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22:43:00 o'clock BST
Hearing Adam Walton's BBC Radio Wales Show
Offers From The Dyke
Offa's Dyke Part 2
You see, if you read back thru the archives of this log to April you'll find Part One. So what exactly does inspire likely lads, happier with a pint in hand rather than a compass to get up at 6.30am & actually put themselves thru a gruelling 6 hour hike over mountains? That's the very question I asked myself when we were crawling up that first mountain by Clwyd Gate this morning! Gasping for breath as we were enveloped by clouds. A noticed & missed absentee today was Andy Fatman; having sampled the delights of the Lake District for the whole of last week he was in a position unable to accompany us. So it was left to Ste Sync, Fairziff & myself to take up the reins & walk from Ruthin to Bodfari (the hard way), over the Clwydian Range.
That very first mountain was Foel Fenlli, about a mile or so into the walk. We had a little confusion over the map reading as it stated we were to skirt around the summit rather than go over it & we studied the charts, hoping we didn't have to make the climb to 3/4 of the way up, then skirt round. Unfortunately that's what we had to do. The only one not bothered by this was Fairziff's whippet, Devo (named after the band who released the single 'Whip It' - geddit?), who happily sauntered back 'n' forth with little effort or care. The strange thing about dogs is that they're compulsed to roll in the shit of different animals, be it fox shit, badger shit or, in Devo's case today, sheep shit. I of course had the misfortune to stroke Devo & got a handful of the stuff.
Fairziff & Sync baited each other for a good hour on the way up to Moel Fammau, walking behind them & taking it all in I thought it was almost like the dialogue from Pulp Fiction as they argued over the difference between KFC's Zinger Burgers & Hot Wings;
'The skin on the hot wings retains the spice & also adds a crunch.' Explained Sync.
'Oh so you're an expert on fried chicken are you?' Fairziff stabbed.
They delved to great depths to better each other & I'm sorry I didn't bring a tape recorder for prosperity's sake as Tarantino would've paid good money for this kind of banter.
The morning dew seeped thru our boots as the clouds closed around us, Fairziff suggested it was like a scene from Hounds of The Baskervilles, he was right, but then my mobile rang, shattering the illusion.
We took frequent breaks, mainly for the sake of the other 2 who needed to catch their breath from all the gassing they'd done on the way up. I was full of energy having consumed 3 chocolate bars, a bag of crisps & a bottle of Lucozade for breakfast. But it was a timely break & Steve nibbled at his lemon 'n' thyme chicken bap with cheese, & told me that everything with bread he eats always comes with a smattering of mustard & a helping of mayonnaise.
The disagreements, although always light hearted in a Chuckle Brothers or Hinge & Bracket sense continued onwards & upwards. We touched upon the para-olympics where Sync stated that the top para athletes have amputations to enhance their performances, like removing any useless limbs that'll be in the way. Fairziff reckoned they built up their upper bodys so much that they end up looking like Humpty Dumpty in a pram. Is this fact, or is it pub talk?
We reached Jubilee Tower, the peak of Moel Fammau & stopped again for a snack, disappointed to be surrounded by cloud. Jubilee Tower is the large monument you can see on the mountain from almost anywhere in the Vale of Clwyd or from the Mold side, & on a clear day you can see for miles in all directions. I climbed this peak once before when I was 7 or 8 & a budding Cub (Neil Crud in Boy Scout shocker), & remember being mortified after being hit in the face by a piece of sheep shit, but I soon joined in the spirit of things & a full Boy Cub sheep shit fight proceeded.
Jubilee Tower was infested with centipedes, or are they millipedes? The black ones with hundreds of legs. Every rock you overturned had a whole community of them bustling underneath. Maybe they were preparing an invasion & one morning we'll wake up to see a black mass spreading down the mountain as billions of them sought to take over civilisation.
The conversation wore on & the baiters found common ground with Big Brother & they agreed that the horny Geordie bird (their description) or Victor would win the show. I felt quite out of that one as I've not watched TV for weeks.
Low cloud, southerly warm wind & steep hills was the order of the day along with Sync sneezing & blowing out his nostrils at every given moment; he'd discovered a wicked allergy to heather pollen (there's nothing else up there!) & suffered terribly all day. Fairziff & myself were unfortunate to be caught down wind on a couple of occasions when Sync sprayed from those very powerful nostrils, mmm nice!
Lunch was a mile after skirting MoelArthur, an Iron Age fortification, probably built to keep the Denbigh yobs at bay. We met some diamond geezer with a cockney accent, complete with staff, waterproof map & all the gear. He was from Devon, past retirement age & would've no doubt left us standing, He was on Day 2 of his quest to do the whole of Offa's Dyke, staying in B+B's along the way. No doubt he had a nagging wife at home & this was a 2 week retreat he needed.
Near to the end the list of ailments grew, Fairziff was complaining his knees were like jelly going up hill & burning on the way down. Sync's sinuses were exploding with pollen & I was still suffering from an unfortunate toothbrush accident last week!!
The descent was on nice springy soft ground, leading us gently to the Downing Arms in Bodfari where a cool pint of Carling awaited us in civilisation.
We raised our glasses;
'Here's to stage three.'
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07/06/04 15:53
Andy Fatman xxx