Wales in a weekend

Day One

Having picked up Mark Charles at 10:00am we set of on the journey to Crickhowell, a distance of 215 miles which would take us about 4 1/2 hours, including a stop for refreshments. We hit very little in the way of traffic until we reach the crossing where we would leave the green and pleasant land of England for an even greener land in Wales.

Both filled with anticipation and enthusiasm for what was to come, little did we know that our first experience of Welsh hospitality would be the toll gates at the other end of the bridge. “HOW MUCH?” we said in perfect unison as the toll board reached our view, £5.10? What idiot decided it would be £5.10? What is wrong with £5.00? Having said that, what is wrong with £1.00? I could see out of the corner of my already tearful eye that Mark was making no effort whatsoever to reach into the unknown depths of his little pink purse for this outrageously inflated fee to enter Wales, so reluctantly I fished around for the pennies to allow us to continue to our destination. My suggestion that Mark should ask just how many shares we were buying in this beautiful bridge fell on deaf ears as he handed over my hard earned cash to the young lady in the toll booth, who, I couldn’t help noticing was wearing rather a lot of very expensive looking jewellery and designer clothes, no matter, onward to the land of our Fathers, well not mine but what the hell.

The Welsh leg of the trip, like the English side, was without problems and we arrived in Crickhowell around 2:30pm, a pleasant enough little village, if somewhat traffic laden in the High Street Department. Mark’s Tom Tom did a good job of locating the Dragon Hotel for us, however, car parking facilities were not immediately evident to either of us and so I entered the hotel and enquired as to the location of their car park, if they had one.

A very helpful gentleman directed me to the side of the building where I would find the entrance to the car park at the rear of the hotel. Funny, I thought, I noticed no entrance to anywhere as we passed the hotel. The reason for this would become frighteningly evident as Mark took more than one stab at squeezing my car through a gap large enough only for a bicycle ridden by an anorexic midget. After 5 brave attempts he admitted defeat and handed what was left of the car over to me. I of course found it easy, but only because mark had already reduced the width of my Astra by at least 6 inches.

With the car sorted it was time to check in. On my way out of the car park I find the gentleman from the Hotel giving detailed instruction to the next victim, which turned out to be Hazel (Lacemaker) Hazel and I spent a day together on one of her previous trips to London, so after a friendly greeting, I offered to assist her struggle through the portal. Hazel, having driven nearly 2000 miles in the past two weeks of her holiday in England, managed to wriggle through the “alleyway” with a few WOH…..RIGHT HAND DOWN…. from me and, after some counselling, was able to get out of the car and check in.

My room was very comfortable and once I had unpacked the few clothes I had brought with me I took a look out of the window to check out the view, as one does, only to see Keith (Silversnapper), who I recognised from his avatar, sitting in the courtyard sipping his bottle of orange juice. I made my way down and introduced myself, at which point Mark arrived and the Hazel.

Unfortunately it was too late for us to procure any refreshment at the hotel, which I felt was a bit odd, but no matter, the receptionist directed us to a very pleasant coffee house about 200 yards down the high street, where we set about getting to know each other.

Merlynn, who sadly could not make the meeting, had previously spend considerable time and effort putting together a few routes showing possible locations for photographic opportunities, which the four of us discussed and decided to take a “dummy” run of at least one, after we had finished our coffee.

Although Merlynn’s instructions and maps were extremely clear and detailed we did manage to take a wrong turning and found ourselves in an uncharted area of the Brecon Beacons, at least not charted by our expert cartographer…. Where were you when we need you Merlynn? However, it would seem no matter where one finds oneself in the Brecons it is quite beautiful. So, undaunted by my inaccurate map reading skills (yes, I got the blame for it), we soldiered on taking in the scenery.

Once we had seen all we needed we decided to return to base, which would have been effortless had Numpty Boy (Mark’s real name) not left his satnav back in his room. Undaunted by this minor oversight but filled with enthusiasm for what we had seen, we made for the hotel. Fortunately and by sheer luck, we did discover where we had gone wrong on our way out and knew we could find our way the next day, which was fortunate as our next trip would probably be in the dark.

Back at the Hotel, we freshened up and decided to meet for dinner. On this occasion there would be only three of us as the car parking episode and the magical mystery tour of Wales had taken its toll on Hazel who decided to take to her room for a rest.

Dinner was a very enjoyable experience, apart from the convivial company, the food was excellent. Photography was discussed at length as well as other less important topics. As we had all had a long day and the fact that England were playing South Africa the three of us returned to our rooms. However, the rugby did not go as I had hoped and I eventually climbed into bed so I would be refreshed for the start of the next day at 6:00am.

Day Two (Morning Light)

Rising at 5:15am I took a peek out of my window hoping to see stars in the sky rather than cloud, I was not disappointed. Not a cloud to be seen, indicating that the Met office had been true to their word and we were in for a clear day. It was about 5:45am when I could hear loud voices emanating from the vicinity of the front of the Hotel. Thinking this must be either some delivery chaps, or maybe Friday night part goeres making their way home I continued checking my backpack to ensure I had everything, camera, spare batteries etc, sadly not my radio controlled shutter release which had not arrived before I left home.

Lifting the heavy load onto my shoulder I made my way to the front of the hotel where we had planned to meet. The mystery of the loud voices was revealed as I found the two remaining members of our team, Ric and Jill (Digi), discussing Ric’s epic journey from Wales to Leeds and back to Wales the night before. Once joined by Mark, Keith and Hazel, the six of us set off in the dark for our dawn shoot somewhere in deepest Wales, which was to be the start of an interesting and fruitful day of photography and humour.

Following Merlynn’s route to the letter this time, I was driving with Mark navigating, although I place no importance on this. After passing over the Brec/Mon canal, too dark for any useful images at this time, we reached our first location before the sun appeared above the horizon, presenting us with the prospect of a sunrise over the valley. As there were six of us it was necessary to take two cars, so finding a safe place, to accommodate two vehicles we unloaded our equipment to obtain our first shots.

The sunrise did not disappoint us, bathing the landscape in soft warm light with the sky displaying all the primary colours from deep red to rich blue. Almost an impossible combination to record in one exposure as the brightness range is beyond most cameras, even using a graduated ND filter to reduce the contrast between the two, we had about 20 minutes to produce our images before the sun diluted the vivid colour.

Almost immediately I was impressed by the help being offered by the group to those less experienced with this kind of photography. When the sun eventually burst in to life most of us had managed to produce something we would be happy with. We stayed for a short while, tracing the path of the light across the dew covered grass but it was now time to move on to make good use of the “Golden Hour” and the effect it would have on the hills and valleys.

As we left the area the sun was quite intense and made driving difficult as we twisted and turned through the valley. Although I was driving it was hard not to take in the changing colours across the fields and on the tips of mountains. I was conscious that I had another car behind me and I had a tendency to stop without warning if I caught site of a photo opportunity. As the remnants of that thought left my mind we mounted the brow of a hill and within a second I found myself decelerating like a drag car with an open parachute behind me. Stopping on the side of the road and screwing my face waiting for the rest of the group to plough into the back of me. They all forgave me when they realised the reason I had uttered some expletive or other and slammed on the brakes, although I understand the language in the rear car was bluer than mine.

In front of us was a deep valley in the centre of which was a hill rising from a ring of white mist swirling around it like a river. Although the sun’s rays had not yet climbed high enough to light up the top of the hill it was enough to cause a sharp intake of breath and justify my reckless manoeuvre. The time was just before 7:00am and we hauled the tripods out of the boot. The sky from this angle was not the most exciting I had seen but I knew if we had tried to drive to a better location the view would be gone so it was a case of using what we had or lose what we could see. After a further 20 minutes we were ready to move on once more and by the direction of the road I realised we would be driving through the “valley of mist”

As we travelled down into the area we had just photographed we came to a pub with a large car park opposite and I took the opportunity to stop to consider our plans with what we had left of the morning light. I discussed a photograph I had taken a while back in similar circumstances when I photographed the strong sunlight filtering through trees diffused by the mist and suggested we should keep our eyes open for such a scene. As it was also time we thought about turning back to the hotel for breakfast we had little time to find it.

As we continued through the mist it was not long before Hazel and I spotted something that might fit the bill. As we crossed a small stone bridge there in front of us was a narrow stream with overhanging trees and sure enough the harsh light was casting several shafts of light onto the water. After another 20 minutes we all felt we had got what we came for and it was now time to return for a well earned breakfast and a short rest before we ventured out again for the rest of the day.

Day Two (Remains of the day)

Having been well fed with our full English, sorry, full Welsh breakfasts, except for those who felt it more prudent to choose a more healthy option of fruit and prune juice (Yuk), we planned our route. A trip to waterfall Country, some 30 to 40 miles away and of course anything we felt worthy of a stop on the way, which would include lunch, or so we thought.

Leaving Crickhowell we crossed the bridge over the River Usk on our way through the valleys and soon came across an area of steep banks, trees and rocks. The light was harsh as it was still only 10:30am but everyone agreed it was worth a scout around. On the opposite side of the road the land dropped sharply and across the fields, offering further views over the valley we had photographed earlier. The light presented the group with more demanding images containing deep shadows and bright highlights, but the textures of the trees and slate made it a challenge to produce dramatic photographs.

Onward now without further stop to Pontneddfechan where we would start our walk through the most beautiful woodland toward the waterfalls, which none of us had visited before. It became evident from the low level of water in the river we were following that the waterfalls would not be as impressive as we had hoped. Nevertheless, we continued on for about 40 minutes until we reached the first of three we had planned to visit, Sgwd Gwladys, a waterfall in the headwaters of the River Neath. As we had anticipated the lack of water had reduced the fall to a mere trickle compared to what it could be. This didn’t stop anyone from composing some stunning images, the rock and wet moss giving rich colour to the surrounding area.

Continuing through the uneven and sometimes precarious path, stopping only to help one of our number to her feet, we arrived at a small stepped low fall and then onward again, oh yes, pulling Hazel upright again, and after about 300 yards doing the same again, I had warned her to drink no more than 6 vodkas at breakfast but she insisted she could take it.

The walk was both enjoyable and entertaining as the conversation changed from photography to political argument to the Royal Air force and whose turn it was to pick Hazel up from the floor. Two of the group, Ric and Mark, were bird watchers so the dippers (no not Hazel) wagtails and LBJ (Little brown jobs), a term, I believe, used for little birds that no one could recognise, were all pointed out to those of us who wouldn’t know a sparrow from a buzzard. Of course none of us managed to photograph any of these because Hazel managed to fall over again just before we could focus on the little blighters. We eventually reached the end of our journey having photographed the Horseshoe Falls and the lower falls. Keith announced to the rest of us that the next water, or at least liquid, should be poured down his throat and we decided it was a good time to head for the pub we passed as we started, which would take us at least an hour to reach, depending on how many times Hazel fell over on the way back. I have to admit a pint of cold larger never tasted as good when we reached the pub. It was almost 6:00pm when we arrived back in Crickhowell for a well earned rest before we all walked the 100 yards to the nearest Chinese Restaurant where we finished the day stuffing our faces with noodles and sweet and sour, except of course for those choosing the healthy option of fruit and prune juice (again yuk).

Day Three (The final picture)

Sadly we had said goodbye to Ric and Jill who both had to reluctantly return home the night before, both living in Wales they had only planned to be with us for the day. Also Keith, who was needed in Leeds and therefore left us after breakfast, leaving only Hazel, Mark and myself to finish off the weekend with a couple of hours shooting as Mark and I would start our homeward journey after lunch. I know what you are thinking, who would be left to pick Hazel up after we had gone. Well Hazel wisely spend the rest of the day resting in the hotel lounge nursing the cut on her leg she received on the last fall the previous day, nothing too serious but one has to be careful.

Before the departures the three of us decided to take a final drive out to a couple of locations, one of which was a walk down the canal tow path, which we had crossed several times but not stopped to investigate. This proved to be a pleasant and informative walk as Mark imparted once again his knowledge of wildlife.

As we walked under several of the bridges over the canal we couldn’t help noticing structures constructed from wood and held together with metal brackets. After discussing the reason for these Mark came to the conclusion that as they were long and hollow and using his expert knowledge of such things, they had to be Alligator nesting boxes, this he felt was the only explanation for their shape and size. Hazel and I, although dubious of his explanation could offer no alternative reason for their use but reserved judgement. Further along the canal Mark also pointed out what he said was a snake bird in the water, this turned out to be nothing more than a twig. It was at this point that Hazel suggested I take Mark back to the home for the bewildered and also that we should now completely disregard his explanation of the mysterious wooden boxes and gently suggested to Mark that his hope of becoming the next David Attenborough was perhaps a little ambitious.

Overall I felt the weekend was a great success, both socially and photographically. I have suggested a future venture in Cornwall, a County I know very well. I also suggested to Hazel that before she ventures to Britain from her native Country of Australia, she should invest in a sturdy pair of walking boots. In all seriousness, although Hazel did not injure herself too badly, this was undoubtedly the reason for the falls she suffered. A lesson to us all.

I just want to thank Hazel, Jill, Keith, Ric and of course my good friend Mark, who tolerates my sense of humour, particularly when it is aimed at him. You all made the whole weekend one of the most enjoyable photographic experiences I can remember. It was a real pleasure for me and I hope we can do it again in the very near future.

My special thanks the Red Arrows who did a fly past over the Seven Bridge as we left Wales, I didn’t realise you knew we were there. Please don’t send me the bill for the fuel.

Barrie