Several weeks ago I moved to the Brecon Beacons National Park in Wales, washing dishes and plating up food for hungry hikers and tired cyclists at the Danywenallt youth hostel. I am, irrefutably, in the sticks: a forest of hazel, rowan and oak overhangs the rear of the staff cottage, whilst a band of hills and low-lying mountains – the park’s central peaks – dominates the front. Sheep graze the nearby slopes, brought down from higher ground by shepherds onto the lush lowlands of the Caerfanell river valley, and, just metres to the south sits Taylbont Reservoir – a placid sheet of freshwater, topped-up by its bordering topography.
Within the first few days of my arrival into the park, I had climbed most of the peaks within view of my bedroom window. Though far from outlandish ascents, the vistas – each standing between four-hundred and six-hundred metres – allowed me to gather my bearings. Over the days that followed, my focus fell upon the valley floor: the sunken tramroads, cobbled and worn; the boulder-filled rivers; the thickets of walnut saplings, blackberry bushes and wild raspberries. Gradually, I began to understand where I was.
‘Tawny owls’, Stephen, a bush craft guide and local to the area, informed.
‘I thought so, but I couldn’t be sure,’ I returned. Singing through dusk, I had gone to bed each night with the call of the bird close to my ears.
‘It’s two, you know.’
‘What is?’
‘The sound you hear, ke-VICK… hu WHOOooooo! The first call – ke VICK – is the female, and the second – hu WHOOooooo – is the male. They sing as one.’
Later that night, a little before retiring to bed, I opened the front door of the cottage and looked out at the night. There was no moon and, in spite of the faint starlight, darkness filled the valley before me. Fulfilling their nocturnal courtship, the owls began to call, first the female, then the male. Two spirits perceived as one. Now, if that isn’t love…
I ‘Googled’ to see where you are staying, as I am not at all familiar with places in the UK. It looks like an amazing place to explore, and spend time soaking up the natural environment. You are lucky indeed. Enjoy your stay….with the owls 🙂 Leah
LikeLiked by 1 person
Well, that’s a very vicarious thought, thank you for your interest Leah! It is beautiful here. So much so, in fact, that yesterday I fell over whilst looking up to absorbed the sunset over the reservoir!
LikeLike
Lol! I am fascinated by the funny names of places you have over there, like Brecon Beacons. There are so many more names of places in the UK that I have trouble pronouncing in Robert Macfarlane’s book, and I would love to visit some one day, just to see what they are like. Of course, I think there is always a fascination for places in a far away land that we have not visited, and that in itself is enough to propel us into ‘travel mode’, just so we can discover new places. 🙂 Leah
LikeLiked by 1 person
I look forward to seeing one of your cute drawings of those owls in love.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Oh yes, perhaps that will be my next post…
LikeLiked by 1 person
This is beautiful. Rilke defined love as the intersection of two solitudes. 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
Well, that’s a lovely way of putting it 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person