12. Brecon Beacons

5/27/2017 Syl's bucketlist 0 Comments

When my father and I visited the family my father stayed with during WW2, we had the best time of our lives.
Ron drove us around England, Wales and Scotland, day after day, to show us the highlights, clean up some wartime memories with dad, and connect me with the beauty of it all. He succeeded.
Since then I have an intense longing for the places I have been and an inner need....to go home.

Elsewhere I will express my wish to find a job in Wales, Scotland or England, a small house and a re-connection with the nature that is so majestic.

It was on a rainy grey day that we entered the Brecon Beacons.
We'd already spent time climbing in the Lake District so this day Ron offered some 'training for the eyes, mind and your sensory system for natural beauty.'

When the sky cleared the colours of the environment changed and when the sky opened we reached another stage of Ron's training.
The beauty in this part of Wales was overwhelming.
We walked quite a distance and it enabled us to experience the silence and the sounds of it all. Apart from the little animals on the ground we saw wild birds above our heads, maybe deciding if we were ready to land on their supper table. I was happy we didn't encounter sheep, as I was afraid of them at the time (not any more).

We encountered just one person during our walk. An old man with a dog and a hat that served it's purpose, but maybe also was used to sit on. Ron had taught me to greet in Welsh, so I greeted as good as possible, being a bit shy, feeling clumsy. The guy stopped. Smiled and greeted me back and began a conversation...in welsh. I didn't even think about telling him I couldn't speak Welsh, but could manage English. I just looked in panic to Ron and they all burst out in laughter. Ofcourse the whole language problem was solved within a few minutes. The man pointed out some landmarks, gave us directions to find a waterfall, and invited us to come in for a drink when we passed his house.

The man was as amazing as the Brecon Beacons itself.
We didn't climb that day and I still feel a bit sad and homesick, because we never ever went back.

Ron isn't alive anymore, nor is my dad.
I'm sure part of Ron's spirit is still roaming the hills,
and I wonder if I'll ever be able to go back.



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