Days 166 & 167: Barmouth to Harlech (via Cadair Idris)

Despite arriving at Ty-nant car park before 9am, after a three-mile walk from my hobbit hut, there are already four parked cars, so I’m not the first person hiking the Pony Path up Cadair Idris, a 2,385 ft climb. It’s dry but cloudy up on the hillside — of course it is.

After a pretty start through woods, following a bubbling stream, the path opens up across the hillside, with large stones making the walking easy.

There are fine views back down the valley, despite the heavy cloud.

A steep climb gets me onto the ridge and it’s a different world. The cloud closes in, and a biting wind whips across the mountaintop, with the wind chill taking the temperature well below zero. Nothing is visible beyond the cliff edge, although the trail is well-marked with cairns.

The mist plays tricks with the senses. A cyclist is conjured up and bounces past, vanishing into the gloom.

Three hikers pass close to the summit, having camped out overnight. Legend has it that anyone who sleeps on the slopes will awaken either a madman or a poet. Their fixed grins in this foul weather suggest the former, so I pull my hood tight and hurry up the slope to the cairn and shelter.

There are four people in the hut. It’s a relief to be out of the wind and grab a hot brew. Two guys plan a circular route off the mountain and invite me to join them, but they both bounded past me on the way up, and I don’t want to slow them down in the freezing weather conditions. I’ll return via the Pony Path.

The weather worsens on the descent, and I’m amazed to see so many people still coming up, including several that are clearly unprepared for the weather conditions on top. A teenager is trying to hold a flapping anorak together where the zip has broken. One woman is in tears as her partner tries to encourage her onward. Madness.

I’m back in Dolgellau by mid-afternoon, so curl up in a warm chair in the Royal Ship Hotel and continue reading The Last Wilderness by Neil Ansell, his moving account of a year hiking in the Rough Bounds of Scotland, where his impaired hearing starts to fail completely and one by one the birds he loves fall silent.

Next day

It’s 7am in the town centre, waiting for the bus to Barmouth, and a dog starts to howl somewhere in the valley, then another and another, eerily baying in the dark before, suddenly, unsettling silence.

The weather continues to challenge. The promenade at Barmouth hosts a water display, waves exploding upwards, one after the other, fountains of white spray. All it needs is music.

There’s a pretty waterfall at Tal-y-bont to break up some fairly dull road walking. I’d planned a detour into the hills along the Cambrian Way, but the visibility is too bad to warrant it. My mind keeps wandering to Zulu, followed by a terrible rendition of “Men of Harlech”.

Turning off the main road, toward the beach, a transported static caravan is stuck in the lane, removing the top of a dry stone wall, giving me second thoughts about squeezing past — an undignified way to go.

The dunes at Morfa Dyffryn beach are impressive, stretching for miles. Sanderlings skitter across the sand like tiny clockwork toys and a cormorant stares out to sea in search of fish.

The tide is out so I take the causeway across Shell Island, rather grim in this weather, before a long circuit round the River Artro estuary, and a welcome coffee at a cafe next to St. Tanwg’s Church — “the church in the sand”.

A pretty beach takes me into Harlech. This could be one of the finest conclusions to a walk, crossing the dunes with the imposing castle perched on the cliffs ahead. Unfortunately, it’s rather hidden in the mist and rain. I have to get close to the castle to see it and struggle to find a shot through the streetlights.

“We just finished that one yesterday.” says a builder next to me.

“Not bad, but you missed a couple of bits at the tops of the towers.”

The rain is falling hard now, so a perfect time to catch the train to Porthmadog and my new base in the Travelodge. I spend a couple of hours in The Australia pub: great vibe, good music, excellent pub food and a vast range of quality ales, including Purple Moose. Happiness.

Walk distance: 30 miles.

Total distance: 2,681 miles.