We’re in a tent again!
Only this time, we’re somewhere a little different: Wales.
Following two nights of near gale-force conditions, during which time we deeply questioned our life choices, we awoke to a calmer Tuesday morning and day three of our Snowdonia adventure. We were staying for the week at “Garth Farm”, a working farm set to the backdrop of Snowdon itself. We had a little trouble pitching on its sloped pastures (we moved the tent twice), yet this was well worth the price for staying in such a beautiful spot, up on that small hill surrounded by mountains. Out the front of our tent, we looked onto a field of ewes with their lambs, which regularly broke out into the camping field at their own discretion for a little extra grazing. We even witnessed the unexpected arrival of a cow in their midst, who also spent her first few hours testing out the fencing, also to some limited success. Overnight, she had then been taken into the barn, and reappeared the next morning with a newborn calf in tow. We watched as the pair were rereleased into the field, and skipped away through the glinting, dewy grass; good job mum. We would sit and enjoy our breakfast and coffee, absorbing this idyllic slice of rural paradise, as about the grasses at our feet would perhaps appear a pair of playing voles, or maybe even an unexpected weasel darting about. It really was as perfect as it sounded. To the left of our tent, the hill rolled steeply down to meet the shores of a long, shimmering lake, which stretched out along the base of the valley. Toward the opposite end of this lake, is the spot where today’s walk would begin.
We drove the relatively short distance down the side of the lake and parked up for about twenty past eleven. We climbed out onto the road, and looked back across the water, where we could still see our tent pitched at the far end. We turned, crossed the tarmac and plunged deeper into the Welsh countryside. We had already witnessed the legendary volume of sheep living in Wales (and even been fortunate enough to see a few of the elusive feral goats wandering about near the campsite), and immediately we were greeted with our first woolly friends of the day. We made our way along the stony track, passing several more snoozing piles of wool, and even came across the ruins of an old stone building, which we had a nose about. Beth then leaned on a metal gate, which, much to her surprise, moved, and I was fortunate enough to capture this moment on camera.
We then dipped back down into civilisation, passing one of the area’s many, many, walking shops, before crossing the road back into further farmland on the other side. The path slowly began to climb, and as we steadily rose up the side of the valley, we crossed a ladder-stile over a dry stone wall. Suddenly, we were no longer on a farm; we were immersed in a fairy wonderland. The ancient stones and gnarly trees were all covered in a deep, green, moss, and the place tingled with magic. We made our way through slowly, in awe of everything.
Once out the other side, we carried on upward. The world began to look rather more rugged as we climbed, crossing moorland and tinkling streams; although of course still in the regular company of Wales’s sheep population. The views of the mountains were spectacular around us, and after about an hour, we paused for a snack beside Shrek’s holiday home, where his friend, Sheep, greeted us quietly.
The path then continued upward for a little longer, until it reached another area of woodland. Here, things began to level out, as we noted how Canada-like our surroundings had been, and how scared we would be should we suddenly encounter a rogue (and very lost) bear. We wound our way along the wide, dark slate track through the trees, until we took a smaller path to the right which began to take us steeply downhill once again. We found ourselves in the second mossy kingdom of the day and carried on beneath the trees across a small stream, eventually reaching the wooded shore where forest met farmland once again. Here, we were greeted by the obligatory singular sheep, who was completely unbothered by our appearance, and carried on around the edge of a field, which promised cows, yet did not deliver (much to Beth’s relief).
With a final sharp right away from the trees, we turned down a steep lane toward the main road running along the valley, marking the halfway point of the walk. We had planned to stop at “The Ugly House” tearoom here, but it was sadly closed for the day due to plumbing issues. We did at least stop outside and have a look at The Ugly House, which actually was not ugly at all, and was in fact rather fantastical; the exact type of home you would expect to find The Hobbit’s “Beorn” to be dwelling within.
Following our stop at Beorn’s, we crossed first the road, and then the river, which would make up the return leg of the day. It was lunchtime by now, and so a few minutes later, we selected a likely looking spot where the bank met the water, clambered down, and settled for some well-earned food. Sadly, my chicken and mayo-based roll from the local shop had somewhat exploded within its cellophane, and so I ended up having to eat the majority of the filling rather like you would consume a Frube, through a torn-off corner. This aside, however, it was a rather special lunch spot. The day was bright and sunny, and the trees and foliage along the banks were reflecting perfectly on the surface of the running water.
The river continued alongside us as we rose to our feet, the path occasionally climbing steeply up and away, but always returning sooner rather than later. The steady course of the water led us ever back toward the lake from which it ran, as we made our way beneath trees, through farmland, passed old, crumbled buildings and tumbling waterfalls, and even climbed over plenty of rocks and boulders, a regular feature of the area and one which the local footpaths are certainly not afraid to tackle. The final section of the walk took us a little away from the river, through one last patch of woods, as the finish line quickly approached. Before much longer, the lake once again came into view through the trees, with the second half going significantly faster due to being naturally much flatter than the first. We climbed back up to where we had left the car and were relieved to see our tent still standing in the distance, and the mighty Snowdon stood, as ever, at its back.
This was a lovely little route to explore our immediate area and was one which provided a little bit of ascent, but not too much – sticking to a route which ran along the valley and back proved crucial to this! It also struck me just how mystical the area is. As a nation, Wales certainly does not shy away from their folk tales, which can be seen proudly everywhere you go. After this walk, this comes as no surprise. Wherever you look, there is magic to be found; it’s teeming with the stuff. You need only spend a little time here, and you will start seeing the very dragons borne upon the flags of Cymru coming to life around you.
Matthew G. Huggins 