After struggling to keep down my breakfast after a freak early morning illness (in no way drink related), Pete plans a hugely ambitious walk taking in something like the fifteen highest peaks in the UK. Ok, two of the highest in the Brecons.
Started off in lovely sunshine, but got sidetracked (engrossed, even) by a half dead sheep suffering from Flystrike, a lovely condition whereby shiny green flies eat their backside alive. Needless to say, the sheep wasn't too happy and wasn't in the mood to frolic around. After an hour on the phone to the RSPCA, we continued on our way, having so far only travelled half a mile from the car...
Took in the two highest peaks in the Brecons (and quite possibly the bottom half of the country) - Pen Y Fan, and the endearingly (?) named Fan Y Big - not in that order. Fan Y Big is the smaller one, so I guess the Welsh for particularly big must be Pen Y. Either that or the Welsh walked up it and thought "My that's big, let's call it Fan Y Big", after which I expect the cloud cleared and they saw the even bigger one.
Shortly after, things got very wet. Very very wet. I'm always amazed at people getting caught out in the hills with no protective clothing. Ahem, I didn't bring anything but a very thin bright yellow Halfords raincape. Not even long trousers... anyway, we survived (Pete and Nic were prepared anyway), albeit with boots full of water.
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