Nine Waterfalls? Hold My Beer (and My Waterproof Jacket)

Waterfalls, nature's majestic showerheads, cascading down rocky cliffs like a ribbon of silver. In the heart of Waterfall Country, nestled within the Bannau Brycheiniog National Park (Brecon Beacons National Park), lies a treasure trove of these watery wonders. But why settle for the standard four-waterfall walk when you can crank it up to eleven? Or, in this case, nine?

Now, full disclosure, this wasn't entirely my idea. My sister, bless her adventurous soul, was the mastermind behind this aquatic escapade. Who am I to turn down a chance to explore hidden gems and potentially slip on a mossy rock or two?

Our journey began at the Old White Horse Inn in Pontneddfechan, where a sign proclaiming "Waterfall Country" greeted us like an old friend. "Good enough for me," I declared, already mentally preparing myself for the inevitable mudfest that lay ahead.

We burst through the gate like a pair of over-caffeinated squirrels, our excitement fueled by the promise of cascading water and Instagram-worthy photo ops. The path was, shall we say, "rustic." Mud clung to our boots like a lovesick puppy, and we quickly realised that waterproof trousers were not just a fashion statement, but a survival necessity.

But who cares about a little mud when you've got waterfalls to chase? Sgwd Gwladys, the first on our list, it’s the prettiest waterfall in Wales! Now, I know what you're thinking: "What about Aber Falls?" And trust me, I get it. Aber Falls is a legend, a majestic giant with a dramatic plunge that takes your breath away. But Sgwd Gwladys? It's different. It's got this delicate, almost fairytale-like charm that just steals your heart. It's the kind of waterfall that makes you want to sit down with a picnic and just soak it all in.

Now, here's where we deviated from the standard tourist trail. I'd heard tales of, and seen many photo of a hidden gem, a waterfall so magnificent, so awe-inspiring, that it would make your jaw drop and your camera weep tears of joy. Sgwd Einion Gam, the second highest waterfall in South Wales, was calling our names.

The "path" (and I use that term loosely) was more of a swampy obstacle course. We waded through rivers, scrambled over loose rocks, and clung to tree roots for dear life. It was an adventure worthy of Bear Grylls, except with less bug-eating and more complaining about soggy socks.

But oh, was it worth it. Sgwd Einion Gam was a sight to behold. The water thundered down, carving a curved wall into the rock face. A gnarled, moss-covered log lay against the wall, a testament to some long-forgotten flood and the sheer power of nature. We snapped photos like paparazzi on a celebrity stakeout, marvelled at the sheer scale of it all, and then retraced our steps, getting thoroughly soaked in the process. (Note to self: Wellies + overflowing water = heavy leg weights.)

Back on the main trail, we rejoined the throngs of waterfall enthusiasts and continued our pilgrimage. Sgwd-y-Bedol, a feisty little waterfall with a habit of showering unsuspecting hikers, was our next conquest. 

Sgwd Ddwli Isaf, with its playful cascades and sparkling waters, was a delightful surprise. It was like stumbling upon a hidden treasure chest filled with liquid diamonds, (Okay, maybe not diamonds, but it was definitely sparkly.)

And then, the grand finale of this watery symphony: Sgwd Ddwli Uchaf. This waterfall was a childhood favourite, a place where we'd spend countless hours splashing around in its deep pool, oblivious to the dangers of underwater currents and slippery rocks. (Ah, the blissful ignorance of youth.) These days, it's all about "wild swimming" and Instagrammable moments. But back then, it was just us, the water, and the occasional startled frog. Good times.

Now came the tricky part. We had to navigate the terrain between Pont Melin Fach car park and Sgwd Clun Gwyn, the first of our Brecon Beacons waterfalls. I relinquished my navigational duties to my sister; let's face it, my sense of direction is about as reliable as a WiFi connection in a thunderstorm. Today I'm just a passenger, her sense of direction and planning was, thankfully, slightly less haphazard than my own. Let's be honest, my internal compass points to "second breakfast" and "nearest coffee shop" more often than it does to actual cardinal directions.

We stomped up the road, through ancient woodlands, across fields dotted with sheep that eyed us with suspicion, and over a stile that bore the ominous hand painted warning "Keep Out." (Naturally, we ignored it.) And then, like a beacon of hope in a sea of green, there it was: Sgwd Clun Gwyn.

From afar, it was a mere whisper of falling water. But up close, it was a symphony of nature's raw power. We crossed a bridge, admired the view from the well-worn viewing platform (complete with ropes to prevent overzealous photographers from tumbling into the abyss), and continued our descent.

Sgwd Isaf Clun Gwyn, a wide, gentle waterfall, greeted us with a soothing embrace. Sgwd y Pannwr, another cascading beauty, was adorned with an impressive display of rock balancing that would make even the most zen monk envious. And then, the grand finale: Sgwd yr Eira.

This waterfall was amazing. The steps leading down to it were so treacherous that they practically required a safety harness and a waiver signed in triplicate. But oh, the rewards. Sgwd yr Eira was a wide, powerful waterfall with a path that led behind its cascading curtain.

Walking behind a waterfall is an experience that words can scarcely describe. It's a sensory overload of sound, sight, and touch. The roar of the water, the misty spray, the feeling of being enveloped in this geological hammer, is enough to make you want to ditch your hiking boots and join a colony of water sprites.

We emerged from our watery sanctuary and continued along the path, our hearts full and our boots slightly soggy. The Neath Valley stretched out before us, a patchwork of trees and fields bathed in the golden light of the afternoon sun.

Dinas Rock marked the end of our waterfall adventure. A short road walk later, we were back at the car, our legs weary but our spirits soaring. And as I write this, I'm filled with a mix of pride, accomplishment, and a slight pang of regret. You see, while checking the map to ensure I hadn't butchered any of the waterfall names, I spotted another one: Sychryd Waterfall at Dinas Rock. We missed it. But hey, there's always next time, right?