Collected Musings of a Hill Wanderer

The idea of going over the hill from Dolwyddelan to Capel Curig has lain in my mind for a while with one attempt at doing it being scuppered by railway tardiness. It only takes a few hours so that makes it a good option for a short winter’s day. With the extra daylight of a spring day, I decided to extend it as far as Llyn Ogwen. That made it a lower level walk around and by a number of hills. First up was Moel Siabod with the Glyderau and Carneddau coming later.

The name Dolwyddelan means the meadow of Saint Gwyddelan; I suppose that Ireland’s proximity made for many a Gaelic incursion into Wales and this Irish saint was yet another of them. It’s certainly well located in pretty and tranquil countryside with its castle too. That appears not unlike the one near Llanberis but I never glimpsed it on this walk but rather on a train journey to Blaenau Ffestiniog instead. After spending a little time organising myself, I made my way from Dolwyddelan’s train station to the track that was to carry me to Capel Curig.

The climb from the A470 is a keen one that can easily take your breath away. Initially, I was little unsure of my navigation but it soon enough started to fall into place: I was where I thought I was. My progress was set to be through forestry for a while and with enticing views to Moel Siabod in the morning sun too. Others were about but it was no throng, just a mixture of gentle strollers from my home country and other more active walkers like myself. Even with a good deal of camera action on my part, I wasn’t to be deprived on my personal space for a spot of reverie. A temptor turned up in the form of a sign saying Moel Siabod but this was left behind me in favour of my planned itinerary.

The forest may not have been overrun but things were even quieter after I left it for open hillside. Cloud had bubbled up and was obscuring the sun at times but my descent to Capel Curig was far from unpleasant. After some tarmac bashing, I was back on softer turf again with a plan to follow a public footpath all of the way to Plas y Brenin before crossing the A4086 to join a bridleway heading towards Llyn Ogwen. In the event, I ended up on the A5, perhaps because of lack of clarity on the ground. In hindsight, that may have been just as well because it alerted me to the heat of the day, the strength of the sun and my lack of a hat.

On my way to the A4086 junction, I passed one outdoor emporium, a former service station by the looks of things, and was kicking myself for not realising my want. Since there were two at the aforementioned junction, that was no travesty and a hat was duly acquired. In a departure from my usual habit of using peaked caps, I went for something more substantial with a good wide brim all the way around. Having the extra protection that this sort of thing provides has been in the back of my mind and it isn’t before time that I finally took the plunge. The new acquisition was a Trekmates item and features Gore Tex for keeping off the rain too while a chin strap stops the wind from carrying it off on me. Somehow, I have a certain feeling that it will see a good bit of use.

With an ice cream in my hand and the new hat on my head, I set off along the bridleway to Llyn Ogwen. As I rounded Cefn y Capel, I gazed across the A5 towards through which I have wandered on previous walks starting from Capel Curing. One of these took me around by Llyn Cowlyd on a day when the hills conspired to collect clag while all about them was sunny. By the time that I had passed Moel Eilio to reach Coedty reservoir, the weather had improved to produce a fabulous evening that would have been an incredible predication earlier. Even the humps and bumps of the Carneddau that I could see had cleared. If my memory serves me correctly, I believe that I may have ended up in Tyn-y-groes before a combination of buses and trains returned me home. That wasn’t the only stroll staring from Capel Curig that landed me in the Conwy Valley with another hike that I think finished in Trefiw after passing Crimpiau, Llyn Crafnant and Llyn Geirionydd. Now that I cast my mind over this past excursions, the haziness of my recollections is in stark contrast with anything that I have shared through this blog. Things that you find on here may be for sharing but setting something down in writing does mean that you still have it for jogging your memory afterwards.

Looking over a map in search of those past excursions does make me wonder at how contorted some of the routes were. These days, I tend to appreciate the idea of less intensive footpath navigation with episodes like a recent amble from Congleton to Leek perhaps being the exception. The track that I used to get from Capel Curig to the shores of Llyn Ogwen was very much of the clear and relaxing variety. Traffic from the A5 was surprisingly not so intrusive at all and I only started to encounter humanity again at and after the campsite at Gwern Gof Isaf. The sky was hazy at times and cloud often intervened to provide respite from the heat of the sun. Picking out one hill from another, especially on the opposite side of the A5, was a tricky endeavour and I think that I need to get in among them to be really sure. Looking at maps now reveals an intriguing route to the top of Carnedd Llewelyn via Y Braich and Pen Yr Helgi Du so there’s some scope for a spot more exploration around here and much of the countryside is Open Access land too.

There was another campsite to pass before crossing the A5 not far from the craggy buttress of Tryfan; I was very much approaching countryside that I have visited before. The path along the lower slopes of Pen Yr Ole Wen and above Llyn Ogwen had less of the clarity of the track that brought me to Nant y Bedlog. Once past the farmstead of Tal y Llyn Ogwen, conditions underfoot were often boggy and another way of losing any line of any path was over rocky portions. Broadly heading in the right direction was the approach that I adopted so my remaining on the right of way probably was a hit and miss affair. The clambering that was involved on my return to tarmac convinces me that I can’t have got it right and walking it in the opposite direction mightn’t be such a bad idea. Even so, any time spent looking across the lake at Tryfan easily compensated for any effort, especially when the sun escaped from behind the copious quantities of cloud that were by now filling the sky.

My walk was completed with time to spare before the next bus to Bangor was due, never a bad thing and much better than being in a major rush. After acquiring some refreshments, I certainly had the time, even with a coach load of young people nearly overwhelming the small shop, to go confirming my suspicions about some of my route finding but the thought never even entered my head. Instead, I ventured along the path towards Llyn Idwal, another spot familiar to me from previous visits; I have walked from here to Llanberis by way of the Devil’s Kitchen path and Yr Aran and in the reverse direction using a different route that omitted the said hill. Time wasn’t sufficient for me to get to the cwm but a some more photographic action was allowed before I made sure of catching my bus, the last one of the day going to Bangor in fact. Not reaching a small target that may have come to mind late in the time was no bad end to what had been a good day out and casting eye over maps since then has added more ideas, including a higher level route around the Glyderau, that can be held over for other opportunities that may come my way.

Travel details:

It might have been an idea to get a rover ticket for this one but it wasn’t such an extortionate journey anyway. A train journey got me to Dolwyddelan with changes in Manchester and Llandudno Junction. The latter allowed for some photographic activity and the purchase of a hot bacon butty. The S6 Snowdon Sherpa service operated by Silver Star conveyed me to Bangor, from which another train journey got me home with changes in Crewe and Stockport.

There is a certain distraction occupying my life at the moment so that’s why that trip report from my Easter visit to Aviemore has yet to make its debut. Nevertheless, my weekends have been left sufficiently free for some sampling of the springtime awakening that surrounds us right now. Yesterday saw me pay a visit to Derbyshire for the first time in what feels like an age. My amble started in Baslow and took me through the Chatsworth Estate en route to Matlock by way of the Derwent Valley Heritage Way. The weekend before saw me heading west to Wales for a yomp from Dolwyddelan to Llyn Ogwen. Both walks saw dry mild weather with cloudiness obstructing the sun at times and had plenty to offer the wanderer. Today’s chilly dampness may be a contrast to all of this but there a prospects for some decent weather over the coming bank holiday weekend. Only time will tell if that’s hopeless optimism on the part of weather forecasters or becomes reality. After an enormous bank holiday howler made by Met Éireann a now frightening number of years ago, I won’t be holding my breath but I remain hopeful of being ready for any opportunities that arise. In the meantime, I suppose that I’d better get to doing those trip reports and processing accompanying photos (picking what to include or exclude often takes more time than the Photoshop work itself…).

By the end of last week, I was gagging for blue skies and sun so, being the outdoors type that I am, it was maybe inevitable the I would find myself among hills at the weekend if there was a chance of any sun on offer. Suitably enough, Saturday was offering and my mind turned to another excursion to Welsh hill country where I hadn’t been for over a year and a half. I was to spend a few good hours in the vicinity of the Rhinogs with low cloud stopping any ambitions to ascend a hill in their tracks.

That’s not to say that their wasn’t sun too but the clag attenuated things somewhat. On train journey from Macclesfield, I saw plenty of sunlit hill country while we crossed Shropshire and I might have been tempted to stop off at Caersws at the same time as another bunch of walkers if the Rhinog plan hadn’t crystallised strongly in my mind. From there west, great wads of cloud were about and often obscured the sun too. Skies were clearer after passing Machynlleth and I assumed that Cadair Idris was in part responsible to the lumps that pervaded overhead. Still more were ahead of me after reaching Dyffryn Ardudwy, following a journey that took in busy trains. An alternative culture event (manga or anime, anyone?) in Telford certainly drew folk in droves but the school mid-term break might have it hand in this too. Things were set to be far, far quieter on the return leg.

The first thing that I needed to do in Dyffryn was acquire a map, a need that is so unlike me. Having maps is a task that is always on the to do list so this mishap was unusual. Nevertheless, I soon fulfilled my needs in the Village Store and I was very grateful for the chance. Needing to get a new map was not even close to the end of the world since I have some ideas worked out in my mind anyway and the one that I already had did predate the advent of the Open Access areas that allow such piece of mind in exploring more remote parts. Saying all of that, I would have felt very "naked" without one and it’s certainly not something that I’d leave to chance again.

My cartographic needs duly fulfilled, I set off on my wander. My first stop turned out to be burial chambers of a type that is familiar to me from Ireland. We call them dolmens and it was intriguing see similar constructions along the west coast of Wales, even if they were not of the same size; our ones are capped by boulders that cause one to wonder how they were placed where we find them at all. After that piece of prehistory, it was back to the modern task of hiking along public footpaths and quiet roads.

The tarmac mercifully ran out after Cors y Gedol Hall to be replaced by a hard core track. Behind me, I left the coast while the countryside in front of me contained significant and not so significant attractors of clag. Moelfre was one of these while Diffwys was shrouded too. On a fairer day, the temptation to mount the latter might have been there but the shrouds kept ambitions on a short leash.

I stuck with the track bound for Llyn Bodlyn until it passed the summit of Moelfre and I then began to ascend its shoulder after that few kilometres of gravel bashing. Sound grassy hillside more than capably replaced it and I continue until I found the wall through which I was to pass before taking a left turn to motion towards the top of Moelfre. As it happened, I decided not go all of the way to top. Standing in the midst of murk didn’t seem worth the effort and there were rather more stone walls about than was suggested by my OS map. I probably had the best views anyway and could see Llyn Erddyn across the valley from me.

Having satisfied myself, I began my descent to reach a bridleway that I had planned on using. My northbound course took me from one valley to another and with new hills to see. Foel Ddu lay across from me while Rhinog Fawr, Rhinog Fach and perhaps Y Llethr nestling behind lesser bumps. These heights weren’t so clag-bound as those that I been seeing earlier but cloud remained abundant, limiting sunshine to spouts from any openings.

Once the bridleway had returned me to tarmac, I had decided to start returning to Dyffryn Ardudwy using a mix of quiet single track roads and rights of way. The tarmac element was well gated to keep sheep where they were put so the possibility for any traffic was much reduced so the countryside still could be enjoyed and admired without there being any interruption. Looking at the map now, I suppose that going to Llanbedr might have made more sense but that wasn’t what my train ticket said so I stuck to the original plan. Not long after passing Moelfre, the sun escaped from the clouds to yield a magical display and allowed time for a spot of photographic activity. It didn’t last so long though, which was probably just as well since I need to continue on to bring a good day’s walking to an end before night fell. Sun and blue skies may have been in short supply at times but there was easily enough of both to keep me happy.

Travel arrangements:

Return train journey to Dyffryn Ardudwy, changing at Stoke-on-Trent, Wolverhampton and Machynlleth on the outbound portion while the return trip only involved a change at Wolverhampton.

All of the grey weather that we got last week was instrumental in getting me out searching for sun over the weekend. That quest took me to Wales but I would have located sunshine even if I only got as far as Shropshire. In the event, I got out within sight of the Rhinogs near Dyffryn Ardudwy. Even though there was some sun, there was also a lot of low cloud about with the higher places shrouded for much of the time. The result was that I stayed lower down but the day out remained a good one and evening sunshine lit up the latter stages of my trek. It was all very different from a previous visit at the end of June in 2007 when dampness was set to fill the air after a bright start and much water lay underfoot at times. I’ll say more more later about the latest excursion but Saturday’s interlude of bluer skies and sunshine was the respite from greyness that I needed to brave the greyness and occasional murkiness that has pervaded since then. Change is forecast for the weekend so I suppose that we’d better make the most of what we have before damper weather wanders from in the northwest.

While out on a trot from Langdale to Ambleside on Saturday, I spotted a stark notice on a gate. It was on a path leading towards the Langdale Pikes and issuing a strong message that ice axe and crampons were needed above 300 metres in height; I myself was staying low with plenty of hillside bereft of snow while the white stuff made itself plain to see at higher altitudes. Of course, there have been fatalities on the "Pikes" so the strong wording was not without good cause. It was also reminder of similar unfortunate outcomes in Wales and Scotland. I can’t say that I have heard of anything like this from Ireland but something tells that full winter conditions must be blanketing those hills too.

The trouble with official warnings is that we have seen so many that could be termed an overreaction that heretical thoughts begin to percolate into your consciousness not long after you have seen the warnings. Some issue shrill warnings without they being truly needed, acting in a manner akin to the shepherd boy who cried "Wolf!" in the Aesop’s fable. This time around, I am inclined to think that the "wolf" is real and have gotten to moderating my usual questioning. This is for a number of reasons. First, the warnings are coming from mountain rescue folk and they didn’t overreact to events around the time of the OMM in Cumbria when a deluge came from the heavens and caused raging roads to turn into rivers. The other chastening observation in support of that suspension is that there have been those serious accidents and fatalities.

Another factor in all of this is that we have been spoilt with the milder winters of late. Apart from the shorter days, the occasional spell of snow and ice or a storm, winter walking became perhaps no less accessible than at any other time of year. In contrast, this winter is a sharp reminder that what we have enjoyed of late isn’t always the case and preparedness for winter walking can be another matter entirely. The whiteness is attractive but there’s a certain "here be dragons" element lurking too, particularly with inexperienced folk being drawn out to enjoy the prettiness. That could be the reason behind the advice given by the head of the Lake District National Park last weekend, particularly with the school half-term holidays and their bringing more folk with many perhaps without the requisite equipment, knowledge, skills and experience (the LDNP is between a rock and a hard place: in these trying times, they need the visitors but safety remains vital too).

Speaking of experience, assessment of conditions is a big part of it and any disparity between those on high and those in the lowlands makes it tricky unless you have some experience of being up high in the first place. For instance, snow coverings among the hill country lining the Cheshire-Derbyshire boundary are measured in feet while those on the Cheshire plain are inches in thickness if they lie at all. Increasing the height differential can only exacerbate that sort of difference and entrap the unwary. Saying that, it doesn’t take much to realise that whitened hills look very different to the green valley bottoms with their icy patches due to paths having turned into stream beds; that was very typical of the Langdale that I encountered on Saturday. Mountains and hills do make their own weather and it seems that winter conditions bring that into sharp relief.

The warnings and the fatalities can make one feel that they are on the outside of a different world looking into it. They certainly challenge any perception of readiness for winter conditions and set you to thinking, particularly about those who have been left behind by those deaths. That certainly is the case for me but barriers should be overcome carefully rather than allowed to stop you in your tracks. Even so, the mountains won’t melt away overnight even if the snow does.

Update 2009-02-10: It now appears that winter conditions have gripped some of Ireland’s hills too. In fact, the Irish public service broadcaster RTÉ has a report on two men lost on Lugnaquila, Wicklow’s highest mountain with a height of above 3000 feet, after dropping their map in foggy condtions. They have been out all night and mountain rescue teams are searching for them but there is a glimmer of good news: mobile phone contact has been maintained throughout. Let’s hope it all ends well.