A
first visit to the Berwyns for some of us; we decided to approach from the
east side to do a ten mile round. All omens were good: a fair sized party,
sunny weather forecast, and the bread (for my sandwiches) rose in the oven
the evening before; but most of all we met each other at the start, Cwm
Maen Gwynedd, despite loss of phone signal, uncertainty about the meeting
point and ancient OS maps. Yet there we all were, on time and raring to
go. The horizon of snowy summits and peaty hills against the rich blue sky
was as enticing as could be. The age of my map was brought home to me as
we started the climb from Maes alongside a mature pine forest and discovered
that it was absent from the map, presumably yet to be planted at the time
of survey. The sun warmed us as we climbed, and some of us discussed over-assessment
in schools, which heated us even more. It was Doris’s first mountain
walk. At ten months we decided to introduce her to the finer points of scree,
sheep droppings, peat troughs and mile upon mile of walking. All of which
seemed to suit her and us. We had lunch in a sheltered spot near Tomle (the
mire) where Richard produced a primus, saucepan and chicken soup. Although
proper warmth remained beyond reach, the spirit and tradition of camp cooking
was kept alive on the chilly summits. Bravo.
Further on we found frog (or perhaps newt?) spawn in the nearly frozen ponds,
before we climbed the highest summits in the Berwyn range, which offered
extensive views of snowy peaks and heathery hills. My navigation and guidance
proved wanting on the final stretch towards the cars, when failure to consult
my map caused me to follow a tempting short cut over a new style, which
found us cornered by a stream at the bottom of a field full of sheep and
gambolling lambs. There was nothing for it but to wade across, which we
did, spaniel in arms, in surprisingly good spirits given the inconvenience.
Fabulous Indian food awaited us at home, courtesy of Wendy’s gourmet
tendencies. Back to Home Page |
