Thursday 5th April 2018. An ascent of Mynydd Bach 373m/132m, near Pont-rhyd-y-groes, Ceredigion. 4.4km, with 125m of ascent. 1hr 45mins.

On the one sunny day in the week, I took a drive down to Mid Wales to ascend some hills that had been left unclimbed in previous trips, as a sort of tidy-up exercise. I normally prefer to park the car for the day and do an extended hike, but sometimes one needs to make exceptions to make progress in the various British hill lists I am working my way through. Mynydd Bach was definitely a hill that required such treatment. Nobody in their right mind would drive for two and a half hours to climb this hill, do an extended hike over it, and then drive home.

I parked at the end of a narrow lane, where three wide forest tracks met, that winds north from near the hamlet of Ystradmeurig. I had been warned what to expect when hiking up this hill, so I had come prepared. I donned a pair of thick waterpoof over-trousers and wore gloves, despite the heat of the day. As I prepared to set off, two vehicles arrived in this remote spot, out of one of which a man in a suit got out. I soon realised he was an estate agent, come to show a client round a nearby property for sale. It was not the kind of place where one normally encounters an estate agent!

I walked east along the sunny track on the southern edge of the forest towards Talfryn, the property which, I guess, was for sale, as there were no others in the vicinity. After 1.5 kilometres I reached a point where a lesser track heading into the forest branched off. Here the real work began. The first task was to force my way through a thicket of dead bramble thorns to the area beyond. By thrashing my walking poles and defended by my protective clothing, I emerged on the other side unscathed and unscratched. The best going north was to keep to a bank of heather on the left hand side of the felled area of trees through which I was struggling. However, this involved wading through waist-high heather, with the occasional semi-hidden gorse bush or bramble stalk to spice up my hike. Progress over the 400 metres to the summit was slow, but eventually the ground steepened considerably with a few small crags to tackle, and I was on the southernmost of the three small tops that crown the hill. Here the heather was, if anything, higher still, and I was sometimes nearly up to my armpits in the stuff as I waded north to visit the two other tops. My GPS readings for each top showed no difference in height.

Summits duly bagged, I headed back by the tried and tested route I had used on the ascent, making quicker progress back to the track from which I had departed on my thrash to the summit. By now my legs were running in sweat inside the heavy over-trousers I was wearing, but I resolved to continue back to the car in my steam-bath as time was getting on and I had at least one more hill to climb before heading home.

As I removed my over-trousers back at the car, another estate agent in a suit arrived and asked me if I was there to view the property.