Richard Gwyn

A quiet stroll along the ridges

I map out a circular route that begins and ends at the Tabernacl chapel, a third of the way up the Grwyne Fawr valley. I plan a route because I have become more fastidious, as I get older,… Read More

Bruno’s last picnic (part 1)

This week we said goodbye to Bruno, dearest and most joyful of dogs. He was old, at fifteen, but he was cheerful and brave to the end. He just couldn’t do much for himself by then, other than… Read More

A confusing day

Choose a day of red weather; no, leave the weather out of it, let the day choose you.  You decide to walk to Bal Mawr, setting out from the five ways junction, by the grey telephone box, and… Read More

Dead pony, Y Fan, Grwyne Fawr

Before the sheep, there were horses. People always associate sheep with these hills, and for good reason. The sheep have been here for three thousand years, but before the sheep, there were horses. Always there were the horses,… Read More

Just see where it takes you

  Here at the end of things, a big drop, endless forest. Things fall away. Here at the end of things where the forest is the world. A book falls on my head and I start into wakefulness…. Read More

The Surprising Lizard

Walking in the Black Mountains I find a dead lizard, belly-up on the gorse. What is it doing here? It is a surprising lizard. I am walking along a long ridge of moorland, with the Ewyas Valley to… Read More