kit list had been slimmed down pretty much to the minimum; bivvy bags rather than tents, that sort of thing. But then... camera gear to record it, swimming gear, towels, a spare pair of shoes each, buoyancy aids, 5 car tyre inner tubes (our water based transport solution!), a foot pump to inflate them, wet suit, and an assortment of dry bags to keep everything which was supposed to be dry, dry! You get the idea. 

Ironically it was those final items, the dry bags, which we hoped would be our salvation from certain discomfort and inconvenience, which proved to be almost the opposite, and ultimately were the main reason for the departure from our original plan. We packed everything we could into a couple of large dry bags fitted with 'rucksack style' straps and the rest into two smaller dry bags. This meant we were carrying two each from the start. The weight itself wasn't too much of an issue; it was reasonably heavy, but a lot of the stuff was fairly high volume, low density - we had both carried heavier loads before, but the weight bearing system was the weak point. 

'Rucksack style' straps, it turns out, do not come with guarantees of comfort, or even with an assurance that it won't cause you excruciating pain within the first few hours. 

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This bridge at sunset was particularly photogenic, and the location for our swim before we headed for home at the end of the second day. Another Olymous TG-5 capture

Early starts are an integral part of any adventure. Even after a late night, and way too few hours kip, when that alarm goes off... it's go time! And when the first stage of 'going' involves driving right across Wales - which is stunningly beautiful for those of you haven't had the pleasure - why wouldn't you look forward to it? Departure day dawned pristine, much like the days preceding it, and the forecast was for the blue skies to remain and the temperatures to rise. That outlook made the prospect of getting in the water later that day even sweeter! 

As we drove we kept an eye out for the spot on the route where we would need to come back to later that day. The fading earth mounds marking the remains of a Roman fort was the 'X' that marked our spot on this occasion; when we saw that again we'd need to get off the bus. It looked steep! Beautiful, wooded and wild, but steep. 

We drove west until it wasn't an option anymore, well, not without a boat anyway - Aberystwyth. Gathering our gear, we made the most of civilised plumbing facilities before catching a nearly empty bus back to our start point. The real adventure was about to begin! 

It's rare to do all the uphill in one go on a big hike - but that was what we were looking at! The bus had done a fair chunk of it of course, which was not unappreciated! But we still had a few hundred meters of elevation to gain to reach the source of the river, and there was no path! We followed a forestry track for a while but before long it started contouring around the hill and we needed to go up it. We turned up the slope, pushing for the glimpses of blue sky between the trees.

The slopes were north facing, damp. A deep blanket of Sphagnum moss covered decades worth of spoil from forestry work. Every other footfall penetrated the blanket and caught on unseen twigs and branches, or slid off damp and smooth logs and stumps. It was a botanical mine field, on a 45 degree slope, with brambles standing in with admirable accuracy for the barbed wire! A little scratched for our efforts, and not particularly proud of our average speed, we eventually breached the final barrier of wind blown trees and the blue turned from a glimpse to a panorama. The trees surrendered to peat bog and moorland; the sponge from which the first trickles of our river was being wrung!   

We pushed on to the top of the ridge and stopped for a late lunch. Our source to sea trip was about to begin.

A kilometre across the grassy tussocks and mossy hummocks the channel was developing nicely. By the time it dived beneath the prickly canopy of another forestry plantation another kilometre or so down hill our trickle was already a confident and established stream. Keen to make better progress than our uphill battle to the source, and to get to deeper water, we flitted between the stream and paths or tracks which traced its route. Wind turbines turned lazily on the hillsides above us. A forestry harvester noisily stripped trees from a forestry block on the opposite bank. I know commercial conifer plantations aren't to everyone's taste, but I still think they look better with the trees on than a fresh and messy plot of recently clear felled forestry! Butterflies, dragonflies, hoverflies and every other type of -flies fluttered and darted along our route. Some after the flowers which were both plentiful and beautiful despite the recent dry spell, others after the flower seekers themselves.

We dropped out of the trees at the confluence of our stream and another - it was becoming a true river now. At this intersection all the paths headed up; so we got into the water and kept heading down. For the most part the down was undertaking at a steady, gentle gradient but as the valley got deeper and steeper, we came to places were it tumbled and leapt down instead - it was starting to get interesting. But...

... by this point a few things had become clear to us both: 1) the river was running pretty shallow; the weather may have been beautiful but it certainly wasn't conducive to peak flows! 2) we were a bit too heavy laden for following the river everywhere, we'd already had to take a few detours up and around the biggest drops, and 3) our bags were eating our shoulders alive.

At another confluence, just below the lonely road up into the Elan Valley we stopped for another break and assessed our options. It was a great place for option assessment, and one we vowed to return to! Having briefly scoped the river ahead (without our bags - blessed relief!) we could tell that we weren't going to be able to get the inner tubes out (and thereby lighten our packs) anytime soon. The river was a series of deep, dark pools (which looked amazing for a leisurely swim) and shallow, rocky slopes with regular drops and falls. It would have been great fun, but we needed to make more distance that day and it would have been too slow, and realistically required a few more safety measures than we had brought with us - but we will be back!

Reluctantly and tenderly we started down the road, determined to push on to a point where we could get into the water as soon as possible. Our shoulders, by now sporting either a fleece or a hoodie each as a futile attempt at better padding and reduced discomfort, were not best pleased with this plan, and protested strongly. A minor victory came in the shape of an old track way which we followed for a while. Not marked on the map, it followed the river more closely than the road, allowing us to keep closer to our original route - a small conciliation.

The valley was beautiful, breathtakingly so, and not just because of the physical exertion. As we progressed down the river the parallel ridges towered higher and higher above relics of previous industry; mines of some sort. The sinuous river in the valley bottom was by now catching the warm light of a low summer evening sun. A quiet single track road wound along the valley sides and floor leading us through scattered hamlets and a small village before we left it to cross the river above a series of water falls.

By now we were on the look out for a suitable camping spot, but high vegetation and steep slopes meant they were in short supply. For a mile or two we trudged along the valley, getting more and more eager to identify a spot to stop and sleep. It was gone 9 pm by now: we had left home before 6 am, and had been walking for over 9 hours. Our shoulders attested to it.

The options were limited enough that after casting about unsuccessfully for a flat spot in the undergrowth on the flood plain - the valley floor had started to flatten and widen out at this point - we simply bedded down on the footpath. It was flat, the grass was short, and the biting insects were far less voracious than we had feared they might be. We slept well that night.


Well enough that the sun was a fair way up when we woke, slanting down the curve of the valley and lighting the opposite hillside on fire (thankfully not literally) in contrast to yet another day of beautiful blue skies. The aches and pains of the day before had been dulled by a good night rest, but were present enough to prompt an evaluation of what was realistic that day. The bags were the weak point in our kit list, the bruises on our shoulders were more than just the result of a heavy-ish load, the 'rucksack style straps' were not up to this load over this distance. Adding to that we discussed the prospect that if the water levels we had seen so far were anything to go by, we might walk the entire way without any stretch of the river being consistently deep and rock free enough to float our kit, or ourselves, downriver.


The unanimous decision called for a change in the original plan. We set off having repacked the bags accordingly. Before long we reached a point on the route which enabled us to put the revised plan into action - we stashed the big bags and the bulk of our kit in the woods at a point where we could easily return with the car to pick them up. Then we carried on  with just the essential kit for the day in the smaller kit bags, aiming to get all the way back to Aberystwyth, the source of the river and the car before the end of the day. At about 20 miles this was eminently do-able, but a little less relaxed than the original itinerary.

And that is what we did. Many miles of beautiful scenery and clear water came and went in the process. Not to mention rope bridges, ancient woodland, re-purposed railway lines, quaint secluded farms and cottages, small villages steeped in Welsh culture, derelict remains of a more industrial past and more sheep than either of us could count (not that we tried) all came and went during a hot day which passed at a reasonably rapid pace! The discomfort levels were way more manageable but the damage had been done the day before and even with the lighter loads and a few rest stops to bathe hot feet in the cool river, we were ready to take a load off by the time we reached the car in the late afternoon.

I could describe that in greater detail, but that part of our route was never the plan, so it feels a bit like drawing out the description of our failure - it was a pleasant walk, but not what we intended. Having made the mouth of the river, we had completed our journey, but our adventure was left unfinished. But we shall return. Consider this as a hard earned reconnaissance mission, with plenty of useful information garnered along the way. Next time we will return with slightly different kit and a modified itinerary - and have more fun, and less bruised shoulders as a result!


And there will definitely be a next time. I've wanted to make that journey for years, based largely on a few hundred meter stretch which we visited most years as I grew up. On our journey we discovered that while that is a very pleasant section, that that river and valley hold way more yet to be explored and enjoyed. So until the next time I will leave any one wishing to do anything similar with two pieces of advice - 1) beware dry bags with 'ruck sack style' straps - they may try to kill you and 2) mid Wales + Summer = midges! Don't forget your repellent!

Richard

PS - I should probably mention that I did get a swim in the river before we finished for good. After we got back to Aberystwyth we drove back up to collect our kit before taking a scenic route home. But before we left the valley we stopped at a spot where we had taken a rest on the way down. We had clocked some deep, still looking pools as we passed and logged it as one of the many parts of the valley which we needed to return to. As we approached we could see fish rising in the centre of the pool, enjoying the insects which, being late evening by this time, were starting to come out in abundance. The swim was short but lovely; the water warm after the initial rush of cold on first jumping in. It was a snapshot into what we missed out on in a way. But we knew that we had made the right call - anything else would have ended in needing to resort to public transport at some point and that would have been an even greater failure!


After one of the fastest changes of clothing the world has ever seen to get away from the now swarming midges, we completed our adventure by watching the sun go down. First behind the hills over shadowing an earlier section of our route, the upper reaches of the Ystwyth valley, and then again (new, higher vantage point = double sunset!) behind the Elan Valley as we drove out on what has to be one of the most beautiful stretches of road in Wales. Highly recommended for those who prefer to adventure on four wheels (or two) rather than on foot.

Sunset over the Elan Valley on our drive out. What a stunning part of the country!

Archive: Rivers - Supermarket, Highway, Inspiration

** I'm cheating a bit here - It's been a busy few weeks and I haven't had a chance to 

write any new blog posts, although there is stuff to write about! To keep material 

coming I thought I'd share this blog post from a blog I contribute to occasionally, 

originally written a few years back it is still as relevant now as when I wrote it. **

When I am out and about, whether it be for a gentle countryside walk with my family, a solo adventure, dedicated photography trip or a foraging session, I am always drawn to certain features in the landscape . Rivers are one of those features, particular smaller rivers in deep cut, wooded valleys. There is something about these valleys that never gets old to me. As a teenager on the North Devon coast I had plenty of opportunities to explore these sort of valleys, including in and around Exmoor, to this day one of my favourite parts of the UK. 

Me, contemplating life alongside the River Spey in Scotland.  

You may ask why, and I don't really know the definitive answer to that question but I have a few ideas. The first revolves around the concept of mental maps (something I had written about previously and will probably do so again for this blog), particularly resource maps. Rivers are a phenomenally rich resource (I originally wrote this for a bushcraft blog - www.bushcrafteducation.co.uk - and so it was originally aimed at foraging and that sort of topic):

First and foremost they are a readily available source of water. In the higher reaches of rivers where they run fast and clear it is also likely to be clean water which you can drink straight from the river. Even these days in areas where agricultural run off may have sullied the water, or in its lower reaches where it runs slow and silty, with simple techniques it can be filtered and purified to be made safe to drink.

They were to our hunter-gatherer ancestors an important source of protein, and still are today albeit one which is far less used than it once would have been, in the shape of water birds*, fish* and crayfish (although sadly these days an invasive species, the American Signal Crayfish which has driven our native White-clawed Crayfish to the edge of extinction). If you know where to look there may also be freshwater mussels or as you get closer to the coast and into the brackish and tidal zones of the river there may be other salt-water shellfish to harvest. 

With a constant source of water and, further down the river at least, nutrient rich silts, river valleys are often a great source of plant food as well. To name a few, wetland areas associated with rivers are often home to sedges (Carex spp.), some of which have seeds which can be eaten; Bulrush or Greater Reedmace (Typha latifolia) can be found which has edible rhizomes as well as being a useful tinder. These days in the UK several very common edible plants found along rivers are non-native species, certainly not something our hunter-gatherer forebears would have been familiar with - Himalayan Balsam (Impatiens glandulifera) and Japanese Knotweed (Fallopia japonica). And by eating either of these you are also doing your bit for conservation by reducing the population of an invasive plant. 

Some of the trees often found in close association with water are Willow species. Willow is an extremely useful plant to a bushcrafter providing bark for cordage & withies for basket making. In addition its bark contains Salicylic acid (in fact 'Salicylic' is derived from Salix, the Latin name for the Willow family) which is a component of aspirin and it has been known for centuries that chewing on willow bark could ease aches and pains and reduce fevers. 

Having established that rivers are useful for resources I think that part of my fondness for rivers stems from an instinctive draw to a landscape feature which is of use to me. But I don't think that's the whole story. 

Rivers are also beneficial for moving through the landscape. In a very modern sense we can see this based on how many roads or railway lines follow the course of rivers. In many circumstances the river bed itself will be the path through a landscape which experiences the least severe changes in elevation - waterfalls being a fairly obvious exception! By following these ready made paths modern engineers have saved themselves time and effort but also created for themselves different issues by placing their projects in the path of an immense erosive power - but that's another story.

I don't think this benefit would have been unappreciated by the people who roamed the land when roads weren't even a futuristic dream. Especially during the summer, when vegetation was at its highest and most impenetrable, and the water level was lower likely exposing a portion of the river bed, using these natural routes to move inland from the coast or the opposite would have saved effort and ensured that food to fuel your travels was never far away. Certainly in dense woodland I have followed small rivers or streams, sometimes alongside them and sometimes by necessity in them to aid my movements and help me to move more quickly or easily. It has long been a goal of mine to follow a river from its source to the sea - I think it would be a fascinating journey! 

In all this I have skirted around the potential of travel on the water itself. While not a expert in water travel I have been lucky enough to do a bit of kayaking and rafting both on rivers and the sea and it is a great way to travel. Early inhabitants of the UK may not have cashed in on this opportunity as much as those in other parts of the world, the effort required to manufacture water-borne vessels perhaps outweighing the advantages in many situations on a relatively small island. It is however well documented that early civilisations in other parts of the world focused their travel on waterways with variations on the theme of dug out canoes and later in the northern hemisphere with bark canoes. 

If you are referring back to the title you'll notice we are two thirds of the way through this tale. There will be those who read 'inspiration' in relation to 'river' and think I have lost it - city folks perhaps for whom rivers are places for stolen bikes and shopping trolleys, pollution outflows and perhaps if your lucky, the odd gull or duck. Luckily in Britain today even this inner city image of rivers is largely a thing of the past with tighter controls on pollution and water cleanliness but still the Thames in London or the Mersey in Liverpool are not the sort of rivers I look to for inspiration. 

The picture that comes to my mind when I think of inspiring rivers is a small river, wooded valley sides rising steeply above, clear water trickling quickly through a jumble of moss-covered rocks and woody debris. A Dipper rushing past or watching you from a half-submerged rock. Perhaps a little further downstream a whistle and a flash of blue alerting you to what has got to be the UK's most colourful bird, the Kingfisher, going about its business. If you're lucky some muddy footprints indicate a Otter isn't far away, and if your even luckier a glimpse of these now thankfully returning mammals. In the early morning mist a Roe deer perhaps, tentatively crossing from its shelter on one side to prime feeding ground on the other. As the sun gets higher, the dragonflies, the birds of prey of the insect world start to come to life. I could watch their aerial battles for territory and bright colours for hours before I got even a little bit bored. At the right time of year mayflies provide a spectacle, both as they 'dance' above the water and as they are fed on by every valley dweller you can imagine. I could go on... so I shall.

As a teenager I was lucky enough to work on a nature reserve for a week in Scotland. (On a side note, to any young person reading this, I cannot recommend highly enough this experience.) One day having been to check a hide over looking a large marshy flood plain alongside the river Spey, I spotted a family of fox cubs playing on a 'island' in the marsh, their earth was obviously located on the slightly higher and therefore drier ground above the wetland, among the gorse. On my return journey to my accommodation that evening, a gorgeous summer evening, I cut across the reserve - cresting a ridge having climbed up steeply through birch woodland I looked up to see an Osprey flying over, fish held tightly in its talons. Standing on the ridge transfixed by this spectacle I had never witnessed before I became aware of movement in the valley meadow below - a Roe buck, summer coat radiant red in the low evening sun had moved out of the woodland to browse. What a day! Not all strictly river associated but all within a stones throw.

The view from the hide I mention. The 'island' where I saw the foxes is in the middle ground on the left, the meadow where I saw the Roebuck a mile or so up the valley to the North (right in this picture). I have also seen Roe deer browsing through the marshland here - one doe in particular was selecting only umbellifer flower heads to eat, the only time I have seen this behaviour and a perfect example of the selective feeding style of Roe Deer. 

I know of no sound more relaxing and calming than the gentle trickle of a river to lull me off to sleep in an evening after a strenuous day out of doors. And in the same way I could sit, and have done on many occasions, and stare at a fire burning for hours, I could sit and watch a river flowing past, listening to its gurgles and trickles just as I listen to the pops and crackles of my fire. With the calls of Kingfishers or Dippers replacing the Tawny Owls I so often hear when sat by a fire in woodland.  

Beyond the river itself the landscapes they have created can be awe inspiring all on their own, dramatic landscapes all over the UK have been carved over many millennia by the rivers which now seem like a side show in the valley bottom. Caves and tunnels, stacks and caves and water falls all indicate the sheer power of water in the landscape and can be as spectacular as their coastal counterparts. 

We all I dare say have 'favourite landscapes' - I would certainly have to say that rivers and the associated valleys and wetlands are well up there for me. They provide food and fun, mental relaxation and the ability to move through the landscapes we love. What's not to like!

Richard

* - It needs to be remembered that the taking of certain fish and all water birds, and the methods of taking or catching them are restricted by law in the UK. In certain circumstances you may just need landowners permission, in other it is far more complicated. 

Family Adventure Day: Take 1

Who better to share adventures with than your family? Growing up as one of seven children there was never a shortage of adventure buddies. We were lucky with the places we lived, and the places our extended family lived - there was never a shortage of places to have 'adventures'.

Now, as a semi-responsible adult and with a family of my own I have the priviledge of introducing the next generation to the concept of adventure. What better place to start than where many of my own childhood adventures were based: Mid-Wales. This naturally raises the question of what 'adventure' really is, but I think I'll leave addressing that question for another time.

Anyway, as a birthday treat to myself back in early March, Emily (my wife) and I woke the children (Megan 4 and Jack 1) early, loaded them into our all-terrain family adventure wagon, Rhino (a Suzuki Grand Vitara) and headed west for the heartlands of Wales. 

To say the weather was perfect would be stretching the truth, but the excitement factor was high, the snack bag full, the traffic light and the views getting better by the mile. Our plans were simple: 1) visit an area of forest which hosted many a family outing plus an annual easter egg hunt when I was a lad; 2) next on to the Ystwyth River where I basically learned to swim and where if I was feeling brave I'd go for a dip, then 3) onto the beach at Aberystwyth for fish and chips on the beach while we watched the sun set. 

We arrived at the forest where the adventure was to start - while I had been many a time to walk there was adventure which had been denied me; a 'green lane' which snakes for miles across the Welsh mountains following the route of an ancient road. Indeed as a green lane it is still legally a road and public right of way and I had wanted to drive it since well before I ever had a driving licence - the realities of adult life had prevented me for a long time from acquiring a vehicle capable of tackling the route. But a change in work circumstances had finally allowed me to justify buying a 4x4 and so my wait to attempt to tackle this route (although only a small part of it on this occasion) in something more substantial than a pair of wellies was about to come to an end. In Megan's parlance we were going to 'drive the bumpy road!'

Unfortunately we were turned round sooner than hoped by a puddle (more like a small lake really) which pushed the limits of what I was comfortable to drive without a snorkel and a back up vehicle. Sadly there was clear evidence that many people had come to the same conclusion about the puddle and forged their own path instead, carving up the surrounding land and making a mess alongside the legal right of way - something I was not willing to do. With a slightly heavy heart we turned around and headed back down. But I will be back, when the water levels are lower and with back up to make the whole trip. Rhino might just be getting a snorkel too!

 Ystwyth River, one of my favourite places in the UK. It will always hold a special place in my heart. We paddled and threw stones, had a picnic on the pebbles and watched Dippers fly up and down past us for an hour or so, but I wimped out just short of a proper dip - wading knee deep was enough on this occasion. It was still pretty chilly

On to the Ystwyth River valley, one of my favourite places in the UK. It will always hold a special place in my heart. We paddled and threw stones, had a picnic on the pebbles and watched Dippers fly up and down the river for an hour or so. I wimped out just short of a proper dip - wading knee deep was enough on this occasion. It was still pretty chilly!

The weather had been pretty changeable up to this point ranging from dull, damp and chilly through to beautiful sunshine, although never really warm. As we were leaving the Yswyth to head to its mouth (the literal translation of Aber-yswyth is 'mouth of the river Ystwyth') the rain set in with greater determination and the weather was against us when we arrived at the coast earlier than planned. Megan and I took some time to throw stones, watch the waves, and take some pictures on the beach while Emily and Jack napped in the car, then with the weather getting ever less friendly we changed our plans and started heading for home via a scenic route North up the coast. We got our fish and chips, but there wasn't really a sunset to watch!

Regardless we had a great day - we were outside in the fresh air, surrounded by nature; we were spending quality time together as a family. My own little ones were learning the concept of 'going on an adventure' and this won't be the last family adventure day. In fact we are heading back to Wales, although North Wales this time, in the next few weeks.