Aberporth to Poppit Sands

Sunday 24th August 2014

After spending the night at an independent hostel near Aberporth I returned across farmland to the coastal path on the edge of Aberporth Airport (and military establishment). The point where I rejoined the Ceredigion Coast Path was at the head of the unspoilt valley of Cwm Gwrddon, which was densely wooded and a delight to walk through, but short-lived as the path soon climbed out of the valley and followed it down to the coast. Sadly, this was the best part of the walk which gradually deteriorated during the course of the day; however the coastal path was still good at this point with a great track positioned at the top of cliffs above the coastal slopes and below the fringe of farmland. The excellent path meandered around the coastline with many changes in elevation, twists and turns and with dense wild flowers lining the path. It was an interesting walk with bramble, knotweed, willowherb and gorse among many others providing close-up views while the cliffs up and down the coast also sought to attract my attention while walking along a delightful terrace path part way down the coastal slope under hazy sunshine. 

The overflowing vegetation was a real bonus on this early part of the walk even when it was Himalayan balsam that choked the streams. Balsam may be invasive but the flowers are so pretty and smell even better that I didn’t really mind. The wild feel to the walk diminished later in the morning when farmland came right up to the edge of the path so the dense vegetation that I had so loved earlier in the day  became less noticeable. The cliffs to my right remained a draw, particularly where the rocky promontory of Pen-Peles drew me away from the path for a closer look. Just beyond this point a small prominent hill came into view and tempted me to climb it. Foel y Mwnt is not very high (a puny 76 metres above sea level), but since it lies right next to the sea the conical hill appears more striking than it deserves.

When I finally reached the foot of the hill I couldn’t resist the temptation to leave the coastal path and climb the short slope to the narrow summit where I had a stunning view along the coast both back along the coast towards Aberporth and onward along the coast past Cardigan Island to Cemmais Head. From the top I made my way down to the tiny, picturesque, sandy cove of Mwnt where the coastal path continued and climbed back up to the top of the cliffs before ending at a rather solid looking barrier. A clear path could be seen to continue beyond the barrier but according to the official website for the Ceredigion Coast Path this route was still in development (even though the rest of the coastal path opened in 2009) and so I needed to take a dreary diversion. This is a shame as the map seems to show that the missing coastline is quite spectacular, and includes a natural arch.

After lunch at the barrier, while looking out across the sea, I turned inland up the hill to the village of Y Ferwig and then along a road to Gwbert. This was really tedious and didn’t improve after I rejoined the Ceredigion Coast Path at Gwbert as I was still on tarmac walking along the pavement beside a road marked on my map as Coronation Drive. This day had started as being a fantastic walk through such great, wild terrain that I was enthusing about it to myself thinking that this was almost as good as mountain walking. It was such a joy to walk along that path, but the coastal path, when it turned into the Teifi estuary, deteriorated into tedium in extenso. My destination, Poppit Sands, was actually just across the estuary, but I would have to follow the river all the way to the town of Cardigan before I could cross the river and walk all the way back to Poppit Sands.

At one point during my trudge I got fed up and came down onto the sands near Pen yr Ergyd, but since it was so tiring to walk on sand this did not help me so I climbed back up to the road and followed that until I reached the point where the road turns inland and the coastal path heads through fields towards Cardigan. When I eventually reached the town of Cardigan I had come to the end of the Ceredigion Coast Path, but the Pembrokeshire Coast Path hadn’t started yet. In the absence of a county coastal path to follow I followed the Wales Coast Path through fields above the southern banks of the river into the pretty village of St Dogmaels and the official start of the Pembrokeshire Coast Path. I felt like there should be a huge sign and bright lights designating the start of the path, but instead there is a nondescript structure at the side of the road that was not obviously the start of anything.

Worse was the fact that the first couple of miles on the Pembrokeshire Coast Path is on a narrow road that follows the estuary back out towards the sea. My only consolation was found immediately after crossing a stream that marks the edge of the Pembrokeshire Coast National Park, and that is Poppit Sands. When the tide is out this is a vast expanse of sand that was a pleasure to walk along despite the effort required in walking on sand. This was a pleasing end to what had been a very mixed day. It started with a charming walk along the coast, but I got no enjoyment out of the walk after lunch as I felt that I was simply covering the miles, while the hazy sunshine that had accompanied me at the start soon faded to complement the dreary second half. I was already finding that costal paths are variable in their quality so that when at their best they can compare with mountain walking, but at their worst they are no better than walking down any street in Britain.

Aberporth to Ynys-Lochtyn

Saturday 23rd August 2014

I have for many years wanted to do a walk along the Pembrokeshire Coast Path, but never been able to construct a plan that ties all the hostels in with the bus timetable. I had planned to do the walk at Easter last year, but eventually I went back to the Lake District when I couldn’t find an convenient way of getting past Milford Haven, so when I finally came up with a solution to the ‘Milford Haven Problem’ I was eager to put it to the test and decided that late summer would be the best time. I had originally planned to start the holiday in Cardigan and on the first day I would walk just the first mile of the coastal path from St Dogmeals to the Poppit Sands Youth Hostel, but when I came to book the hostel I found it was fully booked. My solution was to start the walk further up the coast in the county of Ceredigion, but I struggled to find buses that would take me a suitable distance from my planned overnight accommodation in an independent hostel near Aberporth. I was keen for the walk to include Cwmtyddu, a spectacular path cut directly into the coastal slope, but a landslip earlier in the year had closed the path and forced yet another change of plans.

After much planning this first day was nothing like how it was originally planned, but I ended up with a great walk along a spectacular coastline. The solution to my problems that I eventually came up with was to take a bus to Aberporth and then walk away from Pembrokeshire to the prominent landmark of Ysys-Lochtyn before catching a bus back to Aberporth. I had fabulous weather for this walk and judging by the weather forecast it seemed like this was going to be the best weather that I would have for the entire week so I was determined to make the most of it, despite walking for less than three hours as I didn’t reach Aberporth until two o’clock, but as soon as I got there I set off along the coastal path high above dramatic cliffs already getting a taste of the delights that awaited me on this holiday. The path for the first section of the walk is described as being an Inclusive Access Cliff Top Trail, in other words it’s tarmacked, however there were still many opportunities for stunning views down the cliffs.

Once the path narrowed the rough, steep trail was lined with bramble, bilberry and willowherb, and undulated dramatically making for a strenuous but enjoyable walk in the sunshine. A steep descent brought me down to the packed seaside resort of Tresaith and after passing through the tourist-trap I was faced with a steep ascent out of the narrow valley. After that steep climb a more gradual descent took me to the gorgeous beach of Penbryn. The coastal path doesn’t come all the way down to the beach, but stays above it before passing into a dark, narrow, tree-covered valley that was truly magical. Another steep climb took me away from Penbryn and back up onto the cliff-tops before a steep descent near Carrog y Nogwydd took me down into another steep sided valley where another steep climb led me to the earthworks of Castell-bach. Despite the steep, undulating terrain, and probably because of it, I was really enjoying this walk, however the goal of my walk was already within sight: the headland of Ynys-Lochtyn.

Gradually I descended once more, and this time into the seaside resort of Llandrannog, which for some reason I thought was a much nicer place than Tresaith. Llandrannog is smaller and narrower, and perhaps it seemed to me less spoiled by commercialism and tourism, despite the crowds. Continuing along the rutted coastal path I climbed steeply out of the village and up to the iconic promontory of Ynys-Lochtyn. The path skirts around the northern slopes of the hill, Pen-y-badell, high above the headland so when the path started to turn I headed straight on down the hill onto the narrow strip of land that juts out into the sea where stunning views could be seen across the headland and towards the small island of Ynys-Lochtyn at the end with dramatic cliffs on all sides, particularly on the island itself. A small stony causeway gives access onto Ynys-Lochtyn, but the gradients down were so steep I never contemplated attempting to make the crossing. I was content to simply gaze in awe at the tremendous scenery and wander around the headland looking at the awesome cliffs. 

The weather was at its best at this time and I was standing in a place of stunning beauty. I stayed as long as I could, but eventually I had to tear myself away in order to catch a bus, so I climbed back up to the coastal path and after climbing behind Pen-y-badell for a circuit of the hill I dropped back down onto the path for a speedy descent back into Llandrannog. This may have been a relatively short walk, but it was a wonderful taster for what I hoped I’d find on the Pembrokeshire Coast Path. Aside from the aforementioned path near Cwmtydu, this walk included the best sections of the Ceredigion Coast Path and they had set a very high standard for the Pembrokeshire Coast Path to follow. There were some stunning coastal cliffs and a lot of steep climbs on a short, undulating walk along a fabulous coastline.

The Black Mountains Memorial

Saturday 16th August 2014

Fifteen years ago, after many years of walking in the Peak District, I went up a mountain for the first time, though that is not a mountain in the international sense but in the British sense of a hill above two thousand feet. That hill was in the Black Mountains on the eastern edge of the Brecon Beacons National Park in Wales, and saw me climbing to a point that was not only above two thousand feet but up to the dizzying heights of seven hundred metres. The hills that I walked up on that day in 1999 were not in any way mountainous or challenging, but because they were where I did my first significant hill walk I still have a fondness for the grassy ridges that are collectively known as the Black Mountains. I have returned to the area many times since, notably in 2009 when I celebrated my tenth anniversary with a walk around the Black Mountains. On that occasion I commented on this blog: “I will be definitely making a date for five years from now, wherever I am, to come back to the Black Mountains and do a memorial walk over these fabulous hills once again.”

When I realised that the fifteenth anniversary was approaching I made plans for a week long holiday in the whole Brecon Beacons park, but eventually after much debate with myself I decided on a much simpler memorial. Instead of spending a whole week walking in the area I spent just a morning doing exactly the same walk that I had done almost fifteen years previously. On a cold day in August when what had been Hurricane Bertha was drawing strong, cold, northerly winds across Britain I drove at stupid o’clock in the morning to the Welsh border and parked in exactly the same car park that I’d used fifteen years ago, beside a stone circle at the foot of Hay Bluff. This is not the best place to park for this walk, which is why I’ve never parked there since, until now. On other visits I have usually parked at the top of the Gospel Pass while the best place to park is probably in the tiny village of Capel-y-ffin.

I had reached the car park so early in the morning there was still a significant amount of hill fog on the tops of the hills, but the strong winds soon began to blow the clouds away as I started to climb the steep path to the top of Hay Bluff. There was still a lot of cloud around when I got to the top so I couldn’t see the trig point, but I wasn’t bothered about this because I knew I would be returning to Hay Bluff at the end of the walk so I soon set off towards the Gospel Pass as the clouds lifted from the top of the hill to reveal gorgeous blue skies and tremendous views across the wide Wye Valley. While keeping to the edge of the escarpment I slowly descended Ffynnon y Parc to the top of the Gospel Pass with the views of the sprawling mass of Twmpa catching my eye with its steep northern slopes falling towards the tree lined foothills.

Despite the cold wind I felt like I was enjoying great weather as I dropped down to the Gospel Pass, one of the highest road passes in Wales, where good views could be seen south into the valley. On the other side of the pass I climbed up the slopes of Twmpa on a path that seems to have been heavily constructed since the last time I was there. I do recall some nasty scars on the hill previously at this point so I shouldn’t have been surprised, but I still thought the repairs were excessive, intrusive and made the climb too easy, or many other reasons why I’m never satisfied with constructed paths. Eventually I reached the shallow cairn at the top of Twmpa where the great views continued across the Wye Valley and also back towards Hay Bluff with the road through the Gospel Pass crossing the northern slopes of the escarpment.

By the time I’d reached the top of Twmpa clouds were beginning to cover the Wye Valley as the gorgeous weather that had started the walk began to fade. Turning south-east I headed down the boggy ridge of Darren Lwyd with the wet path making me regret not wearing waterproof shoes, and in fact I was starting to regret my entire wardrobe that was not what I’d normally wear for a walk, but instead echoes the clothes that I wore for that first walk fifteen years ago. Just as then I was wearing jeans and a cotton t-shirt, which is something that I would not normally consider wearing for a hill walk, but I had been expecting better weather for this short walk. Perhaps my choice of clothing reflects how I viewed the walk, which even though originally was my first mountain walk, I did not now see as being a mountain walk compared with others that I have done since. That was tempting fate, but I was able to put a fleece on that kept me warm enough despite the inappropriate clothes and so long as I kept going I wouldn’t get too cold. 

During my walk along Darren Lwyd I had fascinating views across the valley to my left and up to the ridge beyond that carries the English border, and at the end were great views down the length of the Vale of Ewyas, a beautiful valley that is a perfect example of glaciation. Slowly I made my way down the steep bracken covered slopes to Capel-y-ffin, the chapel of the boundary. Other sources that describe this walk recommend walking along the road from Capel-y-ffin and crossing the river up to the Vision Farm, but in 1999, and on all my subsequent visits, I have taken an alternative route past two tiny chapels and along a path part way up the eastern slopes of the valley. The path was muddy in places on this occasion, but that didn’t prevent me from enthusing over a path that brought back so many happy memories of previous visits. Just before reaching the Vision Farm I took a path that climbs steeply through bracken up the side of the valley, and on reaching the edge of the open hillside led me steeply through dense bracken up the side of the valley.

In 1999 it was really hot while climbing the hill at this point, but now the cold wind ensured that I kept cool as I climbed all the way up to the top with stunning views of the valley accompanying me all the way to the Offa’s Dyke Path at the top of the ridge. This path also appears to have been heavily reconstructed with the old route bulldozed away to be replaced with an easy gravel path. The Offa’s Dyke Path may be popular, but does that excuse building a path that removes all the effort and interest? It could be said that you should never return to the places of your youth because they won’t be as good as you remember. There may have been a lot of changes over the years on this path that follows the English border but at least they ensured that I kept my feet dry as I walked along the broad ridge north over the highest point on the walk, an unnamed 700 metre hill, and all the back to Hay Bluff.

This may not be the greatest walk that anyone could do, but it does have the distinction of being the first hill walk that I did outside of the Peak District. The thing that initially brought me to the area was Hay-on-Wye, the original Town of Books, and actually that was where I went after this walk. Books may have led me to the Black Mountains, but what developed when I got there was a love for hill walking that remains to this day. Twmpa and Hay Bluff are not the highest or the most exciting hills in Britain, but they are the hills that ignited a passion in me to climb to the top of many other hills in Britain in the following fifteen years, and for that I owe them a great debt and appreciation. Despite the changes that have been made to the paths over the years, the hills remain as a memorial to that walk that launched hundreds of subsequent walks.

A’ Ghlas-bheinn

Friday 6th June 2014

For the last day of my two week holiday in Scotland it looked like the weather was going to be as poor as it had been for most of that week, however just like on Tuesday the weather improved significantly and unexpectedly throughout the course of the day. I was staying in an isolated youth hostel at the top of the picturesque valley of Glen Affric having walked up the valley in poor weather conditions the previous day. My plan for this day had been to walk up the Munro to the north that overlooks the hostel, Sgurr nan Ceathreamhnan, a hill that is often mispronounced. Wainwright, in his book ‘Wainwright in Scotland,’ said that since he’d never mastered Gaelic he instead adopted roughly similar English equivalents; thus, for example, Ceathreamhnan was Chrysanthemum and I was amused to hear several people in the hostel giving it this name, however the correct pronunciation is much simpler: Kerranan.

Instead of taking the path uphill from the hostel into the cloud infested mountain I returned to the River Affric and followed it upstream for a short distance before turning up to follow the stream, Allt Beithe Garbh on an excellent path. If I’d continued beside the River Affric I’d have followed the track over a low pass into Glen Lichd that would have soon brought me back to Loch Duich, but I fancied taking a more interesting route so I followed the clear path into Gleann Gnìomhaidh towards Bealach an Sgàine. The National Trust for Scotland volunteers, who had been staying at the youth hostel, had clearly been at work on this path and made my walk both easy and a pleasure while ensuring that I maintained dry feet, but later their cleverly constructed handiwork ceased only to be replaced by a wide gravel path that seemed excessive and like a motorway. This motorway didn’t last very long, however, leaving me with a boggy path that attempted but ultimately failed to make a course along the valley.

It could be that on such boggy ground gravel was the only solution and as I struggled to make my way along the valley I longed for the gravel path again, despite the over-engineering. After reaching the end of the boggy path, and thanking my waterproof socks, I passed Loch a’ Bhealaich and began climbing steeply to the top of the pass. It had become obvious to me not long after leaving the hostel that the poor weather was not going to last as I could see the clouds were beginning to break further down Glen Affric which prompted me to rethink my plan for the day. With blue sky appearing down the valley I wondered if Sgurr nan Ceathreamhnan was a possibility after all, but the clouds at the top of the valley were taking too long to begin to lift to make that an viable option. Nevertheless as I climbed the, at times, good path up to the top of the pass I was thinking about which mountain I would now climb to take advantage of the good weather.

The top of Bealach an Sgàine was thick with clouds but I was still keen to climb one of the Munros either side of the pass. Beinn Fhada is to the south, but I climbed that in 2008 so despite it being a great mountain I decided to turn right and follow a narrow weaving path north towards the smaller Munro of A’ Ghlas-bheinn. I was attracted to the rocky, undulating ridge that leads from the pass to the summit and the clear path that steers an interesting route up the ridge. Despite the low cloud I enjoyed this ascent, and I was rewarded with occasional glimpses through the clouds into the loch-filled valley to my right. There is something rather magical about these snatching windows in the clouds, like you’re being given a glimpse of a far-off unknown country. I encountered a lot of tops on this undulating ridge and I was beginning to get frustrating with the never-ending succession until finally the summit cairn loomed into view and the clouds cleared briefly once more.

This was my ninth Munro of the holiday (when I also climbed two Corbetts) and the last hill of my holiday. Last year I only climbed four Munros so this is definitely an improvement, but nowhere near the twenty-plus Munros that I used to climb while in Scotland. The reduction is not so much because I’m getting older but because my priorities while in Scotland are now slightly different, though climbing a mountain still features prominently in my itinerary. As I sat beside the summit cairn of A’ Ghlas-bheinn I ate my lunch while the clouds continued to slowly lift from the hills around me to reveal stunning views through the windows in the cloud towards Loch Duich. It is usually very windy at the top of a mountain, but it was eerily quiet at the top of this one with very little wind that made sitting at the summit a tranquil, even magical moment.

From the summit of A’ Ghlas-bheinn I headed west around steep crags and onto a saturated grassy ridge that took me unevenly down as I tried to find the path that I had seen the previous Sunday after crossing the Allt Leòid Ghaineamhaich. I thought then that it would make a good descent route, but I hadn’t anticipated how wet the ground would be following the heavy rain of the last week. I could hear splashes with every footstep and on the steep bits I couldn’t keep a grip on the saturated ground and slipped over several times. Eventually I decided that this is not a good route and I was relieved when I finally reached the bottom beside the bridge that I had crossed on Sunday, but it would have been better if I’d descended north to Bealach na Sròine. This descent brought me onto one of the forest tracks that I had walked along on Sunday and I now had a long walk in tremendous sunshine back along the tracks and the road through Morvich to Loch Duich.

Since Sunday I had travelled from Loch Duich over the mountains to Cannich and then returned over the mountains along the mighty Glen Affric back to Loch Duich. It was an interesting, though changeable week, and at least I was able to enjoy some fabulous mountain scenery at the top of the highest mountains in the area, Màm Sodhail and Carn Eighe. Since lunchtime on this last day of my holiday, the weather had gotten better and better and now that I was back down in the valley it was really warm. The clouds were very slow to lift from the tops of the mountains and would not completely clear the tops until late in the afternoon and meanwhile I had a long walk ahead of me. From Dorusduain Wood I walked for three hours into Strath Croe and around the end of Loch Duich, past Shiel Bridge and along the shore on the other side of the loch to Ratagan Youth Hostel. The weather was so good I didn’t begrudge the walk as I enjoyed the magnificent Highland scenery for one last time before returning home the next day.

Glen Affric

Thursday 5th June 2014

On the day before this walk I did a fabulous walk over high mountains north of Glen Affric, but I returned to my tent in Gleann nam Fiadh, at the foot of these mountains, in worsening weather. Midges were swarming everywhere and forced me into my tent to gaze in awe at the thousands of tiny insects trying to get through the netting of my inner tent. It was fascinating to look at the midges and then to see them disappear as soon as it started to rain again, and this rain continued throughout much of the night and was not much better when I got up in the morning, so I packed up, left the spot where I had been staying for the last two nights and headed off back over the hill and down into Glen Affric. A short walk along a private road brought me back to the River Affric car park where I made use of the facilities.

There I met a couple who appeared to have camped beside the car park, and who were actually the first people I’d seen in over forty hours, more than two nights ago, having gone through the entire previous day without seeing a single person. You don’t get that sort of isolation in the Lake District! Throughout this holiday I had been timing the length of time that had passed between seeing people. Last year twenty-four hours passed while I walked along Glen Avon, slept and then climbed Ben Avon, without seeing anyone. Several times on this holiday I had gone twenty hours, but in this second week of my holiday I doubled that. For someone who dislikes crowds there’s something rather satisfying about that.

My plan for this day was to walk to the Youth Hostel near the top of Glen Affric and, while I had considered climbing Ciste Dhubh, when I reached the hostel the weather ensured that this was never seriously considered. In view of the poor weather I took a slow dawdling walk along the valley finally reaching the hostel before three o’clock. I actually could stop this article now and move onto the next day as there’s not really much more to tell, but I won’t. The first half of the day I was on a broad track walking beside the south bank of Loch Affric until at the far end of the loch I turned right, avoiding the path into Gleann na Ciche, to reach a building that is marked on maps as Athnamulloch with Strawberry Cottage on the other side of the river.

There were a surprisingly large number of cars near these buildings, including several National Trust for Scotland vehicles, and the explanation for this would be provided when I reached the hostel. After crossing the river beside Strawberry Cottage I felt like I had left civilisation behind, or what little there had been in the valley. The surroundings were now completely undeveloped with no other sign of the intrusion of man other than the narrow track that I was walking along. The infant River Affric meandered around the floor of the valley with the track at times closely following the river until eventually I reached the hostel, which reminded me of the Loch Ossian Youth Hostel that is similarly isolated, but with the added bonus of a shower (which I really needed!).

The National Trust vehicles were explained by the presence of a team of volunteers for the National Trust for Scotland who were staying at the hostel. When I had started planning this holiday I had considered volunteering here so it was interesting to see who I would have been working with if I had joined. My initial idea for this holiday in Scotland was simply to go to Glen Affric but ultimately I decided I wanted to achieve this under my own planning by walking along the entire length of the valley from the village of Cannich. I saw the valley in both rain and sunshine and was entranced by the seemingly unspoilt scenery that has actually been heavily influenced by man.

Although this day was heavily marred by the poor weather I still really enjoyed it. The rain or drizzle had stopped by noon enabling me to enjoy the slow walk along the valley before the rain started again soon after I reached the hostel. Ciste Dhubh, completely covered in cloud when I got there, is a mountain that I will have to climb another day. I do enjoy walking long distances along a good footpath through wild countryside. I don’t have to go to the top of a mountain to have a good walk and on a day like this it is much better staying on a good footpath at the bottom of the valley than trying to find your way in bad weather to the top of a mountain. When the weather is good then the top of a mountain is definitely the place to be as I found out the day before on this poor, dreich day.