North Wales Pilgrims Trail – Day 4

We awoke in churchy bliss. Eric was bright as a button and demanded breakfast immediately. Lou and Snakes performed TubTime in the kitchen (I’d completed mine last night ) and we all regretted making fun of Lou for bringing shampoo. Sorry Lou.

The church had an arrangement with the pub regarding the use of their loos; so we all had a merry time in them across the road and felt refreshed and rejuvenated when we departed at 8.00am.

The day was heavy with smeach, thick stocked-in grey clouds and mizzly rain. Still the shorts remained for Snakes and I as the air was warm.

We left the little village by way of a small stream and forested path, then climbed up through fields crossing desolate roads up into open moorland. Before long we reached Rowen where the shop and pub were both closed. Cool, more closed amenities.

We made use of the pub garden for breakfast of coffee and the eggs which this morning I had boiled, in the comfort of our church home, in honour of our missing pal Lucie (missing as in not with us, not as in actually lost ) – she loves an egg.

Away again now, and up into Snowdonia. The trails became clearer, steeper and wilder. We reached tiny remote church atop a hill called St Celynnin’s. It was a welcome respite from the hill and breeze while Snake Legs went in search of an appropriate place to dig a six inch hole.

We traversed the land between sea and mountains, the rolling hills with electric green against the stark browns of bracken, paths full of water from the rainy months (every month).

We squelched on through, as the sun did its best to see off the clouds. Eventually, around lunch time it gave up, and the mizzle turned to cold rain as we summited our last high point before traversing down hill, out of the access land and back to farm tracks and eventually drive and road.

Here, rather than turn back into the mizzle we took a 0.7 mile detour steeply down into Llanfairfechan town where we were 7 minutes early for the pub opening at 2. The smiling man at the door opened for us at 1.55pm anyway, and soon our damp soggy selves and our damp soggy, muddy belongings were welcomed in. Snakes found a hose and gave black Eric a rince; the landlord was kind enough to lend us a towel to dry her down with.

In the bathroom we each each almost killed ourselves spraying an unhealthy amount of complimentary ‘impulse’ on our bodies to disguise the musk. I haven’t worn impulse since all I was listening to was the Spice Girls in the 90’s. Happy smell memories.

From here we walked the 100m to where we stocked up on dog treats and M&M’s at the co-op, and after her positive experience with it at the pub, Lou bought some impulse.

From here another 100m landed us in a cafe. A proper Welsh cafe. It was warm and everything was £7 or under. We ate toasties, Eric had a sausage and we all smelt of cafe grease, lovely.

It was 4:10 when we left, the sun was already setting over the Irish Sea and it was a corker. We marched the minor road out of town and before long turned very steeply upwards, back into access land, and, after a few ounces of sweat, back to the path. It was dark when we summited; we made a few more hundred metres when we elected to set up camp on the only flat bit of ground big enough to house us. Slap bang in the middle of the path.

Eric had himself a feed while we erected his house for the night. As soon as the tent was assembled he was waiting by the door. Within seconds of the door opening his bed was made and he was fast asleep. Good boy.

I made a hot chocolate and sipped it as I looked over the bright lights of Bangor. Snakes began a little sketch and Lou watched an episode of neighbours.