There was snow underfoot on leaving home yesterday, travelling back to the Llyn Peninsula for eight days hiking round to Holyhead on the Isle of Anglesey. The tent is pitched for the first time this year, greeted with sleet sliding rhythmically down the tarp to wake me in the morning.
Looks like a challenging day — back to a fully loaded pack — with several hills to climb in harsh weather. There’s a lone camper van sheltered in the opposite corner of the field. The driver brings his lively border collie across.
“You warm enough in there last night?”
“Very cosy, although I did put my socks on!”
Actually, I wore thermal leggings for the first time, as I’m sleeping in my three-season sleeping bag rather than the winter one, which is probably a mistake. I’m sure someone mentioned spring.
Down to Aberdaron Bay, where waves rear up against the wind, trailing manes of white mist. It’s high tide so I’m forced inland, the distant hills lost in the mist.
The wind picks up, driving the rain and sleet into my side. A brutal day.
A small woodland offers respite.
My jacket pocket is stuffed with a cloth to dry my iPhone camera lens, but after a few photos they are both soaked.
There’s no view to reward another strenuous climb.
Disappointingly, Ynys Enlli has vanished. In The Wild Places, Robert Macfarlane describes sleeping rough on the island. However, the book was written in 2007 and camping is now prohibited. It recently became the first site in Europe to receive international dark sky sanctuary certification. Unfortunately, the clouds are dark and ominous, so there will be no stargazing tonight at Ty-Newydd Farm campsite.
Next day
A wild night, waking up a few times due to the loud thwapping of the Dyneema tarp in the wind, but the tent held up well. It’s cold but dry, perfect hiking weather.
Climbing Mynydd Mawr, glorious Ynys Enlli — The Island in the Currents — is finally revealed, with the lighthouse and houses nestled behind Mynydd Enlli.
Passing an old gun emplacement and cresting the hill, there are wonderful views of the snow-dusted hills to the north.
It’s a strenuous start to the day, the path rising and falling across beautiful hills and valleys.
Graffiti usually jars but this makes me smile. For fans of John Boorman’s Deliverance only.
A path diversion sign lies to one side, so I incorrectly assume this is for planned work and walk on, leading to a tricky descent at Traeth Penllech beach.
There are tiny lambs everywhere, some hoping for more than a passing smile. I take on a shepherd role as a small group follows behind.
The magnificent Yr Eifl is in the distance, drawing me forward.
A beautiful evening to end one of the finest sections of the Welsh coastline, such a contrast with my battle against the elements yesterday. The highs and lows of coastal walking.
Walk distance: 37 miles.
Total distance: 2,826 miles.
Stunning photos and poetic as always
Thanks Sarah.