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Day 13
This log entry turned out to be fully justified. It started spotting on the tent at 3am and by the time daylight began to lighten the roof at 5.30am there was torrential rain driven by a strong west wind. The morning forecast did not mention Wales at all which made me feel very aggrieved for under these conditions the weather becomes an obssession. However there seemed little point in lying in the tent waiting for it to stop, snug and warm though it was, with the comforts of Machynlleth now tantalisingly accessible, so I put on the damp clothes and packed up. I drew the line at the dripping socks and put on the dry set which was foolish really for they did not stay dry long.
I found a point to step across the Severn, spaty though it was, and set off upstream following the waymarked path which is a forest trail from Hafren forest to the top of Pen Pumlumon Arwystli. Not more than five minutes later I was amazed to see another Phreerunner tent pitched by the path. This one was the more sensible all green colour. I contemplated shouting 'good morning campers' but instead walked quietly by within a yard of the door with the occupant probably totally unaware of my presence. I wondered whether he or she had come up yesterday evening and seen my tent on the opposite bank of the river or had they also come down from the hills to this spot?
As path and stream disappeared in bog I took a northerly bearing, crossed the ridge and fence and descended down what seemed to be an embryo stream bed on surprisingly firm going. As the ground flattened into a boggy col I could just make out the track on the far side. I feared the worst about getting to it over this apparent morass but I had come down right on the true col and found it not too bad.
I joined the track with delight. Man made encroachments can be very welcome sometimes. Without the bridge it would have been quite impossible to cross the stream out of Bugeilyn necessitating a long diversion round its boggy shores. This track keeps very high, running up and down past Bugeilyn and the very wild Glaslyn, its steely waters flecked today with white horses, which is a nature reserve.
The rain was harder than ever driven by a strong west wind. I was soaked to the skin but I was feeling exceptionally cheerful both at the prospect of the comforts ahead and the memory of the discomforts behind. I felt quite elated at having survived two consecutive nights of wet camping although I had to admit that the dry spell the previous evening had made things a lot easier. Most of all I was so pleased that I had done the Pumlumon tops and not stayed at Eisteddfa Gurig. It would have been dreadful on the mountains today but the thought of being stranded all day at that remote farm was almost equally uninviting.
Had the weather been better I would have followed Glyndwr's Way either all or part of the way to Machynlleth. I saw a yellow arrow pointing the way up onto a rainswept hillside. I did not want to get the map out in the driving rain to check if this was the right path but when shortly afterwards I joined the tarmac I knew that I had missed it. I did not miss the bridleway which gives an obvious short cut through the village of Aberhosen. At the top of this path is a memorial to Wynford Vaughan-Thomas showing him pointing at a panorama of mountains which I presumed to be the ones to be seen from this spot although it was a surprise to see Snowdon included. Needless to say none of them could be seen today although the mist was not thick and a pleasant nearer landscape of rolling hills and valleys lay ahead.
Going down the bridleway I had turned straight into the wind and realised how lucky I had been to have it from the side higher up even though it sometimes buffeted me so hard that I could scarcely keep my footing even on that smooth track. When at last the bridleway ran between hedges the effect was quite dramatic. It made me realise the useful job we are doing planting hedges as voluntary wardens for the Lake District National Park. There followed a long and tedious stretch on the tarmac. Fortunately there was little traffic. My good humour started to wear thin as the wet and cold percolated deeper and deeper into my underclothes. At last after another wild and windy half mile across the golf course I came over a small hill to the welcome sight of Machynlleth. The phrase 'wept for joy at the sight' sprang to my mind!
The first place I came to was the petrol station where I was totally dependent on buying camping gaz so I thought that I had better go in there straight away. They had plenty in stock but, assuming that I would be met with replenishment of supplies at the Milltir Cerrig I decided that only one would be required. The original spare which I had carried from Neath had not yet run out.
I decided to leave all my other purchases until later and went straight to the best hotel in the Ramblers book, probably the best in town, the Wynnstay Arms, where I jumped straight into a hot bath, changed into my only set of dry clothes and went into the restaurant for the special Sunday carvery lunch. After lunch coffee was served in the lounge. I sank into a soft armchair and wallowed in the contrast between this luxury and the bleak windswept rainsoaked hillside which I had been traversing a few hours before. Rain beat on the windows. Everybody was commenting on the dreadful weather. I was a happy prisoner, trapped in the hotel with no dry clothes except what I was wearing. The wet stuff was spread around the room hoping for better things tomorrow.
I wrote in my log '...not the sort of day to make me want to give up, just the opposite, I feel that I must have something to show for having endured these tribulations!' In fact I was feeling very contented. By a wonderful stroke of luck I had done Pumlumon and its tops in tolerable conditions yesterday. I was completely on schedule; I had obtained camping gaz; the weather was certain to improve and I was enjoying a comfortable afternoon of complete relaxation. Machynlleth was the second important staging point, marking the completion of the 'Central Wales' mountains.
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