Day Ten - Maentwrog to Beddgelert. 13.6 miles.

Sunday, 25th August.
Total ascent 1224m (4016ft).

I was a bit dubious about breakfast this morning. My cornflake milk was past its best and my sausages were a bit soggy looking and had exploded. The coffee was great though, which is always the top priority. Thinking back to last night, I met the landlord after I'd checked in and had a bath, and when I went down to the bar to order my now customary pint of milk I wasn't sure he was going to oblige until he realised I was a resident. Then he became even more obliging when he realised I was on my own. Did he think I was a hotel inspector disguised as a bedraggled wreck? Either way I received excellent service from the waitress (no, not that sort of excellent!) and decided to take a clipboard with me on future walks.

Oh yes, the milk. I can't remember if I've mentioned this in a previous post, but recently when I was at mum's house there was a programme on telly where half of a rugby team were given power drinks for recovery after a match, and the other half were given milk. The milk half recovered much more successfully, so I started drinking a pint after every long run I did. I have now extended it to this walk, so have asked for a pint of milk in every place I've stayed (apart from the Star at Dylife, as I could picture her getting in the car and driving 15 miles to find one!). All have been obliging, aside from the initial hesitancy yesterday. It's amazing how many people stare at you if you drink milk as an adult in a pub, though even a few stalwart drinkers sitting at the bar in a couple of places have commented, "Oh, that looks good", or, "You can't beat milk." And you know what, they're right, a pint of milk does look great and it's gorgeous.

I snuck my soggy sausages up to my room and prepared for a Bank Holiday Sunday in the sun, over the marvellous Moelwyns. My initial ascent was through a lovely wood, and I was the first to pass through it that morning. I know this because by the end I was completely wrapped up in cobwebs, which the spiders had worked all through the night to irritate me with. Oh and I saw an impressive goat and took a probably blurry photo.

The Ffestiniog steam railway passes through the Vale of Ffestiniog (appropriately enough), where I was this morning. At one point it does a 360 degree loop to gain height, and I found myself in the middle of that loop when a train was due, so I waited to see it. Even though I'd been on one as recently as my day off last Wednesday I was still excited, but not as excited as several other men with big cameras and long lenses, who were positively sweating with anticipation. Anyway here is the train on the loop.

The train on the loop.

I waved as it went past, and lots of passengers waved back, seemingly unaware that they were being taken to Blaenau Ffestiniog. When they got off the train they would be forgiven for thinking they'd been dropped off in an open prison.

If you look a map of Snowdonia National Park there is a hole in it. This is Blaenau Ffestiniog. Snowdonia National Park didn't want it, so its sole purpose is as the town at the end if the Ffestiniog railway. Half an hour later I met the railway again, and this time a train was coming back down to Porthmadog. This time the passengers sported expressions which were a combination of relief mixed with disbelief.

Another train. Full horror of Blaenau in far distance.

I sense a bumper photo post today, as (nearly) everything looked good in the sun. My first climb up Moelwyn Mawr was steep and sunny, but at least the breeze was now coming from the east so it kept me quite cool. After faffing around for ages watching trains I worked hard to make up time and positively powered to the summit.

The Moelwyns are one of my favourite ranges and remind me of a royal crown, with all the main peaks round the outside and a spongy centre. Unfortunately this monarch's crown has been brutally cleaved between Moelwyn Mawr and Cnicht, leaving a long walk round to get from one to the other. I dropped down to some old slate mine buildings, a huge feature of the area, then uphill to within yards of a small lake Jen and I had wild camped at a couple of years ago. It's hidden from the path in a secluded, raised dip (imagine a potty!) and was a wonderful spot to pitch a tent.

Eventually I reached the summit of Cnicht, one of the finest places on Earth. A pointy, rocky and grassy place with tremendous views. It also has the benefit of looking like a Welsh Matterhorn, though only from the west, as to the east it's just the end of a long ridge. Today I was approaching from the east and descending the steep bit. I had a late lunch at the top (and despite the breakfast sausage incident my gammon ham and cheese salad sandwiches were the best packed lunch of the walk so far) before dropping down towards Beddgelert. It's not a descent to be taken lightly, a couple of bits are scrambles, and a few people were struggling (yes there were other people around at times today!). I had a chat with a woman who was with a younger couple. She seemed far more experienced than they did, so I was a bit concerned when she was told to head right at a fork, when the path was very obviously left. I didn't see them again.

Moelwyn Mawr from Cnicht.

At 16:31 I was put in the shade by a cloud. This was the first of the day and it lasted less than a minute, as did the second at 17:01 and the third at 17:14. There were no more. I'd rationed my 3 and a half litres of water really well though, and still had half a litre for emergencies.

Looking back to Cnicht.

So I got to the bottom and came to a road. I had 2 miles to go, 1 along a road and the last along the riverside path to Beddgelert. I was pretty exhausted though and ready for a gentle ending. I wasn't prepared for the return of Tony Drake's dark side:

Hi Kevin. Did you enjoy today's walk?
Yes Tony, it was magnificent, thank you.
And are you ready for a relaxing mile along this shady lane?
Yes Tony I am.
This shady lane that goes up and up and up.
No Tony, please.... no more!
Then down and down and down.
Oh thank you so much Tony, I feel better now.
So you'll be ready for a stroll on the riverside path then?
Oh yes please, Tony!
This path which goes up and down, up and down, up and down.
Oh no Tony, don't do this to me.
And here come some couples, Kevin.
No, not couples!
Yes Kevin, and they're coming towards you. And they're all brand new relationships.
No, please, anything but brand new relationships!!!
Yes Kevin. And you know what that means. It means that however steep the path is, however narrow it is, they will insist on holding hands.
Aaasssaarrrrgggghhh! Stop this Tony, please! I'm exhausted and I'm going to be pushed into the river by a brand new relationship! I give in! Help!!!

And at that precise moment the valley widened and the path levelled, leaving a gentle stroll into Beddgelert. I may have sold my soul to Tony Drake but I could have sold it to someone worse, like, say, Jimmy Saville.

Beddgelert is the prettiest village in Snowdonia by a country mile, but also one of the busiest, so I was straight into Touristland. The first people I saw were a family of 4. Dad was putting a baby in a buggy and an older child was sitting on the grass, screaming for mummy. Dad was telling him that mummy had gone to the toilet. Mummy was behind a tree with her head in her hands, crying. I moved on.

Beddgelert may be pretty, but its pubs aren't up to much. I'm staying in the dubious Prince Llewelyn but ate a good chicken enchilada in the better Tanronnen Inn. I had a chat with a man who has actually done the Cambrian Way, the first I've ever met. After our chat I was even more grateful for the weather I've had!

Oh and I forgot this other little train sort of thing, which was the first to pass me this morning. I still don't know what was going on (is it fourth class?) but the man at the front kept blowing a trumpet and they were all singing!

-- Posted from Kev's iPhone