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Brecon Meet Report by Ying Chang The Brecons weekend started off in true MMC fashion when John Nolan spotted a crashed motorcycle in a hedge as he neared the bunkhouse on Friday night. Stopping to offer the rider help, he remembered that the list of those attending the meet had included a new member, travelling as a solo biker. "You must be Gerald," he said to the stranger. Gerald (for of course it was he) had come to practise for his ML Assessment. When he offered round his Home Theory paper, he did not go short of suggestions as to how the question "Name two accident blackspots and explain why they are dangerous" should be answered. Still, given the other cancellations from mechanical problems, Gerald should be comended for getting there at all. John P and Caroline turned back after a puncture and a broken wheel brace, and Nick and Clare's car broke down completely to leave them returning home courtesy of a tow truck round about the time they should have been sipping a pint in Wales. ...John Nolan spotted a crashed motorcycle in a hedge... Foot and Mouth closures (which sadly included the Brecon Beacons themselves) meant Saturday began with a visit to Tourist Information. This was long because the English couple running it knew little, could not understand the maps and even had trouble pronouncing Welsh names, spelling them out to clients over the phone. Eventually Vanessa and her cycling party (Rob, Johns B and N, and new girl Rosie) set out from Tal-y-Bont (promptly renamed Tal-y-Ban) on the Usk and cycled a reservoir route, theoretically 27 miles but shortened because highlighting of the route on the map actually obscured essential navigational details. It was a route with many technical rocky passages, and which seemed mainly uphill. "Judging by the groans at the end of the day it was probably just as well we couldn't finish it properly," says Vanessa. "But good weather and a sufficient ration of grassy tracks and forest roads made it very pleasant too." "We are parked just past a pottery at a place beginning with double L" The walkers, Margaret, Hilary, David, Ian and Andrew T, went to the Black Mountain, East of Brecon, and did a horseshoe walk including the highest point. Gerald practised being a mountain leader and the others simulated being the fractious clients, at one point deliberately walking faster than expected to disrupt his calculations. Ian and Andrew descended a little before the others. "Well, one ridge is much the same as another," said Ian. Hmm, Ian, a rule that has served you well in the past. Meanwhile Zoë, Jo and Ying had arrived and following admirably precise directions - "We are parked just past a pottery at a place beginning with `double L'" - they found the other cars and managed the first steep rise up to the plateau. But ambushed by a girlie chat, they got no further. On Saturday, Tom and John Hillary (with his arrival, the quota of Johns in the club is now full, and no future members called John will be permitted until one of the many existing Johns retires) climbed the Cneifon arete and the Gribin ridge, in sporting conditions. John (N) and his friend Richard followed a similar route and ascended part of the winter climb at the top. A particularly fine effort for John (N), considering that it followed an all-night girly chat with Ying. Those of more modest ambitions- (Jane M, Essex, Ian, the two Sarahs (newish and newer), Becky (also new), Paola and Ying) walked part of the way up Snowdon by the Miner's Track before giving up at various points.

The next day the cycling party drove for what seemed like hours with a detour in Brecon for John N to buy some lunch, which he never actually got around to eating. They ended up in Llanwrtyd Wells (the smallest town in Britain - Ed) to do a much easier, shorter and less technical route around the forest, committing puddles being the only difficulty. "It was like warfare up in the front," reported their poor passenger The closure of Pen-y-fan forced the main walking party west, while overnight rain put paid to any climbing ambitions. The party set out with Helen driving the lead car, but without her spectacles so her apprehension of road signs was, let us say, delayed. Mark was navigating so one would imagine that we were in safe hands with someone who is essentially responsible for the world's airliners not crashing into one another. But no, please remember he is also the man who looked at a map and mistook the Pennine Way for an "A" road along which he thought he could hitch. So finding the start of the walk was problematic, and became acrimonious. "It was like warfare up in the front," reported their poor passenger, new member Jo. She was so traumatised that she accidentally abandoned her house keys in their car at the end. Now, surely those who wanted an easy day (Ian, David, Zoë, Ying) would find the township of Abergavenny more straightforward. Not at all. A combination of Foot & Mouth (which had closed both Sugarloaf Hill and the banks of the Usk) and Ian's impressionistic navigation, led to five stops for confused consultation in various parts of the town. "I HATE O.S Maps," Ian said at one stage. Aha, Ian, at last a convincing explanation for last year's benightment! David (another new arrival) had become so baffled that he joined the A465 from a slip road and pulled straight over onto the opposite carriageway in a kamikaze assault on the oncoing traffic. Do you see a pattern? Bemused new member, incredulous at the extraordinary f***wittery of existing member, makes ridiculous error. The walks themselves passed without incident. The main party managed twelve or thirteen miles. "It was called Pen-y-something," reported Hilary, who we are glad administers poets rather than, say, weapons scientists. (The English name is Carmarthen Fen; it rises to just 807m.) Despite perfect weather, Gerald the Hedgehog continued his micro-navigation. "I'm practising for my assessment" were his last words before he fell in a hole. Helen was slowed by her pregnancy but valiantly completed the whole walk, and the party descended just as it was getting dark. The others had fled across the border to the Forest of Dean to have a Sunday-afternoon style stroll but failed to find a tea shop. By now Zoë and Ying were hours ahead of the others and were thus forced, poor dears, to investigate a total of five pubs and service areas before the others arrived. "I'm practising for my assessment" were his last words before he fell in a hole A few years ago, the club ran highly successful lectures on climbing and walking safety. It was suggested (by Andy E) that we should next invite a member of the AA or RAC to come and talk to us about issues of road navigation. This idea should clearly be revived. Weather is all on meets. It rained only overnight and the skies cleared in the day. So despite daring and un-English unisex shower arrangements in the bunkhouse, the meet was successful. Vanessa says, "Driving back with the sun going down on reddening trees was particularly picturesque". Thank you to her for organising. Back to the Library