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Day 32
I breakfasted with 30 forestry students and their two tutors. Pleasant though they were, a
big group like this rather spoils the atmosphere of a hostel.
Events planned and thought about in advance do not always turn out as expected but
this easy day on Moel Siabod was exactly as I had visualised it. I had deliberately written
this 'rest day' into my plan, hoping for a leisurely climb with long stops for sunbathing and
contemplation, yet it could so easily have been cold and wet with the only option to get it
over as quickly as possible.
The first long rest was beside Llyn y Foel where I wrote a description of my traverse of
the Snowdon tops three days before. At the time I had been too exhausted to record any
details of the day and also fearful lest the attempt to capture its beauty in words might
destroy the magic. Now, still glowing with pleasure at the memories, I felt sufficiently
detached to write of them, however inadequately.
I climbed slowly up the lovely east ridge of Moel Siabod, seeking out the scrambling,
most of which is optional. It is not in my nature to lie about and relax and one part of me
felt that I should be rushing up this hill and going to Creigau Gleision this afternoon to take
advantage of the good weather. I had to consciously force myself into the gentle pace,
touching the rock and pausing to appreciate each subtle change of angle in the view. Such
ambling would be second nature to many people and such folk are often quick to condemn
the walker who prefers to stride out over the hills. This attitude of self-righteousness with
the walker despising the lazy stroller and the stroller pitying the blinkered walker is surely
pointless for our wonderful mountains can accommodate us all and all can get their own
satisfaction from this beauty.
The summit has a trig point and a jumble of large boulders. I went amongst the south
facing rocks to get out of the cold north wind and enjoyed a leisurely lunch looking very
hazily towards the Moelwyns and the Rhinogs. I had a long chat with a young man who had
come up from Lledr youth hostel. He said that he preferred this hill to Snowdon because it
was less crowded but it then transpired that he had never climbed Snowdon! I told him
that it is such a magnificent mountain that you can see right through the crowds. I almost
envied him the chance to climb Snowdon for the first time. I wonder if he will love it as
much as I do.
I wandered down towards Capel Curig and had another protracted stop just before
entering the forest. Any lingering guilt had dispersed now that it was too late to go
elsewhere anyway and the lazy mood of the day became undiluted pleasure. My feet
appreciated it particularly, since they had taken quite a bashing on the rocky terrain since
the Berwyn bogs had been left behind. In bare feet I could hardly hobble across the
dormitory but fortunately they felt rather less painful in the boots. I exposed them to the
sunshine at each long stop on Moel Siabod and by evening they felt a lot better.
I got down in time to go into Joe Brown's shop and sneak a look at a guidebook for
advice on a route to Creigau Gleision since the best approach was not at all obvious from the
map. I also indulged in coffee and cake at the post office and bought some emergency soup
in case the rendezvous at Bwlch y Ddeufaeu failed for some reason, although this did not
seem likely. I had calculated the distance to be covered over the Carneddau to be 59 kms.
There was no sign of a break in the glorious weather and I foresaw no difficulty at all in
completing this traverse in the allotted two days.
I returned to the hostel and sat outside in the warm evening sunshine thoroughly
cleaning the boots. My face was glowing with the sun and this glow suffused me completely
in a feeling of total contentment and satisfaction. I wandered down to Cobden's Hotel again,
still on a high of happiness, and enjoyed another delicious meal.
next day
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