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.
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