Ditchling and Plumpton, East Sussex
Distance 7 miles
Duration 5 hours
Start/finish Ditchling village car park
A pub walk is, as everyone knows, the best kind of ramble, and this tranquil circular walk up on to the South Downs boasts not one inn, but three. Ditchling – the start and end point of the walk – has two pubs, the White Horse and the Bull, alongside 36 buildings dating from the 1500s to 1800s. Most notable is Wings Place, gifted to Anne of Cleves in her divorce settlement from Henry VIII in 1540.
Within a couple of minutes’ walk from the heart of the village, you’re in open fields. Head right out of the car park and look for a right turn, signposted “to the Downs”. With the church spire behind you, the path leads diagonally into leafy woodland, before heading south towards Underhill Lane, and the steep climb up to Ditchling Beacon.
The Beacon is a pull (248 metres), but the view is spectacular: south to Brighton and the silvery wastes of the English Channel, north across the Sussex Weald to Ashdown Forest and the Surrey Hills. Walk east along the South Downs Way, before an unmade road takes you downhill, directly into the welcoming arms of the Half Moon at Plumpton.
Of all the pubs in the area, the Half Moon is my favourite: independent, ungentrified and supportive of local producers. Order a glass of Plumpton Estate wine and check out the pub’s famous painting of dozens of its regulars, including Raymond Briggs and Jimmy Page, done over a nine-month period in 1979. Sunday lunches are hearty roasts, with good vegan options (two/three courses, £24.95/£29.95), alongside a local catch of the day and homemade pies.
The good news is that the second half of the walk is flat. Well-signed paths skirt the grounds of Plumpton College, before heading back across fields and past My Little Farm, a new community smallholding. Once at the bridleway, turn back to see a forested “V” of beech, fir and lime trees on the side of the hill, planted in 1887 to mark Queen Victoria’s golden jubilee. I always sneak a peak through the gates at Streat Place, an elegant Elizabethan manor house, before the final, straight-line stretch across open fields to Ditchling – where a choice of pubs awaits.
Annabelle Thorpe
Highgate to Little Venice, London
Distance: 8 miles
Duration: 3½ hours
Start Highgate tube station
Finish The Prince Alfred, Maida Vale
Starting at Highgate tube station, follow Southwood Lane into Highgate village, noting the former home of Mary Kingsley, a Victorian explorer who had the chutzpah to chat up cannibals in the Amazon. At Pond Square, admire the array of London plane trees (planted in bulk across the city because they could handle the pollution), before proceeding south down Swain’s Lane to Highgate Cemetery (adults £10) to pay your respects to Bob Hoskins (made films), George Michael (made music) and Karl Marx (made a terrible fuss about the exploitation of workers).
Cut through Oakeshott Avenue – a distinctive street of mock-Tudor mansions – to Hampstead Heath, where you should resist the temptation to have a dip in the men’s pond (Mum, I’m talking to you), and instead continue west until you hit upon East Heath Road. From here, wiggle north-west to Well Walk, where you’ll find the erstwhile abodes of JB Priestley and John Constable, as well as the Wells Tavern, a good spot to get some liquid on board. Follow Well Walk west until it splits, at which point err right on to Flask Walk, which you should follow to its terminus.
You’re in Hampstead village now, which is either good or bad depending on your disposition. Meander south-east to Belsize village, where it’s possible to rest your legs or get a bagel from Roni’s. Continue south on Belsize Park Gardens (the composer Frederick Delius lived at No 44) before doing a quick left-right on to Primrose Gardens, about as attractive an oval of terraced housing as you’re liable to find.
In Primrose Hill village itself, you’ll find the former homes of Sylvia Plath (opposite Chalcot Square) and Friedrich Engels (opposite Le Tea Cosy). Climb to the summit of the village’s eponymous mound, exit the park on its west side then proceed along St Edmund’s Terrace to St John’s Wood High Street, where even the charity shops are flogging designer gear for serious dough.
You’re now a stone’s throw from the zebra crossing on Abbey Road made famous by the Beatles, upon which you should absolutely take your time posing, because the motorists love it. Follow Hall Road to Hamilton Terrace, at the southern end of which you’ll find the former gaff of Joseph Bazalgette, who scored brownie points with Londoners by designing the city’s sewer system. Cross Maida Vale and enter Little Venice, a concentration of canals that probably doesn’t warrant its moniker. Follow the aromas of ale and roast beef to the Prince Alfred, where dinner awaits. The pub is an absolute beauty, worth a visit for its vintage interior alone. Bottoms up! (Or down, rather …)
Ben Aitken
Bath, Somerset
Distance 10 miles
Duration 5 hours
Start/finish Bath Abbey
Bath is a city lost in the countryside, an urban blip in a hug of hills. Even standing in the heart of its Georgian gorgeousness, those green billows beckon you out. So I turn my back on the Abbey, step on the Cotswold Way marker stone by its hefty doors, and walk away.
This National Trail starts (or ends) in Bath, and provides the finest route out of town. It’s tricky, picking out the waymarks amid the Christmas market crowds, but eventually I duck down Quiet Street and then pass the city’s greatest hits: Queen Square, The Circus, the sweeping Royal Crescent, resplendent in low winter light.
As the trail winds westward and up – and there’s a lot of up to come – the tourists thin. I skirt Royal Victoria Park, nod to the golfers on High Common and drop into Weston village. Here, the Cotswolds proper start to rise.
I’ve walked and run this route a hundred times, but still … how is this sylvan promenade so close to a city? I feel my lungs expand; I want to sing to the sheep, to the rolling slopes, to the hump of Kelston Roundhill, with its wig of winter-naked trees. Best is Prospect Stile, from where you can see Bath, the Mendips, even Wales. And it’s never better than now: blush pink on a crisp winter afternoon, as if embarrassed by its own good looks.
The Cotswold Way heads left here. Instead, I veer right across the racecourse and around the cirque beneath Beckford’s Tower – a gilt-topped monument to Georgian eccentricity, open most winter weekends. Nearby, a footpath leads left to Lansdown Road, and to the hillside Hare & Hounds.
This 17th-century inn is a great summer pub: it has Bath’s best beer garden, looking across the winsome Charlcombe valley. With a thick coat, you could still nurse a pint of Proper Job outside. Fortunately, it also has a full wall of mullioned windows. I opt to enjoy the view from inside, where a real fire crackles and good roasts are served.
I’ve walked seven miles now, and could bus back to town. But instead I backtrack to the trail below Beckford’s, continuing to walk. The views remain superb. And this way I can wind through salubrious backstreets that deliver peak Bath-ness minus the crowds – not least Lansdown Crescent, a rival to the Royal. Eventually, I make it back to the abbey, this time walking towards its exquisite west front, but still with an eye to the hills beyond.
Sarah Baxter
Broadway Tower, the Cotswolds
Distance 4 miles
Duration 2½ hours
Start/finish War memorial, Broadway High Street
The dog’s tail is wagging hard. We’ve brought her to Broadway on a chilly Saturday afternoon – a time she usually saves for snoring belly up – and there are canines at every turn. Pugs leaving coffee shops, beagles eyeing up knitwear boutiques, terriers cooing over the 16th-century limestone architecture. The dog owners of south-east Worcestershire are out in force, although as visitors our goal lies elsewhere. We’re heading for the hills.
Broadway is well named. Some Cotswolds honeypots feel hemmed in, but the wide, handsome high street has a calming sense of space, especially in lesser-visited winter. A rich history too: the Beaker people, the Romans, medieval wool traders, TikTok influencers – all have passed through Broadway, pulled in different ways by the rolling countryside.
It’s what’s drawn us, too. We’re walking an official National Trails circular route, meaning decent signage, loads of puddly kissing gates and big, billowing views. We exit the high street on to a footpath. The escarpment to the south is topped by the turreted silhouette of Broadway Tower, our end goal. Green landscapes swell around us.
The first section is an easy ramble across grassy meadows, and ridge and furrow undulations, before the path leads upwards along a thigh-sapping avenue of sycamores. Higher now, we cross more tussocky fields as the panoramas open up. Visible far to the west is the spine of the Malvern Hills. The sky is blue. The wind is cold and mud scented. The dog is in heaven.
The complex around the tower arrives suddenly, complete with a cafe and playground. The tower itself – a hexagonal structure built as a folly in the 1790s – is the second highest point in the Cotswolds. Designer William Morris came here regularly to draw inspiration. A patchwork of towns and farmland spills out below us; Birmingham is a speck on the blustery horizon.
The Cotswold Way descends steeply back into Broadway and we make for the 17th-century Crown & Trumpet. A 35-year mainstay in the Good Beer Guide, it’s a short wander off the main drag and something of a rarity in these parts: in place of chichi decor it has an open fire, framed beer mats and a well-trodden carpet. Pints of Shagweaver and bowls of cheesy chips hit the spot. And the dog? Ready for that snooze.
Ben Lerwill
Burnley to Worston via Pendle Hill, Lancashire
Distance 11½ miles
Duration 6 hours
Start Burnley
Finish Calf’s Head, Worston
In this corner of east Lancashire, Pendle Hill – an outlier of the Pennine spine – separates industrial and agricultural, built-up and empty, the urban working-class from the rural upper-middles. Burnley, the start point, is known for coal as well as cotton, football and cricket, not to mention gay rights and Benedictine liqueur.
Take the Burnley Way to the banks of the Calder, the river that powered and watered the early mills. From here, follow the Pendle Way to Higham, which gets you on to the southern slopes of Pendle Hill. Sheep, dry-stone walls and steep climbs take over. A zigzagging route takes you up to Newchurch in Pendle, a tiny hamlet perched on a tight bend in the road. St Mary’s church has an “eye of god” on its tower to deter evil spirits, and a tomb by the rear wall bears the name of one Ellin Nutter. The 1651 date could make her a relative of Alice Nutter, who was hanged after the Lancaster witch trials.
This area is marked as the Forest of Pendle on maps. A former royal chase, it was later used for vaccaries (pastures for cows). Note the recurrence of “booth” in local placenames, alluding to the huts used by herdsmen. Look south for views over the chain of towns that grew up around yarn and cloth. From left (east) to right (west), there’s Barrowford, Colne, Nelson, Brierfield, Burnley, Accrington, Oswaldtwistle and Blackburn – to name only the larger places. For residents of all, Pendle Hill and the nearby West Pennine Moors are the main recreational spaces, airy heights that in the smoky old days provided respite for lungs and legs.
The 557-metre climb to the trig point at the top of Pendle Hill goes via Fell Wood, between the two Ogden reservoirs and along Boar Clough – clough is another local word, used for a steep-sided ravine. Barley Moor opens out here, hopefully with a few peewits or even a hawk battling the westerlies. From the trig, it’s a breezy saunter across the mesa-like top of the hill, now with views north to the Yorkshire Three Peaks and Bowland Fells, to drop down to Worston from the Pile of Stones on Pendle Moor.
You’ve passed pub options already – at Higham and Barley – but the Calf’s Head is a well-liked, well-run village pub all on its own in Worston. There’s a single small snug with three tables and an open fire, and more tables – for food or drink – in the pub lounge and in an annexe. If the weather’s fine, the beer garden is a real beauty. Timothy Taylor’s and local Moorhouse’s ales are generally available. The menu is massive; I rate the seafood sharing board, hot pot and plate pie.
From Worston, it’s a short walk to Clitheroe for onward trains and buses. Take care crossing the A59. If you want a longer walk, you can avoid the busy carriageway altogether by taking a loop along West Lane and through the villages of Downham and Chatburn, which have three more pubs between them.
Chris Moss
St Mawgan and Mawgan Porth, Cornwall
Distance 5.4 miles
Duration 2 hours
Start/finish The Falcon Inn, St Mawgan
I’m climbing up the coast path away from Mawgan Porth beach on the north Cornwall coast, the golden sands and swirling seas way below. Gulls wheel overhead and the wind whips my face, but I’m glad for the breeze after the exertion of the hill. Ahead, I make out the rocky outcrop of Griffin’s Point, an iron age cliff fort with views south to Watergate Bay and Newquay beyond. This is where I turn inland, leaving behind the dramatic sea stacks of Bedruthan Steps and heading east to return to the village of St Mawgan.
It’s around the halfway point of one of my favourite circular walks in Cornwall, a 5.4-mile loop that takes in a wide variety of terrain, from coastal sections and sheep-speckled fields to woodlands scattered with streams, pines and badger setts.
You could start and end at Mawgan Porth, but I like to begin in St Mawgan, parking on the road outside The Falcon Inn. From here, I follow the river north-west then cross a bridge, passing the acers and azaleas of the Japanese Garden (closed in winter) and a row of cottages with quaint names such as the Mouse House.
Forking left, I’m on to the public footpath signposted towards Mawgan Porth. After Windsor Mill, a settlement dating back to the middle ages, I cross a stile and follow the path through the trees, the River Menalhyl trickling to my left. The track quickly turns rugged underfoot, with exposed tree roots and leaves that make a satisfying crunch with each step.
Beneath the trees, some with orange lichen on their trunks, others with stubborn hawthorn berries still clinging to branches, there’s shelter from the elements; a blissful contrast to the bracing sea breeze I’m about to experience on that coast path.
After around half an hour on the coast, I turn inland for a final stretch through fields and across streams. I return to the Falcon via the St Mawgan churchyard, pausing at the memorial to 10 men who died from hypothermia on a boat that drifted ashore near Watergate Bay in December 1846.
I wonder if any of those men frequented this 16th-century inn, which is under new ownership this winter but has kept a traditional feel, with its original fireplace, exposed beams and dark wooden bar. I join the locals enjoying pints of ale from the pub’s own microbrewery in Penryn. It’s a warm, welcome respite after miles walking through the Cornish winter elements.
Ellie Ross
Bakewell to Little Longstone, Peak District
Distance 3 miles
Duration 1½ hours
Start Bath Gardens, Bakewell Square
Finish The Packhorse Inn, Little Longstone
“Walk and pub?” Growing up in the Peak District, these two things were never mutually exclusive. You can keep your Gore-Tex-clad scrambles, your emergency crampons, your Wainwright “bagging” and Three Peaks conquering. I’m worn out just thinking about all that. Give me a route I can do in an hour and a half, that’s manageable with a hangover or an unruly toddler or, God forbid, both. Give me a route where the scenery is quietly breathtaking and ever-changing but I can do it in a pair of beaten-up trainers.
Give me a route that ends in a fantastic pub, where I can fill my belly with lovingly cooked local produce and slake my thirst on local ale. Earwig on a mix of day-trippers and local “characters” rubbing along just fine in front of one of three roaring fires. Give me the walk from Bakewell to the Packhorse in Little Longstone.
I’ve done this walk so many times I can practically hear the footsteps from different phases of my life ringing out from the pavement as we set off from Bath Gardens and leave the Rutland Arms Hotel (the “birthplace” of the original Bakewell pudding – the tart followed later, just so you know and don’t mortally embarrass yourself when you visit) and the bustling market town behind. Tracing the A6 road out past the Lambton Larder cafe and pretty Georgian houses, we cross the River Wye at the stone bridge on the right, just past the fire station. We head straight on past Lumford House, with its blue plaque for Richard Arkwright Jr, whose inventor and industrialist old man was kind of a big deal in these parts.
A brief incline brings us out above the town and the show-off panoramic views to the imposing woods above Chatsworth and the fields down towards Hassop and Ashford-in-the-Water, beautifully pockmarked with wild pink heather. A few years ago, I proposed in the field of canary yellow rapeseed blazing in the far distance. Today, my bovine-phobic wife pushes me forward as a human shield as we take the left fork of the footpath into a field of cows that stare at us like the locals from the pub scene in An American Werewolf in London.
We cross a stile into a wooded stretch and emerge at a field full of sheep (less foreboding, apparently) and the road heading into Great Longstone. Following the public footpath over a stone stile to the left brings us out into an almost laughably bucolic field of beech and sycamore trees. We skirt around the village of Great Longstone and into Little Longstone, with its red phone box and Bertie Bassett-inspired well dressing. The Packhorse Inn sits on the right, complete with a sign that says “Kids, dogs and muddy boots, welcome”. We don’t have any of those things today but we do, crucially, have a thirst on.
“Walk and pub?” An unbeatable combination.
James Wallace
Newport to Fishguard, Pembrokeshire
Distance 11.3 miles
Duration 6 hours
Start Newport
Finish The Ship Inn, Fishguard
The A487 is not one of Britain’s most celebrated highways. In one stretch, it’s reduced to a single-track squeeze that requires drivers to sneak around a blind corner and pray no one is coming the other way. And what is the source of this nasty constriction that cannot be removed? A wonderful little pub called the Ship Inn. Hemmed in by a wooded hill behind, the fishing boat-speckled sea in front and that crow-black trunk road, it is no wonder that the front door is of the sliding variety. If it opened outwards, the tailback would block Pembrokeshire.
Serving good beer surrounded by nautical memorabilia, polished wood and black-and-white photographs of drinkers down the ages, the Ship in Lower Town, Fishguard, has hosted some famous drinkers in its time. One face stands out from the fading photos: Richard Burton, at the peak of his thespian career, barrelling down that single-track snicket, his eye on the front door of the pub, no doubt thirsting for a pint of Double Dragon. Burton was in town for the 1971 filming of Dylan Thomas’s Under Milk Wood.
Our walk to reach this watering hole starts up the coast at the pretty village of Newport (the pub is cash-only so use the ATM here), then follows the Wales Coast Path. Almost immediately, the flavour of the route is apparent: a big, banging seascape filled with jagged rocks, epic cliffs and roaring seas. Even the signs seem to have an extra robustness about them: “Keep to the Path. Cliffs Kill” screams one and, more mysteriously, “Caution. Deep Animal Holes Ahead” reads another.
The route rolls along, passing several fine coves before tackling Dinas Mawr, a formidable headland. In 1954, this dramatic coastal feature was used in the filming of Moby Dick, starring Gregory Peck as Captain Ahab. Three-masted ships like Ahab’s Pequod were once a common sight along here, until the great storm of 1859 wrecked many of them. At the sea’s edge in Cwm-yr-Eglwys, I search the ruined churchyard of St Brynach’s and find tombstones for the mariner John Harries and Thomas Laugharne, master of the schooner Eliza. That may have been the Eliza that got smashed up on the Llŷn peninsula. One other casualty of the 1859 storm was the church itself, of which only one wall survives.
It was to New Quay, on this stretch of coast, that Dylan Thomas moved in 1944, finding inspiration for unforgettable characters such as the lascivious fisher Nogood Boyo and Mrs Ogmore-Pritchard, so house-proud that the sun must wipe its shoes before sneaking through her chintz curtains. Burton was a slam dunk to narrate both the 1954 BBC radio play and the 1971 film.
I pass the ruined Fishguard Fort and its cannon, last fired during the abortive French invasion of 1797, then reach the pub as it opens (4pm on Saturday and Sunday, 5pm Wednesday to Friday). There are only snacks, but the beer is good and the decor satisfyingly unchanged since Burton sat in here boozing with Peter O’Toole, their Daimlers parked down by the quayside. Elizabeth Taylor did not show her face, although local legend has Burton on the payphone, ordering Hollywood’s finest to “get her fat arse down to Pembrokeshire”. They were divorced three years later, remarried, then divorced again after two more.
Kevin Rushby
Edinburgh to Leith via the Water of Leith
Distance 4.7 miles
Duration 2 hours (with option to extend)
Start National Galleries of Scotland, Edinburgh
Finish Leith
The Water of Leith Walkway follows its namesake river from Balerno, near the Pentland Hills, through the heart of Edinburgh to Leith, the city’s historic port district, where it meets the sea. This walk follows the final stretch.
In the grounds of Modern One on Belford Road – one of Scotland’s national art galleries – visit the crescent lakes of Charles Jencks’s Landform, then head to the left corner of the car park, passing a Henry Moore sculpture. Double iron gates lead to steps descending to the Water of Leith. Cross the footbridge and turn left, look for a figure of a man in the river, the first of four of Antony Gormley’s 6 Times figures that are visible on this walk. The path is marked throughout by small brown signs. Some sections offer step-free alternatives: for the most interesting landscape, stick to the riverbanks.
The path winds through Dean Village, once an industrial slum, now one of Edinburgh’s most incongruous and enchanting neighbourhoods. The half-timbered cottages look more Bavarian than Scottish. Look out for Well Court, an imposing red-brick building, a rare example of Arts and Crafts style in Edinburgh, commissioned by the owner of the Scotsman newspaper in the 1880s to house local workers. Walk under the high arches of Thomas Telford’s 1832 Dean Bridge towards St Bernard’s Well, a pretty Roman-style folly with a statue of Hygeia, the ancient Greek goddess of health.
Arriving in Stockbridge, perhaps pause in one of its excellent cafes, before crossing Deanhaugh Road to steep steps where the route continues. This section curves around some of Edinburgh’s distinctive “colony houses”, built for artisans and skilled workers between 1850 and 1910. Ahead you’ll see the Royal Botanic Garden Edinburgh – add a loop if you have time (free entry, donations welcome).
Otherwise, the path forks right to follow the river. At a junction signed for Rocheid Path, keep right to steep steps to Brandon Terrace. Cross to Warriston Road, a high walkway built as part of flood defences. From here, the route skirts the wooded edges of St Mark’s Park to the wildlife-rich Coalie Park – keep an eye out for more Gormleys and, if you’re lucky, kingfishers.
Our walk ends in Leith, where the river widens and is dotted with restaurants, bars and delis. For a cosy pub lunch head to the Roseleaf, a welcoming family-run pub, with excellent home-cooked food. The cullen skink is legendary and the all-day big breakfast, served in a sizzling skillet, is hard to beat.
Ailsa Sheldon
Whitley Bay, Tyne and Wear, to Seaton Sluice, Northumberland
Distance 3 miles
Duration 2 hours
Start Lido di Meo’s beach shack
Finish The Delaval Arms
Two Octobers ago, a storm turned Whitley Bay seafront into a hazardous foam party, then dragged about a metre of sand out to sea. Whenever I return home, once or twice a year, I still do a double-take every time I see the sunken beach and marvel at the newly exposed sandstone, ripe sea glass and pebbles of coal. I’m always on the hunt for a few standout pieces to add to my shelf of beach finds back in my landlocked Madrid apartment.
On a still, sunny morning at low tide, the shoreline glitters with wildness. I spot a crab strutting along the water’s edge, then burying itself alongside looping sandworms. Crows survey the scene just as closely, before zigzagging between the rocks in search of their salty prey. I look out to sea and see a creche of gull chicks bobbing up and down on the gentle waves, flying off in fright when a seal pops up for air. I look inland and tune into an orchestra of speckled starlings chirrupping around the Lido di Meo beach shack and begin my walk north up the sand, the mild sun warming my back.
At low tide, a good stretch of this route can be done on the beach. When the sand runs out, simply head up to the promenade and let the footpath guide you onward to St Mary’s Lighthouse, on its own tiny island and accessible only at low tide. I’ve always wished there was a pub on this poetic rocky outcrop, but that would have brought this pub-bound winter story to an abrupt end, missing arguably the best bit.
Leave the island, climb up to the clifftops and catch your breath while enjoying a panoramic view of the lighthouse below, interrupted only by fluffy coastal grasses bowing in the North Sea gusts. Check the tide times and, if you get it right, you can watch the water engulf the path to St Mary’s Island, rendering it an offshore Northumbrian outpost until low tide returns.
From here, almost every northbound footpath leads you to the Delaval Arms, a Grade II-listed building dating back to 1748 and the first pub you’ll encounter as you cross into Northumberland. Over the years, the pub’s interior has been modernised yet has never lost its cosy charm. The brass‑railed bar, log fire and dark wood‑panelled walls and ceilings still anchor the snug rooms, while colourful soft furnishings and a lively menu have brought it gracefully up to date.
The old sandstone building sits a coal pebble’s throw from the border with North Tyneside, so I settle in beside the log fire, wine in hand, and reflect on how my ancestors once fought over the very land where I now sit in complete comfort.
Leah Pattem
Llanthony Priory, Bannau Brycheiniog
Distance 6 miles
Duration 3 hours
Start/finish Llanthony Priory
Llanthony Priory, nestled in the Vale of Ewyas, makes for an enticing base to explore the Black Mountains, here in the easternmost part of Bannau Brycheiniog (Brecon Beacons).
The priory was founded in the early years of the 12th century by William de Lacy, a Norman knight who was said to have been so taken with this remote location that he immediately renounced the way of the sword for the life of a hermit. Some stories suggest he was inspired by Dewi Sant (Saint David), who sought tranquillity in this same place in the sixth century.
Today, the priory is just a ruined shell, but the allure of Llanthony, flanked by steep glacial ridges, endures. Particularly energetic walkers like to embrace the 16-mile loop out along Offa’s Dyke Path to Hay Bluff and Lord Hereford’s Knob, before tracking back along the Cambrian Way trail. I, however, have a more modest tramp in mind – a 6-mile circular walk that will get me back to the priory’s Cellar Bar just in time for lunch (served from 12.30pm to 2pm on weekends during the winter months). With its whitewashed vaulted stone ceilings and wooden benches, this snug will provide a cosy reward for whatever the Welsh weather may have in mind.
My route embraces the tough stuff first – a short but sharp ascent following the Beacons Way walking trail up Cwm Bwchel to Bâl Bach (a lower section of the 607-metre Bâl Mawr). Viewing the route from Llanthony, you may be tempted to head straight to the pub. Don’t be put off, though, because the views from the top of the ridgeway are a more than sufficient reward for the climb you’ve undertaken. It’s a clear day and the nearby peaks of Sugar Loaf and Skirrid Fawr stand out against the blue-and-white clouded sky. Above Llanthony Priory, on the other side of the valley, a long treeless ridgeway connects Hatterrall Hill with Hay Bluff. Further up the Vale of Ewyas lies Capel-y-Ffin, once the summer grange for the canons of the priory. It was here that beatnik poet Allen Ginsberg wrote his acid-enabled Wales Visitation – his neo-romantic riff on Wordsworth’s Tintern Abbey.
From Bâl Bach, I follow the Cambrian Way south until I reach a sharp left fork into Coed Tŷ Canol. Down in the western valley lies Saint Issui in Patricio, a medieval church named after another hermit holy man and renowned for its 10th-century font and intricately carved 15th-century wooden screen. A detour to Saint Issui is tempting, but will have to wait for another walk. This morning, it’s time to descend off the ridgeway following forestry tracks and woodland paths back to Llanthony. A little over three hours after I began, I emerge from Llanthony Wood into open fields and the stone facade of the priory comes into view. A pint of Felinfoel Double Dragon beckons. Surely Ginsberg, and maybe even William de Lacy, would approve.
Matthew Yeomans