THIS week’s Diary comes from the Brecon Beacons National Park, of south Wales, where my wife and I were attending the annual conference of the Crime Writers’ Association.

Our base was the charming market town of Abergavenny that nestles on the western edge of the National Park in a hollow surrounded by mountains.

By a fortunate chance, we had selected a beautiful sunny and warm weekend with gentle breezes.

In the lush valley that surrounds Abergavenny, the hedgerows and trees were in early leaf, various blossoms were at their best, especially the cherries, while daffodils and other spring flowers were in colourful abundance.

The birds were singing too, and it all meant that rural Wales was at its most inviting, a lovely welcome for our delegates who had travelled from all parts of Britain and overseas.

Apart from the formal sections of the conference, there was time to explore, so, deciding to savour Abergavenny on another day, we made for the famous Brecon Beacons.

This includes a range of hills with the Black Mountains to the west and the singular Black Mountain to the east, with the Fforest Fawr and Brecon Beacons in the centre.

The Brecon Beacons are so named because, in times past, their summits were the home of beacons used to warn the local people of invaders or, perhaps, to announce a celebration of some kind.

It was to these hills that the industrial workers of the past, and of recent memory, came from their mines and factories in the Welsh valleys to enjoy fresh air and open spaces, and so the National Parks have been branded as Britain’s breathing spaces. It is a very apt description.

Some facts about the Brecon Beacons National Park reveal that it is the highest ground in Britain south of Snowdonia, it covers 520 square miles (1,347 sq. km) and it was the tenth National Park in Britain, being created in 1957.

It is the nearest National Park to London, with easy access, and there is a National Park Centre in the mountains that provides rest and refreshments, along with information and advice about the area.

It is rather confusing to see the Black Mountain (in the singular) – Y Myndd Du – to the west and the Black Mountains (plural) – Y Mynyddoedd Duon – to the east of the park, but they are quite separate from one another.

One soon becomes accustomed to that quirky system of naming, but even more interesting are the Welsh names for locations.

Among the other mountains here are Bannau Sir Gaer and Fan Brycheinoig along with a legendary lake called Llyn y Fan Fach where a fairy woman made an historic appearance.

On local signposts, most locations appear in both Welsh and English, but it does make one realise that we are not in England.

It was to this spectacular upland area that we made our way, driving from Abergavenny to Brecon along the Usk Valley, but making the journey interesting by leaving the A40 and travelling via the minor roads and charming well-kept villages.

Much of our route was alongside the busy Monmouthshire and Brecon Canal, surely one of the most beautiful in Britain with its canal paths and ancient packhorse bridges.

Once a vital means of transport for the gathering and distribution of industrial materials and products, it is now part of the tourist industry and very popular with visitors.

Brecon, a small but historic market town, is the capital of that region with a strong military history and now headquarters of the National Park Authority.

We first headed there for a tour of its points of interest.

They include museums, one of which is devoted to military matters, an art gallery and a cathedral that is now a parish church.

Its origins are uncertain but may date to the 11th Century.

One curiosity is that the church tower was not erected for religious reasons – it was for military purposes, and one local legend says that Sir Dafydd ap Llewelyn (Davey Gam of Shakespeare’s Henry IV) ran his sword through a man immediately outside this church.

In the hills above Brecon, we found the National Park Centre and decided to explore the surrounding mountains.

The area is known as Mynydd Illtyd and is one of the largest areas of common land in Wales.

Here, farmers have the right to graze their sheep and horses, and to cut bracken.

Some leaflets suggest the Welsh ponies running free on this land are wild – they are not.

They are domestic animals, but roam free on this wide expanse of upland and, indeed, two of them came to us for a pat and a chat.

During our short hike, we spotted a red kite, a species that is plentiful in this part of Wales, and then saw a raven.

Several skylarks were singing in the heavens and a meadow pipit was competing with them in his own distinctive manner.

We could have spent a long time here, but had to return to Abergavenny beneath its famous Sugar Loaf Mountain.

Here we discovered a renovated tithe barn containing a stunning modern tapestry made by the townspeople.

Six years in the making, it bears stitches added by every resident and is now on view in this tithe barn next to the parish church.

It was odd I had written of tithe barns shortly before this visit – this one was opened as recently as 2008.

Add to this an historic church, a thriving market hall, a castle containing a museum and some ancient history along with some lovely cafes and shops, and you have a little town that demands a return visit.

IN a recent column (D&S Times March 12) I described a visit to the Lake District in 1900 by a choir from Middleton Tyas, one part of their journey being from Piercebridge to Penrith which took them two and a half hours.

They had left Middleton Tyas at 5.45am by a horse-drawn brake, arrived at Piercebridge at 7am from where they travelled to Penrith, arriving at 9.30am. From there, they had coached to Pooley Bridge, steamed to Patterdale for lunch, and returned the same way.

The brief diary entry said they reached Piercebridge at 9pm and got home to MiddletonTyas at 10pm after a journey costing 11s 3d.

Peter Ham, from Northallerton (D&S Times March 19), questioned this achievement, adding rather scornfully that the story should be taken with a full dose of Cerebos!

He reckoned it was impossible for horse-drawn transport.

Happily, my Streetlam correspondent who told me the tale has done some research and, of course, that journey was possible because the choir travelled by train from Piercebridge to Penrith and returned the same way.

No doubt the diarist would not need to mention that – that journey would be widely known.

My correspondent has checked with the National Railway Museum, in York, and experts have confirmed that a train journey from Piercebridge to Penrith in 1900, travelling at 30mph with stops would take two and a half hours as stated.

I thank my correspondent for this gem.

Apropos Mr Ham’s other comments, about Northallerton’s Golden Lion, I must digest this in the recumbent position!

Another correspondent has emailed me from Northallerton to report the sighting of a pair of red-legged partridges in her garden.

As she does not have a pear tree and it wasn’t Christmas, she was rather surprised to see them, but they soon vanished next door.

I must admit I have never seen a red-legged partridge in a garden.

They are usually found in open countryside such as heaths, downs and ploughed fields, and one of their oddities is that the female will lay her eggs in two nests.