Travel Hay-On-Wye, England

chillibreeze writer — Kusumanjali R Shrikant

Need an editable PowerPoint map of England

Kusumanjali R Shrikant is pleasantly surprised as she discovers Hay-on-Wye, a small (very small) town on England’s border with Wales, to be an idyllic holiday destination for a couple with varied interests.

Hay-on-Way's soothing landscape

Rock climbing Taster days

Our room at BMA

Opposites attract. Sometimes it’s for keeps. The optimists frequently attempt holidays as a couple. Almost always, it’s a disaster. Unless you are visiting Hay-on-Wye that is, where Book Worm can link hands with Adrenalin Junkie and awesome two-some holiday dreams still come true.

Shrikant (S) and I reached Hereford station, the closest to Hay-on-Wye, on a cold dark summer evening. A 45 minute cab ride later and ‘la - meme” in pounds lighter; we reached our destination - Black Mountain Activities (BMA). Named after the mountains that form the backdrop to the Brecon Beacons National Park, BMA is an outdoor pursuit’s centre in Three Cocks Village. Hay-on-Wye is itself a small town on the border of England and Wales, the name Hay (or Haia) means a field and the Wye is a river that meanders languidly through it. Despite being a shrinking violet when it comes to any kind of physically demanding activity, it was I who had initiated this trip. There was this vague need in me to glimpse my sporty boyfriend turned serious banker husband flex his biceps again and do something more exciting than channel-surf! If that meant simply ‘tagging’ along, I would.

There’s ample bed &breakfast accommodation in Hay, but we opted to stay at the newly established BMA lodge. With pretty curtains, a “come sink-in” bed and a view of ducklings paddling in a pond outside, our very reasonably deluxe room (£40 pppn) was perfect. The kitchen was limited though interestingly stocked. Late on Friday night, we asked for some juice and fruity Italian wine was offered instead.

Saturday morning, (Yawnnnn…8 am is masochistic on a holiday) we were carted off with other holidayers to the BMA base site. The activity signed up for was rock-climbing and abseiling. I spent the next few hours in an uncomfortable clingy harness, rubbing scrapes on jagged stone, and suppressing my giggles when S boomed - ‘Everybody else’s partners catch them when they fall, when I fall you do as well!’. Taster sessions begin with ‘Bouldering’ or ‘familiarizing ourselves with rocks’. This implies your partner attempts to walk a rock sideward (by hugging it) all the time hoping you are his safety-net. The roles are then reversed, and I suspect, often border on subtle shades of revenge.

Meanwhile, our tour-leaders had scaled the ravine, pitched their pulleys and were encouraging us to ascend. Well, I got what I wanted – more than my share of the husband climbing about 60 feet of a rocky boulder, and looking mightily thrilled about it, like the rest of the group.
‘Abseiling’, I learned in the afternoon, is being lunatic enough to jump off a boulder’s edge as nonchalantly as stepping out of your office elevator. A preset pulley system propels you in 3 to 4 leaps, and some very confident tour-leaders supervise the descent. And yet!

And yet , I had analysed every bit of the now-bland sky covering Hay-on-Wye on the day, stared at my co-outbounders, eavesdropped on their conversation, and was getting a bit tired of the look of disbelief in people’s eyes when I never managed to climb more than 10 feet earlier in the morning. Abseiling, though far more challenging, than rock climbing seemed to be only a single moment of lunacy. So I went along. Sisters and sweet hearts were unable to watch as the men plunged down, all to safety. I meanwhile was urging S to take photographs as I began my descent, confident I would never abseil again. ‘Almost began’ my descent is more accurate. Suddenly, I was screaming in my mother tongue (Malayalam) about how I wanted to live, have babies, see my name in print, tie my shoe-laces for the twentieth time; to two wonderful Welsh gentlemen who seemed to understand every word and went on to ‘push’ me over the edge. Three leaps through vertigo and a frantic scramble for the barest of footholds, I had made it. Ego considerably expanded, the moment of madness was worth the exhilaration. My audience applauded, the husband snorted, predictably unimpressed.

Dinner was on recommendation of BMA at the Mulnochy Hotel, a 5 minute drive from the base camp. Prawn roast, jasmine rice, and flawlessly melted lasagna were outdone by the company we had. Sitting at the adjacent table, were a couple who have been married for 40 years, sharing a quiet dinner, and a couple of jokes. The lady’s maroon lipstick and velvety gown contrasted vividly with her silver hair. John kept teasing Martha with what she dismissed as fossil-like jokes, and to garner support, he included us as well. Hailing from a country where the old often resign from adornment and fun, and living in a world where the pillars of marriage and long-term togetherness are crumbling - the scene was enchantingly sweet.

Come Sunday, the exhilaration was rapidly replaced by horrendously aching legs and shoulders. Desperate to avoid the kayaking agenda, I began asking everyone I met what ‘else’ one could do at Hay. And that’s how I made my ‘Ohhh, Myeee Goddddd’ (Janice style) discoveries - ‘Second hand book capital of the world‘, ‘Woodstock of the literary world’- Hay’s pretty yet placid streets hold incredibly impressive surprises up their sleeves.

Second-hand book sale

Kayaking on the river Wye

To start with, its 40 plus bookshops stock every conceivable title, both rare and popular modern fare, which has earned the town its title. (Refer to the table for websites dedicated to supporting the quest for a collector’s delight). Every year during the May bank holiday weekend, the literati and chatterati make their way to Hay for the Guardian Literary Festival. Readings, discussions, author interviews, promotions, wine and dine opportunities with your favorite author, and of course sales all contribute to the excitement and world-wide appeal of the festival. Visitors range from Jackie Collins to Michael Palin, Arundhati Roy to Bill Clinton. In winter, there’s the winter literary festival as well, on a much smaller scale but a great way to get initiated.

If you are a genuine bibliophile who will also enjoy the shimmer and spice provided by celebrities, Hay- on-Wye is your paradise. My visit’s timing did not quite allow me to enjoy the cultural exuberance that transforms Hay during the festivals. I did visit entire rows of book-shop lined lanes though, which offer a blissfully unhurried browsing experience. Even the retail-therapy paranoid husband found a comfortable sofa and buried his nose in Queen Boudica’s adventures.

After being briefly torn next morning between making my way back to the bookshops and changing into a wet-suit, the devil got into me and I was sitting in the canoe along with Jim, the water-sports guide. Watching the rest of the group capsize as they tried first-level Kayaking, identifying glistening water beings dart from the Wye waters, inhaling the pure riverside air and occasionally paddling the waters was undiluted fun. The realization that wet suits protect you from getting wet but not necessarily from the cold was not. To appear a wee bit more interesting and compensate for my obvious lack of interest in kayaking, I chatted with him about the boat races in Kerala and compared it with punting in Cambridge. Made it sound exotic enough I guess, as Jim was soon contemplating a vacation there.

Had we lingered longer, the charms of the famous semi-restored Hay Castle and the verdant landscape of Brecon National Park would have without doubt lured us, but our 48 hour holiday plans at Hay were now almost up. Wiser in two days, we arranged a much cheaper ride back to Hereford station through BMA. Shrikant and our driver chatted about tempting house prices at Hay; while I watched twilight colours creep over the gently sloping countryside. We are both certain we will head back again, to book readings, second level abseiling, kayaking and much more.

For all you couples or odd bunch of friends out there, here’s my take - its fun to be different, it’s even greater fun when we try different things, at least every once in a while. And if your quest is a versatile yet unspoilt place that can hook both Tweedledee and Tweedledum, Hay-on-Wye, especially in May and December is a lovely choice.

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Other popular destinations in the United Kingdom include

Yorkshire, a romantic's dream
St. Paul's Cathedral in London

Now that you have visited England, how about a trip to Continental Europe?

Take a trip to Milan in Italy
Make sure you visit Florence too
Enjoy the romantic city of Paris
Spend a few memorable moments in Brussels
Watch the tulips bloom in Amsterdam
Relax on the beach at Barcelona
Do not miss the island paradise of Ile D'Oleron

Chillibreeze writers can write travel articles about any destination in India or abroad. Contact us for your content requirements.

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Kusumanjali writes for chillibreeze.

Travel Hay-On-Wye, England

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