A stunningly beautiful three mile climb up The Skirrid in Monmouthshire

Date walked: 27th November 2020

Distance: about 3 miles

Map used: none but  I had with me OL Explorer 13 Brecon Beacons National Park, Eastern Area (just in case).

Conversational topics included (amongst others): pressures on front line NHS staff, do animals recognise beauty in the way that humans do – or at all, spirituality, telly watching, Covid 19 vaccinations (which one, when, if, who, safety of, how effective), what’s that hill over there, Christmas plans, drone flying,   why my photography is not art, what Paul will do when he finishes his art MA.

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Whilst Mark Drakeford and his cronies in the Senedd contemplated how they could out-do Borris in making our lives more miserable and chewed over what further civil liberties they could remove from us, Paul and I decided to cast care aside and head for the hills. Well, one hill, actually.

The Skirrid (or Skirrid Fawr if you like, Ysgrydd Fawr for the Welsh speakers or Holy Mountain for the fanciful) is a modest hill of 1,595 feet not far from Abergavenny and even closer to The Walnut Tree – one of wales’ best restaurants. I’ve climbed it before – for the very few long suffering devotees of this blog it was almost exactly 6 years ago. But Paul hadn’t and he fancied  doing it.

According to wikipedia the Welsh name Ysgyryd meaning ‘split’ or ‘shattered’ and Fawr meaning ‘great’ describes the hill’s shape. Nonsense. It’s shaped like a boat in plan, and an upturned boat in profile. Wikipedia says there is a rich mythology attached to the mountain , including a distinctive stone known as the Devil’s Table. According to legend, part of the mountain is said to have been broken off at the moment of the crucifixion of Jesus. There was a local tradition that earth from the Skirrid was holy and especially fertile, and it was taken away to be scattered on fields elsewhere, on coffins, and in the foundations of churches. Pilgrimages were made, especially on Michaelmas Eve, to the summit. I can’t speak for any of that, though I did find a wishing tree on my last visit studded with copper coins. But not this time. Spookey, eh?

The hill is owned by the National Trust who wish you to pay to walk up it by charging you to use the little car park that sits at the side of the B 4251.

The forecast for the area was for mist, but when I left home it was clear and sunny along the ridge road towards Monmouth. Below me, in the vale that that extends to Abergavenny was a blanket of cloud.

Paul was waiting in the car park when I arrived and although it was, indeed, misty, I had a strong conviction that we would leave it behind us as we climbed.

The well-worn path climbs up through a deciduous wood and from half way up we emerged from the cloud to find deep blue skies.

Over towards Abergavenny, Sugar Loaf (supposedly named after, well, a sugar loaf but in my opinion its shape most resembles a modest breast) was silhouetted on the horizon and further away the feint but distinctive profile of Pen y Fan.

The clouds drifted over us as we climbed, alternately obscuring then revealing the green fields below.

It’s quite steep at first but by the time the hill was beginning to flatten out we had left the cloud completely and were presented with the most wonderful views.

Thanks to Paul for the pic with a little touch up from me

Sugar Loaf continued to command our attention…

… but looking back we found ourselves on an island in a sea of cloud. This is what’s known as a cloud inversion, though the word fails totally to convey the sense of magic that the phenomenon produces.

We stopped frequently just to look around and take in this stunningly transformed landscape, the blanket of cloud rolling glacially from right to left.

The couple and their dog who passed us on our way up soon passed us again on their way down.

Ahead, the route to the trig point was clear of cloud and people.

The blanket of cloud below made a super backdrop to a scraggy hawthorn and the russet brown bracken.

When we did reach the top ……

…..we were not alone, a couple with a young girl were finishing off a picnic and discussing what name to give to the child’s brother or sister to be. The girl thought “Robert” if it was a girl.

But they left soon after we got there, leaving Paul and I alone to share the extraordinary views all around us.

We stayed much longer than we would usually linger at a summit, having a coffee, talking, wandering around and speculating about what we could see in the distance and all the time buoyed up by the exhilarating views.

Thanks again to Paul for this pic, no touching up required!

But we had promised ourselves tea and cake and after a while we began to feel the cold, so we reluctantly made our way back the way we came, not fancying the alternative decent down the face of the hill. As we retraced our steps, the cloud suddenly rose to envelop us briefly…..

…. began to break up and allow glimpses of the surrounding fields……

I thought the sheep seemed particularly contemplative

…., and then rose again, almost submerging the summit of Sugar Loaf.

The woods that had been clear on our way up were now themselves shrouded in mist, the shafts of light picking out the moss covered boulders and branches……

…. and silhouetting the now denuded trees.

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We found a tea room open just 100 yards from the car park. It had a huge collection of appalling statues and ghastly nicknacks and an excellent sponge. And as expected, today the Welsh government dealt the expected hammer blow to all pubs and restaurants in the country by demanding that from December 4th they shut at 6pm each day until December 17th and stop serving alcohol altogether! Which will mean, I am quite certain, that many of them will never re-open.