Sheep and Sugar Loaf

Back in July we visited Hereford, taking in the small town of Credenhill where I used to live. As an adult you observe a lot more than as a child, and one of the things observed was, to the left of the Black Mountains, what looked like a volcano. A tall, distinct, conical pointed peak standing on its own, thirty miles away, which I could swear I had never seen before. As I'm 90% sure there are no volcanoes in the Welsh Marches, I took steps to find out what it was, and it turned out to be the Sugar Loaf.

So, having finally learnt of its existence, finding myself in Abergavenny this weekend it seemed only right to climb the thing.


If I look knackered and sweat drenched, there's a reason. That's 596 metres, boys and girls. Getting on for two thousand feet. Most of them mine. Astonishing views, needless to say, and I'm 90% certain I could see Credenhill.

A lot of sheep had been there before us, in every sense of the word "been". This one was the friendliest sheep ever, and no jokes about Wales please.


It has probably deduced, correctly, that any human who makes it to the top presents no threat at all to any form of life larger than a beetle that they might accidentally tread on. In fact it comes up to you and asks for food. Well, it nuzzled my hand as I was texting my accomplishment to Best Beloved. It's breath was very soft and silky. Basically, I think it thinks it's a cat. Or my phone was food. Or both.

The cause for this little outing was a church-organised Men's Weekend Away. And I have to say, I do feel very Menly.