Llanbedr beach.

26°C, no. wind, no clouds.
Moved camp. South to Llanbedr. There is a very nice flat walk around the old airfield. It’s a nature reserve with few paths. This shows in the lack of erosion of the ground, the bare sand is created by rabbits, not man. Walking through willow-herb, clouds of butterflys filled the air.
I walked west towards the sea. This stew should be a quiet stretch of beach. Dunes form more ridges than expected, but eventually the last one reveals the sea.

There were people, but not many, and they were separated by large gasp. It was a while before I noticed that they were all naked. I have walked into a naturist reserve.
So I went for a swim. No need then, to get my clothes wet.

Cwm Bycham is very still this evening. The only sounds are from livestock, their belly calls reverberate as if the sound is feeling it’s way across the rocky sides. The sound seems to probe the shard of the land as a whale might.

Wet nettles.

18°C. Later, light rain for now.
Do wet nettles sting more than dry ones? After this morning’s dog walk, I thought maybe.
That reminds me of the two girls who stumbled into nettles last week. They stopped to get their first aid kits out. Carefully they applied cream when traditionally we’d use dock leaves. I asked whether they had not been stung by nettles before. They had not, at 14 and never had a nettle sting.
These kids don’t play outside do they?

0.7 mph.

20°C, clear tanning sky.
Practice Expedition: three score and eight walked over calm Worcestershire farmlands. I let one group of 14 year old girls. I say led because actually I was training them to follow a course on the map.

Map picture

Lost geographer: there were four groups following our route. The first we didn’t see, apart from their footprints. the other two were ahead of us because my group took so many breaks. We stopped for a sit-down break within the first mile. Not a good start. Later though, we could see another group heading south along a field boundary, the general heading should have been east. then they turned back which lead them on a course to intercept us. They were lead by a geography teacher. Oh dear.

The mud-foot incident. Another break and this one included a pee-stop. the first went round to the next field out of sight while we ate sandwiches. she came back with a huge glob of clay-mud entirely covering one boot & lower leg. A quiet girl said ” that looks so wrong”. That’s it, I had to turn my back, I lost it unable to fight back the convulsions of laughter. I stifled them, but that made it worse.

Cider apple orchards: Had a long and interesting chat with apple farmers in a large Bulmer’s apple orchard.  I heard all about how the trees are harvested, the bees and Strongbow Cider. They let the group fill up water bottles and we pressed on. Water was a problem in the heat, with most of the girls overloaded with badly packed rucksacks and unnecessary provisions. they have some to learn.

Paradise: Holt Wood lies in the most beguiling ocean of grass, meadow-lands blazing with buttercups nodding in the soft breeze. Each flower eagerly stretched towards the sun. I was elated, the air, the sun and the colours. As I walked, wistful and wide-eyed the girls did grumble. They were really very grumpy by then which seemed to spread amongst them like a contagion. None of that intruded on my thoughts, the place was utterly beautiful. I as in love with it all.

The lost geographers returned from another mis-read of the map. Better take over then, and they seemed relieved. I did a number of recces to find crossings, stiles and gates in the overgrown hedgerows. leter, I did make one mistake on the final 2km and took them up a hill 3/4 km south of the one we needed to make the descent to the camp. After another recce, where I found that the electric fences were live,  I plotted a short-cut route. The short-cut was no good though,  because it would take us across a field of tall grass, probably wheat. I was not going to let the teenagers trample crops down so we returned to the lane. That only added about 1/2 km to the route, they groaned collectively
The last km produced the best quote of the day for me. I trotted passed the group to put myself on the front before the final turning and one piped up: “Sir, don’t you ever get tired?”.
It was now 20.00 and still sunny.

Nope, not really, not on a walk like this anyway.
Anyway, to conclude, the kids did brighten up after food. after fussing with their efforts to make camp, I put my own tent up at about 21.30. Food by 22.30. Bed by 23.45.

Edno

9°C, light cloud My mind is still filled with the magical experiences in Wales. What a special place; I can see how stories of monster and myth arise. I am no religious man, but there is something in those special places.

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llyn Edno on the Molwyns

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Moel Lefn

Look carefully and you may see monsters. They come out of the ground in Wales.

Snow on Snowdon

+5° @ ground, -6° at summit.
Started this morning not sure whether I would attempt the summit. So we started off, after a lengthy breakfast, at 11.30. At each stage I was encouraged by conditions. So up we went.
The landscape on the ridge another world, only a year after I started to feel jaded by busy Snowdon. On the upper reaches, towards the summit, the snow changed. It became harder to dig toes in to get a foothold, and crampon marks became common.
The ice became difficult only at the summit cafe and the trig point. I decided against a descent the same way, too risky. The Snowdon Ranger path is far easier, but took up off the mountain on the wrong side.
We arrived in Rhyd Ddu at about 6 after a diversion across moor-land. That left up with a long walk along roads, 7 miles in all. Back at camp at 9.30.
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What does this all mean? We visited another country, another world. Ice sculpted rocks poked out threatening.
We walked long and hard, but my stamina did not lessen. Poor Rosie struggled in the last 5 miles, she’s getting older but perhaps needed another feed. This morning, I have stiff legs, but no blisters, no injuries. I feel strong.

Molwynian snow crossing.

-3 to +9, clear blue.

Crossed the ridge from south to North. Walked for 8½ hours with a few breaks not counting photo stops. Most of it was on snow. A new experience for me, the technique seems to be – dig your heels in on the way down. There were few of The ice slides I had feared but I did change the route. It’s a bit like walking on soft sand, except that the support is less predictable. Sometimes the snow supports your weight, sometimes your foot plunges in deep. Deep enough to reach your bum a few times.image

Gwynant morning.

-3°C, clear, calm.

Coldest morning that I have ever woken to in a tent. The water bladder is a slush-puppy inside and the tap is frozen. I cleared it but it’s glazed over again now. However, it’s a dazzling beautiful morning and I am comfortable in my quilted coat and ski salopettes. It’s dangerous on the upper slopes of Snowdon, so probably best to walk on the Molwynion just south of here. The ground should be less marshy between snow fields.image

Tuesday twenty.

8°C,Clear sky, warmer.
Quick dash with MapMyRide! Distance: 22.03mi, time: 01:28:40, http://mapmyride.com/view_route?r=3382856112234561537
Very dry, dusty in places with some lumps of snow remaining. Got an idea for the weekend though- go to Wales and camp by Llyn Gwynant. If the hills are too icy to venture high, then spend time in a canoe, with low-land walks for the rest of the time. Their website says the valley floors are free of snow. I could venture up to the snowline with my main camera. That should mean that it’s easy to get up to the Watkins stone, great photos can be found up there.
Night temperatures shouldn’t be too far below freezing, but forecasts warn of ice and the need for crampons. I should do a course at Plas-y-brenin to be safe.

Getting dark

22°C, cleared by lunchtime

It’s dark earlier here. Much darker and sudden. It goes with that heart sinking realisation that a holiday is over. The sun touches down in Scotland at something like 21.10, here it’s half an hour earlier at least. How deflating. What would it be like to live up there in Scotland?

I asked some locals during my camping trip where folks fit screens on their windows to keep the midges out. Their answer was “to be fair, there are not many time you can open your windows in Scotland”. Perhaps the late evening are compensation for the much darker winters. But so what, they have the mountains & glens. I’m still intoxicated by all of that. Is there any way I could do just a year up there to see whether I could do it.

I have been hiking with Rosie in the Highlandsagain. There is a lifetime of holidays in those hills. Such holidays cost barely any more than living here- camping is costs about £5 per night and other needs would cost the same down here. I drove back on Friday thinking over what it is that is so beguiling.

Rannoch Moor in the scotch mist

The bleak Rannoch Moor was thick with Scotch mist. Mountains I knew faintly loomed out of the mist, sometimes with skirts of lacy ragged clouds. There are few roads across that strange landscape- the A82 was straight, but distorted by harsh winters of ice and lengthy snow cover. Tall reflective posts marks the road’s edges- presumably sometimes it’s the only way to know where the road ends and the moor begins.
I stopped a few times to take photos and take in the atmosphere. Soft drizzle penetrates clothes and camera. A few minutes pass and the midges gather, some to cloud around others to bite. They seems to prefer eyelids and neck. You have to move around to evade them, stand still and these slow flying insects catch up with you easily.

As if the landscape is a conscious entity, it draws you in with a spell and wants to swallow you up. It was so hard to tear myself away on Friday.

Wild camp

19°C, light cloud with a SW breeze.

There is a great upland route near Glen Finnon. It’s a horseshoe of peaks that includes two Munroes, a long undulating ridge and magnificent views of glens, mountains including Ben Nevis, and views out to sea of the isles of Eeig &  Rum. I could find no proper campsite near the route’s start so I chose a spot for a wild-camp. It was fairly near the road on a col that looked deserted except for a trainline that carried a steam-train twice a day.

With a site selected, I put up the tent rather later than usual after cooking & eating supper first. Discretion is the rule here, put up the tent at sunset & take it down as soon as you can after sunrise. I bedded down at about 10pm and read for a while. The ground was a ripe breeding ground for midges and some got into the tent & bugged me while I lay there reading my book. Some of those midges are still there, adding punctuation to the story.
Later in the night, probably about 2am I was woke suddenly to an animal sound. A loud deep sound that was quite percussive. Despite choosing a spot out of view for humans, it wasn’t so hidden from deer.
I’m still naive about deer, I lay there heart thumping when the sound came again. A sudden burst of air somewhere between a grunt & a snort. Clearly the sound came from a big pair of lungs. My fear cortex ran overtime & I could picture a scene where a herd was making its way along old tracks that they have used for decades. All it would take is a slight disturbance and they would gallop in the dark in fright. There I lay, in a tent made of light thin fabric and only a summer weight sleeping bag for protection. Deer hooves are sharp, they use them for defence. These thoughts occupied the front of my mind. Strangely in all of this, Rosie my trusty dog wasn’t too bothered.
I decided to take the situation onto my own hands and got out of the tent with a torch. Good, they weren’t in immediate sight, so I scanned the horizon and hillsides with the beam. The stars shone brilliantly, the midges bit my bare legs but only one pair of eyes shone back in the darkness. After a short moment, even they were gone. Relief, they have fled. I stole a moment to look up at the filigree milky way and Cygnus blazing brightly overhead while the midges finished their meal.

I did eventually settle back to sleep though woke once more to pee. This time, peace, I could enjoy the image of a thin cresent moon next to the fixed brilliance of Venus as a morning star. There was another planet nearby but I don’t know what it was (probably Jupiter).
A big day lay ahead, a very long walk was the reason to camp in such a place so I grabbed more sleep.

The day went on from there as planned.