
Along the Brecons to Hay
Offa’s Dyke is a one of our more legendry national trails. Some forty or so times it criss-crosses the Welsh-English border, following the tumbled 8th century earthen dyke built to defend the Kingdom of Mercia. Beginning on the banks of the Severn, the trail rises through 177 miles of rolling borderland before ending in Prestatyn (whose unfortunate name brings forth images of cold summers on tarmac seafronts).
Offa’s is a popular route, peopled with fresh-faced hikers who cleverly pay for their packs to be carried from one comfortable B7B to the next. For the campers among us though the struggle remains real – sore calves, flattened feet, and growing ascents. Starting out I was grumpier than usual (the first two days back on the road are always hard, and occur too many times given the stop-start nature of my walking) and felt an alienation and a sad, visceral longing for home. I didn’t know what I was doing or what to expect: Offa’s felt like a lonely and difficult endeavour in a way the homely Cotswolds and Thames paths do not.
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