Collected Musings of a Hill Wanderer

Access to the countryside has always been a contentious area and recent piece of blundering of mine along a public footpath returned that very much to mind (I ended up straying away from where I should have been to earn some yelling from a passing gent atop a quad bike on a nearby road). Within the last decade, Scotland has got its very enlightened access legislation and a less extensive variant has made its appearance south of the border in England and Wales, with legal wrangles forcing up the cost of implementation of the latter.

Until these innovations, public rights of way did next to all of the access backwork in England and Wales and the question as whether the network that has come into place over time is all that useful for the purposes of exploring the countryside. In a similar vein, Graham Wilson, in his book Macc and the Art of Long Distance Walking, comes up with some bon mots on the subject:

Many of these exist for reasons long since forgotten and to insist that the world and his wife can march through someone else’s back garden because a postman from Time Immemorial has had to take this route to deliver a letter to a neighbouring farm is as equally unreasonable as it is for us to be denied the right to walk in a straight line across rough country direct from the summit of Shutlingsloe to the hospitality of The Hanging Gate.

I must admit that I find it hard to improve on that well put sentiment from the time prior to the Countryside Rights of Way Act that has given us tracts of Open Access Land with all their limitations in size. It just seems to capture so much and very much fits in with my wonderment as whether we are using a network designed in another era and for another purpose for very different ends. To my mind, it seems that we are using paths and tracks that came into use link up houses and their ilk to explore the countryside. Add to that the very modern need of privacy and security and path diversions come to life, adding to the complexity that was there in the first place and things become more tricky as you approach civilisation. All that’s needed is a momentary slip of concentration and the ungainly activity of map inspection and not always in the most opportune of places either.

That intricacy and complexity makes waymarking even more important and it’s not always up to scratch; even the best OS mapping cannot be expected to show every twist and turn of a path within a field with complete accuracy. With circular waymarkers the rotation of the arrow can confound if one is without the understanding that an arrow in the 2 o’clock position means that you are meant to take a sharp right! Apart from poor waymarking, other ways to make walkers a little unsure of themselves include the condition of stiles and the state of a path. Some areas do well on this and Cheshire would seem to be among them. Surprisingly, North Yorkshire is poor for waymarking away from it national parks while overgrown paths in North Wales are things that I have encountered a few times now. All of this doesn’t aid one’s sense of self confidence if an unwelcoming soul were to be encountered (yes, the countryside is like anywhere and they surely exist there too). It seems that those spontaneous on the fly decisions to see where a right of way takes might be best replaced by a modicum of planning unless it’s an area that I already know.

The impression that starts to build from this is that we might need a simpler network of rights of way in place of the rag bag that we use now. What I wouldn’t want to see is a reduction in ease of access to any area but diversions away from houses and farmyards would suit me better; I like my explorations to be uncontentious rather than appearing to be prying. However, I cannot see that scale of improvement happening because there are always other things that command the attentions of governments and local authorities and that is never more true than in these times of economic upheaval. Inertia probably rules anyway with a major push being needed to get anything like a path and bridleway reorganisation through; it took a huge effort to get the "Right to Roam" legislation implemented and I cannot see a government again confronting vested interested interests in the countryside quite like that for a while.

My conclusion from these ramblings? It sounds like making the best of what’s there is the sensible approach, sharpening those navigational skills along the way. My days of spontaneously following a tempting signpost might be best put behind me in place of some more advance planning and noting of field exits or wanderings in open country where few are likely to feel threatened or annoyed. As with everything, you always can learn more and I am open to the idea with thoughts of perusing the Open Spaces Society’s book on rights of way coming to mind.

After a mini-heatwave, we seem to have returned to more run-of-the-mill British weather again. Not being a fan of hot weather, I am not sorry even if it means that things are little damper. That heat made the past weekend none too ideal for a spot of hill wandering but July seemed to slip by without such an outing and, on Sunday, I headed off to Welshpool for a circular hike regardless. It was to be a day for protecting oneself from the effects of strong sun and intense heat. There was a threat of showers but I was long esconced at home by the time that one happened on Macclesfield and none was to cool me down on my way around Montgomeryshire.

The travel arrangements were easy: take a train to Wolverhampton and change there for the last leg of the journey both on the way out and the way back. Public transport arrangements aren’t that easy sometimes so this was one of the simpler days. The journey wasn’t too long either with a departure not long before 09:00 landing me in Welshpool at around 11:25. Even with departing at about 18:50, I was back home well before 22:00.

Being allotted a good amount of time, I decided not to force myself and to watch how much walking I was doing, understandable given the weather on the day. I started with a quick amble about Welshpool before heading for the hills and it actually looks a reasonably pleasant town. My escape into the countryside took me north along the Montgomery canal, part of the Severn Way, until I came within reach of the Offa’s Dyke Path. Crossing from one trail to the other did mean some crossing of busy roads and a building site for a new livestock market. Once past those obstacles, I joined the aforementioned national trail at Buttington to proceed through fields where cereals are growing before the I hit the slopes. The hinterland of the Severn clearly has its fertile spots.

As with other parts of the Offa’s Dyke Path, the hills to the east of Welshpool are not that high but they are steep-sided. I found the same sort of topography around Knighton and the hill country north around Ruthin, Llangollen and Chirk also shares this characteristic. The day was getting hotter all the while so I took my time ascending the slopes until they levelled out a bit as I neared Beacon Ring fort, the highest point of my hike at around 400 metres above sea level. From there on, the terrain stayed more friendly with its ups and downs and forest cover was on offer for a good of the journey down to Forden where I left the Offa’s Dyke Path to return to Welshpool.

That return involved a lot of road walking, never a pleasant thing and not helped by boiling heat or having to keep an eye out for combine harvesters and their ilk. A plan for using the public footpath network to cut down on the tarmac bashing came to nought when I saw what my map’s suggestion crossed: a field with growing crops and no obvious way through. In any case, it was better not to attempt tricky navigation in the heat.

As I continued on, I took advantage of any shade for a rest when it offered and it is for that reason that I took a break beside a high hedge near Welshpool’s airport. After negotiating roundabout that thankfully wasn’t too busy at the time, I made my way up a quiet lane that took me again onto the Montgomery canal and the Severn Way for the last stretch of the way into Welshpool. By now, the heat was such that I was glad to be reaching my journey’s end for the day and, when I did make Welshpool, I found a quiet and well appreciated shady spot for a bit of recuperation before catching the train home again.

The strange title comes from the fact that a planned walking trip to Dolwyddelan got scuppered by a public transport lapse. I was travelling on a sunny Sunday a few weeks ago when the promised 07:40 rail replacement coach service to Wilmslow didn’t materialise; what was listed on the National Rail website was a work of fiction. The result was that my train tickets for Dolwyddelan weren’t to be fully used because of missed connections.

Instead, I resolved that a safer prospect to go part way up the Conwy valley to the quiet backwater of Dolgarrog. I was sorely tempted by the idea of a bus connection to my intended destination but I stuck to my guns for a walk with a slightly earlier start. Inspections of maps since then has made me realise that Dolwyddelan would still have been an option but that’s not how I saw it at the time.

Once in Dolgarrog, I made my way up the steep wooded slopes that really worked out my legs and warmed me up. The confusing maze of paths and tracks also exercised by navigational skills and I am pleased to state that no failures occurred. After that start, things levelled out a bit and I rounded Coedty reservoir to set off into open country as part of a circular hike. Clouds were aplenty but the sun still broke though as steady progress was made along a good track along the lower slopes of Moel Eilio. I soon reached the broken dams of Llyn Eigiau, a relic of the disaster than struck in 1925 and a reminder of the 16 people who died in Dolgarrog and the need for the reservoir legislation that has been passed since then. Somewhat appropriately, members of the Carneddau offered a brooding backdrop to the scene as I then turned away to start my return trek to civilisation again. As I plied my way, I detoured over Waen Bryn-gwenith for some freestyle wandering before returning to the tarmac for a timely drop down into Tal-y-Bont, a short hop north of Dolgarrog, in ample time for a bus back to Llandudno Junction from where the railway conveyed me home again and without mythical connections confounding my progress.

All in all, it was a good day out. I might not have got to Dolwyddelan as planned but there are seeds sown for future outings. A walk from Dolwyddelan to Capel Curing is one such ploy but another is a trek from the Conwy Valley through to Bethesda or Bangor, passing by the Carneddau. It’s a tempting possibility even if there would be a goodly amount of ascent and descent for those legs in the middle of the hike. Leaving somewhere with ideas for return visits is far from disappointing; in fact, I am inclined to consider it a successful attribute of a good day out. Having new places to explore does keep me going back to the outdoors and, if I ever felt that I had explored everywhere, a clear impossibility, then that desire for the outdoors could wither. I think that I may have experienced that sort of feeling at times over the last year so it feels good be building up a list of potential trips for one of them to be pulled off the shelf and dusted down when an opportunity presents itself. I hope that those ideas keep coming.

Weatherwise, May has been anything but a bad month, apart maybe from those deluges down south. However, it did have a shaky beginning and its first bank holiday weekend was far being settled. After a dry day in Teesdale, I wasn’t expecting much for the Sunday but I seem to remember that it wasn’t as bad as was predicted. In any event, the day in question offered opportunity for a useful rest and allowed my mind to turn towards ideas for the day after. A ridge of high pressure was trying to make inroads from the west and so it seemed that Wales was a good bet, particularly given my lack of attention to the principality in recent years.

The skies were grey and the landscaped sheathed in a primordial murkiness as I made my way from Macclesfield, changing trains at Stoke-on-Trent and Crewe as I went. There was no hint of anything else and a duvet day could have resulted for me, only for my decisiveness; I am not always thus. In fact, I was nearly half way along the North Wales coast before things really started to cheer up. This was to be my first sight of the weather that was to pervade the rest of the month.

My arrival in Bangor was blessed by hot sunny weather and I appreciated the shade as I awaited the bus to Bethesda, the starting point for my day’s walk. That wait, lengthened by the observance of a Sunday timetable, allowed me a wee wander around the centre of the city in question. A pound was all that the final stretch of my outbound journey would cost me.

Once in Bethesda, I headed for the hills. OS maps aren’t much use for navigating street but I made my way onto open hillside without a fuss. Finding myself on Open Access land, I got tempted by the prospect of mounting the 409 m summit of Moel Faban. After that diversion, a spot of map inspection was needed to return me to the bridleway that I had been following; I rejoined it at the base of Bwlch ym Mwlle-le. That was the first indication of a certain "devil may care" attitude that was to pervade the rest of the walk. Initially clear, the bridleway became less distinct as it crossed the moorland and I opted for a less precise course that still set me up for another path that led up the side of Moel Wynion, a far more distinct affair.

Up to the point where I reached the saddle between Moel Wynion and nearby Gyrn, I had in my head the idea of an out and back trot from Bethesda, possibly taking in the heights of Garnedd Uchaf. However, a bank of low cloud coming in from the sea aroused some concern and I got to wondering about my own abilities. So, while I descended to the cwm ahead of Drosgyl, I decided to change tack and head towards the coast along the side of Moel Wynion rather than go up the former hill.

Being on rough moorland means that paths can be indistinct and so it was for the first part of my now northbound hike. Higher up Moel Wnion, it all got much clearer and the sharp drop was as good as handrail as any in any event. The views of nearby hills were good too as I made my way towards the North Wales Path. Rather than sticking with the right of way all of the time, I was eventually to take a clear, if unofficial, path over Crâs to reach the trail that was to take me onward.

Dropping down to the North Wales Path came with a price: I entered that sea fog that I had seen earlier. Still, even if waymarking was far from perfect, the course to be followed remained clear. The presence of stiles are often a good guide to the course of a right of way and so it was here and the grassy track was far from unclear. In fact, visibility never became so poor that a map wasn’t helpful either. The mistiness had its pleasures too: a spot of cool on an otherwise warm day. It was a nicety that I was soon to lose and I also lost the clear track once I reached the road. After that, it was very much a question of careful navigation as the trail weaved its way along roads and through fields until I got near the A55.

From that point, it was largely a case of road walking until a I reached Bangor train station. I might have caught an earlier train if I went from Tal-y-bont on a bus but the spots of off road progress and glimpses of Penrhyn castle were worthwhile too. Anyway, the extra time allowed me to compose myself before the journey home. It was a good day out.

After the Mayday bank holiday weekend, I promised to add a trip report for a day outing to North Wales but the combination of its being May and our having some decent weather have meant that my attention has dashed off elsewhere. It’s hard not to be tempted by the outdoors at this time of year with all of the colours that abound. In addition to the fresh verdant green of the new foliage, the list becomes a very long one. Here’s a cursory summary: the magnetic hues of the glades of bluebells, the white of hawthorn blossom and the catkins on horse chestnut trees, the yellow of the flowering gorse and the pink of the cherry blossom. There are more (that ever present invader, rhododendron, comes to mind) but what I have listed is enough to send you off somewhere when some sunshine is on offer. The result is that I have spent evenings in the outdoors near my home in Cheshire and another trek to Wales ensued. To cap it all, I have just spent a glorious weekend in Argyll and am kicking myself for not allowing an extra day for making even more of it than I did. Just catch Aktoman’s photos from his recent trek in the Cairngorms to see what I mean; it makes my exertions look minor in comparison and I wish that I had pushed the boat out more than I did. All of that means more trip reports so I’d better get cracking sometime. Of course, the trick is making the time but the weather looks to be damper over the coming days; that might allow me the time to settle the matter.