April 19th - 21st:

The meet was based at the Mid Wales Bunkhouse, located about 6 miles from Rhayader, an area previously unknown to the majority of the party.

An advanced scouting party (Chatburn, Harris and Crowther) had left early, and checked out the Elan Valley Centre, and loosened up with a short walk. They then set out to investigate the local pubs, as did most of the later arrivals. Those pubs that were found were generally found to be wanting, so members retired to the bunkhouse and got stuck into some Kelham Island and home-made soup.


After the full Welsh breakfast, prepared by a small select team headed by Peppit Senior, the Chatburn party, joined by Mr Benton, walked a section of Glyndwr's Way, cunningly managing to finish at the bunkhouse. A larger party, starting from the car park of the Nant-y-moch reservoir (site of Glyndwr's victory over a 'superior' English force in 1401), tackled a lengthy walk over Y Garn, and most of the many summits of Plynlimon, taking in the sources of the river Wye (possibly) and of the River Severn (definitely). The general feeling was that the distance covered was a bit more than the alleged 14 miles. Meanwhile Mr Travis had made the ultimate sacrifice, giving up the opportunity of a strenuous walk to spend the day shopping for stuff that the Veep had forgotten to buy - a true hero.

The local pubs saw little trade from the DPC on the Saturday evening, the members preferring Kelham Island and/or wine in the convivial atmosphere of the bunkhouse. Eventually dinner was served, starting with mussels in a tomato sauce prepared by the Veep, and followed by an unusual  chicken stew, cunningly contrived by the absent Mr Lovatt, which he had made to taste like an absolutely delicious Boeuf Bourguinonne.

After breakfast on Sunday members dispersed, with little indication of intending serious physical activity, although the Cordee Chatburn nipped up Plynlimon on the way. The Veep interupted his journey home with a visit to Hampton Court Castle near Leominster, the home of the Arkwright family,  where they squandered the piles of money they had made in the mills of Derbyshire (oops – a bit political).