From room six at Bridge House we can see that the River Wye is wider than it ought to be. But the B&B, right on its banks, seems safe and the town, also visible from here, is perched high above the gorge that the river meanders through.
We've come to Ross-on-Wye on the weekend of "Stormageddon". We can't do the long river walk I'd hoped to, so instead hike up nearby Symonds Yat and take in the (sporadic) views over the Wye valley. There I learn from an information board that, in the 19th century, this landscape competed as a holiday destination with the Grand Tour's European capitals and museum cities. I joke with a fellow hiker:
"Venice or Symonds Yat?"
"I know what I'd choose," he says. "Symonds Yat, every day".
Back at the B&B, a leaflet tells me Ross was the birthplace of the British holiday. It's quite a claim, but the proximity of Hay, Monmouth and the Brecon Beacons, and the fact that Ross itself is within an Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty, go some way to supporting it.
The Bridge House, reborn out of the ashes of a popular – but bankrupt – restaurant with rooms in 2012, is a grand Regency-style building. The six rooms are elegantly decorated with vintage trunks, small Georgian-era portraits, and stylish armchairs. Browns, beiges and pale greens dominate, but to muted rather than miserable effect. Four rooms have cast-iron, clawfoot baths (and posh salts) and a shower attachment; two have walk-in showers. I'm glad ours is among the former, especially on a wild and very wet evening.
There's a cosier-than-it-looks stone-tiled living room where guests can lounge on a leather sofa, warm up by the woodburner or have a drink. The owners, Darren, from Streatham, and Elena, from Moscow, hardly your typical Rossites, are chatty, well-travelled and very friendly hosts.
They've decided not to do food, other than breakfast, partly because of what's on offer hereabouts. They point us in the direction of two great dinners. One is at Nepali-Tibetan restaurant Yaks 'n' Yetis, a 15-minute walk away, after which we pop in to Ross's classiest pub, the venerable King's Head (8 High Street), for a nightcap.
On Saturday evening, we drive 10 minutes up the A40 and down a back road to gastropub The Moody Cow and feast on venison and game pie, and Wye ales and decent wine – for about £60. I'm impressed, as prices at Hay are significantly higher. This reinforces my opinion that Ross is the authentic, rough-edged, undersold English counterpart to the pretty but slightly pretentious Welsh bibliopolis that is Hay.
On a changeable, if not apocalyptic weekend, we were never short of outings or dry byways, and if the world had ended, Bridge House would have been a fine refuge to end it in.
• Accommodation was provided by Bridge House
