Wales

The Dragon’s breath fills the sky and flows down the Welsh valleys as misty rain enveloping all that stands in its way.

No doubt about it, Wales is equivalent in the English language to the words – rain, rain falling, still raining, and boy will this rain ever stop. Even the horses take shelter when it starts to rain.

As you can imagine the Welsh countryside is awesomely green, that is of course if you can see it through the rain. Even when the sun is shining it is still raining.

Yesterday it was time to work through the set of five Llangynidr locks (remember all Welsh towns and villages start with “Ll” which is pronounced ukkkggg or something like that). Each lock takes about 20 to 30 minutes to navigate, fill, empty etc, and wouldn’t you guess what happened – it started to rain.

Once you have taken your place in the queue and started to navigate into the first lock you are committed for the next two hours or so - rain, hail or shine; or in Wales - rain, heavy rain or drenching never ending rain.

The best thing about the rain is that you soon give up the notion of summer walks through the hills and just head for the nearest pub. Luckily in Wales there is no shortage of fabulous pubs full of interesting beers and great food including Brown Bread Icecream.

Maybe the diet can start next week.

Our boat “Merlin” is a classic replica narrowboat, like a super long caravan with all you could ask for – a double bed, lounge with seating for four, kitchen, bathroom with shower, and places to sit both aft and stern.

Our canal, the Brecon and Abergavenny Canal, was cut in the 1790s through the stunningly picturesque scenery of the Brecon Beacons National Park, a region of outstanding natural beauty. The canal winds its way like a snake hugging the mountainside above the River Usk.

This is slow holidaying at its finest. Our top speed is a breathtaking 2.5 miles per hour, but often we are travelling much slower. You start to understand the word slow when ramblers (bushwalkers) stride past with a welcoming “good morning” or “fine day isn’t it”, and groups of ducklings decide to race us and win.

Quickly we learn that driving a 42 foot canal boat is like steering a super tanker with the responsiveness of a Model T Ford, which is fine except for the need to navigate through 120 bridges, several aqueducts and a 343 metre tunnel with only inches to spare on either side.

Just to make things interesting they almost always locate the most unbelievably narrow bridges on sharp corners. But the highlight of day is the impossible dogleg corner, where invariably they site the local pub, so all can sit with a pint of Welsh bitter and be amused by novice boaters pulling their hair out and demonstrating genuine panic.

It’s like having the most perfect Sunday drive through the most beautiful countryside without brakes or steering.

Each night we moor in the peaceful countryside away from other human life forms, prepare supper and then collapse from exhaustion, the quiet occasionally broken by birds having a chat or the rustle of a squirrel running up a nearby tree.

Life in the slow lane is harder than you think, but I wouldn’t miss it for anything.