The Talybont Millennium Experience 2000
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"You don't have to go right to the top" Nail tells me before the run starts. "The whole idea is to reach an altitude of 2000 feet, that's why it's called the Millennium Run, see". I didn't but was nevertheless grateful for that crumb of comfort. In the event, and not wishing to be the odd one out, I had no choice but to climb - and I mean climb - that last 500 feet. Was it worth it you ask? Bearing in mind the fact that Teeny had taken the awesome trouble of humping a wide selection of choc bars and bottle of whisky up there - yes it was worth it. At 2510ft on Waen Rydd, we devoured the sweeties, supped up the booze and listened to the bad news - there was no easy way down. In the absence of crampons or abseiling gear, bum-sliding the Welsh way was the only suggested option and in view of the fact that there were no others, we took it. And so, an hour or so later and some three hours since we had set out, leg weary, bum sore and dead on our feet we completed the Talybont Millennium Event.
It was all Cooperman's idea, of course - one of his better ones as it happened. Friday night, Talybont-on-Usk, the Isle of Wight contingent arrives to find the party already well under way at the Star Inn. Here, DogBolter was already in fine voice (his opinion, not necessarily mine, or anyone else's) so we felt obliged to partake of a couple of pints before we set about erecting our tents in the back garden (about four acres of it) of Teeny's parents' house. This chore accomplished, we hastened back to the party to bolt down a few more pints before the pub closed. It didn't, not much before midnight-ish at any rate. How refreshing we thought - as we chose another beer from the wide selection on offer - very civilised. On awakening the following morning, most of us had reason to revise that opinion, doubly so had we been aware of what the day had in store for us. But we managed - some better than others, and, as already mentioned above, it was well worth it. To my complete incredulity, I discovered that Nail had laid the trail only that morning which meant that he'd run the damned thing twice in one day. I'm speechless.
Our generous hosts had already supplied us with a breakfast that morning. They now set the evening alight with an excellent BBQ to be washed down with beer from a barrel they had also thoughtfully laid-on. Aquatic entertainment ensued, provided by Teazy and DogBolter and a few of the others. How many people can you get on one double li-lo? I believe they managed six or seven.
With all the food (thanks to BDay and the girls) and part of the swimming pool demolished there was only one thing left to do - hit the sack and hit it hard. Two hours later I was ready to party once again - unfortunately my legs weren't, but I forced myself over to the pub and order a beer or three just to be sociable. Cooperman called in for another pint a little after twelve but was told that he couldn't have it. "The bar's closed?" he enquired resignedly. "No," responded The Barman, "we've run out of that one", Cooperman wisely selected another and continued drinking until The Police (Heddlu, Heddlu, Did Somebody Say Heddlu?) joined the party a little later. The Landlady pleaded ineffectuality - apparently she'd asked us to leave but we'd refused. She then went on to say that she hadn't served a beer for at least half-an-hour and as it was now gone 12:30am, the officer took this to be an admission of guilt. The last we saw, as we made an unseemly dash for the door, the policeman was unshipping his handcuffs as he ushered the poor woman into a back room.
On the following day, Common Sense dictated the use of Another Pub a few yards further down the road.
Sunday, and having experienced the previous day's major marathon it seemed prudent to ensure a short trail for the hangover run. Accordingly someone with their wits about them volunteered the IOW to lay that trail. DogBolter, who had been detailed for the job, unzipped his tent long enough to ensure that he'd been liberated from the ordeal, then zipped up and stayed their until it was all over. Cooperman, with the assistance of Teeny, did the deed and a fine job it was too.
Book Now for the next Millennium Run - the conquest of Fan Y Big (I kid you not!). All-in-all then, an excellent weekend then in the company of some smashing people who simply could not do enough to ensure we had a perfect stay. Oh, there was one small problem you should be aware of if you visit the place. Beware the public bog in the centre of the town. Gentlemen, should you need to sit you will find the cubical door hard to close. Leave it open, for if you manage to close it you won't be able to open it again. Such a fate befell myself and I was forced to dismantle the cistern in order to obtain a suitable tool with which pry the door open. The alternative was to bellow for help and risk the never ending ridicule that would have gone with rescue by a passing hasher.
Another pitfall you might wish to avoid. Should you be walking the banks of the Monmouthshire and Brecon canal that runs thought the town you might espy a ring with a chain attached. Whatever you do don't pull it out. On the other end is a plug and all the water will drain out. No small matter when you consider the fact that the canal runs some ten or so feet above the main street. Nail told me this fact and I believed him - see the picture in the Pub.
I've no doubt that the IOW will be calling there next time the opportunity arises.
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