Day 2: Rain in the Wye Valley

Start: Beeches Farm campsite

End: Monmouth

Distance: 14 miles

Sleep was a struggle last night as the rain hammered on the walls of my tent and the wind made the sides rattle. I lay bundled up in my sleeping bag, trying to rest and relax, occasionally drifting into a light sleep. It was still raining in the morning so I ate breakfast under the shelter of my tent before facing the inevitable, dreaded task of packing up a soggy tent. I tried my best to keep everything as dry as possible and loaded all my possessions into my pack, ready to make further progress with my distance.

I rejoined the route which followed the River Wye, meandering adjacent to the water. The rain eased a little but the thick grey cloud threatened it would return. A couple of hours into the morning, I still hadn't seen a single person but I enjoyed listening to the gentle trickle of the river and watching the ducks swim around. Eventually the route met a road which I crossed to enter a dense patch of woodland. The path followed a gentle incline which, although it wasn't steep, it was persistent and noticeable with the weight on my back.

After another hour or so, following an undulating path through the wood I finally heard some people. There was a small clearing in the wood where a group of 10 or so hikers rested. They were completing the same route as me, a group of Australians assisted by a guide. I felt a little envious of their small packs, as they were staying in B&Bs they didn't need all the gear I carry. I chatted with a few members of the group, along with their guide and got the usual comments of, "You are all on your own?, "That's brave", "How much does your bag weigh?" After we'd chatted I pushed ahead, eager to escape the rain that had begun again and wanted get to Monmouth for lunch. One of the Aussie's cracked a cricket based joke as I left, which went over my head, but I laughed anyway!

I arrived in Monmouth, in desperate need of a cup of tea and lunch. It felt so nice to relieve my shoulders of my pack, sit down and be out of the rain. My attempt to blend in around town in my feral state was poor. The woodland paths were caked in mud that had transferred to my trousers, my hair was a tangled mess and my clothes were soggy from the rain. I chatted to a few people as I drank my tea, explaining to them what I was doing and asking them about themselves and the area. I really enjoy the sense of identity and purpose you feel on these adventures. You are the wild looking one; provoking a stranger’s curiosity with your story telling, carrying everything you need to survive, colliding with new places and people at an alarming rate.

After lunch, I headed out of town towards camp. The path out of town was steep and lined with a thick coating of mud, making it a challenge to ascend. To help matters further, the rain and wind grew stronger. I pulled my hood up, looked down and let discipline take the driving seat for the final miles. By the time I pitched my tent I was soaked, unable to discern what was sweat and what was rain! I sprawled out in my tent, my feet and shoulders feeling relieved. I'd enjoyed today's route and was beginning to make peace with the fact that if I've chosen to spend part of my summer in Wales, then rain will be inevitable.