These Mountains

Four generations of my family have walked these mountains.

Bannau Brycheiniog (Brecon Beacons), have been a constant in my life, almost since birth.

At just six months old, my father placed me on his shoulders and walked me to the top of Pen-y-fan, and I have been there at least once a year, for every one of my fifty seven years and counting.

The mountains of South Wales hold precious memories of family days out with the grandparents O'Brien, Mum and Dad, my little sister Samantha and my oh so dearly missed big sister Lee.

Back in the day, our family, along with the families of my dad's twin sister, Auntie Margaret and his older sister, Valerie, all lived in the same street in Culverhouse Cross. I was the only boy amongst two sisters and four cousins.

Family day trips to Neuadd Reservoir were a regular occurrence for us all every summer. Enjoyed by the men and me, but I'm not so sure about the girls. I was taken on a hike of the Horseshoe, whilst my female siblings and cousins stayed behind and paddled in the freezing streams that are the source of  The River Taff.

Of our older generation, only my parents survive. Good people lost. My first experience of cancer was Dad's twin, Margaret. Breast cancer took her from my cousins and uncle when she was just thirty four years old. I think I was around six or seven years old at the time and didn't truly understand what had happened. One day, she there and the next she was gone. What stands out in my memory, is that it was the first time I saw my mother cry.

That was a memory that surfaced on one of my many contemplative lone hikes in these mountains.

Another was the happier memories of our annual Boxing Day circuit of the Horseshoe. Dad, me, my step-brother Stephen and anyone else who was still up for it after Christmas Day celebrations would embark on the best hangover cure ever... Followed by some 'Hair of The Dog', with the best Guinness in the principality, in front of a roaring log fire, in The Red Cow, Pontsticill.

These mountains have raised thousands of pounds for charity. I have had the pride and pleasure of introducing so many people to the rolling, rising, rugged beauty of these mountains, on the many charity walks I've organised, making this a special place for them also.

These mountains, which if not given the respect they deserve, can make you pay the ultimate price, have therefore, also helped save lives.

These mountains are the place I come when I've suffered loss or experienced pain and sadness. They never fail to clear the mind and raise my mood.

These mountains are my 'ctrl, alt, del'

Now these mountains have become 'our' mountains, for me, Dione, and of course, the dogs. We have made our home in the ancient capitol of the kingdom of Brycheiniog, at the foot of the Black Mountains in Talgarth, 

Walking together, being in and amongst and a part of the most glorious views, we can't help smiling with contentment, just a little smugness and no small measure of relief, as it all could have been so different. Without fail one of us will always ask the same question...

'Can you believe we live HERE?!' 

These mountains know my children and grand children and will patiently await the footfall of future generations of the O'Brien line to come.

Only two things have been in my life longer than these mountains...

Mum and Dad.

When they are gone, this is the place I will come to remember them, because these mountains are the guardians of the happiest memories of our family when it was whole.