ON THE HOOF
Hiking with ponies in the lush Welsh mountains is an uplifting adventure
Three of us are waiting to be matched with our new partners, all of whom are gorgeous. Billy is sweet and chatty, Jacko is the undisputed boss. I’m not good with alpha males, so I’m thrilled to be paired with pint-sized Woody; grey, with big brown eyes and, apparently, a big hit with children (good sign). These adorable Welsh ponies will be our pack-carrying companions for a camping trip in the radnor hills.
First we learn how to saddle them, and how to handle them (gently).
Our host, Will, has lived on this farm, a few miles south of Builth Wells, for 30 years and is as content as you would expect for someone who wakes to the sight of the spectacular Wye Valley every morning. he’s worked with horses all his life and has 16 of these hardy ponies, bought from the farmers who own the feral herds that roam the hills.
he’s desperate to find them a purpose, to stop the breed dying out, and has trained them to carry custom-made saddlebags (they will never be ridden) using natural horsemanship, which is a sort of horse whispering. It just means being patient and kind and it works; these ponies are biddable, curious and calm.
Over the years, Will has mapped 800 miles of routes with meticulous detail, as he has also run the UK’s only self-guided pony trekking centre for decades, though we have a guide, Lou. We set off, exploring the Powys hills on wide, grassy paths lined with bracken.
It’s a slow pace, and after just a few miles we arrive at Brechfa Common to set up camp in a sheltered field hidden behind a row of dark pines.
The first rule has always been to look after your pony before yourself, so we release our now beloved pals before pitching tents and preparing for dinner.
I hear birdsong, and the comforting sound of our ponies chewing hay as they watch us with pricked ears, all against the backdrop of the mighty Pen y Fan, the highest peak in South Wales.
I’m new to camping and am bowled over by how much kit you need, how neatly it’s designed (the cooking stoves alone unpack like russian Dolls designed by Nasa) and the gourmet dinners that can be rustled up. Under a starry sky, we share an Ottolenghi-inspired feast, local cheese board and creamy red wine, expertly cooked by one of our campmates.
She’s new to horses, but the size of these ponies (48 in tall at their withers), means they are a benign rather than intimidating presence and you don’t need horsey knowhow to commune with them.
We haven’t seen another soul all day, aside from a few sheep and some floppyeared goats standing on the b bars of a gate to g get a better look at us. We haven’t cr crossed a road, hear heard a police siren or car alarm, and it’s luxuriou luxurious to be enveloped oped in natu nature. The next morning, we secure the packs and set off for home.
ASWe approach the Trig Point atop Mynydd Fforest, exactly 1,312 ft above sea level, with the Brecon Beacons on the horizon, nature has one last gift for us. A magical stream of wild ponies, manes lifting in the breeze, canter the brow of the hills ahead of us.
This is a much-needed adventure, an uplifting nature prescription, and a wonderful way for everyone to feel what horsey types already know: these most noble creatures are good for the soul.