What's in a name?

Hiking in mid Wales beats cooking Sunday lunch

I was lying in bed a few nights ago thinking about this blog (as you do) and it occurred to me that some readers might consider its name rather sexist. As ‘The Walker’s Wife’ was I perhaps suggesting that Harri was the pro-active doer and I was the little wife who follows, quite literally, in his footsteps.

It’s absolutely untrue, of course, our relationship is based on equality and shared respect, but in the middle of the night it seemed imperative that I explain the origin of the blog's name. So here goes...

I’ve always been passionate about walking, although in my younger days my wanderings were limited by a lack of transport (my parents didn’t own a car until I’d left home and I didn’t learn to drive myself until my late twenties) and the inability to read a map. Nonetheless, walk I did, as often and as far as possible.

Those early walks weren't anything like the scenic hikes I now enjoy with Harri. For a start, I usually had a reluctant walking companion in tow - a friend, boyfriend, my younger sister... I once even persuaded my then 60-year-old dad that a brisk afternoon walk around Grwyne Fawr reservoir in the Black Mountains was exactly what he needed. To explain, I'd treated myself to my first proper hiking boots and I was desperate to try them out in proper hiking country. 

The majestic Black Mountains

Recently retired, Dad  reluctantly agreed to join me on a strenuous, high speed hike on a scorching summer afternoon. Strenuous because my spur-of-the-moment expedition involved a meandering climb to the summit of Waun Fach (811 metres), high speed because my part-time job at Tesco (in Newport) required that I be sitting at a till in my uniform at five o'clock. My poor dad stoically tried to keep pace with me, a knotted white cotton handkerchief on his head as he struggled uphill and down, never quite sure where we were heading. 

That afternoon was probably the closest I've come to killing one of my walking companions... although, now I come to think of it, there was the freezing cold Boxing Day when my (lack of) navigational skills resulted in an ex and I combing the snowy slopes of Coity Mountain as we searched in vain for the Lamb and Fox (we later learned it's located on the Blorenge, on the other side of the valley). So you see, despite my great and enduring passion for the great outdoors, I didn't really have a clue when it came to preparing for hiking jaunts, planning routes or reading maps. As for using a compass... well, the less said about that... 

In my late thirties, I joined Gwent Mountaineering, a long-established club for mountaineers, climbers and walkers in South East Wales, where I met some very nice like-minded people, like the Abergavenny-based writer and publisher Chris Barber. 

Harri on top of a summit ... somewhere (I just take the pics)

There was just one problem - our weekly meeting places tended to be hard-to-find car parks in remote mountain areas, frequently a two-hour drive from my home, e.g. the Radnor Forest. With three children to drop off en route, Sunday mornings became just as hectic and stressful as working days. I lived in fear of arriving at the designated car park and finding everyone else had set off ten minutes early. 

The Ramblers met closer to home, and I enjoyed quite a few walks with our local group before a particularly opinionated (male) member told me outright that, as a mother, I should be home cooking Sunday lunch rather than enjoying a ramble. His forthright views (though extreme and misogynistic) rather put a dampener on things. 

Unfortunately, my career and family commitments meant I did very little hiking for several years and then, in 2006, Harri walked into my life (well, to be precise, into my office). We became friends and soon discovered we shared a love of the outdoors, hiking in particular. He texted me one day to ask if I'd like to accompany him on a 'yomp' that Sunday.

The absolutely stunning Whiteford Sands, north Gower

Little did I know it at the time, but that first walk over the Blorenge, would mark the beginning of a whole new life for me - as an outdoor writer's other half. 

Harri started writing for the Walking World website and soon secured a commission to write a book of day walks on his much-loved Gower peninsula. 

Other commissions quickly followed and I found myself spending more and more time accompanying Harri on his hikes. I prepared our packed lunches and was put in charge of photography. 

How cute - who could eat them?

I enjoyed being involved in Harri's new career, but one aspect of things bugged me. The remit of a guidebook author is to explain accurately and succinctly how to navigate a particular route. Guidebooks demand a lot of mapping and photographs and there simply isn't room to wax lyrically about pretty little coastal villages, how we freed a sheep from a barbed wire fence or the hilarious incident that happened in the local pub.

Yet so many interesting things did happen while we were out walking and these often amusing incidents added hugely to our enjoyment. I mused out loud that I'd like to write about walking too; not in an instructional way but linking our walking experiences with my own thoughts and ideas.

As I'd anticipated, Harri was 100% supportive of the idea and, since day one, he's been my blog's biggest fan. 

He will always be the one who pores over maps for hours on end and knows his north-west from his north-east. Me? I get enthused by newborn lambs, piglets and an unexpected field of daffodils in the Brecon Beacons.

And so The Walker's Wife was born. Not because I'm anti-feminist or subservient, but because like other outdoor writers, I yearn to share my love of wild places with others. 

... the irony, of course, is we're not actually married.

It's good to strike up a conversation with the locals

When is a national trail not a National Trail?

The Pembrokeshire Coast Path - one of Wales's three National Trails

The Ramblers is urging everyone who enjoys hiking to sign a petition to save England’s thirteen National Trails.

The walkers’ organisation is afraid Government plans to radically alter the way National Trails are managed will lead to historic trails like the Pennine Way and Hadrian’s Wall Path becoming ‘little more than overgrown mud-tracks’.

One of Wales's very own 'mud tracks'

National Trails in England and Wales are currently maintained by two national bodies: Natural England and the Countryside Council for Wales.

The Government wants to hand over management of National Trails in England to what they call Local Trail Partnerships. In other words, they want individual local councils to form ‘partnerships’ with other interested bodies which will then assume responsibility for the management and maintenance of National Trails.

The Ramblers is quite rightly concerned that already overstretched councils will struggle to maintain hundreds of miles of footpaths and trails.

At the moment, the proposals only affect England and there are no similar plans in Wales; however, you don’t need a crystal ball to speculate about what’s likely to happen to our National Trails if the Government gets its way because this haphazard ‘local’ management style is already being applied to the Wales Coast Path.

Confusingly, the much-lauded 870-mile continual trail around Wales is not currently a National Trail despite its high-profile launch and national branding. Take a look at the website and you’ll see listed 22 ‘path partners’ (all of whom are involved in some aspect of the path’s establishment, maintenance and promotion). No less than 16 of these partners are local authorities, each of which has its own (constantly changing) political agenda and increasing budgetary demands. No marks then for guessing that in the current economic climate many councillors will not view the maintenance of footpaths as a high priority (or vote winner).

A muddy stretch of the Wales Coast Path
above Laugharne

Partnership is one of the buzz words in the public sector. A former senior manager of mine once used the immortal words ‘if you’re doing it alone, you’re doing it wrong’. He has been (anonymously) quoted in many a high-level strategy ever since.

The trouble with partnerships is they need managing… and administering… and promoting. Meetings have to be organised, minutes and agendas distributed far and wide. Local government (in Wales at least) already ‘facilitates’ (another word much favoured by council officers) various partnerships, e.g. the Community Safety Partnership, the Health, Social Care and Well-being Partnership, and the Children and Young People’s Partnership.  There are probably others but I’ve been out of local government for over a year now so I no longer need to keep track.

I just don’t think local government needs any more partnerships! Moreover, different local authority areas have diverse priorities and some do not prioritise footpaths.

How many cows trekked the
Wales Coast Path  before us?

A few years ago, Harri and I walked the Pembrokeshire Coast Path – one of Wales’s three National Trails – over several weekends, starting at St Dogmael’s in July and finishing at Amroth the following January. 

As we crossed the Pembrokeshire–Carmarthenshire border, the previously well-maintained and well-surfaced coast path immediately degenerated into a mud-bath.

The sad truth is that despite all the publicity, the boasts of ‘year-round activities’ and ‘family fun’, Wales’s newest tourist attraction is almost unwalkable in places. The churned-up ground along some sections, e.g. the stretch above Marros Sands, suggests the passage of a herd of tap-dancing cows; hundreds of metres are passable only in the sturdiest of hiking boots.

Carmarthenshire’s disregard for its footpaths, even the scenic cliff-top trails comprising the Wales Coast Path, strengthens the argument for continued management of National Trails by a national body.

And, being realistic, local councils can’t be responsible for everything. Most already struggle to maintain the smaller, lesser-used footpaths and will often choose to close a footpath completely (or divert it along a busy road!) rather than invest in its maintenance.

Boardwalks - a 'site' for sore eyes
 (and wet feet)

Newport Council promotes 10 Countryside Walks and, as we’ve walked them all, I speak from experience when I say that most of them have sections which are impassable due to ‘invisible’ footpaths, brambles, inaccessible stiles, etc. I’d like to think someone actually walked them before producing the leaflets but I’m not so sure. Last summer, Harri contacted Newport council about an overgrown footpath and was told that it was impassable because no-one used it. Er, we were trying to use it!

It’s the same story with the Monmouthshire and Brecon Canal. The towpath from Malpas Road to Fourteen Locks is in an abysmal state; at the steepest point, it’s so muddy and slippery I’m surprised no-one has fallen into one of the locks. Carry on past the Visitor Centre towards Risca and into a new local authority area (Caerphilly) and suddenly the surface is flat and even and a delight to walk/run/cycle along.

I’m really proud that this little nation of three million people is the first in the world to have a continual path around its coastline. It’s pretty impressive, eh?

If Cameron’s Government pushes ahead with its proposals for National Trails, it’s possible that these magnificent historic walkways will gradually deteriorate to the standard of the path above Marros Sands or the ‘invisible’ paths promoted by Newport Council.

If you believe that National Trails are worth saving, please sign the Ramblers’ petition today and urge this Government to rethink its crazy proposals.

And just in case you were wondering, the other two National Trails in Wales are Offa’s Dyke Path (shared with England) and Glyndŵr’s Way.

National Trails deserve national and
not fragmented management