This summer I followed the Wye Valley section in South Wales. Over two days I passed woodlands where toadstools sprout under ancient oaks; lofty hills where you step in and out of low clouds; cider orchards quiet but for the thud of falling apples. In one of my favourite parts, the path passes the Devil’s Pulpit – a rocky outcrop on the edge of England – where legend tells Satan himself would preach, trying to tempt the monks of Tintern Abbey across the river in Wales. To me, both sides looked celestial in the morning sunshine.
