The news that the YHA are selling off some rural youth hostels was already unwelcome enough before we pitched up at YHA St Davids a couple of weekends ago to discover that that too is destined to be flogged. This, after all, is somewhere we regularly refer to as our favourite place on earth. David Wilson's black-and-white photo of the hostel, dwarfed by the imposing backdrop of Carn Llidi, hangs in our hallway.
Inevitably, then, John Harris' appreciation of youth hostels' social and cultural value repeatedly strikes a chord. He cites their affordability, the communal spirit they embody and engender, their critical role as emergency facilities and places where everyone - most importantly disadvantaged inner-city children - can discover the joys of the countryside. Where else can you make the most of being in a National Park while on a budget and finding yourself vying with Bridget Christie for the last veggie sausage at breakfast (as we did at YHA Castleton in April)?
Of the hostels already up for sale, I've enjoyed a couple of nights in Haworth many years ago and a few days at Poppit Sands post-pandemic. But my personal connection runs much deeper than that. We got married at YHA Ilam Hall, and I did a six-month stint working as a seasonal assistant at YHA Malham in my youth. The loss of so many of these cheap, cheerful national institutions - which sadly looks likely, barring an improbable intervention - will be keenly felt.
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