Elidir Fawr, Y Garn and the Glyderau

Monday 31st August 2015

On this holiday I had set myself the goal of visiting the top of all fifteen of the Welsh mountains above three thousand feet, and over the previous two days I had done the seven peaks around the Carneddau. Now I turned my attention across the A5 road to the Glyderau range of hills that stretches from Elidir Fawr in the west to Tryfan in the east. Many years ago I had thought of an innovative route up the western hills but until now I had not had the chance to try my route to see if it was as good as I’d hoped. I had not been on these hills since 2009 when the weather had been poor, so I was eager to return to this area and explore these fabulous mountains. Under grey skies and with damp ground underfoot I set off from the car park beside Llyn Ogwen and up the constructed footpath that climbs steeply up the north-west ridge of Y Garn. Not far up the path I came off the clear way and headed across pathless grassy slopes below Pinnacle Crag and into the mouth of Cwm Cywion, which is a fabulously quiet valley with hardly any sign that anyone else had been there before.

It is astonishing that only because the maps don’t mark a path in this area few people venture there, but Cwm Cywion is a magical place with awesome crags and many options for safe exploration. On the steep grassy slope, after crossing the stream that comes out of Cwm Cywion, the sun began trying to come out and afforded me with some great views back over Llyn Ogwen and towards the distinctive skyline of Tryfan. When I eventually reached the top of the ridge, Y Llymwyd, I plunged into patchy clouds that gave me fleeting views across the valley and into the steep sided Cwm-coch on the other side of the ridge. The cold, northerly wind that I suffered with on Saturday, and was pleasantly absent on Sunday, was now back forcing me to wrap up as the clouds billowed through the gaps in the ridge. A clear path had now emerged on the top of the ridge reassuring me that I wasn’t the first to walk here as I made my way along the short ridge and up the scree to the grassy top of Foel-goch.

The appeals of this new route were actually short lived with the main advantage being that I’d never done it before and that it’s rarely walked by anyone. The top of Foel-goch was in thick clouds and the poor weather continued as I headed along the path down the scree on the other side of the hill and around the top of Cwm Dudodyn. Still in thick cloud I came off the path and climbed a steep, grassy slope up to the top of Mynydd Perfedd. Turning left I followed the narrowing ridge until it steepened to a rock step above the excitingly narrow Bwlch y Marchlyn. This is a delicious ridge that was a delight to walk over despite the strong winds that were forcing me to wrap up tight, but I was enjoying this ridge too much to be concerned about the wind. As I started climbing the gloriously rocky slopes beyond the saddle towards Elidir Fawr I was reminded of great mountains in Scotland and thought that it is a tragedy that what in Scotland would be a proud Munro is here a neglected hill overshadowed by its vastly more popular neighbours.

The craggy climb took me all the way up to the top of this great mountain where I stopped near the summit, sheltered from the cold winds, and had my lunch. As I began to leave the summit I was thinking that Elidir Fawr must be one of the best mountains in Wales, which is praise indeed. In response, as I passed back along that fabulous ridge again the weather began to clear so that by the time I was passing across the slopes below Mynydd Perfedd the sun had come out and the weather continued to improve throughout the afternoon. The cold wind seemed to have changed direction during my lunch and had eased by the time I reached the summit of Y Garn with the clouds lifting to enable me to enjoy fabulous views back towards Elidir Fawr. I had originally planned on descending back to the road from Y Garn but with the weather getting better I knew that it would be madness to stop now, so after coming down the long slopes of Y Garn to Llyn y Cŵn I kept going and started climbing the horrendous scree slopes of Glyder Fawr.

I knew from experience that this route up Glyder Fawr is a dull trudge up loose stones in surroundings that are totally devoid of vegetation in a landscape that has been described as a moonscape. Piles of stones mark the route up a scree-filled rake and across a featureless scree-field eventually reaching the summit on one of the many rock stacks that litters the top of the mountain. I was relieved to finally reach the top of Glyder Fawr, but the sunshine and the stunning views behind me across the gap of Llyn y Cŵn towards Y Garn were awesome and made the climb seem less frustrating than it could have been. By the time I reached the top the clouds had lifted even from here but were not far above the tops as I made my across the shattered summit rocks of Glyder Fawr towards Glyder Fach. I had thought of descending Y Gribin between these two mountains but the good weather made me change my plans once again.

The sight of Glyder Fach ahead of me as I descended towards Bwlch y Ddwy-Glyder proved irresistible and so invigorating that I leaped up the rocks to the top of this mountain seemingly with the vigour of youth. I have no idea where I got this from but I was abounding with energy as I leapt from boulder to boulder past Castell y Gwynt and over the vast collection of enormous rocks that make up the summit of Glyder Fach. I have always thought that this fabulous mountain is considerably more fun to walk over than its slightly higher neighbour and I’ve always thought it a tragedy that the elemental forces that shaped these mountains should have made the greater mountain slightly smaller than its tedious companion. I jumped and leapt over the summit rocks until I eventually reached and straddled the boulder that is the very highest point of Glyder Fach. Feeling ten years younger I was reluctant to leave the summit but eventually I made my way back to the col and to top of Y Gridin.

I had only once before descended this ridge, in 2005, and now I was definitely feeling ten years older as I had a little problem finding a route scrambling down the steep rock face. I was relieved when I finally reached the bottom of the scramble where the ridge levels and I was able to relax while passing a few mountain goats before the ridge narrowed for the final descent to Llyn Bochwyd. There I found a path around Bochlwyd Buttress and down the boggy slopes back to my car at the end of this awesome walk. In changeable weather I had been over some great mountains, and others that were in the way, on a walk that seemingly had everything. Cold winds in the morning were replaced with stunning sunshine that had me leaping about like a teenager. I really enjoyed this walk amongst stunning rock scenery in this fabulous area.

Yr Elen and the Carneddau

Sunday 30th August 2015

On my walk the day before this one I had seen across the valley a promising route up the north-eastern ridge of Yr Elen. I had never climbed Yr Elen by that route before, or in fact by any route before. On this holiday I was trying to find new routes up the familiar mountains of Snowdonia, and Yr Elen is a mountain that I have been to the summit several times, but always from the higher peak of its neighbour, Carnedd Llewelyn. Yr Elen is really just an off-shoot or side-ridge of Carnedd Llewelyn so most of the time I have simply nipped across the connecting ridge to ‘bag’ the summit and then nipped back. The last time I was on Yr Elen was in 2007 and on that occasion I had come down the long north-western ridge. The idea of doing this new ascent of Yr Elen was so appealing to me that I abandoned my planned walk for this day in order to do it. There is a long walk-in to get to Yr Elen so I’d parked in a narrow street in the tightly-packed community of Gerlan above the town of Bethesda.

I have parked at that point several times before so I felt fortunate to find an empty parking place before setting off up a footpath that led to the farm of Tan-y-garth on the edge of the Snowdonia National Park. It was very hazy at this point in the day with the sun spending most of the morning trying to pierce through thin cloud, but it was ultimately never really successful with the cloud eventually thickening up and descending in the afternoon. However, there was one benefit with the weather as there was hardly any wind, even at the top of the mountains. The day before this walk there had been a strong, cold, northerly wind blowing at the tops, but this was happily absent for this walk. Beyond Tan-y-garth I crossed the open hillside onto a track that headed into the valley of the Afon Caseg past the ruins of ancient settlements and with the mountains of the Carneddau brooding under the clouds before me and Yr Elen taking centre stage.

Soon the track ended and I was left to find whatever trace that I could find of a footpath up the valley below the towering rocks of Carreg y Gath and into Cwm Caseg. The steep-sided, crag-filled cirque was a stunning sight with tremendous scenery all around me that was simply breath-taking, but the lack of a clear footpath indicated that this area is rarely visited. This is tragic and marks a significant difference between Snowdonia and the Lake District where footpaths abound and every valley has clear routes through it and every fell has many clear paths up to the tops. In Snowdonia there are few clear paths apart from the top of the ridges where the footpaths are well-defined. This does mean that it is easy to get away from the crowds who stay on these well-defined routes. With the clouds already beginning to descend onto the mountain tops I reached the foot of the steep north-eastern ridge of Yr Elen and began my ascent.

After an initial steep climb up a grassy slope the gradient eased and the ridge narrowed to give me a glorious ascent with jagged rock to my right and smoother grass and scree slopes to my left. Near the top of the ridge there is a mass of rocks that block the route up, but a path materialises just before and follows a cunning route through the blockage to scramble satisfyingly up to the top of the ridge not far from the summit of Yr Elen. This was a fabulous end to what had been a relatively easy, but satisfying climb and deposited me at the top of Yr Elen with thin cloud swirling around undecided on whether to cover the summit or not. While I had my lunch at the summit the clouds played with the top of the mountains, sometimes covering them and sometimes lifting to reveal tremendous views of the surrounding mountains, and all the time with hardly a breath of wind.

With the views across to Carnedd Llewelyn briefly clear I crossed the fabulous narrow ridge that connects Yr Elen with its bigger neighbour while towards the mountains that I’d visited the day before the clouds lifted to afford me with sensational views to match the quality of the ridge. The sun was not to be seen again as the cloud descended once more and I climbed the well-defined path up the scree to the summit of Carnedd Llewelyn. I had hardly seen anyone all morning, but as I made my way along the well-defined path at the top of the ridge that connects Carnedd Llewelyn and Carnedd Dafydd, I passed many, many people. This is a glorious ridge and fully deserves its popularity. Cloud filled the northern crags of Ysgolion Duon above Cwmglas Mawr just as it had when I crossed this ridge in 2007, but now it was mesmerizingly windless.

Being at the top of this ridge with no wind added to my enjoyment and prompted me to literally skip along the path and hop across the rocks as I made the most of this magical experience. I entered the clouds once again as I neared Carnedd Dafydd and with the cloud now lingering I traversed the ridge over Carnedd Fach to Pen Yr Ole Wen at the western end of the glorious Carneddau ridge. My original plan for this day had been to climb the south ridge of Pen Yr Ole Wen but with my change of plans I was now looking to descend so I took a compass reading and turned north to head down the long, grassy slopes of Braich Ty Du to eventually return to my car. Even though the weather had deteriorated during the course of the day the lack of wind had made being at the top of the mountains a memorable experience. These are great mountains and the ridge between Carnedd Llewelyn and Carnedd Dafydd is amazing to walk along in any weather. When I was last there in 2009 the weather had been atrocious and yet I had still enjoyed the traverse. I hope I don’t leave it as long to do it again.

A Circuit above Aber Falls

Saturday 29th August 2015

The August Bank Holiday weekend saw me heading back to an area that at one time was my usual haunt at that time of the year, however, that had all ended in 2009 and apart from a couple of trips up Snowdon I had not been back to Snowdonia at any time of the year since. I felt like I was due a return not only to this once familiar ground, but also to see if I could find new routes up these well-known mountains. The first place I went was somewhere that I had not been back to since my very first walking holiday in Snowdonia, back in 2003, when on the last day of that holiday I climbed up the northern mountains of the Carneddau starting from Aber Falls. Despite ever since wanting to take the footpath that climbs to the top of the waterfall I had never been back, until now. In 2003 I had taken a route that went around the falls, and on this walk I would return to the same mountains as then, but the route that I now took was via the top of Aber Falls on that path that I had wanted to walk for a long time.

Once I had arrived at the car park for the Coedydd Aber National Nature Reserve I headed along the track through the delightfully wooded valley until I eventually reached the foot of the tall Aber Falls. This was a splendid sight and it was such a long time since I had last been there I had forgotten just how good is this waterfall. After taking many pictures to keep as a reminder of this waterfall for many years to come, I retraced my steps and diverted onto a path that climbs scree slopes onto the path that climbs to the top of the waterfall. At one point the path crosses some steep crags on a glorious, narrow terrace high above the falls with some precarious scrambling that made the traverse even more exciting, especially after the recent rainfall. Eventually I emerged beside the stream above Aber Falls with the sound of the waterfall roaring steeply below.

I had to head upstream for quite some distance before I was able to safely cross and from there ascend the steep heather and bilberry covered slopes for a frustratingly long and tedious climb. I had no footpath to follow and bands of rain and sunshine passed over me as I slowly approached the rocks of Bera Mawr. With full waterproofs on I completed the climb up the scattered rocks under the mixed weather conditions with strong, cold winds that encouraged me to keep my waterproofs on throughout the day despite later spells of sunshine. After climbing around the rocks of Bera Mawr I eventually reached the highest point, which was actually near the far side of the widely scattered rocks. After I’d had enough of climbing over the wet, slippery rocks I made my way across the grassy slopes that separate Bera Mawr from its twin, Bera Bach, where I sheltered from the strong winds and had my lunch.

Striking off along the top of the ridge I headed towards what had been known as Garnedd Uchaf when I was last in the area, back in 2006, but now appears to be called Carnedd Gwenllian. According to Wikipedia the summit was officially renamed on 26th September 2009 after a campaign by the Princess Gwenllian Society. Gwenllian of Wales was the only child of Llywelyn ap Gruffudd who has long been immortalised in the name of the nearby mountain of Carnedd Llywelyn, however walkers do not like change in old favourites, and so for me Carnedd Gwenllian will stubbornly remain Carnedd Uchaf. Despite cold winds it was sunny at the top of the mountain and the views of Gwenllian’s father with Yr Elen beside him were fabulous. When I was on these mountains in 2003 the weather was very poor and I had no view to enjoy, but now the weather was treating me a lot better.

From the top of Carnedd Uchaf I headed towards Foel Grach with Carnedd Llywelyn brooding under dark clouds behind. It had started raining when I reached Foel Grach in 2003 and the dark clouds of Carnedd Llywelyn once again deposited their bounty upon me when I reached Foel Grach. I didn’t stay long at the top, or go further along the ridge, as once I’d touched the summit cairn I turned around and headed back towards Carnedd Uchaf where the weather was better and the sun was shining. I hadn’t enjoyed the long climb up the dreary slopes to Bera Mawr, but as I walked past Carnedd Uchaf and towards Foel-fras with the sun shining once again I was relishing being at the top of a mountain again with far-reaching views all around me. I never enjoy long climbs, but walking along the top of a ridge with the sun shining revealing stunning views I am reminded of why I made the effort to climb the long slope.

When I reached Foel-fras I had summited my third Welsh three-thousand-footer of the day, which left me with another twelve that I hoped to summit before the end of my holiday. This is the northern-most three-thousand-footer so from there I began descending, not on the long ridge over Drum that I had taken in 2003, but turning left I headed steeply down towards Llwytmor. It was very windy at this point on the walk and there was little trace of a path for me to follow as I passed over Llwytmor until I reached Llwytmor Bach where I turned left again and descended into the valley of the Afon Goch. When I finally reached the bottom of the valley I picked up a faint path that took me back to the top of Aber Falls. I was now sheltered from the strong, cold winds that had been assailing me while on the tops so I was now finally able to take my waterproofs off and enjoy the sunny weather as I made the rocky traverse above Aber Falls once again. The weather was fabulous back in the nature reserve as I basked in the sunshine slowly descending into the wooded valley.

This was a curious walk with changeable weather and some frustrating or tedious moments, but also with some very enjoyable occasions. I really enjoyed the traverse across the rocks above Aber Falls so will be looking to do that path again and that gives me an excuse to see the falls themselves again. It was also great to be at the top of mountains again for the first time since Easter and reminded me that despite how much I may enjoy long distance paths there’s no beating being at the top of a mountain in good weather. It was interesting to note that the least enjoyable moments of this walk were on the ascent and descent when I was not following a footpath, which does teach you something about me. Despite the changeable weather this was a good start to my long-awaited return to the Welsh three-thousand-footers.

The Butt of Lewis

Thursday 18th June 2015

On the dawn of the last day on my epic trek along the whole length of the Outer Hebrides I was camped in the dunes behind the beach of Tràigh Shanndaigh near the township of Eoropie. Despite the strong winds that were coming off the North Atlantic Ocean my small tent had survived the night unmoved and I was full of praise for the tough, little thing often enduring such windy conditions during my holiday in the Western Isles. Throughout this holiday my ultimate destination has been the Butt of Lewis, the northern-most tip of the Isle of Lewis, which is the northern-most inhabited island in the long chain of islands that make up the Outer Hebrides, also known as the Western Isles. Two weeks previously I had started my trek on the island of Vatersay, the southern-most inhabited island, and now after walking the entire length of the islands I was not much more than a mile as the crow flies from my destination. Once I had packed my tent away I set off through the dunes and onto the beach where the strong wind was whipping up the waves into a tumultuous frenzy.

The sea was crashing onto the beach in a spectacular display of power and awe with the water churned up into a white froth that was simply spellbinding to behold, and completely unlike any of the other beaches that I had seen on my travels during the previous two weeks. The weather may have been poor with dark clouds lingering low overhead and a storm looking imminent, but nothing would keep me away from my goal as I made my way off the beach and onto the cliff-top grasslands. Sea pinks, also known as thrifts, carpeted the grasslands and complemented the spectacular craggy cliffs that sat above the churning seas. The weather was making the finale to my epic trek especially grand with a spectacularly dramatic climax to my two-week expedition. Blue-topped marker posts showed the route around the headland, but I needed little help as the lighthouse of the Butt of Lewis soon came into sight.

These cliffs reminded me of the Pembrokeshire Coast Path that I had walked last year, but there was a marked difference in that near the Butt of Lewis there were considerably more sea birds that I’d seen in Pembrokeshire. The coastal cliffs were covered with these birds, possibly simply because of the time of year, but they really added to this walk along the top of spectacular cliffs. Slowly I made my way around the coast and finally approached the Butt of Lewis lighthouse, the most northerly point in the Outer Hebrides. It was a relief to finally reach this place that I had spent the previous two weeks walking towards and now I was there and my epic trek was successful. It had not been an easy trek and I had considered abandoning it on several occasions, and towards the end I had just wanted to get to the Butt of Lewis as quickly as possible. Although the weather was poor during the last couple of days, earlier in the trek I had enjoyed some good, calm weather that had even been sunny when I was on the Isle of Harris, even though it had never been particularly warm.

Despite my setbacks and confusion with the route I had reached the Butt of Lewis and could now focus on the remainder of my holiday. Finally turning south I continued along the top of the cliffs taking in the spectacular coastal scenery until eventually I reached Dùn Eistean, a sea stack that at one time was a stronghold of the Clan Morrison. A metal bridge has been constructed to enable access to the small island and so I made the crossing despite the waves crashing far below my feet through the mesh of the bridge. Far greater terrors, however, lay in wait for me from the arctic terns that were nesting on the island. These birds are notoriously protective of their young and will dive-bomb any person who gets too close. As I made my way across the island to its highest point, originally the site of a rectangular tower, several terns swooped low over my head while screeching loudly. After taking a couple of pictures I quickly headed back across to the bridge while more arctic terns passed close by while one actually hit me on the head.

I had seen this happen before on nature programmes where the presenter is constantly ducking their head while being dive-bombed by birds, but it was bizarre and exciting to have it actually happen to me. I obviously didn’t want to disturb the arctic terns any more than was necessary so I quickly got back off the island and continued my walk beside the sea all the way to the Port of Ness. This may have been a short walk, but the stunning scenery more than compensated for its brevity. The past fortnight had been really tiring and very challenging for me, but one that I’ll never forget. I have a few regrets and disappointments, and I have made a few wrong turns and bad decisions, but there were many great moments that will stay with me forever. The Western Isles are a spectacular chain of islands that will inevitably draw me back before too long. The hills of Harris were difficult for me to leave and I long to be able to spend more time exploring these fabulous, rugged mountains.

The Road to Nowhere

Wednesday 17th June 2015

After a wet day spent walking along the road to Tolsta I was hoping for a better day as I continue my journey north along the length of the Outer Hebrides, but instead I had a really difficult day on the road to nowhere. I had camped at Tràigh Mhòr, just north of Tolsta, and set off along the road from Tolsta north towards nowhere. Just before I reached the bridge over the Abhainn Ghearadha the tarmac road ended with the gravel track beyond the bridge ending soon after. Although this bridge should rightfully be called the Garry Bridge, after the river, it is more commonly known as the Bridge to Nowhere, and is all that remains of an aborted plan to build a road from Tolsta to Skigersta. The Bridge to Nowhere is a solidly built concrete structure that has withstood the last century very well, aided of course by the lack of traffic over it as it really does go nowhere. After less than a mile of pleasurable walking along the track that continues beyond the bridge, it suddenly ended leaving me with no trace of a road or a path.

I enjoy walking along well-constructed tracks or paths and later in the day I would look back on that brief section at the beginning of the day from the bridge with fondness, when I had views behind me of Garry Beach and Tràigh Mhòr and the jagged coastline ahead of me. After fording the Abhain na Cloich there was no path for me to follow across the moor even though O.S. maps indicate a Heritage Trail. Yellow topped posts mark the route of the trail across the moor, but these are often hard to follow, and it soon began to rain again. The posts were difficult to see unless they popped above the horizon, especially in the misty, rainy weather that I had the pleasure of experiencing while crossing this moor. Underfoot, however, was a wonderful display of wild flowers of many colours and of all sorts, more than I had never seen before. I wish I had lingered at this point to examine the many delightful flowers, but since it was raining I pushed on desperately trying to find the non-existent path.

Heavy rain, strong winds and boggy terrain along with a paucity of marker posts made this moorland crossing very unpleasant. At one point I thought I could have been spending my holiday on a beach in the Mediterranean, but instead I was walking across this boggy moor in the pouring rain. Later I could see posts on two widely separated hilltops on the horizon and no way of knowing which one to head for, until I eventually remembered that I had a GPS trace that someone else had made across this route, so I got out my GPS and headed towards the western post down to the upper end of Dibadale. Climbing out of the valley I passed the ruined houses of Lower Dibadale and followed a semblance of a path on flatter and drier ground to what I had endured south of Dibadale. The ground was now mainly grass rather than the heather tussocks of the boggiest sections of the trail.

I continued to follow the marker posts past two lochs even though my GPS was showing that I ought to be half a kilometre west. I don’t know what this post was marking near Loch Bacabhat Àrd, but I headed north from this post passing to the right of Loch Bacaphat Iorach until I realised that the inlet of Leum Langa meant that I was quickly running out of land. I had get back onto the GPS trace so I crossed the northern shore of the loch heading west across the moorland before dropping into a shallow valley where I found a surprisingly clear path near the remains of Maoim. From there I was able to follow the path out of the valley and up to the coast near a ruined chapel above stunning, jagged sea cliffs. I sheltered from the wind behind this chapel and while eating my lunch the rain finally stopped and the sun came out affording me with stunning views of the coastline including the natural arch near Dùn Filiscleitir.

After all the tears, heartache and many hours of moorland crossing it was a relief to have finally reached this point and to find improving weather. With a renewed spring in my step I resumed my walk along the path past the ruins of Filiscleitir where the path improved into a clear track that led to Cuidhsiadar where a number of mobile summer homes (the modern equivalent of Shielings) were to be found. As I made my way into the area of Ness the weather continued to improve with prolonged spells of sunshine only occasional interspersed with showers while only the strong winds remained. I had hoped that I would reach the Butt of Lewis, my ultimate destination on this holiday, during the course of the afternoon, but it soon became obvious that that was not going to be the case and I would have to make plans to complete my Hebridean trek the following morning.

Instead of rushing towards the Butt of Lewis I descended to the Port of Ness and spent some time exploring the beach trying to enjoy myself unwinding from my travails on the moor. This is a good, little place and I’m glad that I was able to spend some time there instead of rushing to get anywhere, and was able to lark about on the rocks and stroll along the beach. After spending some time exploring the coastline around and to the north of the Port of Ness I eventually walked along the road into the township of Eoropie and camped in the dunes behind Tràigh Shanndaigh. This was a very tiring day even though the worst of it was all in the morning on the crossing of Lewis Moor. I had always known that that was not going to be easy, which is one reason why I had put it off until the end of my Hebridean trek. It was very exhausting and was not helped by the poor weather or the navigation posts, which at times were worse than useless.