This weekend was similar - a huge storm was predicted with heavy rain, floods and up to 90mph winds - but it differed in only one tiny respect. Everyone was strongly advised to stay indoors, make sure everything was lashed down, and to stash some emergency rations and equipment.
What would any self-respecting Boner do in this situation when they had planned a nice Winter Bivvy?
I duly boarded the train with all my usual gear, suitable for a rainy couple of days.
As it happened, to save any mild tension whilst reading these ravings, my clothing kept me dry all weekend, and my gear kept me almost dry at night with one small addition from Mr Belson after I'd requested the use of his spare bivvy bag before we departed. Seemed prudent since we'd got no fixed ideas about kipping spots. Marmot jacket, Berghaus Paclite trousers, waterproof socks, sandals, Temres washing up gloves, 8 x 10 DD superlight tarp, Exped hyperlite mat, PHD winter bag, Sean's bivvy bag. It wasn't as if we'd had no warning to guide our expectations.
All of my four trains got me to Abergavenny on a nice sunny day with no problems, a good start. I’d arranged to pop in for a cup of tea at Jack Thurston’s (of “Lost Lanes” book fame and resident of This Place), and as I toddled through Abergavenny to his place the drizzle gradually started to fall. After a very pleasant chat and a brew with Jack – thanks Jack – out I went into the dark and somewhat more lively evening. The trees were beginning to wave around and the gutters were already streaming from the rain. This was shaping up to be an interesting outing.

Grabbed some breakfast stuff from Waitrose (there’s posh) and pressed on to Govilon village where Verena had booked some dinner at the pub for us. A pleasant and convivial chat ensued, with Verena, Sean and Martin (GodivaTrailRider). The food itself was pleasant enough but we decided to depart immediately afterwards and start to search for a spot to kip.
Verena’s lurid car-crash of a pud:

Before I’d arrived at the pub I’d already turned my spot radar up to maximum, and given the impending conditions I’d also pressed the “boost” button which doesn’t happen often. As a result, I was able to suggest a few places near the pub to add to anyone else's ideas. These were rejected by the team after cursory inspections – the half-built house (crucially with walls and a roof) next to the pub car park, the church lych gate, the church entrance porch, and the sports field pavilion veranda. On my own I’d’ve gone for any one of these options, but the great benefit about having them all rejected was that I could selfishly wash my hands of any future suggestions going horribly wrong


We moved on along the canal towpath to the next village, and by now the rain and wind were really getting up to speed and things were becoming quite playful. On the way we checked out a few bridges on the canal including a really long dry one that would easily do at a pinch. Verena pointed out that the Towpath pub in Gilwern had a yard with some wooden verandas with tables, so we checked those out and they appeared to pass muster with the assembled soggy throng, so into the boozer we traipsed, ordering some beers to help us make our decision. Our sojourn was marked by phones continually sounding the "red alert" warning as if we weren't already painfully aware of the situation thank you very much.
It didn’t take me long to realise that the other guys had inadvertently neatly turned the tables on me, using my supposed reputation for blagging kipping spots, so it was up to me again!



Eventually we staggered outside into the yard to view the practicalities of our choice. The rain was now raging down and the wind howling around the building, rocking all the signs and all loose items. Various bits and pieces were flying around the road outside – papers, bins, cats, dogs and whatnot.
The alcoves with tables were dismissed as not quite offering enough shelter, and the corner alcove without tables was deemed more suitable, but things are all relative aren’t they! The wind and rain were blowing through the “walls” happily, but our choice was made. Mats and bags were rolled out, head to tail, with Sean kindly lending his spare bivvy bag (I know, I swore I wouldn’t didn’t I…) and Verena lending hers to Martin. Verena ended up with the plum spot under one bench, and Sean bagged the other, leaving myself and Martin exposed to the full entertainment in the middle of the alcove. Both Martin and myself had tarps to cover ourselves but the loaned bivvy bags were a handy alternative. Here’s the cosy scene



At this point, I explained to Sean that I’d arranged a “blind date” for Ralph! I figured that if they could get acquainted and appreciate each other’s company in these conditions then they might well then consider a life together. Here’s the Happy Couple, a perfect match I’m sure you’ll agree (took me ages to coiffure Ralphina’s hair-do!), awww bless:

Well it was an interesting night! I had earplugs as usual which were a godsend but I could still clearly hear the raging wind and lashing rain, and the crashing noises outside as everything was destroyed or blown away over the nearby houses. Martin tried to block the entrance with a couple of boxes but these ended up either outside or smashed onto our heads or feet. Rain obviously crashed through the walls and vents and rivered across the floor. All in all I was having a bit of a laugh to be honest. It’ll be interesting to hear from everyone else

We stayed in bed until almost 9am, since there was no point venturing out. Finally we surveyed the destruction outside:


Somehow some of us managed to brew up some breakfast, then it was away out to enjoy the day which by now was only sporting “normal” rain along with very strong winds. Verena had planned a route up Clydach Gorge, taking in some interesting historical sites such as the old Clydach Ironworks and the disused railway tunnels:

Reg obviously thrilled with the proceedings:

We had originally considered diverting off to Blaenavon for lunch but it took so long to get to Brynmawr we stopped for lunch there instead, at a very pleasant café full of old Welsh ladies gossiping and comparing notes about the storm. An excellent veggie breakfast I might add:

There was still 6 hours until our evening pub opened, so we decided to nip down to Blaenavon and back to fill the time – there was a café there, an Ironworks museum, and Big Pit Mining Museum which Verena said also had a café. At least the rain had more or less stopped but the wind was seriously fierce at the 1200’ summit at Waenavon, so it was hard going. Bleakness:

What fun we’re having!


The café at Big Pit was open – hurrah, we’re saved! – so we indulged in some warming coffees and cakes and so on. For some reason we turned down the offer of a trip down the pit, I’m not sure why in retrospect, and headed back out into the wind to retrace our steps (pedals?) to Brynmawr.

At this point Martin decided to return back down to Abergavenny and a potential dry night, perfectly reasonable considering the challenging conditions. It was great to have your company Martin, hopefully see you again

Verena, Sean and myself rode up into town and considered what to do. Verena received a message from the pub asking if we were still going. Oo-er. Decision time. To cut a story short, we decided we’d suffered enough and the cosy convivial pub staring at us from across the road right where we were was a better offer. What a cop-out eh!
After a superb meal and liquid refreshments, the prospect of another soggy night was beginning to lose its appeal, and this was made worse by actually passing Verena’s house door. Plainly this would be a step too far, but Verena’s dog Hermione absolutely insisted we stayed there for the night to, er, keep her company and safe from the storm outside. How could we, er, refuse….
The next morning saw myself and Sean riding back down to his van in Gilwern. Despite the rail website claiming some trains were still running, I bottled it and Sean kindly offered me a lift to Bristol to drop me just off his route at Bristol Parkway station from where I fervently hoped there'd be more chance of a train to somewhere, anywhere... please....
The 11.40 from there to Birmingham was cancelled, although a 11.55 to London Paddington claimed to be running. Down on the platform a rail worker said the crew hadn’t turned up so that was cancelled too, so I plodded over to another platform to await the 12.20 to Paddington. The 11.55 then suddenly became uncancelled, so back again over the bridge and onto the train which miraculously left on time and deposited me at Paddington. A brisk ride across the mean streets of London to Euston station and at last a train home!
Arriving at home, Mrs Perrin’s quote was “well you look like you enjoyed yourself”. Strangely enough she was absolutely right. I’d change nothing, and the company of Verena, Sean and Martin was excellent.
Now, does anybody know if Ralph and Ralphina are still talking to each other…..