Back to the Rhinogs

All the trips I have organised have been great fun, but I was feeling the need to get back to basics. How had we got to the stage that we were taking so much kit with us that we could only fit two people in a car? What happened to taking minimal kit and going into the mountains? (The feeling was strengthened by reading the excellent "Woodcraft" by Nessmuk, telling of his life as a backwoodsman in 19th Century America.)

I also had an urge to get back to the Rhinogs. I'd done my ML assessment in these rugged little Welsh mountains many years before, and had been re-enchanted by them as we rushed through during the Journey for the Wild. I'd wanted time to enjoy them and just be there.

So this trip was different. Wild camping, carrying everything we needed. Walk into the Rhinogs and explore for a couple of days, free from the paraphernalia of car valley camping. No plans to cover huge distances, but just to enjoy being close to the wildness again.

Friday

In the end it was a small party of me, Pete and Alice who set off from the car park at the edge of the forest in the middle of Wales on a Friday afternoon. The weather forecast was not great (but better than it had been), but the cares of the world dropped away as we meandered through the forest trails, following a stream up past a waterfall and breaking out of the forest onto the open moorland.

The weather was breezy, overcast and threatening rain as we climbed up the Roman Steps. The weather forecast had been atrocious at the beginning of the week, but had improved as the days had gone by, and we were hoping we'd be back home before the big storm hit the Welsh coast.

As we climbed into the mountains, we were still toying with camping either at Llyn Du, or at Llyn Morwynion. We'd plan the next days walking and campsite from there, depending on the conditions. Llyn Morwynion seemed to give slightly better protection from the westerly winds, so we struck north from the col, and we soon scouting the shores looking for suitable sites. Everywhere was wet underfoot, and we were aware of the danger of further rain, but found a clearly well used spot on the shores of the lake. In the fading light we got the tents up and got a brew on. We'd opted for a favourite supper of couscous mixed with soup and some chopped ham, made in individual bowls using hot water, and ate standing by the tents looking out into the night from our bubble of candlelight. A couple of whiskies and Baileys snuggled in the warmth of the larger tent ended the day.

Saturday morning broke grey. We crawled out of tents and ate instant porridge (with a snickers bar chopped in!), washed down with tea and coffee, then packed our tents and headed up to the ridge. We'd decided to climb up to Llyn Pryfed, a couple of miles to the north, and find somewhere to camp, and then do some more walking from there, unencumbered by heavy packs.

We climbed up on the ridge to the NE, and were surprised by how lumpy and broken it was in places, with big drops to be navigated and regained. Over on the face of Craig Wion we saw what we thought were fleetfooted sheep, but soon realised that we were watching a large pack of large hounds, swarming over the mountain and climbing the steep faces in packs, with stragglers left behind and battling their way up gullies to catch up.

Navigation in the Rhinogs takes a little care, with the contours partly obscured on the OS map by the plethora of rock and crag symbols. We climbed to the top of the ridge, and then I fell victim to the trickiness, and thought we'd need to descend to our left to avoid a break in the ridge, and then climb again. (It was reviewing the route later on Google Earth that I saw that we should have just headed further right and carried on - an error that cost us an extra few hundred metres of fall and climb. When I looked back at the map it was obvious, particularly on the Harvey map. Ah well - you learn from these things!)

As we regained the ridge, picking our route along disappearing goat tracks between the crags, the mist and rain started to come in, blown along by a brisk Westerly wind. We brewed up for lunch, sheltering behind some rocks, and then moved on up the ridge of Craig Wion. The fog was getting thicker and the wind stronger, and it was with some relief that we dropped over the ridge towards the SE end of Llyn Pryfed and gained some shelter in the lee of the mountain.

Arriving at the lake, we found a flat but not very appealing soggy patch by the gurgling outfall stream. Pete dropped his pack and wandered the length of the lake looking for somewhere more attractive to camp, but that was it. So we put the pitched there, trying not to think of the consequences of a downpour in the night raising the lake level by a foot to inundate our soggy campsite.

With the tents up and a brew inside us, Pete and I decided to explore the area a bit more, while Alice opted to snuggle in the warmth of a sleeping bag, reading about how to be a backwoodsman in 19th Century America. We walked along the East shore of the lake and were rapidly reminded how easy it was to lose a sense of direction in thick fog! A quick course correction, and we made our way back round to the NW end of the Craig Wion ridge. Once we'd gained the ridge navigation was easier, and we enjoyed battling the wind, fog and rain as we blustered our way along the top, in the lee of an unusual natural rock formation that formed a natural wall for hundreds of yards. We climbed on the top of the southern peak, and then dropped back off the ridge to the East aiming to join the valley just below the campsite. Chatting and not paying attention, it dawned on us some 20 minutes later that we had overshot by about a mile in the fog, and had to slog our way back up the valley to the warmth and shelter of the tents. Looking at the GPS logs later we realised we'd been within 200 yards of Alice, and she told us she'd heard us talking as we went past in the fog!

We cooked supper in the large tent (more couscous and soup, with tuna stirred in). (It's good to have room to do that when the rain and wind are hammering down outside
- even if you have to be careful!) Then we settled down for a snuggled evening of chatting and whisky sipping!

Sunday morning was again cold and inhospitable, and we decided to head back to the car and get on our way home. Pete's rash offer to buy lunch in a pub hastened our departure, and we set off down the valley towards the forest. The navigation was straightforward, though finding a walkable route through the bogs and rocky heather was tricky at times. We soon made it down to the perimeter fence of the forest, and had to decide whether to turn left or right. From the JftW, Alice and I remembered how difficult the ground had been to the left, so we went right along the border fence, until we found a point where a short battle through the thick forest would let us gain the forestry road. From there it was back to the waterfall, and a quick downhill yomp to the car and back to the everyday world.

Our drive back was made all the more entertaining by Pete's Satnav, which chose a (very) scenic route that included footpaths, closed roads and sheeptracks to get us back to Bala. We stopped in Bala in a pub for roast Welsh lamb and all the trimmings and then headed on for Birmingham to drop Alice off, and back to Hampshire.