Beacons Way, day 8: Carreg Cennen to Bethlehem

The taxi arrives at the White Hart on the dot, and we set off from Llandeilo, on another fine morning, through Ffairfach and Trap to the farm car park at Castell Carreg Cennen.

I thank Mr Teilo Taxis for his essential help, and he leaves for home and a day of painting his house, unless he gets a call from another eccentric hiker.  There’s no one else here, and I stand for a few minutes under the castle, amid the sunshine and birdsong, in perfect happiness.  There’s nothing to compare with the start of a day’s walk on a day like today.  The legs and lungs are fresh, a light breeze promises to take the edge off the heat, and miles of empty winding lanes and paths lie ahead. 

I go back up the road, past Castle View and up a track towards Cilmaenllwyd.   Someone’s put up a home-made sign sending me on a detour to the back of the farm – presumably the farmer was fed up of the tramp of long-distance walkers through the farmyard.  Beyond, the path climbs gently through fields to the long bank of an old quarry, from which much-prized tilestones were dug out.  I hear a cuckoo ahead in the woods.

Soon the path joins a minor road and I follow it, on a perfectly straight course, for over a mile – a tarmac section unusual on the Beacons Way.  From here on is familiar territory: the Way shares its route with that of the Heart of Wales Line Trail, which I followed in the reverse direction four years ago.  All is quiet, except for the howling of dogs imprisoned in a shed to my left. A notice says that I venture beyond this point at my own risk.  I hurry on.

At the junction with the Llangadog–Gwynfe road the path sets off uphill through a large field and keeps to a high contour, under a limestone ridge to my right, Carn Powell.  Stonechats leap ahead of me along the fence to my left, transmitting their electronic signals.  The path then dives into a small forest.  It descends, only to climb again steeply to Bwlch y Gors, with some muddy stretches.  When it emerges, I can see the Tywi valley below, with both Llandeilo and Llangadog visible, and, closer to hand, the Ordovician sandstone grit ridge, on which stands Y Garn Goch and its huge fortifications.

After a level stretch, with Trichrug to the right, the path drops gradually down the hill, at first through a tunnel of intense white hawthorn blossom and billows of gorse flowers, radiating their yellow brilliance and breathing out their coconut scent.  Another cuckoo is calling, somewhere below me.  Lower down, the path becomes a stony track, hard on the feet.  Finally, I’m out on common land, and start the short climb to the north-east corner of Y Garn Goch.  This is one of the original entrances to the Iron Age settlement, a passage through massive walls on either side.  The ground round about is covered in hundreds of tiny yellow tormentil flowers.

Every time I’m up here, I’m astonished at the vast extent of the ‘hill-fort’ – at almost 100 hectares, one of the largest in Wales – and at the degree of social organisation that must have been required to construct the stone ramparts that enclose it on all sides.  Or rather, them, since there are two separate enclosures. In the centre of the larger one, Y Gaer Fawr, is a Bronze Age cairn, an enormous pile of stones that hints at continuous use of the hill over many centuries.

The path passes through both forts and continues west to the end of the hill.  I pass the limestone memorial stone to Gwynfor Evans and join the quiet road down towards the village of Bethlehem. But first comes the chapel, from which the village takes its name.  I sit on a tomb in the graveyard and eat my sandwiches.  Two of the chapel windows are open.  I peer inside, across the neatly numbered pews to the gallery, with its elegant iron columns and painted frieze, and the elaborate seiat fawr.

The path takes a short-cut up through fields to the village.  I call in to see my friends V. and S., artists whose house has a direct view across the valley to Carn Goch.  It’s Saturday, so they’re not working today.  They offer me drinks and a biscuit, and we talk of many things: making new work, losing siblings, the best flowers to paint, wool festivals, and how names escape us in old age. 

Then it’s time to put on the boots again and set off on the final stretch.  Officially, Bethlehem is the terminus of the Beacons Way, and by the road is a bench, designed by Robert Jakes, bearing the Way logo and a carved picture of Llyn y Fan Fach.  But I need to reach Llangadog, three miles further on.  After a short spell on the road the path falls through trees, with large green fields sweeping up a steep slope to the right. Then I’m on the Tywi valley plain.  It’s a simple walk on to the village of Felindre, arranged in a neat square shape, probably in medieval times, then across Afon Sawdde and into Llangadog.

Llangadog has a varied collection of historic buildings, but many of them have seen better days, and are empty or dilapidated.  There are still three pubs open, which is a remarkable thing until you realise there used to be more: this has always been a thirsty place.  But it’s far from quiet today.  Saturday bikers are revving round the corners, preparing to roar their way over the twisting mountain road to Brynaman.

At the station the information screen warns of train breakdown, delay, and for good measure adds the chilling words ‘we are trying to source alternative buses.’  I’m standing at the bus stop investigating times of service buses home when suddenly I hear a train hoot and see the level crossing gates descend.  Scampering to the platform, I’m just in time to hold my hand out and stop the train.  The train manager sounds exasperated when I tell him about the screen information: the train’s on perfect time, he says, and Transport for Wales is notorious for spreading ‘false news’.

Alas, that’s not the end of the journey.  A train ahead has broken down, and we’re held outside Llanelli for an hour.  When we do get there we’re told to get out and catch another train home: ours has mutated into the train for Fishguard and is off in the other direction.  By now the guard is fuming.

The final day of the Beacons Way is officially labelled ‘easy’.  It’s only ten miles, and there are no mountains to climb.  But it’s no worse for that.  Day 8 is a fitting conclusion to one of the best long-distance trails in Wales.