Opposites attract. Sometimes they stay together. The optimists frequently attempt holidays as a couple. Almost always it’s disaster. Unless you are visiting Hay-On-Wye that is, where Book worm can link hands with Adrenalin junkie and awesome two-some holiday dreams still come true.
Shrikant and I reached Hereford station (the closest to Hay-on-Wye) on a cold dark summer (!) evening. A 45 minute cab ride later and “la - meme” in pounds lighter; we had reached our destination point - Black Mountain Activities (BMA). Named after the mountains that form the backdrop to the Brecon Beacons national park, Black Mountain Activities is an outdoor pursuits centre in Three Cocks village. Hay-On-Wye is itself a small town on the border of England and Wales, the name Hay (or Haia ) means a field and the Wye is a river that meanders languidly through it. Despite being a shrinking violet when it comes to any kind of physically demanding activity, it was I who had initiated this trip. There was this vague need in me to glimpse my sporty boyfriend turned serious banker husband flex his biceps slightly, do something exciting and make me fall in awe all over again. And if that meant tagging along, I would.
There’s ample B&B accommodation in the Hereford, but we opted to stay at the newly established BMA lodge. With pretty curtains, a come sink-in bed and a view of ducklings paddling in a pond outside, our very reasonably deluxe room (£40 pppn) was perfect. The kitchen was limited though interestingly stocked. Late on Friday night , we asked for some juice, fruity Italian wine was offered instead.
Saturday morning, (Yawnnnn…8 am is masochistic on a holiday) we were carted off with other holidayers to the BMA base site. The activity we had signed up for the day was Rock-climbing and Abseiling. The next few hours were spent in uncomfortable clingy harnesses, rubbing scrapes on jagged stone, and suppressing my giggles when Shrikant boomed - ‘Everybody else’s partners catch them when they fall, when I fall you do as well!’. The taster session involves ‘Bouldering’ or ‘familarising ourselves with rocks’. This translated as your partner attempting to walk a rock sideward (by hugging it) and hoping you would be his safety-net. The roles were later reversed. In a jiffy, our tour-leaders had scaled the ravine, pitching their pulleys and urging us to ascend. Well… I got what I wanted – more than my share of the husband climbing about 60 feet of a rocky boulder, and looking very pleased about it, like the rest of the group.
‘Abseiling’ I learned in the afternoon is being mad enough to just jump off a boulder’s edge as nonchalantly as stepping out of your office elevator. A preset pulley system lowers you in 3 to 4 leaps, and some very confident tour-leaders supervise the descent. Still!
Still, I had analysed every bit of the now-bland sky covering Hay-on-Wye on the day, stared at my co-outbounders, eavesdropped on their conversation, and was getting a bit tired of the look of disbelief in people’s eyes when I never managed to climb more than 10 feet earlier in the morning. Abseiling though far more challenging than Rock climbing seemed to be only a single moment of lunacy. So I went along.. Sisters and sweet hearts were unable to watch as the men plunged down... all to safety. I meanwhile was urging Shrikant to take photographs as I began my descent, pretty certain I would never abseil again. Almost began my descent is more accurate. Suddenly , I was screaming in my mother tongue (Malayalam), about how I wanted to live, have babies, see my name in print, tie my shoe-laces for the twentieth time; to two wonderful Welsh gentlemen who seemed to understand every word and had to ‘push’ me over the edge. Three leaps through vertigo and a frantic scramble for the barest of footholds, I had made it. Ego considerably expanded, the moment of madness was worth the exhilaration. My audience applauded and the husband snorted, predictably unimpressed.
Dinner was on recommendation of BMA at the Mulnochy Hotel, a 5 minute drive from the BMA centre. Prawn roast, fresh rice, flawlessly melted Lasagne were outdone by the company we ‘sort of’ had. Sitting adjacent to us were a couple who have been married for 40 years, sharing a quiet dinner, and a couple of jokes. The lady’s maroon lipstick and velvety gown contrasted charmingly with her silver hair. Her husband kept teasing her with what she dismissed as fossil-like jokes, and to garner support, he included us as well. Hailing from a country where the old often resign from adornment and fun, and living in a world where the pillars of marriage and long-term togetherness are crumbling - the scene was enchantingly sweet. Shrikant and I did not discuss it, but I hoped he wished what I did – that some day it would be us sitting like that.
Come Sunday, the exhilaration was being rapidly replaced by horrendously aching legs and shoulders. Desperate to avoid the Kayaking plans for tomorrow, I began asking everyone I met what ‘else’ one could do in Hereford. And that was when I made my ‘squeal with delight’ discoveries - ‘Second hand book capital of the world‘, ‘Woodstock of the literary world’- Hay’s placid streets held several surprises up their sleeves.

To start with, its 40 plus bookshops stock every conceivable title, both rare and popular modern fare which has earned the town its title. There are atleast 20 websites that are dedicated to supporting the quest for a much-longed for book at Hay. The World Literary festival held every year in the May bank holiday weekend attracts the literati and the chatterati - Readings, discussions, author interviews, promotions , sales and wine and dine opportunities with your favourite author are staple fare. Visitors range from Jackie Collins to Michael Palin, Lauren Bacall to Bill Clinton. If you are heading down in winter, there’s the winter literary festival as well, on a smaller scale but a great way to get initiated.
For a genuine bibliophile who will enjoy the glitter and spice provided by celebrities, Hay- on-Wye is absolutely paradise. I fitted the bill perfectly. But my timing did not allow me to experience the cultural and touristy exuberance that embraces Hay during the festival. But I visited entire rows of book-shop lined village lanes that offer a blissfully unhurried browsing experience. Even the retail-therapy paranoid husband found a comfortable sofa and buried his nose in Queen Boudica’s adventures.


But the next morning the devil got into me and I was sitting in the canoe along with Jim, the water-sports guide watching the rest of the group try first-level Kayaking. Watching the glistening water -beings from the canoe, breathing the riverside air and occasionally paddling the waters was undiluted fun. To appear a wee bit more interesting and compensate for my obvious lack of interest in Kayaking, I chatted him up about the Boat races in my native Kerala in India and compared it with Punting in Cambridgeshire. Made it exciting enough I guess, as Jim was soon contemplating a vacation there.

Had we lingered longer, the charms of the famous semi-restored Hay Castle and the verdant landscape of Brecon National Park would have definitely lured us, but our 48 hour holiday at Hay were now almost over. Wiser in two days, we arranged a much cheaper ride back to Hereford station through BMA.
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It’s fun to be different, it’s even greater fun to try different things.. atleast every once in a while. And if your quest is a versatile yet untouched place that can hook both Tweedledee and Tweedledum , Hay-On-Wye in May and December is a lovely choice.
Text and pictures - Kusumanjali R Shrikant