Caernarfon to Llanberis – – – – – – – Dash It!

I’m leaving the coast path and heading inland today so I can climb some mountains in the rain next week. Tonight I’m staying in a hotel in Llanberis and from Sunday I’ll be staying in a tent, erected by my dear sister, near a village called Beddgelert.

The red line is where I’ve walked this week. Around 50 miles, rounded up for heroic purposes.

The blue line is where I’m walking today and the yellow line is tomorrow.

For further cartographical information, I can show you the three Snowdonian ranges that I hope to wander amongst over the next week. The cunning black crosses are tonight’s resting place and the campsite near Beddgelert where we will pitch up for four nights.

Caernarfon was not so cold this morning.

A full English fired me up and I hit the road at 10.15, fully loaded with my rucksack. This is the Afon Seiont.

The first four miles were roadside, and as the footpath disappeared the road became narrower and busier. I pushed my rucksack backwards into the roadside hedge when cars came past.

As I climbed up the road to Llanberis, the Isle of Anglesey stretched before me, the Menai Straights hidden in farmland. In the distance is the peak of Holy Island, where the locals defeated invading Irish settlers during the dark ages.

I camped there with Maggie when we were courting. We went fishing in the sea on a rocky outcrop whilst the tide came in around us. Then I swam back with my fishing rod and Maggie on my back. Christ was it cold! But that’s when I was young and wiry.

Look at me now. I’m broken down, from a recent fall. Blood upon my body and ice upon my soul. Lead on my son, it is your world.

Thanks Len.

Look at’double chin. Should see t’belly. Fat bastard.

I’m burning it off and putting more on. At first it was full English, afternoon cake and tea, dinner and beer. I’ve reduced it to full English, dinner and beer. I’ll get down to dinner and beer.

After 5 miles I was able to turn off on to a quieter mountain road. Much more pleasant. And Holy Island was still there.

The road ran past a decrepit castle, Castell Bryn Bras. Why wouldn’t the present owner pull a tree out of the window ledge?

The road climbed steeply beyond the castle and turned south eastwards in the direction of the valley where Llanberis rests on the banks of Llyn Padarn.

Great views.

The road, just a track at this stage, dropped down towards Llanberis. What is incredible is the extent of the quarrying of slate in these hills. Billions of tons must have been dug out, leaving massive terracing and deep canyons, excavated by the poor to benefit the rich.

Aah, the simplicity of capitalism. It is a more complex model now, but old black Joe’s still picking cotton, for your ribbons and bows. Everybody knows. Thanks Len. As wealth becomes more concentrated, and the influence of the wealthy usurps any pretence of democracy, let’s get ready to rumble. Venceremos.

Looking out over the first roofs of Llanberis was great. With heavily terraced hills from slate quarrying over to the left.

Llanberis is a shadow of its former self. In Victorian times there were 35 hotels. Now there’s not much. But the location is great.

With the occasional idiosyncrasy.

And after checking in to my B&B I went to the local Indian, ate well, back to my room, watched Harry Potter and fell asleep.

I’ll dream about what I want to do this year. Finishing the SW Coast Path. Walking from Mora d’Ebre to Montanejos in Spain. Finishing the John O’Groats to Africa trek. Two holidays in France and Cornwall with my wife and some kids.

Do it my son. Do it.

I will father. In nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti.

No son. Do it for yourself. Not those three buggers. They’ll lead you down the road to Rome. And you know where that takes you.

Night night.