Late summer in Newtown

Today was the first time I felt us nearing the end of summer. After my birthday, the end of August seems to swing in so fast. There was a sniff of autumn in the air, from a neighbour’s bonfire, which feels so different from that hunger-inducing smell of a barbecue in July.

We walked around Newtown this afternoon, after the sun made a welcome late appearance. As still as a millpond, the bay looked like a boat village, with all the sea dog holidaymakers.

Is it too soon to start getting excited about autumn? Soup and bread, knitting patterns, seed catalogues…

We haven’t been out on the allotment since Tom sprained his ankle last week. I console myself with the (possibly misplaced) idea that there is little we can plant at the moment anyway. Almost all of the weeds are now cleared, so that feels like enough of an achievement for now. Besides, that mound of soil has waited this long, it can wait another week.

Meanwhile, back in town…

Cowes Week has been in full flow. Our town has been awash with tourists, crews, buskers, and ice cream stands. Come November, and cold short days, it will be hard to believe it’s the same town.

It may be hectic, and impossible to ride a bike down the high street, but it’s great fun. Even if you’re not a big fan of boats.

The extreme sailing series proved more interesting to watch than boats usually are. Their synchronised tacking was beautiful, but the near-misses and hairpin bends were the most exciting.

I was surprised by the constant crowds. An odd sort of spectator sport.

The best bit about Cowes Week is the huge firework display coinciding with my birthday.

Happy August!

The allotment begins

So sad to hear of the riots happening in London and elsewhere. My brother lives in Ealing and, from what he tells, it all sounds pretty grim. It seems a world away from the allotment, where we have been busy getting stuck in to our new plot of wilderness.

It feels like the key to a secret world; through the locked gate, along the path behind the park, and into a field of gardens, each a different character, all suggesting sweet possibility; reminding you of old favourites (sweet peas, apples, raspberries) and new loves (grapes, sweetcorn and artichokes). But I run ahead if myself, because at the moment our plot looks like this:

For now, we’re just aiming for a clear plot. We’ve had a few days of early starts, with hours spent digging up deep roots of everlasting spinach and thick webs of couch grass. It gets hot quickly, and we’ve needed our breaks of zucchini bread and coffee, in the shade up by the neighbour’s vineyard. We unearthed a wealth of wildlife amidst the tall grass: boldly-striped caterpillars, a slow worm, and even a young dormouse that we rehoused in the strawberry patch. We return home with tired backs and sweaty foreheads. My legs are still tingling from the stinging nettles I attacked. And our bodies aren’t the only thing that suffered for our hard work.

This is just the beginning…

West of Wye

It’s amazing how six days away can feel like a fortnight. Leaving the car behind, we took the train to Chepstow and headed off along the Wye Valley Walk towards Tintern.

The Wye valley, just South of Redbrook. Someone told us that anglers can pay up to £50,000 for a riverside plot. Seems hard to believe when you can walk along it or swim in it for free. There’s more forest here than anywhere back home, and the steep valley climbs did not go unnoticed with packs the size (and weight) of bathtubs.

Peaceful camping at Cherry Orchard Farm. Such a find, we almost hesitate to share the secret.

Enjoying the view from the Offa’s Dyke path, and a walk without heavy packs.

We had a luxurious rest stop at Hay-on-Wye. Couldn’t resist buying a book at Richard Booth’s bookshop; they’ve restored the place beautifully, and it’s vying with the Elliot Bay bookshop in Seattle as our all-time favourite. Kilvert’s was a great pub find, with excellent beer and staff who know their stuff.

The Offa’s Dyke path out of Hay is a steep one, leading through lush fields and up to the Black Mountain.

Grand views and not a breath of wind. We were grateful to have a clear path, having been stingy/foolish and only bought a small scale pink OS map.

Llanthony, our destination for the night. The campsite was full, with visitors to the county show and rodeo, but we still enjoyed a pint from the cellar bar, whilst sitting in the abbey grounds (possibly the best pub garden ever.)

Our last morning up on the Black Mountain. The views are hard to beat. The Brecon Beacons are just the other side of the valley and it was tempting to head straight for them, rather than return home.

But, there’s plenty to return to, with Cowes Week and plenty more sunny days to explore closer to home.

Holiday planning

We’ve been busy today planning a camping trip. Deciding where to go is always a difficult decision; but, as we’re going on Monday, we thought we should settle on somewhere.

The problem is, it is difficult for this summer to beat the last. Here is a little of what we were doing around this time last year.

Getting married.

Exploring Pau.

Hiking in the Pyrenees.

Honeymoons are hard to beat.

This year we couldn’t resist a little more walking, albeit somewhat closer to home. We’re headed West. Enjoy the sunshine. We’ll be back to share our travels next week.

Bryony and Tom