So on Saturday, when I found myself itching to be high up in the hills - as those of us with Welsh lineage are compelled to now and again - I was excited to discover that a short drive from us is Sugarloaf Mountain. What? There's a Sugarloaf Mountain in Wales too! And many others, in various locations throughout the world, including twenty in the USA alone.
But no matter, because this one is our Sugarloaf, and like most American mountains has a road so that you can drive up to the summit. Well, almost; they expect you to walk the last 1/4 mile, which is reasonable in the circumstances. The lack of a gift shop and cafe at the top was, however, disappointing.
Pete made it all the way up and back, with whinging kept at bay by the generous provision of Cadbury's Chocolate Buttons. On the way home Hannah - who had planned the trip - coincidentally happened to notice that there was a winery five minutes away. A winery with a kids' play area (which, let's be honest, any self-respecting vineyard should have). We made sure to reward ourselves, and replenish the essential minerals lost on such an arduous hike, with a crisp glass of sauvignon blanc.
Into the woods.
I remember when all this was just trees!
Pleased to be at the top.
Should you expire on the grueling trail there are plenty of takers...
Back down.
Well, that was exhausting, but I might have just enough energy to lift a glass to my lips...
Toasting our fortitude.
