#walks | Judith Barrow

We found Pembrokeshire by lucky accident. With three children under three years of age, we didn’t want to go far on our annual holiday. Wales didn’t seem that far away from Yorkshire, well, not as far as Cornwall… we thought. We found the house we’ve lived in for over forty years by accident. Being auctioned we thought it fun to dream, to put in a bid. We’ll never get it… we thought. We did. With the optimism of youth and dreams of living near the sea we sold our house in Yorkshire. It’ll be an adventure… we thought. And we could always move back if we don’t settle. We’ll give it five years. We didn’t need five years. Although we moved to Pembrokeshire in the depths of November to a house with no electricity, heating, and not nearly enough furniture to fill a large five bedroomed house, we knew we’d done the right thing. Despite all of us muffled in so many layers of clotihng we looked like a set of Michelin Men ( remember those advert?), we were happy – we were bringing up our children in a wonderful place.

Over the years we’ve walked many times around the Llys – y- Fran reservoir, now called the Llys-y-Fran Country Park.

Back in the day (as my grandad used to say), the walk around the reservoir (about seven miles) was more of a hike and a scrabble around rocks, trees, and, sometimes, through streams. There’s still a little negotiating of streams, as I mention later.

But first the technical and public information bits…

Llys-y-Fran Country Park is three hundred and fifty acres in all, which includes the two hundred and twelve acres of the reservoir. In the parish of the village Llys y Fran, the community of New Moat, it’s on the southern slopes of the Preseli Mountains.

Llys-y-Frân dam was constructed between September 1968 and 1972.The final concrete was laid on the nineteenth May 1971, completing a total of over 500,000 tons of the stuff since the project began. By May, the depth of water had risen to forty feet but it was only on the fifth of December 1971, exactly nine months after impounding had started, that the reservoir overflowed for the first time.

The reservoir was officially opened by HRH Princess Margaret, Countess of Snowdon, on Tuesday, the ninth of May, 1972.

The dam is a hundred feet (thirty metres) high and the lake is fed by the River Syfynwy. The water is used by homes and industry in south Pembrokeshire and is managed by Welsh Water. It’s one of eight-one reservoirs in Wales.

The forecast for the day was good, so we donned walking boots and rucksacks and set off. I’m cheating a little here – the photograph below was taken on the last stretch of the homeward-bound section, as we looked back with smugness on how far we’d walked.

Back to the beginning… These days the walk is a wider, if still steep and winding in places, gravelly track around the circuit of the lake, and is interspersed with cycling routes of varying degrees of difficulty. I promise you, (and am most disappointed that I forgot to ask husband to photograph it), there was one route highlighted by a sign of a skull and crossbones… with a note that the route was only for those of the highest skill and fitness … (and, I added to myself, the most crazy!).

“There’s a lot of water to cross, isn’t there?” I remarked, after wobbling on strategically-placed rocks and tree trunks in one particularly wide stream.

“Well, it is a reservoir,” he replied, striding manfully through the water.

“Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit!” Was the only remark I could summon up, as I stopped trying to balance and sloshed after him.

The whole time we walked we met only two cyclists and three couples with dogs. The sun shone (most of the time) and there was just a slight breeze that moved the grasses, the patches of daffodils, the leaves and petals of the primroses, the early gorse. Except for the calls of the Canada Geese and, at one point, the noisy squabble of seagulls, it was peaceful. Through the woodland there were stunning views all along the way.

We stopped for a picnic. I won’t admit we stopped to catch our breath – although we did do a bit of puffing up those steeper parts. I’ll even go as far as to say it stopped me talking … sometimes! Anyway, we were ready for a bite to eat, a coffee, and another photograph opportunity .

The photographer! What isn’t seen here is the robin who followed us around for a least a mile after we’d fed him some crumbs, and is a few inches behind David, patiently waiting for him to move (he had his foot on a crust of bread).

What used to take us two and a half hours to walk this trail, this time took us over three and a half. I claim mitigating circumstances – we stopped often ( very often) for husband to take photos. Oh … and to eat the picnic.

And I refuse to talk about the fact that we both walked like ducks the day after!

N.B. The word llys translates into English as “court” and y frân translates as “[of] the crow“. Just thought you might like to know that.

I’d no intention of getting lost – but there again, I never do. It just happens. Usually I have a husband (not a random husband, the one I’ve had for some years) to point me in the right direction. He’s used to me saying ” how far away are we from where we were?”, but this time I was on my own. Well, me and daughter’s dog, Benji.

Looking non too happy. (the reason will become apparent later)

Radyr Woods is around fourteen acres of woodland, with a network of footpaths, boardwalks, and steps throughout the wood.

There is easy access to a mixed woodland and include a local nature reserve (Hermit Wood), with a canal, streams, ponds, springs, grass and heath land.

And ducks.

Look carefully… there is a duck, hiding on a mix of branches… honest!

And another… swimming this time.

And there are interesting panels explaining the intriguing history of the area...

Apparently there are the remains of a late-Prehistoric burnt mound where hot stones would have been immersed in water until it boiled and the burnt and broken stones or pot boilers formed the mound. Although it’s not known what the mound was used for (one could guess rituals – but I’ll go no further with that idea) The mound wasn’t discovered until 1911, but it is evidence that the site was inhabited centuries ago. There are also rumours that a 10th century holy well existed on the site In medieval times Radyr Woods formed a part of the walled deer park of Radyr Court, the historic home of the Mathew family.

The area was farmed and quarried up to the mid 20th century. Conglomerate stone from the Radyr Quarry was used in the construction of both Llandaff Cathedral and Cardiff Castle.

There were quite a few other dog walkers to pass pleasantries with and allowing the dogs to ~~sniff one another’s bottoms~~ socialise. Then I met a man walking his dog, and his ferret

He offered to show me how the ferret walked on the lead. But I had seen him walking towards us for some time. And Benji was showing rather too much interest in the proceedings. I thought it safer for the man to hold said ferret up high-ish. Still a bit too close to Benji, I thought. His dog just looked bored.

I walked on, not noticing which paths I took. Until I realised I didn’t know where I was, and how to find my way back.

When one path seemed to run out and I sank into the mud I thought I’d better turn back. After wandering aimlessly for ten minutes I met a young woman I’d spoken to earlier and when she realised how clueless I was, she took pity on me and, with the aid of Google maps (“you haven’t got Google maps?!”, looking askance at me), walked back with me (quite a long way) to where I eventually recognised a path.

Quite fortuitous meeting her, actually. She belongs to a reading group and I’ll be going to talk with them sometime soon.

As for the sulky looking Benji at the start of this adventure – covered in mud when we eventually arrived back at the house, he needed a bath. And wasn’t impressed.