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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.
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