The Welsh Borders - over the borderline

Peaceful as it might seem today, with its cider orchards, heathery hills jumping with new lambs, and erudite book festivals, the Welsh border country was once a land of hotly fought battles. For instance, the last Welsh leader, Llywelyn ap Gruffydd, had his head chopped off and brought to London for all to see, after he was killed in the Battle of Orewin Bridge in 1282. It was with such gory tales that we entertained our friends' three sons as we drove them from the Marches village of Skenfrith, where we were staying in a converted barn, to Grosmont, where there was very real evidence of this ancient strife in the form of a dilapidated Norman castle, one of many built in this area to police the borders. The castle, developed by the glamorously named Hubert de Burgh, has a moat and treacherous steps up to broken battlements, the cause of much excitement for the three boys, who yelled and fought like good Normans, while our own 20-month-old daughter took advantage of her waterproof all-in-one to roll around in the plentiful mud, in the pose of a defeated Welshman.

But weather would not hinder our progress. We drove up into the Black Mountains, stopping once to allow a farmer to release a cartload of Blackface sheep and their lambs, still with umbilical cords attached, into a field. As the mist lifted we caught sight of the wild mountains that surrounded us, still streaked with snow in some places, and the local landmark, Lord Hereford's Knob, rising in the distance.

It was not long before we dipped down into Hay-on-Wye, home of the literary festival and all things bookish. As was to be expected, every other shop sold books. In fact, there were so many books that they spilled out on to the street, stacked in shelves under canvas, everything from rare first editions to random paperbacks. The choice was a little overwhelming, and so I preferred to browse in the antique map shop, Mostly Maps, and a choice knick-knack emporium called The Great English Outdoors, which specialises in leather, lambswool, Welsh slate and old sporting gear, including a fine pair of ancient riding boots.

On our way back we nipped across the border into England to the Pengethley Farm Shop to pick up provisions – smoked trout from the Black Mountain smokery, Caerphilly and Hereford Hop cheeses, lamb (naturally), and we couldn't resist a bottle of the local Penderyn whisky, as rare, they say, as Welsh gold, and sold only in very small quantities outside Wales.

Our home for the weekend, Ruthlin, was expertly furnished with antiques and old French prints, but also equipped with everything a family could possibly need: trunks packed with toys, cots, children's DVDs, stair gates, an all-terrain buggy, high chairs, baby monitors and even a drawer full of washable felt-tip pens. And although it looked very smart, the house was tough enough to withstand the attacks of four boisterous children who made full use of the facilities while we got the wood burner going, hunted in the garden for rosemary for the lamb and warmed ourselves with tumblers of Welsh whisky.

The following morning it felt like the first day of spring. The sun was blazing, the trees were heavy with blossom and the air twinkled with the shimmering specks of dandelion clocks. Ruthlin is surrounded by Bulmers cider orchards, and we strolled through the neatly regimented plantation, letting the blossom fall into our hair, before wending our way through the fields down to the pretty village of Skenfrith, dominated by a well-loved pub, The Bell; the old church of St Bridget, where I discovered a 15th-century tomb with an astounding relief sculpture of people dressed in conical hats and stomachers, all in perfect detail; and another Norman castle, also built by de Burgh, less well preserved than that at Grosmont, but in a more picturesque location, next to the busy River Morrow. Canoeists paddled in the water (one couple had two dogs on board with them), cyclists zipped past and gangs of walkers trudged by, all in happy harmony. If only Hubert de Burgh could see his border folk now.

Where to stay
Ruthlin on the books of Blaentrothy Cottages (they also have a Mongolian yurt and a gypsy caravan). It has four bedrooms and its own hay meadow, and we arrived to find fresh eggs, Welsh tea cakes and local cider left for us (01873 890 190; cottage-holiday-wales.co.uk).

Where to eat
The Walnut Tree has a Michelin star, but we chose the recently opened Hardwick near Abergavenny, run by a chef who trained under Marco Pierre White. The food includes chicken breast with pancetta, borlotti beans and gnocchi, and chocolate brownie topped with parfait, chocolate mousse and peanut butter brittle(thehardwick.co.uk). If you can't get a table there, try The Bell at Skenfrith (above), where former Fat Duck chef Rupert Taylor serves up quality local produce (skenfrith.co.uk).

What to read
Running for the Hills by Horatio Clare is an account of a family uprooted from London to run a sheep farm in the wild hills of Wales.

Book now
This year's Hay Festival runs from 27 May to
6 June and highlights include talks by Bill Bryson, Martina Cole, Henning Mankell, David Mitchell and Grayson Perry (hayfestival.com).