Now let's see how much of a story I can spin out of a bivvy so local it would tbh have been just as quick to have walked rather than cycled it
Our Reg had announced that he would be visiting these here parts for a few days in October, and invited himself round for a cuppa, a few beers and bivvy
On arrival I beckoned him and his bike inside, which along with mine filled pretty much half my front room
To prove to him that the grand guided tour of my new place would not take very long, I demonstrated that the house is about as wide as he is long
IMG_20241010_191537 by
Verena Zimmer, on Flickr
After a ridiculous amount of faffing on my part, we eventually extracted ourselves and our bikes back out through the tiny front garden, steps and gate, and emerged into the street, where we could once again unfold ourselves to our full size.
We were waved on our way by my daughter and Hermione standing at the upstairs window, with the parting words of advice to go and enjoy ourselves, but for the love of God not go to any of the pubs up town (ruff!).
So on we rolled, slightly up to the top of the hill, then rolling all the way down to the bottom, all the while me desperatately trying to think of local sights to point out to Reg - quite an interesting one actually, the Buddhist meditation centre just up the road, with its beautiful and very colourful inside lit up so visible form the dark outside. What else? KT's wine bar
, the lovely chip shop which apart from the usual sells some curiosities such as battered mushrooms by the piece; rolling on past the various beer shops we were well advised to avoid... "Legends" with several letters missing, so one side reads "Legeds" (any relations of yours Bearlegged?), and the other "Leges". The Bush Inn. Then we arrived at our pub of choice, as low down in the village as you can go before getting tangled in the Heads of Valleys dual carriageway sliproads, or should I say slipknots...
A most pleasant evening of some pub grub (Glamorgan sausages and mash), a couple of pints of Butty Bach, half a cheese cake each, and then it was time for us to head out into the night to find somewhere to sleep.
I was prepared of course, with a couple of options - we went for the closest one, as both of us had to be up and away pretty much first thing in the morning.
Right next to the pub, ok, a short steep ride/push up from the pub, is a sustrans cycle path curiosity that has amused me many times, and which I was keen to show off to Reg, and this would also have been a little constitutional ride before bed time.
This bit of bona fide sustrans route is really lovely, smooth tarmac all the way round the back of the village, and in some light it looks like this
IMG_20241012_185429 by
Verena Zimmer, on Flickr
If you ride it towards the village, as in towards and opposite way to how we were going, it then pops rather suddenly into this scrap yard
IMG_20241012_184424 by
Verena Zimmer, on Flickr
Coming this way at least you can still tell that you're on a cycle path.
Coming the other way, all you see is the scrap yard, which is plastered will all manner of signs saying private, no cycling etc..
When we were there, this was all enhanced rather by darkness and a big gate across the yard, with just a tiny gap at the side. We did venture in, among the many scrap trucks, vans etc., carefully listening out for any vicious guard dogs that may be about
(probably more on alert than usual after last week's sad news story from here).
Just before exiting the yard, I thought the better of it, remembering also that to ride on and then make our way to the bivvy spot would involve any combination of roaming cows, ponies, very soggy mud, or returning whence we've just been... neither appealed any more all of a sudden... having returned there yesterday for a little ride, and then seen the names of the strava segments, which include "Dog Attacks" and "Bull Chaser", I think we may have made a wise choice....
So we turned about and ride up to the hilltop cemetery spot which I had reccied the first day I was here, as it has an open building with a nice view (see Reg's report). Now cemeteries are fine, but in the dark in any case perhaps a little spooky. Add to this our moving lights and shadows among the stones (oh yes and actually we turned our lights off then so as not to draw attention), plus the fact that many of the graves have fairy lights etc on them, and it was a bit of a creepy experience, and a few times I had to stifle a little shriek and sink my nails into Reg's arm
. After finding the building, we mooched around behind it a bit, partly to check out flat grassy open air alternatives, and also to show him the little Jewish graveyard there, which I find really interesting. Further on and up we exited the cemetery to explore a little more, found "the squeaky gate" (which featured a fair bit throughout the night) to the top track, and I realised of course that it is not easily passable by bike.
Anyway, we decided on the building and started to set up. One more gasp from me as the shadowy figure of a late walker passed by
. We briefly suspended our sleep mat inflation to go quiet and listen, and wondered what any passers by would make of the sounds of our exped pillow squeezy pump inflations?? We heard some dogs barking, and the squeaky gate a couple more times.
Reg kindly shared his toothpaste with me, which is actually in white powder form> This also had me giggle a bit, two people hanging out late at night in a cemetery doing things with white powder...just a normal Thursday night I'm sure...
A generally pretty sleepless and coldish night followed, interrupted by the usual fidgettings, getting up for a pee, hot then cold feet, pillow walking off somewhere etc., also included some heavy footed creatures above us running around noisily and making some rather odd noises I've not heard before... cross between pigeon and cat?!?!
Eventually I dropped off, and woke to this view:
IMG_20241011_065702 by
Verena Zimmer, on Flickr
and yes, almost immediately the squeaky gate once more, a black cat walking past the gate, and then the first dog walkers.
A swift hot chocolate after packing up, then we emerged into the frosty morning, and just in time too to catch the beautiful sunrise.
IMG_20241011_074314 by
Verena Zimmer, on Flickr
Quick cuppa and toast at mine, then I waved Reg off as he plunged himself down the Clydach Gorge to catch his train home, after breakfast No. 2, naturally
. Glad the knee's perked up a bit.
, the first time I camped there your comments made me 
it was closed last September (2023) when Mike and myself were there. Assuming it's not reopened in the interim and closed again, that's over a year!
from my camp:
