Cambrian Way: Some Comments

The Cambrian Way is similar to the more famous Pennine Way in England; of a similar length, both long distance paths follow the mountain backbone of a country through many miles of open moorland, although the Cambrian Way seems to climb rather more mountains. Indeed if you planned to start bagging "Nuttall's" (mountains over 2000 feet in England and Wales) this would be an ideal route as you cross most of those in Wales, as well as the higher 3000 foot peaks.

The 298 mile Cambrian Way is said to be one of the tougher long distance trails, which is not only due to the number of mountains, it is also the poor condition of much of the "path". In many places there is no path. In Mid Wales I found myself struggling across hummocks of grass and reeds, interspersed with mossy, muddy, swampy areas, I lost a foot more than once in holes created by hidden streams or just the general irregular nature of the boggy ground. After longer periods of heavy rain, the ground conditions could make walking a very unpleasant experience. In North Wales steep slopes with big clumps of heather interspersed with rocks, and hidden gaps to trap my feet, proved a similar challenge. Hiking in such areas is tiring and made me appreciate sections of good path, farm and forest tracks, and quiet roads. I sometimes suspected that Tony Drake, who devised the Cambrian Way, deliberately selected the more difficult routes, but then it is a mountain bagging path so you should expect to work hard, however the guidebook does offer alternative routes in places.

Parts of the trail are remote, and you may not see anyone all day, other parts, in particular Snowdonia, are overcrowded. I was travelling at a time when restrictions associated with the Covid 19 Coronavirus pandemic were in place. Consequently, most campsites were either closed or not accepting tents, hostels were closed or accepting few visitors, and the hotels and Bed & Breakfast's which were open were usually full, either due to the lack of other accommodation or because people wanted a holiday, not having been able to have one during the earlier lockdown. This meant that most nights I was forced to wild camp. In better times you could spend most nights under a roof, although on one of two sections, such as in the Rhinogau, a tent is needed to avoid long diversions or complex taxi arrangements. Note that wild camping in Wales without the landowner's permission is illegal (and finding the landowner in the middle of the moors is not practical), so camp in a discrete location as night falls, leave at dawn and leave no trace of your visit except for some dry, flattened grass. Wild camping has the benefit that you will see some excellent sunsets and sunrises when the weather is favourable.

Anyone considering the route should consider good waterproof boots and gaiters as the moorland can be marshy, wet and muddy. I found a walking pole useful to help with balance in areas where it was easy to topple off a mossy clump into a muddy hole. My pole also helped to push me up the hills as my legs tired. A waterproof jacket and trousers are needed as, in Wales, long periods of rain can happen at any time of year, but so can sunny weather so you need to prepare for both. Weather in the mountains can be very different to that at lower levels, in general it is colder, wetter and windier, and you may have poor visibility as you walk through the clouds. Forecasts for towns in the valleys can be misleading, the best information is provided by the Met Office Mountain weather service.

While there are Cambrian Way waymarks, which are meant to look like a Welsh hat (they look more like a "trig" point to me), there are not enough to tell you where to go. Instead they just provide a bit of confidence you have picked the right route. Given the lack of paths in places, and the likelihood that you will spend some of the walk in mist which hides all landmarks, I would strongly recommend a handheld GPS (I used a Garmin etrex 30), with the Cambrian Way GPX track and a suitable map downloaded onto it. The GPX tracks for each stage can be found on the Cambrian Way website. With a GPS you always know where you are, I suffered no reception problems, but you need to make sure you carry spare batteries. A smart phone, ideally with a suitable App (such as ViewRanger or Wikiloc) is a good back up. However, neither a GPS nor the track you are following is accurate enough tell you which side of a wall you should be on when the path runs beside it. For this reason, and for the background information on the sights you are passing (and what place names mean in English), the guidebook is really essential. The latest is published by Cicerone, follow this link.

Llyn Ogwen to Conwy on Cambrian Way: Day 19

A day in which numerous summits were bagged as I followed a ridge down to the town of Conwy.

The day began with a climb up to Pen yr Ole Wen. There was some scrambling involved, which I appreciated as the promised scrambling on the Rhinogau turned out to be steep slopes of heather and rocks. Reaching the summit I could seen the Carneddau ridge spread out before me. Along the ridge, grass in places, boulders in others, I crossed the summits of Carnedd Fach, Carnedd Dafydd and Carnedd Llewellyn. There was a strong breeze, pulling wisps of mist across lower points, but it was not as severe as it had been on Snowdon yesterday, and the ridge was broad so my safety was not threatened.  Looking south from the ridge there was a sea of clouds with the Glyderau peaks just rising above it.

A little bit of scrambling to get over these rocks.

Runners reaching the top of Carnedd Llewelyn.

View back down the Carneddau ridge.

Carnedd Llewelyn is only a 21 metres shorter than Snowdon but attracts much fewer visitors. Today there were some men who had run up (a 1000 metre ascent, how do they manage it?) and four French speaking people. 

The Cambrian Way continued along the ridge picking up extra summits, some rocky others less so. The ascent up Foel Lwyd and Tal y Fan was a bit of a trial, a steep climb after many previous ones. As I approached Conwy (called Conway in my younger days) I thought the route had missed a summit as the path curved along the heather clad hillside. Instead it was heading for one final achievement, the top of Conwy mountain. Climbing it meant that I then approached the town down a ridge, dropping out of the hillside directly into the town's streets. A fitting end to a trail that had crossed all the major mountains of Wales.

As I walked along this path, these sheep kept walking ahead of me as I inadvertently herded them along.

Entry into Conwy.

Owing to train times I spent the night at Conwy, enjoying a good evening meal in the knowledge that the calories in the sticky toffee pudding were justified by the distance I had walked and the number of mountains I had climbed. I bought a ticket from Conwy online only to receive an email in the morning that the train was cancelled (due to the standard, universal excuse, Covid 19). So I walked over to Llandudno junction station to catch the three coach, "Transport for Wales" train, full of people, running from there. At each of the many stations on the way to Shrewsbury the display in the carriage announced that the next station was Crewe.

Beddgelert to Llyn Ogwen on Cambrian Way: Day 18

A long and tiring day as I climbed both Snowdon and the Glyderau.

Although my tent survived a windy night, high winds caused me to deviate from the Cambrian Way route up Snowdon, the highest peak in England and Wales. I left the Watkin path as per the guidebook and followed a well preserved section of tramway, a remnant of old mine workings, then climbed up to a pass. Suddenly the easterly wind hit me with great power, progress was a struggle. As the Cambrian Way continues along a ridge for two kilometres, part of which is narrow, I would have been extremely exposed to high winds trying to push me off. Deciding it was safer to follow the more sheltered Watkin path and telling myself the Cambrian Way route would still be there another day, I reluctantly descended the few hundred metres I had just put so much effort in climbing.

Plenty of people and their dogs were following the Watkin path uphill to the top of Snowdon. As the summit approached I entered the clouds, so there was little to see except rocks, the path and fellow hikers, their jackets and backpacks. At the very top, high winds ripped past me and I joined many others sheltering behind the café, closed of course due to Covid 19, watching people being blasted by the high windspeed, their clothes flapping violently as they came around the corner. At the very summit there seemed a huge crowd of people in the grey mist, many gripping each other for support. 

People at summit of Snowdon

I continued to be amazed by the number and variety of people coming up as I walked down the mountain on the Pyg path. Different languages and accents could be heard; there were lean fit people and wider bodied individuals; families were climbing together, as were groups of young lads and lasses. Some seemed to be on sponsored walks for various good causes (cystic fibrosis and Woodlands hospice to name two). Quite a variety of dogs were enjoying the climb too, from little bichon frise to large mountain dogs and everything between. One small pug was being carried up in a special rucksack, as were a few small children. 

Reaching Pen y Pass at the base of the Pyg track I ate a burger and chips at the youth hostel and as it was only around 1:00 pm when I finished, I began the next, long, tiring climb up Glyder Fawr. In places there were traces on the rocks of red painted circles, where once the trail was marked in the continental fashion for the Queen's Jubilee, a practice which was not repeated or maintained. Glyder Fawr, the next peak of Glyder Fach and much in between was a bleak, grey collection of shattered rocks, some still in position but most scattered across the ridge. I was asked about the way down twice which made me worried about how prepared many of the people on the mountain were today. Maybe the Mountain Rescue would have a busy night.

At 5:30 pm I reached the Ogwen visitor centre, in the deep valley between the ridges of the Glyderau and the Carneddau. Unfortunately arriving after the takeaway had closed, I left the crowds behind and continued on a path that runs north of the waters of Llyn Ogwen. As the nearby youth hostel was not open to individuals, my plan had been to stay at the nearby campsite, where a few scattered tents were pitched, but on reaching its entrance, signs told me clearly "Bookings only" and "No Vacancies". Covid 19 was blamed for the limited number of campers allowed. Annoyed as the diversion to the site added an extra kilometre or so to a long day, I retraced my steps and reluctantly started the climb up the next range, the Carneddau. A "no camping" sign lower down ruled out any legal accommodation options, so I am now camped high up in a coombe, beside a lake, out of sight of anyone and well away from any farm buildings. No-one can see me or my tent now it is dark, and after I leave, first thing in the morning, no traces of my presence will remain.

Looking towards Carneddau from Gylder Fach.

Cantilever stone on Glyder Fach

Maentwrog to Beddgelert on the Cambrian Way: Day 17

Two big peaks conquered today in a blustery wind, followed by a more relaxed walk to Beddgelert for a late lunch.

All was calm when I woke this morning and decamped. I began the steep climb up Moelwyn Mawr. Halfway up there is a reservoir behind a long concrete dam. Together with a reservoir in the valley near where I camped, they form a pumped storage system. The concept is that when spare electricity is available on the National Grid, water is pumped from the lower to the upper reservoir. Then after some popular television show, when everyone puts the kettle on creating an upward spike in demand, water is released from the upper to the lower reservoir turning turbines as it flows down. These turbines power electricity generators giving a rapid boost in electricity supply. There were a few yellow "Perygl Danger" signs scattered about, I was unable to identify what specifically they were warning of and I suspected it was just a "cover your bottom" exercise. 

Upper reservoir of pumped storage facility. 

Above the top reservoir I climbed to a pass between two mountains, the wind had been gathering strength as I climbed across the open hillside and at the saddle its force was so great it threatened to blow away my trekking pole and possibly me as well! I thought of taking an alternative route but in the belief that the two mountains either side of me were funnelling the wind, increasing is strength, I started up the ridge to the top of Moelwyn Mawr, keeping to the lee side of the mountain, or using larger rocks for shelter whenever possible. 

Successfully reaching the rounded top of the mountain, after a very brief look at the extensive panorama, I started down the next section of the ridge, now into the wind, which at least kept my glasses firmly in place. Once down near the abandoned Rhosydd slate quarry conditions were quieter as I looked at the remains of old quarry buildings, examined the orange rusted remains of a winch and walked down an inclined tramway.

Walking down inclined tramway at Rhosydd quarry. 

Engine of old winch, but why are only two of the four cylinders scaled up?

Cnicht was the next summit, a shapely peak sometimes described as the Welsh Matterhorn (although a very, miniature version of the real thing). Although there was a strong breeze I managed to negotiate the ascent and descent over the rock outcrops and even find a sheltered spot for an "elevenses" of peanut butter and rich tea biscuits. On following the ridge down I met many people coming past me on the way up this popular peak. Looking ahead I was somewhat perturbed that the route seemed to be taking me to Porthmadog rather than Beddgelert. Today's stage is quite serpentine and eventually a change in direction took me along a quiet road, across another narrow gauge railway line, and finally on a scenic riverside path beside the Afon Glaslyn. A fair amount of walking over rocks was required and some of the many tourists on the pretty trail had rather inadequate footwear.

Walk up Afon Glaslyn.

At Beddgelert it was lunch, coffee, cake and a little shopping watching the endless jostling of cars turning onto the bridge in a village never designed for the motor car much less anything larger. Accommodation was full and the campsites on my way were closed, so I followed the next stage of the Cambrian Way, a lakeside walk by Lyn Dinas. Visitors were enjoying the view, sitting in family groups by the water in the sunshine.

I faced a quandary, lacking an alternative I needed to wild camp. The next part of the walk involved climbing Snowdon starting along the Watkin path. As the Met office's mountain weather forecast indicated gales on higher ground I did not wish to climb too far up, but lower ground had too many people and farms who might not appreciate my tent. In the event I climbed a little way up the path,  passing people descending for the night, then walked up to ground on the left with some low hills which I thought might provide some shelter and where I would be hidden from any ranger who might wish to move me on. While there was not as much protection as I hoped to the now steady wind, I am hoping my tent will manage, sheltered by a rather small outcrop of rock.

Snowdon from a distance. 

Rhinog Fawr to Maentwrog on the Cambrian Way: Day 16

Fun clambering over rocks in the morning, a gentler hike along cycle paths and roads in the afternoon, then walking by the Ffestiniog railway in the evening.

Sunrise.

As the red and yellow sun reached over distant, grey clouds and grey hills beyond the Trawsfynydd reservoir I was brushing my teeth and packing my tent. Clouds of mist were forming a plume in a nearby valley. Shouldering my rucksack for another day's hike I walked down to Cwm Bychan, my way helped in parts by the "Roman steps", where flagstone have been laid in places to ease the way, an old pack horse route, but not Roman. 

"Roman" steps.

Cwm Bychan farm has a basic campsite cum carpark, just a field by a lake shared with sheep, an honesty box and nothing else. After a chat with a couple in a tent it was climbing again on paths that came and went among rocks, heather, grass and boggy bits. More fun today compared with yesterday as there was more rock to cross, including bare stretches of outcrop making rough pavements, even a little scrambling and as it was still early I was not so tired. Sunny weather certainly helped, it was hazy but the town of Porthmadog and its estuary was visible ahead of me.

One of many summits.

Trawsfynydd nuclear power station in distance. 

Cycle track.

After numerous summits and a steep drop down the last one, I joined the cycle track which ran around the Trawsfynydd reservoir. Clearly visible were the two huge block houses of the old nuclear power station. Although it stopped generating electricity in 1991, decommissioning of the site will take until 2083, evidence that nuclear facilities are hard (and consequently expensive) to dispose of.

After a walk through some woods there were quiet roads into the village of Maentwrog where I dined at the Grapes hotel. All the local accommodation was booked but the barman kindly filled my water bottles before I started the next stage in the guidebook. This began with a walk through oak woodlands. According to a sign, they were isolated remains of ancient Atlantic forests that once covered the landscape, and in which humid conditions encouraged the growth of ferns, mosses, lichens and liverworts. The open, sheep grazed moorland we see today is anything but natural, the natural landscape was destroyed by farming practices centuries ago. Above the woods ran the Ffestiniog railway, a narrow gauge mineral line resurrected by enthusiasts. As the rails looked rusty I assumed few trains were running, no doubt another service hit by the Coronavirus pandemic.

At 6:30 pm I decided it was time to find a spot to camp, this time in rough grass in a secluded valley where no-one will notice me. A bit hummocky but it will do. Tiny midges have forced me inside my tent, still damp from this morning's mist and dew.

Barmouth to Rhinog Fawr on Cambrian Way: Day 15

A sunny day with a long, grassy ridge walk followed by a slow and tiring crossing through the heather and rocks of Rhinog Fach and Rhinog Fawr.

As breakfast was not available before 8:30 am at the hotel, and as I wanted an early start for what the guidebook (correctly) advised would be a long day, I packed up and went in search of breakfast in the town centre. Sadly, none of the Barmouth's café's opened before 8:30 so I settled for a takeaway coffee and bacon roll from a convenience store. A major mistake, the coffee was fine but the bacon was fatty and the roll doughy. I continued to regret it for the next few hours as it stuck heavy in my stomach as I climbed first a long length of steep steps, then up the emerging ridge line on grassy moorland. Once on the ridge, Barmouth and its railway bridge looked small and cute in the distance. Patches of low, fluffy cloud beneath me crossed the estuary beneath a sunny sky. 

Cloud being blown across Barmouth railway viaduct.

Unlike earlier parts of the Cambrian Way there was a small, but real path through the grass that led along the length of the ridge. In places I gained height to reach a summit, in others I lost height to a pass. Following a wall for much of the way, the guidebook was essential to tell me which side of the wall I should be on (I needed the side with stiles over walls joining the one I was following at right angles).

Cambrian Way climbing up grass covered ridge after Barmouth.

Y Llethr was the final summit of the ridge and the start of much more difficult terrain. The path down was steep, stoney with big clumps of heather. Rhinog Fach was the next summit, followed by a steep drop into a pass and a climb up Rhinog Fawr ("fach" means small, "fawr" big). I had been prepared for some scrambling over the Rhinogau (the plural of Rhinog in Welsh) but what I encountered were steep paths which frequently disappeared, over rocks, boulders and deep, thick clumps of heather. Progress was slow. Rewards included seeing a flock of the wild goats which live in this area, views of distant mountains and, as the sun became lower in the sky, layers of rock on the Rhinogau artistically picked out in lines of soft light and shade.

Rhinog Fach 

Wild goat backlight by the evening sun.

It was after 6:00 pm when I approached Llyn Ddu, a small lake after Rhinog Fawr. Although I had planned to spend the night at a camping area at Cwm Bychan I was tired and starting to make mistakes. Twice my foot unexpectedly and suddenly went down a gap between rocks, partially hidden by heather, doing that too many times would result in injury. So I decided to camp by the black coloured lake of Llyn Ddu where a couple had already pitched their tent. While in a shy embrace, they tactfully suggested there was another pitch on the far side of the lake. So that is where I am now located. The ground is wet and soggy so I am hoping that the groundsheet stays waterproof. A wind is now making ripples on the lake and the tent is flapping but the forecast for tomorrow is good.

Cadair Idris to Barmouth on Cambrian Way: Day 14

A journey of four parts: the peaks of Cadair Idris, before dropping into lower hills, then flat ground around the estuary and finally the sensual delights of Barmouth (viz coffee and cake, shower and beer).

As I crunched on biscuits and a granola bar for breakfast in the cosy warmth of my sleeping bag, through the  tent flaps the sun was reddening the sky before rising majestic over distant hills (the Long Mynd in Shropshire maybe). 

Sunrise from Cadair Idris.

Reluctantly packing up I climbed up the ridge across the rough grass to the rocks of Penygadair, the highest summit of Cadair Idris, admiring the steep cliffs of the surrounding range. From the trig point I could see my route down to Barmouth, the sea and estuary, and in the further grey distance, up the Rhinogau and onto Snowdon. There is a stone shelter beside the summit but it was rather damp inside and I am glad I camped.

The way down.

Curious sheep.

From Penygadair the Cambrian Way starts off down the relatively easy "Pony Trail", but rather than following it down to lower ground, it heads off up yet one more summit before finally descending down a steep slope, lacking a path, with rough ground, reeds, prickly gorse and the like to finally join a small road. A circuitous route follows, no doubt to visit one of the lakes in the area and a steep sided, steeply dropping wooded valley where foaming water cascades down over rocks (the Arthog waterfalls). A lady I passed described it as exhilarating. Finally reaching flat ground, the trail wanders over an old railway, now a popular cycle track, before reaching the wooden viaduct that still carries trains over the Mawddach estuary to Barmouth. As it was built in 1867 I was surprised such a wooden structure was still standing. Maintenance work of some kind was underway no doubt to stop it falling down. There is a pedestrian walkway cum cycle track beside the railway line on the viaduct from which a family was watching the oyster catchers pecking at the sand banks and generally making a noise.

View down towards Barmouth. 

Wooden viaduct to Barmouth.

Barmouth is a Victorian resort full of people and their dogs. Fortunately I had booked a room some days ago as all the Bed & Breakfast establishments I passed had "no vacancies" signs. September is usually less popular in Britain than July and August as children are at school, but with the Coronavirus pandemic holidays seem to have been pushed back and many people were enjoying the afternoon sun and the fish and chips.

Dinas Mawddy to Cadair Idris on Cambrian Way: Day 13

Today was one with many steep climbs, over 1500 metres of ascent in just under 20 kilometres, however the weather was glorious; sunny but not too hot, and there were stonking views in all directions. 

During the night I woke for a call of nature, looking up the sky was clear with no moon or nearby streetlights, stars and constellations filled the sky, the band of the milky way just visible. Worth getting out of my warm sleeping bag for. Next time I woke it was gone 6:00 am and I started my daily routine of breakfast, tooth cleaning etc. helped today by a small stream for washing that flowed out of an old mine adit. Resisting the temptation to explore the tunnel I climbed the old, steeply slanted tramway and a small valley to reach the top of the mountain side. The route then followed the ridge up to various high points on poor or absent paths. I was not sure what all the distant mountains I could see were, but most of Wales from the Llyn peninsula to Pembrokeshire was visible at some point today. 

Quarry where I spent the night in the morning light, the bracken has turned a reddish brown marking the ending of summer.

Looking back down into the valley, Dinas Mawddy is covered in the morning mist.

Part of the ridge I walked along.

As I sat at one high point having a snack, buzzards rose and fell on the thermals before me. It was as if I had a large part of Wales for myself. Lunch was not so successful as the wind had dropped and I was plagued by flying ants. Climbing up and down summits on rough grass with some steep slopes beside forestry plantations summed up most of the day until a particularly long steep downhill section took me to the busy A487 road. A very steep uphill section followed up Cadair Idris, one of the principal mountains on the Cambrian Way. As I climbed up its lower slopes I passed people sitting in groups with binoculars. Worried I might be disturbing birds they were looking out for I asked what they were doing. It was not birds they waiting for but low flying jets. The Royal Air Force practices in the area and even if you are only a little way up the valley side you can look down on the planes shooting past below you, their sound arriving a little behind the sight of them. None flew by when I had sight of the valley but I heard them roar by later on. I hope the watchers had stayed long enough to see them and captured some good photos. 

I chose the direct, steep route up from the A487, near the top there was a little scrambling over rocks. The path it was arduous but easier than it looked from a distance. Part of it ran by a fence and you could see from the bent wires where people had used the fence to help pull themselves up.

Cadair Idris in the distance, my route went pretty well up the centre of the green ridge in the photo.

I did not reach any of Cadair Idris's summits today, tired after all the climbing I collected some water from a stream, added a sterilising tablet then pitched my tent on finding a flat, dry patch of ground. The fabric and groundsheet were wet from when I packed it up this morning from dew and condensation after a still and windless night. As I sat waiting for it to dry a kestrel hovered nearby. The sky started to colour. Soon it was time for a dinner of SPAM and oat cakes and an early night.

Dylife to Dinas Mawddy on Cambrian Way: Day 12

A long day with a steep climb at the end.

Fortunately my pegs held firm in the wind overnight and by 7:30 am I was climbing up the hillside out of the woods and across the mountains. Parts of today's route were across rough ground, some on tracks and a bit on quiet roads. The complex route went through many gates. In addition to the latches, bits of rope were often used to secure them, sometimes tied in such complicated ways that they were difficult to remove. Some gateposts had shifted so that you had to lift the gate to open or close it. Often it was easier just to climb over, the polished lower bars showed I was not the first to do so. I walked by another red telephone box today. No telephone, just some bags of cooking apples.

A gate secured not only by a rope but also by barbed wire. Someone does not want you to use this right of way. Just climb over.

The trail runs through a wind farm. I found it easiest to walk on the gravel access road, although the route actually went over rough ground to one side which gave views of the valley below at the expense of tiring walking. Some people dislike these wind turbines, but maybe in years to come they will become accustomed to them and they will cause no more offence than forestry plantations with their straight lines of coniferous trees. Certainly they have a role in preventing our planet overheating.

Wind farm and access road, easier to walk on than rough moorland.

Later, by a ruined house I disturbed a flock of pheasants, it seemed like thousands of birds rose to the air, flapping furiously with frightened squawks. Fortunately for them no gentlemen with shotguns were waiting to bring them down. Corn was spread across the track and there were devices with broad brimmed "hats" beside the road to feed the birds with dry grain. At Mallwyd I indulged in a coffee and rich chocolate cake at the Brigands Inn. As elsewhere in Mid Wales there were a lot of middle aged motor bikers around. You could hear them as you approached any main road, their bikes roaring and popping as they raced through the countryside, weaving around cars on the winding roads. 

The final section to Dinas Mawddy involved a steep climb up the hillside before reaching an old quarry and then dropping down to the village. I thought this routing cruel and unnecessary after such a long daily stage, but I suppose anyone choosing a walk that climbs all the major mountains of Wales must be prepared for some hard work.

Unfortunately, due to Covid 19, the camping and caravan site I was planning to stay at was not taking tents (something to do with toilets), and the local accommodation was closed or full. I decided to have a meal at the Red Lion, and then a dessert with coffee, and by the time I left it was dark. Fortunately the old quarry I had passed earlier on my way to the village looked like it would make a good camping spot, so I climbed back up through the trees with my head torch lighting the path and pitched my tent beside the old quarry buildings. 

Ponterwyd to Dylife on the Cambrian Way: Day 11

A glorious day crossing the Pumlumon mountains.

At school in Cardiff, proud of our Welsh heritage, we learnt the names of the main mountains of Wales and where they were on the map, they included Snowdon, Cadair Idris, the Brecon Beacons and Plynlimon, the English name for Pumlumon that we used in those less politically correct days. I had climbed the other mountains before but never Plynlimon. My wife and I tried once but turned back finding crossing the moorland in poor weather and lacking a clear summit to aim for a little dispiriting. However today the weather forecast was good, and my GPS and guidebook had a clear idea of where I was going.

From my hotel, after a bit of a dance around the busy A44 road, a path headed up across moorland. Having a path made the going much easier than it would be later. Reaching the top I followed the ridge passing close by a forestry plantation to reach my first milestone, Pumlumon Fawr, the highest summit of the area at 752 metres. I was not alone, another walker, looking for birds, was in the rough dry stone, roofless shelter by the "trig" point, avoiding the wind, when he left a lady replaced him, also with binoculars. 

View from the top of Pumlumon.

I continued to the next summit, Pumlumon Arwystli, crossing a boggy wet patch that might have been the source of the River Wye. After some lunch in the shelter at the top with two other walkers, I walked down to the source of the River Severn, a little off the Cambrian Way and marked by a wooden post, suitably inscribed, set around with flagstone so you did not have to wade through soupy peat to get there. The Severn Way, another long distance path begins here. Despite their sources being so close to each other the Wye and Severn are both important rivers of some length, they each head east into England before curving round to eventually join in the south east corner of Wales and flow into the Severn estuary. 

Source of the River Severn.

There followed another section of rough walking on grassy clumps, crossing the flat bottom of a valley, before joining a pleasant track by two lakes, Bugeilyn and Glaslyn. A bevy of cyclists were chatting at the junction where I joined the Glyndwr Way (yet another long distance walk) for the final stretch to Dylife through a picturesque valley and some fields.

Dylife seems to consist of the Star Inn, a most welcoming pub. Their accommodation was full (on ringing last night the owner said Wales was full to bursting), nevertheless I enjoyed an early dinner, listening to the various conversations in Welsh and English before starting out on the next stage in my guidebook. As it was 37 kilometres long, it was perhaps prudent to knock off a few clicks this evening, although the people playing pool in the bar seemed surprised I was planning to camp out. So I crossed a mountain admiring the warm green colours created by the setting sun on the sheep dotted fields in the valley below the high moors. Climbing up through a forestry plantation on a second mountain the only flat spot seemed to be where vehicles turned around at the end of a gravel track. A bit stony, so hard to get the pegs in the ground, but with a fine view from my tent. A wind is now blowing up so I hope I managed to hammer the pegs in far enough...

The Star Inn, a welcome sight at the end of a stage in my guidebook.

Evening light on green fields.

Claerddu bothy to Ponterwyd on Cambrian Way: Day 10

Another mixed day of walking over peat bog, through forest and woodland, with the highlight of visiting Devil's Bridge.

The day started well with a cup of tea thanks to the Elan Valley Trust and its provision of a well equipped bothy. Saying goodbye to the two cyclists who also camped with me on the grass beside the old building, I headed out over the moors. Once again paths came and went and I stumbled through wet tussocks of reeds, soggy moss and hidden holes full of muddy water. On the plus side there were views over remote lakes. My route took me over a dam holding back one of these pools, it was apparently constructed of earth held in place by dry stone walling and now covered by grass. I passed through a small village with a red telephone box with a defibrillator rather than a phone before climbing up to a forest. Many of the trees had been felled. A sign suggested that it was to stop the spread of a fungus attacking larch trees. I met a gentleman who lived nearby, walking with his wife and their dog, the first people walking on the trail I had seen since Llandovery. The area is very empty and remote with few visitors and he said that this was a good thing and was glad the roads were so poor as it discouraged people from driving into the area. He had a poor view of the area's forestry work describing how back in the 1950s the old oak trees were torn up and replaced with plantations of sika spruce. On reaching a car park at the forest edge, an isolated arch stood before me, apparently to celebrate George III's Jubilee.

Forest track.

Jubilee Arch.

Arriving at Pontarfynach, better known as Devil's Bridge, I repaired for lunch to the Hafod hotel, watching the steady stream of visitors, many of them bikers who appear to enjoy roaring around the area's winding roads on their Harley Davidsons and Triumphs. For four pounds I was able to walk down to see the eponymous bridge. Actually four bridges built on top of each other, the lowest built by the Devil himself. The fee included walking down rough, steep steps into a deep valley to see the waterfalls. Impressive, as the tea coloured water drops in several cascades down a considerable height. Although the Cambrian Way passes several waterfalls these are undoubtedly the best. The only downside is after walking down many steps to see them, you have to climb up many more steps to get back to the road, there are 675 steps in all!

Devil's bridge waterfalls.

Continuing on my walk, after a detour into a chocolate shop (lovely, if expensive, chocolate covered orange slices), I again descended into the valley a little further down, following the narrow gauge tourist railway for a while. A steep climb up the other side followed, not so easy after having a relatively large lunch (I was tempted by the spiced apple cake for dessert). I had been walking through old oak woodland. Much of this had been replaced with plantations but the Woodland trust was trying to reverse this, killing the "exotic", foreign species like sika spruce to encourage more native trees and the wildlife associated with them. I walked through an old lead mining area, passed an early Methodist chapel, old cottages used by the miners, a red telephone box with a real telephone (a rare sight) and then by some fenced off holes in the ground, which I assume were the mines. Earlier I had also seen the piles of reddish mine waste, still not reclaimed by vegetation. 

Old mine workings.

Heather and ling in full bloom covered the higher slopes of the final section of moor on today's walk, the purple contrasting with rarer bursts of yellow gorse, although the lower ground was the same boggy reed beds. I reached the George Borrow hotel, named after a nineteen century writer who stayed here. Checking in I was asked to put on a mask and the tables in the dining room were separated by clear plastic sheets, they were evidently taking the Covid 19 precautions seriously.

Ty'n-y-cornel hostel to Claerddu bothy on Cambrian Way: Day 9

A mixed day of boggy bits, roads and abbey ruins, fortunately with no rain.

Ty'n-y-cornel hostel was my first stop after decamping. Closed due to the Coronavirus crisis, I sat on a bench outside, its back carved to look like mountain peaks and dedicated to Tony Drake, the man behind the Cambrian Way. Opposite the hostel was a shelter with tea making facilities that I might have used last night if I had known of it.

Sign at the hostel.

Climbing north from the hostel the first section of walk across moorland was frustrating due to the frequent lack of a path. I struggled through clumps of reeds on extremely uneven ground. One moment I was on top of a tussock, the next my foot was lost in some deep, water filled hole. Some years ago I twisted my knee in similar terrain and a small operation was required to fix it, so I tried to proceed cautiously without getting too cross. Points of interest included a lonely red telephone box at the junction of two small roads in the middle of the vast, empty moor. It contained no telephone, just a banner wishing someone a "Happy Birthday". Nearby was the low remaining walls of a farmhouse, almost concealed by vegetation, abandoned many years ago, one of a number I saw on my travels, a sign of when the hills were more populated. The view from the top of Garn Gron was excellent, across the next broad valley which I was to cross. In addition there was mobile phone reception so I could call my wife and book a room for tomorrow night. 

Tussocks of grass and wet moss to attempt to walk through with no path evident. 

A lonely telephone box and post box.

Finally leaving the moors and entering a forest, I saw one of Tony Drake's original waymarks, faint but still visible on the gate post, but part of the forest was being chopped down by noisy machines, intruding on the quiet solitude of my hike. Earlier on the moors all had been silent as an empty church. Near the Strata Florida abbey the old oak trees reminded me of the medieval Welsh tales of the Mabinogion, as if Rhiannon was about to ride through on a white horse. Such tales were written down while the abbey, founded in the 12th century, was an important monastery. Fortunately the ruins were open, even if the ticket office and shop were closed (due to Covid 19 I assumed).

Strata Florida Abbey ruins.

A small road, edged by old trees, led me out of the village. After some distance I left it for a good path to the Teifi lakes up a quiet valley. I have now reached the Claerddu bothy, which is unexpectedly blessed with a flush toilet, a propane stove and some left over teabags among other things. While I was enjoying the toilet, I was disturbed by a really nice cycling couple, which was fortunate as they had a lighter so I could make a cup of tea. My thanks to the Elan Valley Trust who look after this bothy.

Approaching Claerddu bothy.

Llandovery to Ty'n-y-cornel hostel on Cambrian Way: Day 8

Unlike previous days, in the main today's route followed a valley, often on quiet roads, rather than along a ridge on uncertain paths.

First I stopped at the post office to get some cash. Most places now take cards for payment for fear that coins and notes are contaminated by Coronavirus, even small village cafés, but maybe I would find exceptions and I had forgotten to bring much real money with me. As the cash machine was empty I queued up for the counter, the regulation two metres behind the customer in front of me as required by Covid rules. In the manner of country post offices the lady at the counter was having a natter with the post mistress so it took a little while to get my money. 

The first part of my route was mainly on quiet, single lane tarmac roads, with some farm tracks and the occasional overgrown and boggy path. On each side of me mature hedges lined the roads containing hazel, hawthorn, holly and honeysuckle, bracken and ripe blackberries, soft and sweet. Beyond the hedges there were fields of grass, some dotted with sheep. I missed a few junctions, the public footpaths were not well marked, and I was glad of the guidebook to supplement the track on my GPS where the correct route was not apparent. 

Quiet roads and hedgerows. 

Lunch included a slice of Auntie Muriel's Bara Brith, a leftover from a loaf she gave us, my Auntie is an excellent baker of cakes and pies. I ate it at a campsite beside the river, its tidy well mown grass looked inviting but it seemed too early to stop for the night. My mood was improved not only by the Bara Brith, but because the drizzle at breakfast and its accompanying black clouds had cleared and now the sun was shining through patches of blue sky.

The valley I was following, initially by the River Towy and later the Afon Doethie, became progressively smaller, eventually forming a "V" shape with interlocking spurs, the epitome of a "young" valley as described in my school days. The small road morphed into a narrow path along the valley side, and I looked down on rapids and rocks in the river below. Neat fields were now replaced by steep slopes of bracken and reeds. I knew the Ty'n-y-cornel hostel was closed due to Covid-19 so, feeling tired, and seeing a small spot to camp by the path I pitched my tent, letting it dry out in the evening sun.

Doethie valley.