Gwaith 2: A Simple Walk, or So I Thought

Helo Pawb

On Tuesday night (6 Sep), one of my fellow residents asked if I wanted to join her and the other resident on a long walk around a lake the following day. I immediately thought of Tal-y-llyn, a beautiful lake a few miles down the road.

Tal-y-llyn, taken during our descent. The surface looked like glittering tar.

She said the walk would take five and a half hours. This puzzled me, as the lake is small, but I thought the walk itself must take in some of the countryside as well and probably a waystop at a pub I knew was near the shoreline. Anyway, I agreed and set about organising my clothes and my pack.

The next morning I discovered the walk was in fact the Minffordd Track, a hike to the top of Cader Idris. It did involve going around a lake, Llyn Cau, which is at the centre of Cader Idris, but the walk is so much more.

Some of you might remember I attempted this track last year, though I made a little detour and ended up climbing from the lake up the inside of Cader Idris. By doing this, I actually missed the section of the walk that took in Craig Cau, which I would rectify with this walk.

Craig Cau

You might also remember that last year I attempted Cadair Idris in the final week of my eight-week residency at Stiwdio Maelor. During those weeks I did a number of local walks on a regular basis and so was reasonably fit. This week’s hike, however, took place after only one local walk and my fitness level barely coped. Luckily, my hiking companions, Freya and Yuki, made frequent ‘rock stops’, which helped me recover for the next stage and gave all of us time to appreciate the stunning landscape all around us.

The walk itself goes through a number of stages (*). Once you leave the Pay-as-You-Go car park (£5), you stroll through a lightly wooded area that includes some American redwoods, planted during the time of the Idris family estate.

Nant Cadair

On the early part of the walk

You then climb a steep ravine cut by a rushing stream, through a canopy of oak trees that provides cover for mosses, lichens and ferns.

Looking back down Nant Cadair

My hiking companions, Freya and Yuki

In the open mountain area beyond, you reach a fork in the path. You can go left, which takes you up the Minffordd Path, or go right, towards Llyn Cau, one of the deepest natural lakes in Wales. Last year I went right, then around the llyn and up the inside of the mountain. This time, we also went right, for a brief stay at the llyn before heading back to the Minffordd Path.

Llyn Cau, with Craig Cau on the left and the ascent to Penygadair on the right

The crystal clear water of Llyn Cau

Going past enormous rocks left behind the retreating glacier during the last Ice Age, you tackle another steep climb, which heads towards Craig Cau (rockwall). Every now and then you catch glimpses of Llyn Cau down sheer gullies.

A view of Llyn Cau down a gully

After resting at the top of Craig Cau, you descend down to a short flat section before the last climb along a slippery path through a rocky boulder field to Penygadair, the highest summit of Cadair Idris, which is marked by a pillar on top of a rocky knoll.

This is where I climbed out of the crater last year

During much of our climb, the summit was cloaked by cloud, but this cleared for our final ascent and our arrival.

View back towards Craig Cau

Although Cadair Idris is the 19th highest peak in Wales (893 m, 2,930 ft), it is the second most popular after Mount Snowdon. This is understandable given the magnificent views available on a clear day: west to the Barmouth estuary, east to the Cambrian Mountains, south to the Brecon Beacons, and north to the Rhinogs and the main Snowdonia massifs.

View to Barmouth

View west, with haze

View north

Video from Penygadair

After we rested at the knoll, enjoyed the far and wide vistas, and checked out the stone hut that proves useful in bad weather, we started our descent across a wide grassy ridge and then hugging the side of Mynydd Moel, which involved crossing a number of trickling streams and boggy areas.

Every now and then we stopped to take photos of the great views back to Craig Cau and Penygadair and marvel at how far we had come, how high we had climbed. The whole track is 4.4 kilometres (2.7 mi) long and involves two climbs of over 300 metres (980 ft), but the trip seemed so much longer and harder than this suggests (though this was probably more a reflection of my fitness ability than anything else).

Eventually, we came to a stile and began a steep descent on a loose, pebble-strewn path that after a while became welcoming slate steps.

View back, showing Llyn Cau, Craig Cau and the knoll of Penygadair. And we actually climbed that high!

Same view from even farther away!

After another stile, the path flattened out and we made our way to the stone bridge across the Nant Cadair, where we filled our water bottles with the brisk mountain water and cooled our heads.

Because of our regular ‘stone stops’, the hike was taking longer than expected. However, I joked during the descent that the reason I was lagging behind was to make sure we arrived back at Corris after The Slaters Arms opened, which Yuki and Freya thought sounded about right.

Soon we were retracing our footsteps down the ravine and through the woodland to the car park, where we unhitched our packs, took a few minutes to cool down our muscles, then jumped in the car for the drive back.

I ended the day with sore hips, knees, calves and feet, some sunburn and also sore shoulders, because of the weight of my over-prepared pack. All this was forgotten, however, in the coolness of that first beer and the achievement of having climbed and enjoyed the mountain for a second time, in a different season, with convivial companions.

Cadair Idris, Again

Always the mountain teaches you—

In bee-touch and staccato caw of circling crows

In star-moss, toppled trunks and swelling rowan berries

In quartz-laced rocks, in quickening shadow, in loose footing

In gouges, in jagged crags, in matted bulges, grey, green, brown

In mist, sweat, sunburn, sheep-dung and dying heather

In slow wind-shimmer across the lake far below

And always in gaping silence, as it waits

That’s it for now. As always, I welcome any comments.

Cofion Cynnes

Earl

(*) Some of the material I used comes from the Cadair Idris information booklet (www.naturalresources.wales) and the following websites:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cadair_Idris

http://www.eryri-npa.gov.uk/visiting/walking/mountain-walks/minffordd-path

http://www.snowdoniaguide.com/cader_idris.html

http://www.trekkingbritain.com/cadairidristheminfforddpath.htm

http://www.visitsnowdonia.info/cadair_idris-204.aspx

Cyfaredd 8: Climbing Cader Idris

Haia Pawb (Hi Everyone)

When I stayed in Dolgellau in 2013, I planned to climb Cader Idris, that mountain on which if you spend the night you come down either mad or a poet. Unfortunately, the day before this planned ascent I climbed what I thought was Dinas Emrys, which proved a tougher task than expected (more about this in another post) and was so stiff and sore I couldn’t contemplate attempting Cader Idris. This trip, however, I decided to tackle the famous mountain first.

Cader Idris and the various paths

The route I took is called the Minffordd Path, which is steep in places (two climbs of over 300 metres), but also shorter (4.4 kilometres) than the easier track (Pony Path, 5.0 kilometres). After dutifully following signs and huffing my way up the first steep section, I came to where the track ended at a t-intersection. The way to the left seemed to take me away from the mountain, so I took the right one. I’d been walking in light drizzle to this point, but I felt sure the weather would clear soon enough. I was wrong on both counts.

It turned out the right-hand path lead to the lake in the middle of the ‘chair’, Llyn Cau, and not up the mountain. Of course, if I had consulted my map I would have realized this, but I had looked at the instructions at the start of my climb and thought I knew what I was doing. Although the choice was wrong, I was glad I came upon the lake. No sound but occasional bird call-signs. A slight breeze that wove intricate patterns on the surface of the lake. Mountains towering above me. A seabird that used the thermal above the lake to soar upwards. No other walkers. A great spot to sit for a while and contemplate whatever thoughts came up, or no thoughts.

Llyn Cau, with the back of the 'chair', Craig Cau, in the background.

Then came the time to continue my ascent. A path wound around the lake, which I assumed would eventually lead upwards. Wrong again. It ended near a steep section of scree-fall. Undeterred by the increasing rain and the descending mist--I had seen such sights around the mountain from Dolgellau and watched them vanish after a while--I started upwards. Step by step. One or two slides, but no concern. Heavy going. Use embedded rocks and knots of grass to pull myself up. Clamber. Watch the mist clear a little, the rain drop. Clamber. Stop for breath. Climb in sets of steps, each set reducing in number. Stop for breath. Keep going till the top is in sight. Dig in to scree and cracks in the rocks. Keep going. Get there.

View of Llyn Cau after my climb up the scree.

Where I emerged, happy to find the right track!

I gained the Minffordd Path and continued towards the top of Cader Idris, which is called Penygadair. The mist had thickened, but not enough that I couldn't see the cairns that had been set up either side of the track for just this eventuality. The temperature was so cold, snow still gathered in nooks and crannies:

Eventually, Penygadair came in sight:

The monument at the top of Cader Idris.

I clambered over the rocks and stood on the summit (893 metres). The mist was so thick, I couldn't see much at all. However, the sense of accomplishment, of doing the climb the hard way and succeeding, compensated for the lack of views and the tingling feeling in my fingers from the cold that penetrated my thick gloves.

Video from Penygadair when I first arrived.

After finding a cleft that protected me from the buffeting cold wind, I ate my lunch, listened to the wind whistle around the mountain and watched the mist open and tantalise with glimpses of brown, green and blue, then close. Soon it cleared completely, and the views, of distant mountains and of the coast, were stunning.

Video after the mist cleared.

Other walkers started arriving at the summit, so I decided to head back down. I took the track that continued around the chair and after a a couple of tumbles on wet stones, I reached the car park.

The plateau on the other side of Penygadair,
part of the track back down the mountain.

The whole trip took seven hours. Strangely, I wasn't exhausted but exhilarated by the experience--the physical test of the climb itself and the views of the land I have come to love.

View on the way down: Llyn Cau, with Craig Cau behind it,
and Penygadair at the top right. The long black line stretching from the lake
to the ridge on the right of Craig Cau is the scree-fall I climbed.

Of course, the climb also had a lesson for me. It showed me that sometimes I turn relatively easy tasks into difficult ones, mainly because I don't re-check my plans/facts when I should. Maybe I was lucky that the weather didn't turn worse, though if it had I would have turned back. I had faith that the rain and mist would clear, because of previous (albeit limited) experience of the mountain, and it did. Next climb, I'll be better at my planning and the execution of my plans. Stay tuned.

And to continue my jackdaw fascination, this is a photo of one taken from my room when I arrived in Moffat, Scotland:

'Made it, Ma! Top of the world!' (James Cagney, White Heat)

I hope things are going well for you and you're double-checking plans when you should :)

Until next time.

Pob Hwyl

Earl