"It rains in Wales", my mum warned me when I told her we were heading to the Black Mountains for a long weekend. And as I stood in the middle of a field with mud up to the ankles in a persistent downpour, I realised she was absolutely right. (She always is).
With the hilltops shrouded in cloud and the rain looking set-in for the day, we regrettably scrapped out plans to clamber over Skirrid Mountain and went straight to the Skirrid Mountain Inn for an early lunch instead.
Skirrid Mountain Inn (Hereford Road, Llanfihangel Crucorney, NP7 8DH - web)With the hilltops shrouded in cloud and the rain looking set-in for the day, we regrettably scrapped out plans to clamber over Skirrid Mountain and went straight to the Skirrid Mountain Inn for an early lunch instead.
Set back from the road beyond some cobblestones and picnic benches, the Skirrid Inn has a fantastically old chunky wooden door that looks the part for it's claim to be Wales' oldest pub.
This took us through into a grand main bar with high ceiling, enormous fireplace, and a couple of fine old high-backed benches amongst the more conventional furniture.
To one side is a lobby area with the modern trappings of a flat-screen TV above the bar, and the wood-panelled Mountain Restaurant room beyond this.
Available on cask was Wye Valley 'Butty Bach' or 'HPA', with an unused handpump between them. The Butty Bach was on good form and was so quaffable that I wondered how my glass had become empty so quickly.
Legend has it that there has been an inn on this site since 1110, making it one of the countries oldest. As with all claimants to this title, it's tricky to verify.
The current building dates back to the mid-late 17th century and has an almost castle-like feel which gives it plenty of character.
The current building dates back to the mid-late 17th century and has an almost castle-like feel which gives it plenty of character.
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| History |
And when you claim to be one of the oldest pubs in the land it's obligatory to have a ghost story or two.
The main source of these at the Skirrid Inn surround the speculation that a first floor room was used as a courthouse, possibly presided over at one point by George Jeffrey's, the 'Hanging Judge', who conducted the trials of those accused of taking part in the Monmouth Rebellion.
A small store room midway up the staircase is said to be the old holding cell where many a soul spent the night awaiting their fate. Supposedly over 180 people were hung at the Skirrid Inn, who've handily popped the rather macabre noose in the stairway to remind you of their grisly past.
The main source of these at the Skirrid Inn surround the speculation that a first floor room was used as a courthouse, possibly presided over at one point by George Jeffrey's, the 'Hanging Judge', who conducted the trials of those accused of taking part in the Monmouth Rebellion.
A small store room midway up the staircase is said to be the old holding cell where many a soul spent the night awaiting their fate. Supposedly over 180 people were hung at the Skirrid Inn, who've handily popped the rather macabre noose in the stairway to remind you of their grisly past.
Fueled by some filling & good-value pub fodder and Butty Bach, we decided to brave the weather and tackle the walk to the nearby Beer Guide pub in Llangattock Lingoed.
If I ever produce 'Prop Up the Bar's Prodigious Pub Walks' (which will contain ways to navigate Port Meadow to reach the Wolvercote pubs with your feet still dry), I doubt this will be included.
But perhaps I'm just negative about our walk because of the miserable weather.
We struggled over pop-up streams.
I dropped our map in the mud.
The sheep and horses looked at us like we were mad as we trudged across their fields.
But perhaps I'm just negative about our walk because of the miserable weather.
We struggled over pop-up streams.
I dropped our map in the mud.
The sheep and horses looked at us like we were mad as we trudged across their fields.
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| Fields |
The final straw that turned me into a full-on grumpy wet rambler was that those red dots between Pen-Rhos and Old Court weren't a navigable path at all. Necessitating back-tracking on ourselves and the journey taking way longer than it should have.
I was relieved to finally arrive in Llangattock Lingoed - home to 171 folk, the charming whitewashed church of St Cadoc, and the Hunter's Moon Inn...
I was relieved to finally arrive in Llangattock Lingoed - home to 171 folk, the charming whitewashed church of St Cadoc, and the Hunter's Moon Inn...
It may not lay claim to be the oldest inn in Wales, but the Hunter's Moon still traces it's origins back to 1217. This was the time that the village church was being built and it's believed an inn to accommodate and refresh the workmen was constructed at this time.
Enter through the front door and you're in the bar with it's stone-flagged floor, warming fireplace and four large tables. It all gets a bit brighter and more modern through the archway to left where tables are set for dining.
I ordered myself a well-deserved pint of Wye Valley 'HPA' ('Butty Bach' and Grey Trees 'Diggers Gold' being the other options).
Then laid out the map on the table so I could look like a hardy walker and scowl at the people who arrived in the comfort of their over-sized cars. That said, I'd have accepted a lift back if anyone was offering!
Hmmm... I wonder what effect taking on the 3½ Pint Boot challenge would have on my ability to tackle the footpaths and make it back to civilisation.
Surely I could beat Henry Drooper...
Surely I could beat Henry Drooper...
And shortly after we finished walking the sun came out.
Which at least provided me with blue sky pictures in Abergavenny, which is next up on the blog.
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