DAY 1 - Chepstow to Monmouth
Thursday 14th May 1983
22 miles/10 hours
A fair morning when Jonathan drove me to Chepstow (ST 542
941) but the first spots of rain as I waved goodbye to him and set off over the
Wye at 10:15am the way seemed more intricate and longer and much muddier and
wetter than on my previous visit. Before long thunder was rolling over the
landscape and drops were falling and by 1pm the rain had really set in. It
poured; it beat upon the world and everything in it; it turned paths already
muddy into treacherous morasses so that uphill one slipped constantly down and
down till it was difficult to hold oneself back. The water found its way into
everything including my guidebook kept carefully in a plastic case. At Bigsweir
Bridge (SO 538 051) I almost decided to do three miles of road instead of
climbing up the hillside and following the proper path to Redbrook (SO 538 100),
and, a little later, the terrain became so laborious that I very much wished I
had. However, I reached Redbrook at last and the cafe was open, so I ordered tea
and food - sausages and chips and apple pie, cream etc. I actually ordered a pot
of tea for two but the kind waitress said no she would make it strong and give
me plenty of hot water. Left the cafe (and a pool of water under the table!)
feeling a braver and a stronger man, but as the rain was still bucketing down
(there was a lake outside the cafe) I walked the last stretch to Monmouth (SO
514 126 )along the road and I must report that motorists were very considerate
in their efforts not to send sheets of water over me as they passed. At Monmouth
the rain had stopped so I decided to walk through and perhaps dry off a bit
before pitching camp. But halfway through, a new downpour arrived and continued
throughout my extravagant meanderings in the swimming streets. Finding the exit
route in this weather proved difficult especially with the 'help' of four kind
people all of whom knew where the path was, but were quite unable to give
adequate directions. After trudging an extra mile at least I found "Watery Lane"
and made a final enquiry at the last house, a new brick one with an acre of lawn
and a van outside painted garishly with the name of some Pop or Folk group. A
man appeared - yes you are right - take the signed path on the right just round
the bend. Are you camping? Well come and pitch on my lawn. What a boon that was!
And at this time the rain had stopped. It was 8:15pm and I soon had my legs
tucked into the bag. The rain beat heavily on the tent during the night but I
slept well enough after about twenty-two difficult miles. Amazingly I did not
feel exhausted at this time. For an hour or so I heard the faint boom boom of
the pop group practising I suppose, but nothing after 11pm.