“Deep in a dream of thick snow…”

In wellies, in a Brecon Beacons snowfield – I won’t forget it. This is a review of the time I spent in Breacon Beacons, a time I will treasure forever. I love long walks and any other excuse that gets me out of the office and into the great outdoors.
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It was a morning that gave me hope, to last me until the spring would pop out of the ground again. None of this half-soaked weather that couldn’t decide what it wanted to be. But instead limitless blue skies, lung-crackingly cold air and an excuse to wear gloves and my favourite woolly hat, the one that made strangers twitch.

The snow had melted in Pontypridd. When I looked out of my window and across the valley the only patches lay in the shrinking puddles of shadow. Leg-stretching, cobweb-chasing, cheek-pinking weather. It was the perfect day to drive ten miles north from my home and embark upon the walk I had always loved, from the village of Cefn Coed-y-Cymmer to Pontsticill reservoir at the foot of the Brecon Beacons.

I realised that Ponty may have given me a false weather report as I hurtled towards Merthyr and saw those shrinking patches of snow twisting and the reservoir and back, blanketing the countryside.

But being naturally endowed with silly amounts of stubbornness, I rooted through my skip of a car until I found muck-encrusted Wellington boots. Abandoning the niffy Reeboks for filthy rubber, I set off.

Until then, I’d never seen this walk in anything but the flickering shades of greens and reds of summer and autumn. And it wasn’t until I’d followed the path out of Cefn, towards the heights of the Brecon Beacons that this walk changed my definition of winter.

The ruined remains of Morlais Castle teetered on the cliff top to the right of the pathway. And today, instead of being hung with ropes and climbers, it was silent and abandoned, deep in a dream of thick snow. Around its crags wind-blasted trees hunched in black tangles and as I stamped the bend of the path the Brecon Beacons unveiled itself in all its snow.

Ask me to picture winter and it’s those softly curled peaks that I see now. And when I need peace I just feel myself awe-poised on that path. Because at that moment I caught my favourite walk in an unexpected pose. No greens or reds, but the most pure and untouched white.

Just then the startled world stopped spinning and I was the only soul who saw it. And that’s when I giggled. Quietly at first, from my frost-grazed throat. Then it gave way to another bubble of mirth. And another, and another until I couldn’t stifle it.

My head thrown back, woolly hat slipping over my hair, I stood alone in the snow and laughed high into the sky. At the frosty freedom of the mountains and the moment I fell in love with the Brecon Beacons all over again.

Author Bio: Duncan writes about all things Welsh, and specialises in UK Breaks, activity holidays and UK family holidays.

Category: Travel
Keywords: UK breaks, activity holidays, UK family holidays