Tretower, Tregower for the locals, fifth year on the trot in the border country and a full fat experience all-round, only minor let down was that the pub in the village, cruelly signed on the OS map was long since defunct, the wrought iron work for the sign all that remains.

The Farmhouse, most excellent - underfloor heating, joiner built kitchen, flag-stone floored living room and, as MrM pointed out, even a small Yamaha keyboard to sleep under.

Friday - up the road and track to the Farmer's Arms at Cwmdu, MrB providing the first beer-soaked serviette based incident, and MrW twisting his ankle on the return journey.

Saturday - a fine day in propect, drive up past Brecon and park up at the foot of the Beacons, up Corn Du, east along the ridge and down into Talybont to meet MrW and the crew.

All expectations exceeded; a cloudy day but clear enough, the Beacons ridges and views made all the more magical by a castor sugar dusting of snow.

The Beacons do not offer the brutal majesty of the West Highlands nor the challenge of parts of Snowdonia or the Lakes, but something different - perhaps the range of the ridge, the mathematical forms of the cwms or the link with the lowlands?

But make no mistake this is God's own country, a truly rewarding experience!

The map wrested from my grasp MrM took over navigation duties, sans sat nav, and soon we left the main ridge to head down to Talybont for a pie and a pint.

Having yomped down the Brecon mountain Railway and arrived at Pontsticill, we found no room at the Red Cow - the big screen showing Wales stuffing the Scots en route to the grand slam.

Also en route by this time were MsW and MrR, but in this case the 20 miles from Talybont to Pontsticill.

The following day would always labour to match what had gone before, but a rather good one it turned out to be.

Glanusk Park's private bridge provided a suitable crossing of the River Usk and neither the act of trespass nor the thought that the park was once frequented by TiggyLegge-Bourke acted as deterrent to MrS cracking open a can of Strongbow on the premises.

Courtesy of the Monmouth and Brecon canal we arrived at the Star Inn in Talybont at the second asking, a very good honest pub!

Lunch and a fine couple of pints later we were back on the trail, and MrM's navigation on the old Roman Road notwithstanding made it home via Bwlch.

Our final evening was, thanks to MrL's searchlight, spent in a pub on the A40 about a mile west of Tretower and very pleasant too but unfortunately population just us.

Despite a decent meal and beer I suspected this establishment would soon join Tretower's finest at the licenced victaullers in the sky - a recent Streetview check has confirmed this.

Tretower's premier vistor attraction, provided the distraction for the final morning and excellent it was too.

The Cadw Wardenette gave the strong impression that we had been her first visitors in a while, or perhaps, ever, or maybe she just fancied us.

One way or the other an ideal way to finish the weekend.

Tretower, for me a perfect 40th.

Thanks to all who made it so!

Bob, Nov 2014 updated Apr 2025.