Outdoor Discoveries

A “They’re On You!” Moment

With the deluges that have fallen over Wales, Cumbria, the North Pennines and Scotland, today wouldn’t have made for a pleasurable day’s walking. Last weekend, though, things were very different, and I took myself to Wales for a hike from Roman Bridge to Pen y Pass. The ground was waterlogged in many places then, so it leaves nothing to the imagination to realise how easy it would be for rivers to rise with heavy rain falling on the hills, like it has been doing today. Thoughts of visiting the castles at Beaumaris and Caernarfon may be entering my head, but I reckon that I’ll leave things to settle a little before any other Welsh outing after what came the way. Macclesfield may not have fared too badly, yet you only have to hear of railway line closures to realise how hard a time other places are having.

Regarding last weekend’s hike, my usual practice of saying more in a little while applies here too, but one happenstance really stands out in my memory, so I’ll recall it here. Whether it was due to my being tired at the end of the walk or my being distracted by the need to catch a bus, I managed to stuff my head torch into my trousers pocket only to let it fall from my brain that I’d done so; daylight was failing while I took a little longer than I’d intended, so the extra lighting was a big help. The item itself is a Petzl LED affair, but it did nothing to make its presence known to me when I went looking for it again until it finally dawned on me where it might have gone. It’s a reminder both of how smaller some things are getting because my older Petzl would be nowhere near as compact with its need for rather old-fashioned oblong 3LR12 batteries to provide its power. Next time, I think that I’ll make a conscious note of where the newer lamp is being put to curtail any subsequent head scratching.

Other things on my plate

My staying at home over the weekend has less to do with the weather not being all that inspiring. After all, it wasn’t that unpleasant either so an outing wouldn’t have gone amiss. However, there were other things needing doing whose details don’t belong on a blog such as this. Even so, I got to completing the sprucing up the Snowdonia album in the photo gallery for now. Where there was one album, there now are two: one for the area’s castles and another for its hill country. As with much of my poring over old photos, ideas come to mind for excursions. The Nantlle Ridge looks interesting and there’s poking around the Carneddau from Bethesda. Should the right weather make its appearance and other matters release me, they could come in handy. In the meantime, there are more photos from that weekend in Ireland to be sorted and the Kerry album is being given the once over in between everything else. Also, next Saturday is looking promising and my mind might be free to make use of it. Of course, weather predictions can change but, unless you keep an eye, windows of opportunity can be missed and mental soreness might be the result when the rain soaking seems neverending. For now though, there are stirrings of complaints about a drought but they may be emerging too soon…

Catching some sun in Munster

Last weekend, I crossed the Irish Sea for a more social visit to the south-west of the island where my parents live. While there was a spot of lawn-mowing, hedge-cutting and other bits and bobs to be done, there were chances for limited immersion in hill country too. Friday saw us heading to Gougane Barra in West Cork. The sun was playing hard to get until later in the day, but that didn’t spoil any enjoyment derived from poking around Coillte’s forest park in the Valley Desmond. There remains one trail that I would mind doing but it’s best never to exhaust the possibilities of anywhere. In any case, having had good weather for photography on a previous visit meant that it didn’t matter on this occasion.

If I had been dissatisfied, Saturday was going to rub it in with its cloudless skies and strong hot sunshine but I wasn’t to be bothered. The sun did change my colour as I attended to lawn edging and other tasks but it was nothing that a rub of after-sun soother couldn’t sort. It turned out that Sunday was going to offer more of the same, so hat-wearing and sunscreen were my defences against the attentions of strong sunshine. Letting down my guard wasn’t an option.

Though many were heading for the coast, we struck on for Killarney. With the heat that was to be felt, it wouldn’t have been the wisest to embark on a long hike without acclimatisation but it was not going to be that sort of day. In fact, the time was taken up with driving from spot to spot and strolling around them too. The locations included Looscaunagh (where the old disused pub is now for sale; who’s going to buy a derelict building in the middle of nowhere in these times?), Moll’s Gap, a stop to the west of Ladies’ View, a lunch stop by the Upper Lake and Muckross House and Gardens. Though coach parties were being conveyed, Moll’s Gap didn’t feel overrun and it was only as we came downhill again that more and more other folk were being encountered.

Though there was a suggestion of haze, no cloud occupied the sky. Not was that a complete change from the last time that I was around there, but giving the sun unobstructed access to the countryside had a dramatic visual effect. In fact, I really have to think back in time to pick out a visit to Iveragh that was blessed with such good weather. The last one must have been on a Sunday in September not long after the turn of the century, when we were celebrating a family occasion with a ride out from Ross Castle around Lough Leane on the Waterbus. Before that, my memory is taken to 1995 by photos that I took that long ago. A few years before that, there was a drive down the rough track into the Black Valley and on to through the Gap of Dunloe. Maybe I need to visit more often to even up the odds of getting optimum weather.

With my luck with the weather around Killarney, it might be that 2010’s visit will stick in the memory for being a photographic sweet shop. Only the chance of having an earlier start or a later finish would have made it even better. As it was, I had to contend with high sun and the risk of lens flare but I came away with something better than anything that I got before regardless. The viewpoints were by now familiar to me so I had ideas as to what to do with them and there was no fumbling in the ever strengthening sun. That’s not to say that I wasn’t open to anything that came my way and I now have quite a few photos to organise.

Apart from a longer out and back walk down the spit of land that separated Muckross Lake from Lough Leane. It was all short strolls for me, but that was no bad thing with temperatures hitting up to 25º C. That’s not to say that some weren’t embarking on longer journeys with a charity cycle in progress and a good of folk out on (hired?) bikes. Some of the latter were later found with their feet in the cooler waters of Muckross Lake, and who’d blame them? Others were loafing around in front of Muckross House as I caught it catching the sun for the first-ever time.

As good as the day was, I left with ideas for the future, with the main one being the prospect of a walk all around Muckross Lake. That would need more time than I had and figuring out something to occupy less patient souls while that is in train will be a must; I ended up most of half an hour late on returning from my walk and it sounded as if every minute was an eternity for someone, not good but I was at peace and I didn’t let it get to me. An ice cream stop in Barraduff put that behind us and I got to capture a view of the Paps between the more urban paraphernalia too.

The day after couldn’t have been more different with its foggy greyness, but things got ever brighter as I continued north to Dublin as I commenced my eastward return. It had taken over well by the time that my flight took off into the air. On the way over Wales, I spied the hills of Snowdonia and made out gashes like the Ogwen Valley and the Llanberis Pass. They were helping me to draw distinctions between the Carneddau, the Glyderau and Snowdon itself. In the midst of all this, I even tried looking for Moel Siabod but without enough certainty whether I had picked it out from the surrounding bumps though the Conwy Valley was unmistakable. Apart from recollections of Welsh hill outings, all this was reminding me that I am in the middle of giving the Snowdonia photo album in the photo gallery a makeover. That’s not finished yet and new photos of Kerry already are in mind as is doing something with the uncertainties of the bank holiday weekend that is upon us. All this is the sort of activity that has to take second place to the necessary tasks of everyday life but it never stops in its own way either.

Those Irish strolls may have been short but I was left feeling so at ease that I ended up thinking that I don’t go over there often enough. That’s an old problem but resolving it could be interesting if perusals of recent issues of Walking World Ireland are to have any effect.

Very alike but not the same

This past weekend has been a lazier one than the one before it, when I took myself down to Dyffryn Ardudwy with the idea of walking to the top of Y Llethr. Fatigue had a lot to do with the stasis as did floundering with options as to what I could be doing; it is difficult to get more enthused for one idea over another when your brain is tired. That option perusal hasn’t gone to waste because it has added ideas to the proverbial shelf for future outings, especially with a bank holiday weekend ahead of us. Thoughts of taking in sections of long-distance trails in places like Northumberland, Pembrokeshire or even the Isle of Man have come to mind, so who knows what might come of them.

In the midst of all this mulling over prospective escapades, it struck me as to how easy it is to make reaching a hill top the fulcrum of a walk. A long-distance trail needs room to breathe and so takes up more room on the landscape, whereas hummocks can be stuffed next to anywhere. The observation also illustrates how you can gravitate towards summits when there are few other objectives about, something that can lead you down a slippery slope that takes you up more gradients. However, if I have anything to do with it, I’ll be following up the ascent of Y Llethr with trail walking for the sake of variety if nothing else.

Returning to the Welsh outing in question, the idea came from a previous hike to the top of Diffwys from Dyffryn Ardudwy. Spying Y Llethr across the valley from me was what set the brain to thinking. There is a horseshoe walk that takes in Crib-y-Rhiw as well, but it isn’t something that I’d try on a day trip from home. In fact, sorting accommodation in the area for a night or two would be well rewarded with some poking around Rhinog Fawr and Rhinog Fach made possible along with the aforementioned horseshoe. Terry Marsh’s Great Mountain Days in Snowdonia has put a few possibilities into my head, and they aren’t all walks to summits either; he starts the Diffwys-Y Llethr horseshoe from Talybont, an interesting choice. After all, this is a wilder side of Wales that guarantees plenty of space and calm for those times when you need to escape the frenetic pace of the modern world. It’s as near the emptiness of the Scottish Highlands as you’ll find in the principality.

My Y Llethr hill outing was to have me reprising much of my walk to Diffwys with a twist. For the sake of variety, I used a different way from Dyffryn that avoided the megalithic tombs that I usually pass. That landed me further up Ffordd Gors and Cors y Gedol was passed without much further ado to pick up the non-metalled track for Llyn Bodlyn. The turn-off for Pont Scethin that I followed at the start of February was passed and not taken. What I was after was a clear path to my left that would take me up the slopes towards Y Llethr. I was already seeing signs of where I was headed when a labouring mountain biker passed me and later left the road to gain some height, using part of the path that I needed.

That cue from one of the few people that I encountered on my walk was more than useful. He may have gone left at a fork unmarked on my OL18 map but once off the gravel track yet still on sound ground, I easily made out the direction that I needed. Going uphill granted views over Llyn Bodlyn without the gradients being overly harsh. Still, they were sufficient to make my pins remind me of what I did to them on the side of Moel Siabod the week before. Next up was the wall on Moelyblithcwm that I was to shadow loosely for much of the way. The track that I was following stayed with gentler gradients even if that meant wandering away from the wall for much of the time. Eventually, it sent me through boggy ground from which I emerged to find a stile that brought me over the wall to the final steep approach to the top of Y Llethr.

Steady unhurried progress was what the final steep pull up to the flat top of Y Llethr. The summit was left to come towards me in its own good time with vistas opening up more and more as I gained height. Moelfre was an unmissable feature through my out and back yomp, and it was to the west of me now. To the south, Crib-y-Rhiw lay temptingly at hand with Diffwys beyond the ridge. Maybe it was that proximity that put walking up Y Llethr into my head last February. Cadair Idris and others like it lay around too, though they were hazy on the day.

Once on the summit, I could gaze upon Rhinog Fach and Rhinog Fawr to the north; the views were finally verging on being 360º. It was at this point that I was joined by two walkers coming up from the other side. After exchanging a few words, I wandered over a little to gain better views of Rhinog Fawr and Rhinog Fach before descending on a route of my own making before I reached the stile that I had crossed earlier. Beyond the stile, I stayed with the wall and encountered some very soft mossy stuff underfoot before things dried up ahead of a stony canter downhill before I again picked up the track that had brought me uphill and stuck with it for the rest of the descent to the reservoir track. By now, the sun had changed position such that good photographic fodder was on offer behind me and I didn’t waste it, even if it were to cost me time.

Knowing the distance that I had yet to travel after reaching the Llyn Bodlyn track, I paced myself so as not to miss my train home. Photographic pit stops were unavoidable given how the evening was going even if I was mindful of the time. From Cors y Gedol Hall downhill, I stayed on Ffordd Gors like I did last February. Though there were a few hours left in the day, the sun was beginning to lower as I shortened the distance I had left to travel. It had all the hallmarks of an idyllic end to a good day’s walking and acted as a reminder of summer too. All the while, I stocked up on refreshments in Dyffryn and caught that train home as planned. The sun may have been declining as it travelled down the Cambrian coast, but the enjoyment wasn’t over so quickly.

Travel arrangements:

Return train journey from Macclesfield and Dyffryn Ardudwy. Changes on the outbound journey were at Stoke-on-Trent and Wolverhampton. On the way back, they were at Shrewsbury (due to the small matter of only two out of the four carriages continuing for Birmingham) and Wolverhampton.

A developing pattern?

Unusually for me, my walking escapades seem to involve my reaching more summits than usually has been the case. In fact, finding some sort of hummock to ascend has formed part of my planning in the last few months. The most recent example of this was an out and back hike to Y Llethr from Dyffryn Ardudwy over the past weekend. That followed a yomp over Moel Siabod the previous weekend and there was an ascent of Diffwys in early February. Thus, three outings to Wales have come to pass so far this year and Terry Marsh's Great Mountain Days in Snowdonia (Cicerone) might inspire more yet.

Mark Richard's Great Mountain Days in the Lake District should be encouraging a few too but I only have January's spur of the moment crossing of Place Fell to record for 2010. Still, that now looks as if it was start of a pattern where reaching hilltops has been playing a large role in my hill country outings. Even when I went to Scotland, I ended up on a unnamed though snow blanketed foothill of Bynack More when I had intended to stay low (boggy ground stalled my initial scheme). As if to continue high level hiking, an Easter crossing of Baslow Edge, Curbar Edge and Froggatt Edge needs to be mentioned too. With all of this falling into place, it may be a matter of time before that first Munro gets ascended and there are a few candidates in the Cairngorms that have caught my eye but there's no rush on that one.

All of this action may look like peak bagging but that is an incidental upshot rather than the avowed aim of the exercise. If creating some list of hills climbed was the aim, I wouldn't be bobbing around the place in such an unplanned manner. Going up hills is for me a device for propelling me out of doors when the weather makes an offer. It used to be that exploring somewhere or a new angle to an old favourite did the job on its own but adding a hill top has been giving form to plans in place of finding a tempting path or track on a map. Quite where all this is leading me is another matter but I'll enjoy the countryside along the way and share that (and any decent photos that I make) with you afterwards. Now, I need to find time to say more about that flying visit to Y Llethr…