Crossing Wales on Horseback — Trans Wales Trail 2005

Notes from Crossing Wales

Shizutomi Kato — Shizuoka City — Lawyer

1. Galloping from the Very Start

"Well, they sure bolted, didn’t they? Haha." "That was scary, haha." "It was so sudden. How fast do you think they were going? Huff, huff..." "Paul, our guide, said it was about 30 miles per hour (around 50 km/h), haha." "That’s racehorse speed. If we had fallen off, we would’ve died, haha." "Seriously, we could have died, haha."

While opening the lids of our lunch boxes next to the tied horses, we all started speaking at once. The repeated "haha" was more like helpless laughter — a sigh of resignation at having joined such a crazy trip. Our faces were stiff, pale, lips tinged bluish-purple as we forced sandwiches into our mouths.

"I wonder if the afternoon will be the same..." "Who knows. Mr. Tanaka (the tour organizer and FRC representative) says it won't be, but... he’s not exactly trustworthy, haha."

Around 10 AM that morning, the ten of us mounted the horses we had saddled ourselves and departed from the Cwmfforest Riding Centre, nestled in a valley in eastern South Wales. We leisurely climbed the mountain trail. Cows and sheep grazed in small groups on the ranch land, skylarks soared in the sky... Upon reaching the top, a vast plateau stretched out before us.

And that’s where we were baptized by the furious gallop of the Welsh Cobs.

Leading the way, Paul’s horse Magic suddenly bolted at an incredible speed. Julie, his fiancée riding at the rear on Pew, shouted in a rather seductive tone, "Ah! Sorry! I can’t control him! He’s going!!" In no time, she passed us all and raced ahead to join Magic in a full-blown race. Each of our horses, caught up in the excitement, took off at full gallop.

I was completely unprepared, both mentally and physically. All I could do was desperately cling to the mane to avoid falling.

We repeated several such mad gallops that morning — resulting in the lunch scene described above, full of breathless "haha"s. By then, all we could hope for was no more of the same in the afternoon...

That evening, after descending a long slope, we arrived at a small town nestled in the valley. A beautifully stylish manor house, with the picturesque River Wye — one of South Wales’s finest rivers — flowing through its grounds. We stayed there while letting our horses graze in the garden.

"Afternoon was crazy too, huh." "Yeah, we survived somehow. Good thing we're still alive." "Can we last four more days at this pace?" "Probably not." "Mr. Tanaka says it’ll be fine." "Yeah, but he’s not exactly trustworthy, haha."

Even though the exquisite dinner and a little alcohol had eased our nerves somewhat, anxiety about the days ahead lingered.

 In front of the manor house — the author is in the foreground

2. Why I Joined

At the beginning of the year, Mr. Tanaka invited me to Wales via New Year's card. I replied, "I’ve just turned sixty, and this might be my last chance physically, so I’ll join."

After sending my reply, I began wondering — just how tough would this horseback journey be? I compared it in my mind to past experiences: galloping on Mongolian horses in Inner Mongolia four times, endurance riding in Tasmania... and ended up concluding that this would be the hardest horseback trip in the world.

So, I pulled out the exercise bike I had bought for rehabilitation after tearing my ACL skiing three years earlier. I started pedaling an hour a day to build up stamina.

However, after about a week, I began to feel, "Maybe it won’t be that bad," and promptly gave up on what seemed like pointless, futile, and graceless effort.

Going straight into the Trans Wales Trail without preparation — that’s the true spirit of an adventure worth dreaming of.

3. About the Welsh Cobs

Each morning, we set off leisurely from manor houses and inns in valley towns, passing through multiple pastures and climbing mountain paths toward the ridgeline. We crossed mountains, descended into valleys, went through forests along rivers, sometimes passing small lakes, sometimes struggling through bogs that nearly swallowed the horses to their hips — experiencing all sorts of terrain — before descending back to another valley town by early evening to lodge and enjoy drinks.

After the first day, when the Welsh Cobs frightened us with their mad gallops, they never felt threatening again — probably because we had become more prepared as well.

On the contrary, day by day, we were astonished by their friendliness and intelligence.

The horses knew the route perfectly. They never made mistakes about where to canter, where to stop, or where to switch to a comfortable trot to please the rider.

They hesitated at no mud, no rocky paths. They didn’t even seem to breathe heavily on steep climbs.

When the path became too steep for some of the older riders to walk, the horses would kindly offer their tails as if to say, "Here, hold on," and tolerated being pulled without complaint.

The Welsh have a deep pride in their heritage. Even after centuries of English rule since Edward I's conquest in the 13th century, they continue to call themselves "Cymru" and fly the Red Dragon flag, refusing to accept the English-appointed "Prince of Wales" as truly Welsh.

In such a land, the Welsh Cob is not just a horse — it is a symbol of national pride.

Throughout this journey, all of us came to feel more deeply each day that the Welsh Cobs were truly horses to be proud of.

 Galloping across the vast grasslands

4. Reaching the Valley of the Winds

On the afternoon of the third day after leaving our base, we passed through the "Valley of the Winds."

The central part of Wales is an endless landscape of rolling hills and valleys, stretching horizontally as far as the eye can see, under a vast, uninterrupted sky.

It’s so overwhelmingly open that, according to a true story, an American woman once developed "agoraphobia" here.

Standing atop a hill overlooking the main course of the River Wye and its tributaries, you feel the ceaseless wind blowing up from the valleys — 365 days a year, 24 hours a day.

Across the valley, you can see over twenty huge wind turbines lined up. Paul explained that they were built after the Kyoto Protocol to help reduce CO₂ emissions.

I once visited the nuclear reprocessing facility on the coast of England’s Lake District — ironically named "Whitehaven." This facility processed spent nuclear fuel from Japan’s nuclear plants. At that time, Geiger counters would beep alarmingly along the coastline, revealing clear radioactive contamination.

Recently, after a more obvious contamination incident, there were reports that the facility would be shut down.

Stopping nuclear reprocessing, expanding wind energy, soaring oil prices — old energy fading, new energy arriving...

Meanwhile, we continued our journey on horseback — utterly analog, completely retro — traveling through the world without a care for gasoline, nuclear power, or wind turbines.

 At the Valley of the Winds

5. Galloping Along the Coast

After four days of riding, we reached the coast of the Irish Sea.

Our final event was a gallop along the beach. No words are needed — just look at Paul and Julie’s galloping form. We too used up every last ounce of energy left in our horses to enjoy a glorious beach gallop.

It was four days of basking in the majestic, greater-than-expected natural beauty of Wales.

It was a little hard, yes. But even for me, a 60-year-old who gave up on exercise biking after a week, and who was beginning to show signs of aging — I could enjoy it until the very end.

I highly recommend this journey to everyone.

 Paul and Julie galloping on the beach

This article was originally published in the FRC newsletter "Freedom Riders," Vol. 37, September 2005.