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.