Day six of my Gwentish adventure, and the time was nigh to tackle more rural climes on a bus route heading south of Abergavenny.
Unlike yesterday's harrowing trek towards the Clytha Arms, today's 'stroll' from the bus stop at Llanover to the pub at Upper Llanover was everything you could wish for from Welsh walking.
Fine drizzly mist one minute, sunshine the next, a rainbow appears of the horizon, a few sheep shuffle into view, a tractor needlessly drives into a hedge just so I can get past it on the narrowest and quietest of lanes, and then a steep ascent just before the pub itself. It was far from summery conditions, but I was sweating like a Christmas carrot in Mum's hostess trolley by the time I arrive.
Though this sign didn't do much for my blood pressure ..... don't panic Captain BRAPwairing .....
'Don't you Brappin' well dare be shut!' is my initial reaction on arriving at Goose & Cuckoo, Upper Llanover (2443 / 4007) reaching for the defib, closely followed by thought of 'why do I never ring ahead?' Thankfully, the door is open, it is 11:59am , AND an elderly lady is mopping the floor. 'They've probably just not got around to opening the gate yet' I muse, open it, walk in (coughing loudly to get attention) and to my relief, without batting an eyelid, a decent pint of Bevan from That Cardiff is soon mine. Relief! Ah yes, the fairly famous Goose & Cuckoo. A rare example of a rural Gwent pub that people in England might've heard of. I sent my parents here on their holiday recently, having heard of the reputation. They drove, the cheats! And I wouldn't say they gave a 'glowing' report (Mummy BRAPA rated the lemonade an 8/10, Dad said the ale was 'okay'). Today, despite being the only customer - not to mention to the two ladies working here being AWOL for the vast majority of my visit - the ancient building seemed to have a deafening undercurrent. The phrase 'if the walls could talk' has never been more apt. A trip to the gents helps me appreciate just how remote and picturesque the surroundings are, and I spy a goat in their undulating garden (take that Farnborough). In fact, I suspect there's a whole menagerie out there. Never has such an empty silent pub felt noisier. A great place. Oh, and guess what? It isn't in the 2023 GBG, and I was sure it was a nailed on regular!
The hardest walk of my holiday since that 50K step day one from Llanthony-Cwmyoy-Llangattock Lingoed (which I don't like to talk about) ensues, as I make my way along winding but thankfully not too hilly lanes past Pencroesoped and a thing called Goytre Wharf down towards Mamhilad, which definitely isn't pronounced 'marmalade'.
My right knee (which I also don't like to talk about) was becoming sore again on the downhill stretches, and despite the gentle, serene and quiet country lanes, this bloody great 4x4 does the opposite of tractor man earlier, and forces me into a hedge even though he had loads of room.
My right hand (which I certainly aren't going to start talking about) is ripped to smithereens by this spiky bramble hedge, blood oozing from a massive cut. Thankfully, the pub is on the horizon.
Horseshoe Inn, Mamhilad (2444 / 4008) hasn't made the 2023 GBG either, which renders the first half of my pub ticking day totally worthless (unless of course, either pub features in whatever edition becomes my 'completion GBG', which you'd have to hope they will). Really illustrates what I'm up against in this game though doesn't it? I walk past a random pile of logs doing bugger all in a 'reception' area and you know immediately you are in a dining pub. Having said that, being rural Gwent, beams, woodburner, stone floors, horse brasses, comfy settees, that famous old pub smell and an interesting local house beer mean it wasn't all Doom Bar and Gloom Bar here. The young lad who serves me is a canny lad too, and the couple next to me waiting for their pies, sausage and mash get chatting to me. I hear them trying to book in here for Christmas dinner. 'Bit early for that' I think (this was still early October) but alas no, they are placed EIGHTH on the waiting list. Easier to get a new liver, hopefully, I muse. Their food arrives, 'of course we want gravy and mushy peas, wot is this?!' they tell Canny Lad, and as I make my exit, the bloke holds up his plate to me and says 'oooh look what you could've won if you'd stayed!' What a tease. Eating in BRAPA pubs unless Daddy BRAPA orders something on a whim? I just don't do it.
Besides, these long walks are seriously eating into my time, and I'm on a mission. Another long walk, this time back as far as the busy A4042 where the buses go down. I cross here (luckily there is a footpath on the right hand side) and a swift right turn leads to a twenty minute stroll to the village hosting pub three.
I did get stuck behind a man with a knee support and the sort of gait which made him 'unovertakeable' just as my bladder was struggling, but hey. I was close to the pub at this point.
There was something rather cute and ecclesiastical about the Foxhunter Inn, Nant-y-Derry (2445 / 4009), a pub that has remained in the 2023 GBG. And the angels sang hallelujah! It was rather spartan, not particularly comfortable, and the 'clomp clomp clomp' of my footsteps echo around as I make my way to the bar in search of victuals or whatever those old posters say instead of beer. The staff are lovely in here too, and they also have a Tomos & Lilford ale on but this has a strange taste - not a 'how it is kept' issue, just not a beer I liked. Luckily the bus is ages away, so I stay for a Rhymney Gold which is perfection. With the last couple of local old crone lunchers tottering off, leaving me as the only customer, the staff who might be a family sit together and chew the fat. It is so quiet in here, I hear them when they say "the gentleman was just telling me that one minute he was getting drenched, next he was boiling hot!" I spin round and say 'that's me!' like summat from a Warner Bros cartoon. I shoehorn BRAPA into the chat, and it is all very lovely, but then it goes silent again, the staff notice the fact and put some ridiculously loud piped music on which doesn't suit the place at all. Time I leave anyway. Pleased with my day's work so far.
I will be back tomorrow evening hopefully for part 12, where we'll finish my sixth day in Gwent and start my 7th.
Cooking on gas now. If I can avoid pub ticking til spring, I might catch up. Being so far behind on these blogs really is weighing on my mind but this BRAPA winter break will help.
Si
After all theses injuries you could do with a check-up!