And then it was another weekend. I can remember booking our weekend away at Merthyr Tydfil - and we wondered 'What is there to see and do in and around Merthyr Tydfil?' We never have any problems finding something - onto the web we go and what did we find. The Taff trail, a castle, an island that isn't really an island and some dinosaur footprints. We'll start with the Taff trail just right for a bruised biker!!
"The Taff trail is a 93 km waymarked route for walkers and cyclists from the market town of Brecon to the City of Cardiff. The trail links parts of the historic transport network to form a continuous route. Over half of the Taff trail is a traffic-free or on quiet access roads with the remainder on country lanes and minor roads offering pleasant cycling on gentle gradients with a few short, steeper sections. The surface varies from tarmac to prepared dust and good-quality forest track...The Taff tail passes through some of the most beautiful and varied landscapes in South Wales..."
We started our ride at the hotel car park and rode along the cycle path beside the river with the first stop being the remains of the old iron works - huge opportunity and employment for the town locals in its day. It is now a big patch of broken concrete with the decaying furnaces at the back slowly being hidden by nature. We then rode along the old railway track, over the viaduct and up the gentle rise - so far so good. A few stops for photos, sips of water and surprised exclamations about the weather (cloudy and then sunny - off and on all day rather than the heavy rain of the night before). A number of 'hellos' and 'mornings' to and from locals on their bikes or walking with their dogs and the occasional 'thank you' as they reined their dog or child in to let us pass and onto the road to take us to Pontsticill. Here we rode along the edge of the reservoir and over the dam (which is where Anne and us had walked a while back when we had caught the Brecon Mountain railway to the same spot). Up a hill and then onto a forest track - what ever happened to that "good quality forest track"? It was o.k. at first - a bit bumpy (both our bikes are not made for this sort of thing) - and then a lot bumpier - down a steep drop which I ended up walking down (near vertical it was) and up an even steeper hill (nearer vertical it was) which I also walked up. Then down again onto a road where we found a nice spot to sit on little sharp red stones and eat our lunch beside the reservoir (there was a picnic table and chairs a few metres around the corner but we didn't know that did we?). We invented a new sandwich as we munched our way through cheese, gherkins, bread rolls, snax and marmite, wait for it "pineapple wedged between two pineapple lumps" - you should really try it - a bit messy to eat but well worth it!! Then back along the road only to discover that we really could have avoided that "good quality forest track" and ridden along a quiet country sealed road all the way. The Red Cow seemed a good place to stop for a cup of tea (with a few locals speaking Welsh and their kids and dogs) and then back across the dam up the hill (where two people were washing their cars in the middle of nowhere using the cold water from a little overflow pipe - we are sure they had a good reason but couldn't work it out) and back along the path where we looked to see if the little puppy who had looked lost and sat at Harry's feet as we stopped for a photo was still there but he wasn't. I think it is likely we might do more of the Taff trail in future as we really enjoyed it - and there are after all 93 kms of the trail to explore.
"Mummy," she said, "I'm not afraid to die."
"You're too young to be talking about dying," her mother said. "Do you want a lollipop?"
On October 20, Eryl Mai woke up after having a memorable dream.
"Mummy, let me tell you about my dream last night," she said.
"Darling, I've no time now. Tell me again later."
"No, Mummy, you must listen," she said. "I dreamt I went to school and there was no school there. Something black had come down all over it".
Her mother thought nothing more about the dream. After all, they lived in Aberfan, Wales, a poor coal-mining town. Perched high on a hill overlooking Aberfan was a coal tip, where waste from the mining process was dumped. The Aberfan coal tip caused many residents of the town to worry for their safety. So when Eryl Mai's mother heard her dream, she may have concluded that her fear of the ever-present coal tip had provoked it. Eryl Mai went off to Pantglas Junior School that day as usual. Nothing unusual happened. The next day, Friday, October 21, she did the same. But at 9:15 that morning, the coal tip gave way, sending tons of coal sludge, water, and boulders onto the village below. The avalanche mowed down everything in its path, including stone houses and trees, and swept toward the Pantglas School, where it crushed the back of the school. In all, 144 people were killed, most of them children at the school. Eryl Mai Jones was one of the victims". There were people at the top of the mountain that had seen the beginnings of the tragedy, but the telephone cable had been stolen - a frequent occurence -and the alarm could not be raised - although later on they think a warning may not have saved any of the school children.
And then there were the strikes in the "worldwide capital of iron" that seemed to run through out the decades well into the 1980s when unemployment was rife as more mines closed. It was here that many miners were on strike for weeks and months but to no avail - the war time boom demand for iron and coal dwindled and so did jobs. But during this period something came to the area that offered some hope - no not Father Christmas. Hoover - opened just over 60 years ago and closed its doors last year amidst some more lost hope. The company was described as the 'shining beacon to a glowing post-war future' and turned black and grey into bright and white. The company has had its ups and downs but somewhere in that company was an imaginative and misguided enthusiastic marketer who didn't do enough research into customer behaviour before turning ideas into action. This was during the time when cheap imports from China came flooding into the market and Hoover decided to diversify into things like futuristic motorised transport. In 1992 the company offered a free flights promotion in which customers who purchased £100 of Hoover products were promised free airline tickets - 2 round trips to Europe and then the USA. What they didn't reckon on was that customers started buying Hoover products even if they didn't want them - the price of a ticket to the USA was two or three times more than the £100 of appliances. I can imagine the scene - people proudly parking their car outside while garages were piled high with white ware - or a laundry stocked with 3 washing machines - or a hall cupboard with 10 vacuum cleaners. As friends come round you could open the door and say "this is what I paid for my holiday". The company just recovered from the demand for air fares and vacuum cleaners and the $48 million debt from court cases but good things come to an end and Hoover moved out of the Welsh countryside last year. We didn't get to Joseph Parrys house (Welsh composer who lived in the 1800's) because we sat in the sun and wind at the castle for a while reading a newspaper before we realised we had a puncture to repair. That took a while - cos I needed to do it in case I ever get one when Harry isn't around (we only have one puncture repair kit that Harry carries but that is beside the point). But we peered through the window into a little cottage similar to many others we have seen - the home of a worker and in those days absolute luxury. Close by was a plaque to Jack Jones who lived in the later 1800's and must have known Parry as a youngster because this Welsh novelist and playwrite wrote about Parry. Then back to the hotel for a shower, and then to an Asian buffet restaurant within walking distance of the hotel - food was edible though with little spice and flavour. We took some magazines and newspaper to read and while we took time between courses we noticed tables changed eaters sometimes up to 3 times while we relaxed over food and conversation (it is really hard to spend time between courses when it is a buffet meal).
Sully Island - one of the largest tidal islands in the world - its a bit like visiting an island when it isn't an island. We arrived about 90 minutes before low tide (we had looked up the timetable before we left just to be real organised) and wondered if at first we had read the timetable wrong. It seemed like a lot of water had to leave before we could walk across to the island. So, we sat at a picnic table, supping our cup of tea and watched the tide go out (a tad more exciting than watching paint dry!!). We both marked spots which we would watch and eventually more rocks began to appear and then some local fisherman with rods and buckets began to wade across the rocks - keen to get to the otherside. Us with our walking shoes on, waited a little bit longer until the water had dropped another metre and began to get trapped in puddles. If I was a poet, it would be a great opportunity to write about receding waters uncovering seaweed and leaving limpets high and dry to be spied by seagulls and waters cascading down rocks forming miniature waterfalls and waves meeting across a stone path. But I'm not so will leave it at that. The path across the island slowly formed and we carefully negotiated seaweed and slippery rocks to the other side - losing all sight of the keen fisherman. Like Kapiti Island, the off shore side of the island is very different - and through a field of reeds we wandered to some steep and unforgiving cliffs to see where the fisherman went with their rods and buckets. We walked to the top of the island - which might sound exhausting after yesterdays bike ride but it was a gentle climb of only a few metres. There we surveyed the uncovered walkway and wondered if we were on an island or not and viewed the rusting hull of a ship now lying desolate on the shoreline soon to be covered again for a further 12 hours. The island has its own history including a dark past of 13th century smuggling and pirating, Roman and Viking habitation, illegal immigration, farming, drownings through people trying to beat the tides and ship wrecks (the boat could have been the Antarctic survey vessel, the SY Scotia, which was wrecked in 1916, but others say not as the keel is too short). Guess what the island is for sale (or it was last year). Any person who wanted to buy the 14 or so acres for £1.25m can't live there as they wouldn't get consent for a house, but there is a possibility of opening a tourist attraction - just a thought!
Harrys wallet got washed with his trousers Sunday night so he gently unravelled all his papers and cards which took a while. He should be grateful as a tissue needed a wash as well!! He is now spending laundered money. I gave him a little bit of sympathy but not much but I was sincere (I think!!).
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