Place: Wales
Date: Friday, 12th July 2002
During our honeymoon, Daphne and I spent a few magical days in the Welsh region of Snowdonia before travelling further up north through Cheshire, Lancashire, Cumbria and as far up as the Isle of Skye in Scotland. We lodged in the picture perfect village of Betws-y-coed, in a B&B called Cwmanog Isaf Farm, which was actually a working farm that even boasted a river running through the property along the ‘Fairy Glen’.
That particular day, after the usual hearty breakfast consisting mostly of produce coming from Mr and Mrs Hughes’ own farm, we headed to the village centre where I bought my first proper pair of waterproof trekking boots. We also stocked up on a packed lunch consisting of chicken tikka sandwiches and Jaffa cakes for dessert, before driving off to the nearby village of Treffriw, which, during the 19th century, had been Wales’ largest inland port on the navigable River Conwy.
We parked close to the historic woollen mill, which, according to the walking guide leaflet that I had brought along, was the starting point of the walk that we intended to embark upon, and which promised to take us along the bank of two lakes.
The trail took us through an area undulating with gentle hills and lush woodland. We followed the marked footpath that eventually dwindled to a narrow passageway that squeezed its way between the thick fronds of bracken that reached up to our shoulders. At some point during our ramble, the path forked out and I lost completely track of where we were. The simple line drawing map was no help at all. We decided to take what seemed to be the most reasonable direction (the left fork), after less than a minute of not very careful deliberation.
Date: Friday, 12th July 2002
During our honeymoon, Daphne and I spent a few magical days in the Welsh region of Snowdonia before travelling further up north through Cheshire, Lancashire, Cumbria and as far up as the Isle of Skye in Scotland. We lodged in the picture perfect village of Betws-y-coed, in a B&B called Cwmanog Isaf Farm, which was actually a working farm that even boasted a river running through the property along the ‘Fairy Glen’.
That particular day, after the usual hearty breakfast consisting mostly of produce coming from Mr and Mrs Hughes’ own farm, we headed to the village centre where I bought my first proper pair of waterproof trekking boots. We also stocked up on a packed lunch consisting of chicken tikka sandwiches and Jaffa cakes for dessert, before driving off to the nearby village of Treffriw, which, during the 19th century, had been Wales’ largest inland port on the navigable River Conwy.
We parked close to the historic woollen mill, which, according to the walking guide leaflet that I had brought along, was the starting point of the walk that we intended to embark upon, and which promised to take us along the bank of two lakes.
The trail took us through an area undulating with gentle hills and lush woodland. We followed the marked footpath that eventually dwindled to a narrow passageway that squeezed its way between the thick fronds of bracken that reached up to our shoulders. At some point during our ramble, the path forked out and I lost completely track of where we were. The simple line drawing map was no help at all. We decided to take what seemed to be the most reasonable direction (the left fork), after less than a minute of not very careful deliberation.
We walked for at least two hours without meeting anyone. The sky was overcast, but it had refused to rain for the past couple of hours. No lake was yet in sight and finally, we said out loudly in plain words the obvious – we were lost! As we pushed through yet another stretch of the path choked by bracken, the earthy, acrid smell of these invasive ferns seemed be mocking our blind progress. We kept strangely calm during our plight. We did not dwell on what would happen if it got dark and by then we had not found our way back to the car. We had no cell phone at the time. We just plodded on with a bit of trepidation but a wonderful sense of freedom. |
As we topped a grassy hillock, a glassy sheet of water came into view. It was a most welcome sight to sore legs! To make it even better, the sun started shining – timidly at first, and then with ever more assertiveness. A tall pillar topped by a cross right ahead of us explained it all. It was the monument to the 6th century Welsh bard Taliesin. We had reached Llyn Geirionydd rather than Llyn Crafnant first, as the map had suggested. We had taken a wrong turn.
A light breeze ruffled the surface of the long stretch of water, which nestled between two ridges covered with towering spruce trees. If you looked at the woods as a whole, they gave you the impression of a thick carpet, but upon examining the trees more intently, individually, they looked like long tongues of flame. We laid out our picnic mat on the moist grass and devoured our lunch.
A light breeze ruffled the surface of the long stretch of water, which nestled between two ridges covered with towering spruce trees. If you looked at the woods as a whole, they gave you the impression of a thick carpet, but upon examining the trees more intently, individually, they looked like long tongues of flame. We laid out our picnic mat on the moist grass and devoured our lunch.
The sun seemed to encourage people to go outdoors. Eventually, as we resumed our walk, we met an elderly Englishman who gave us some vague directions towards the other lake. A couple of hundred yards further up the path, we bumped into an elderly couple and their son. They had driven from Oswestry in Shropshire, where we had spent the first few days of our holiday and seemed quite surprised that we had visited their village.
We resumed our walk and eventually made it to Llyn Crafnant, which was only about a mile distant from Llyn Geirionydd. The two lakes were separated by Mynydd Deulyn (Mountain of the two lakes). Llyn Crafnant had been created by damming part of the River Crafnant, which then continues its course towards Trefriw and eventually joins the River Conwy. The energy from its flowing water is used to produce hydroelectricity for the machinery at the Trefriw Woollen Mills (where we had started the walk). Llyn Crafnant, like Llyn Geirionydd, was also nestled between two heavily wooded ridges.
The sunshine and the feeling that we were not lost any more put us in a lighter mood. We took a breather (and ate the Jaffa cakes) while watching a couple of anglers absently dangling their lines in the limpid water. A sweet kind of weariness coupled with a measured sense of exhilaration gripped us. That had been one of our first tastes of the wilderness; a world away from the constraints of the hemmed-in Maltese countryside. That walk had been on a scale that was much larger than we were accustomed to, where we had actually got lost. It made us realise our insignificance compared to the grandness of the nature – mountains, woods, waters. It definitely whetted our appetite for many more such ventures!
We resumed our walk and eventually made it to Llyn Crafnant, which was only about a mile distant from Llyn Geirionydd. The two lakes were separated by Mynydd Deulyn (Mountain of the two lakes). Llyn Crafnant had been created by damming part of the River Crafnant, which then continues its course towards Trefriw and eventually joins the River Conwy. The energy from its flowing water is used to produce hydroelectricity for the machinery at the Trefriw Woollen Mills (where we had started the walk). Llyn Crafnant, like Llyn Geirionydd, was also nestled between two heavily wooded ridges.
The sunshine and the feeling that we were not lost any more put us in a lighter mood. We took a breather (and ate the Jaffa cakes) while watching a couple of anglers absently dangling their lines in the limpid water. A sweet kind of weariness coupled with a measured sense of exhilaration gripped us. That had been one of our first tastes of the wilderness; a world away from the constraints of the hemmed-in Maltese countryside. That walk had been on a scale that was much larger than we were accustomed to, where we had actually got lost. It made us realise our insignificance compared to the grandness of the nature – mountains, woods, waters. It definitely whetted our appetite for many more such ventures!