Total ascent 1545m (5068ft).
Well actually it was Cym Bychan to Barmouth, meaning I've done this section backwards. This is so Jen could drop me off at Cym Bychan rather than trying to find me there, which would not be easy. And I had no idea when I'd be there anyway, because these are THE RHINOGS!!!
Well, I've built them up, so maybe I need to knock them down (not literally, that would be hard, and after having said that their remoteness is extremely classy seeing as Shell Island is 8 miles away). The Rhinogs are lumpy, rocky and heathery. They aren't very high but they are very difficult to navigate. They are not remotely photogenic. They are not actually that much fun to walk in.
Will that do? Well possibly not. I'd been a bit worried about today, but that was wiped out the moment I looked out of the window this morning and saw that the summits were clear. Navigation would not be a problem, only lumpy walking. I suppose I've created my own contradiction here, because I wouldn't like to walk in the Rhinogs in mist because I could get lost, but maybe that's the most interesting thing about them.
Fortunately the lumpy stuff only makes up the northern and central Rhinogs and I was, for a change, heading south. Jen dropped me off at the wonderful spot that is Cym Bychan and I set off up the Roman Steps, a series of rock, er, steps. They are so named because the Romans built them, but controversy reigns. Are they Roman (or are they dancer?). Who knows but they make the ascent of Rhinog Fawr easier. Despite the lumpiness and rockiness and heatheriness I was soon at Llyn Du (that's a lakey, pondy sort of thing). I walked round it and decided to have a quick rest before the final pull up to Rhinog Fawr.
So here I was, in the Mecca of solitude. The quietest spot in the least visited mountains in North Wales. My mind and and body were perfectly relaxed. "Hello.", said a singy songy, French sounding voice. I looked in the direction of the voice and saw a couple waving at me. They were on the other side of the lake, where I'd come from, and they both had jumpers over their shoulders tied at the front. They were also both wearing trainers at best. I said hello but was utterly confused. Had they really walked up the path to the lake behind me without me noticing? How had they done it without boots? How had they done it looking like they were out for a picnic? Why had they called me? I shouted back, "Are you ok?" and they gave the thumbs up, so I set off again.
Half an hour later, at the summit, I was beginning to spook myself out. Would they be ok? Even worse, had they been a figment of my imagination? Were they the ghosts of a couple who had died in that very spot years ago, tumbling off a cliff wearing jumpers tied round their shoulders? Would they suddenly appear in front of me, say, "It's your time now." and carve me up with a chainsaw? They didn't, and I made a mental note not to watch Texas Chainsaw Massacre or Picnic at Hanging Rock for a while.
On the way down I met three other people. Two men who were Duke of Ed' instructors and were keeping an eye on the kids (did they really send them up here?) and a man who looked like the happiest person on earth. He insisted in taking a photo of the dog before bounding off up the hillside.
The next couple of hours were spent negotiating Rhinog Fach and the highest peak, Y Llethr at 756m, before the scenery changed completely, as did the weather (sort of). Suddenly I was walking on grass instead of rocks and the weather had closed in. I was, for the first time on the entire walk, in mist. Luckily the navigational difficulties were over because I was next to 'THE WALL', a stunning 6ft piece of work which I met on Rhinog Fach and which stayed with me for almost the remaining 9 or 10 miles of the walk.
The mist spent the next hour or so falling and lifting, falling and lifting, until it gave up altogether and the sun came out. Here are two photos of Y Llethr taken from almost the same place, 3 minutes apart.
Now you see it...
...now you don't.
So I followed the wall over Diffwys and a host of other hills, gradually dropping, with the Mawddach Estuary on one side and the sea in the other, until I came to Barmouth once again.
It's our last night in the George III Hotel at Penmaenpool. Tomorrow Jen and Liz head off home and I head to Maentwrog. The Bank Holiday is upon us and I will be on top of Snowdon on Sunday. Hooray!
-- Posted from Kev's iPhone
No comments:
Post a Comment