Date walked: 24th July 2018

Distance: 13 miles

Map used: OS Explorer 152: Newport and Pontypool

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You might have been wondering what I have been doing since I got back from France. Not walking – its been far too hot. I used to think of myself as a fair-weather walker. Now I think of myself as a Goldilocks walker (you know, not too hot etc). Today was still probably too hot, but it was quite cloudy so gave the impression of not being too hot for a walk. Nevertheless I filled my water bladder and packed the max-factor sun barrier cream and a hat.

I know Usk well, passing though it regularly, but I had never walked by its eponymous river for more than a few hundred yards. A slightly disappointing aspect of this part of the 49 mile path between Brecon and Caerleon is that we would not become much better acquainted.

I picked up the waymarked route on the bridge. The Valerian growing out of its walls had prematurely gone over but the cheery hanging baskets of perlagoniums were being kept going by regular watering.

Crossing the bridge I took the first right, pausing for a shot of an attractive panel of tiles set into the brick wall of a shop.

A hundred yards further on I paused again at an old house. I knew it was old as it said so on a blue plaque on its wall.

My usual passage through Usk is straight through its main street so I had not registered this charming building before.

I like the pink, don’t you?

The next cause for pause was the most perfectly clipped hedge around a front door. Usk  has a very popular Open Gardens event each year. Most of the gardens included are pretty average but this front garden I loved.

Though perhaps not the best colour for the gate?

It’s amazing what you see when you are on foot, as opposed to whizzing through places in the car; sometimes people do things to their houses just for the fun of the passers-by…

… though sometimes there is just too much fun.

A finger-post directed me by the browning-off cricket pitch.

I thought I was meant to join the river near here…

… but I thought wrong, found myself in a field with no way out, checked my map and saw that rather than walk by the river I was required to head for the road to Llanllowell. Pity. Climbs over fence to a back street.

The path re-found, I passed through a field where a small herd of cattle appeared concerned that my intention was to displace them from their shady spot under an old oak tree.

I left them be and joined the road for a mostly unedifying mile.

It’s a bit desperate on a walk when the most interesting things of note are a dead tree…

… and a patch of bindweed.

I didn’t see much of Llanllowell.

I don’t think there is much to see but what I did see was distressing; on a sharp bend in the road a memorialized children’s bicycle suggested  a tragic accident.

The path leaves the road here and heads for the river, though there was little to see of it through the wooded river bank and the dense clumps of  Hamalayan Balsam.

An undeniably pretty plant, it is generally considered to be an appalling weed and one is generally advised to eradicate it. Monmouth County Council please note.

The path shunned the river-bank once more and crosses a field where a deflated blow up mattress was a novel and, frankly, intriguing form of discarded plastic.

Also intriguing was that there was much work (not) going on at the huge brick-built pumping station.

That was the closest to the river that the path gets until its finish at Caerleon, its route now heading for the hills though the little village of Llantrisant. I called into the church of Saints Peter Paul and John.

Is it a matter of greed to claim three saints for one church, or of hedging one’s bets?

I was pleased and surprised to find it open, and enjoyed, briefly, its simple, cool interior.

The church porch was well equipped for congregational emergencies.

A notice on the gate claims the ground to have been Celtic.

Though it is now a generally discredited idea that Wales was ever a Celtic nation

Until now the fact that this part of the Usk Valley is occupied by the very busy A449 had not been apparent but the path now passed under the dual carriageway.

A fly-plagued horse and its foal on the other side seemed desperate for attention (or maybe they could smell the apples in my bag).

From Llantrisant the path climbs away from the road, though its roar was quite intrusive for a while. Not that the sheep sheltering under another old oak seemed bothered;

it was me that disturbed their slumber.

Climbing Corn Hill, I reached the giddy heights of well over 300 feet, affording me, not a great view, but certainly a view of the surrounding countryside.

From here the climb continued gently along the brow of Cefn Hill, the view opening up marginally.

On my map I saw that the path passes by a place called Cefn Barn. I had a sudden fear that this isolated barn was one that in an earlier life as chair of the Gwent branch of CPRW I had been involved with in successfully opposing its conversion to a house. My fear being that in the intervening years the planners may have overturned their previous refusal as they have done with so many isolated barns in the county.  But no, this wonderful, huge barn was unknown to me.

I walked up to it and found an entrance.

Inside it was perfectly preserved; not only that it was clearly still in use.

The flagstone floor was intact; if a shovel had been at hand I would have shifted some straw to see if this floor extended throughout.; I hope to god its listed.

From the barn the path descended back to the noisy A449, though my attention was more taken by the views across the field of ripe wheat to  some property on the far side of the valley.

Zooming in (and cropping further for this picture) I can now see that it had an extensive walled garden (though probably with nothing of note now inside it).

Most interesting; I could not work out on the map its name.

The crop of wheat looked as ripe as it could be, though I suspect that the weeks of dry weather must have reduced the yield it will produce.

At the bottom of the hill the path turns away again from the furious A449.

The map shows a “miniature rifle range” hidden in a little woodland and despite the traffic I could hear the thwacking noise of shells hitting targets. How strange!

The path skirts this plot taking the entrance to a property called Bertholey House. The wide tarmac drive was lined with several mature beech trees…

… and the fancy gates certainly suggested a posh pile.

They even displayed a coat of arms.

The path steers you away from its drive….

… though I could not resist a closer look.

Twenty years ago it was a ruin, destroyed by fire

Climbing the hill I passed more sheep sheltering under another fine if poorly Oak…

… stopping for a while myself under the shade of another tree to enjoy an apple and what proved to be the best view of the day.

Though still cloudy, it was nevertheless very warm and I was happy that for the next couple of miles I walked under the shade of the edge of Wentwood, along Bertholau Graig and then Kemeys Graig

I was on a wide forestry track and it was quite dark, so these pictures of the path-side plants are not my best. Two “weeds” I saw  are favoured in our garden, though Anne is unusually fond of weeds as reported in her most recent article in the Telegraph Click here.

Eupatorium

Ragwort

So far so common, but I was very excited to find a Giant Hogweed (sadly extinct in our garden now – though probably just as well as it is highly toxic if touched).

I was surprised to pass two small quarries, though neither appeared to be in current use.

I also had my only encounter with fellow walkers;  couple of women appeared ahead of me from a side path.

As I overtook them one of them was bending down over something at the edge of the path. On enquiring what they had seen of interested the elder said that they were moving a bee which may have been dead but they wanted to avoid it being trodden on. Bless.

I did get occasional glimpses of the Usk Valley through the trees…

… though mostly this was a well shaded section, much appreciated by the sheep who were mostly ignoring the rather poor grazing in favour of a snooze.

I should have been directed off this track near Cats Ash but whether the sign was missing or I wasn’t paying attention I don’t know but the path ended at a tarmac road with views to the Severn Estuary.

From here I turned right down the hill through Cat’s Ash, and then had over a mile of road walking, crossing over the A 449…

… and climbing the hill towards Christschurch. One should normally walk on the right hand side of a road to face on coming traffic but here the shade was on the left and the road quite quiet so for once I broke this code.

Looking at the map I seemed to be surrounded by golf courses; the Celtic Manor resort appears to have 4 courses in the area and has clearly bought up several houses in the area to house its clients.

I can’t say that I enjoyed this road section  and I was glad to be signed off it near Chepstow Hill.

Not a mole hill, but a pile of dumped earth

At this point the total dominance of the Celtic Manor enterprise in this landscape became apparent as I arrived at a large, padlocked, empty car park.

My map indicated that the path should pass by a small reservoir and I could see a track so I followed this for a bit.

Very obviously not as full as it should be

This path was continued round the depleted pond, though which was not my route, so I re-traced my steps to the car park and then noticed that the waymark sign had been removed from the metal post.

In my experience this kind of vandalism is sadly not uncommon.

Back on track, but not for long as the path then arrived at a tarmac road not shown on my map with no indication where I should go.

Yes, that is Horsetail – a pernicious weed but probably enjoyed by the golfers

Checking the map I could see that even on the right route I should be going down hill and should join the Bulmore Road which runs by the river to Caerleon, so I resolved to follow what was obviously an access road to one of the golf courses.

And so it proved. This was the Twenty-Ten course – purpose-built for the Ryder Cup.

I certainly felt like an intruder as I made my way by the massive clubhouse, though no one accosted me. The greens were remarkably green ….

… and even the fairways looked pristine….

(I’m not a golfer but I can talk a bit of golf).

I began to fear that my intended road may have been removed, so was relieved to find it as shown at the bottom of the hill,. After half a mile I found the finger-post showing where I should have come from.

I probably had another mile on this road to get to Caerleon.

Before coming out I made a note of the bus times to get me back to Usk; checking the time, I reckon that I should have just been able to make the last but one, always assuming that I could find Caerleon Common from whence it departs (getting the last bus always makes me nervous).

As I reached The Village (still on the south side of the river) I asked a woman if she were local (“very”) and where I could find The Common. The directions, though clear, seemed to still require a bit of a trek. The bridge over the river at the Ship Inn has a separate pedestrian section so it was safe to have a glance at the Usk’s muddy waters as I marched over (It is tidal so will always be muddy here).

Climbing the hill into town on the other side I paused opposite the Hanbury Arms.

Bus stops on both sides of the road there had my bus’s number on it. I had 10 minutes to spare and decided not to bother with finding the common; instead I found a post office round the corner and purchased a Diet Coke, apple juice and an ice cream, stuffed them all in my rucksack and returned to the bus stops. I then realised that I had no idea which side of the road I should be on; a helpful couple were pretty clear on this point, leaving enough uncertainty for me to still feel a bit worried. The scheduled time of the bus came and went, making me think that I had missed it. And then it appeared. Happy days.