Above Nant Ffrancon
17 Sept 2004

Looking over to Ynys Mon in the distance

Yet another great day out, courtesy of Wild Wales, this time with Ann. We met up at Ogwen Cottage, where Ann, at my request, had  planned a route along the western (as you look towards Bethesda) ridge above Nant Ffrancon. This stunning glacial valley is where my mother was brought up, and as she died in August, the walk had special meaning. The weather promised a fair morning but a rainy afternoon, so after meeting in the car park, we supped on Ann's coffee while checking water and wind-proof gear.

We set off towards along the path just past the car park, heading first for the Devil's Kitchen.

The rains of the past few days ensured a boiling stream as we crossed the bridge just beyond Ogwen Cottage.

Although I've know the Nant (for my family, there's only one nant) all my life, this was the first time I'd done any real walking in it. Ann led us along the causeway, and told me about the fenced off areas where the wardens are keeping sheep off the ground so that the native wild flora can flourish.

There was a fenced off area close by Llyn Idwal, and all around the streams were sluicing water off the peaks. I only learnt the following day that my mother was christened with water from Llyn Idwal, in the chapel close by Ogwen Cottage. Ann and I swapped memories of swimming in mountain water lakes...only to be done when it's really hot.

Llyn Idwal with the Devil's Kitchen ahead

We took the right hand path round the lake, following the pathway that snakes round the water.

Skirting Llyn Idwal

The sun was out and route was stunning - I kept saying 'wow' in a monotonous fashion, but it really is that kind of walk. The sheer majesty of the landscape bops you in the face all the time.

Turning up towards the Devil's Kitchen

After a gentle climb, the incline increased, and we were soon above the lake and able to look down on the spread of water. It always comes as a surprise how quickly one can get so high in Snowdonia. Another 'wow' moment.

Looking down on Llyn Idwal...

...and looking up to the path ahead

Ann led the way up, partly on the pathway and partly scrambling on the rocks. 

Pausing to say 'wow' (pic by Ann)

We met some other walkers, heading in another direction, and slowed to let them past, as we were intent on going at a steady pace and stopping every now and again to enjoy the extraordinary views. Ann told me a bit about her trekking tours around the world: her trips to southern India sounded particularly tempting.

Ann with Llyn Idwal behind

So much for a cold autumn day: the sun was out and halfway up towards the Devil's Kitchen we stopped to remove our coats.

Still heading upwards

Ann traces the route among the rocks

Once we were past the Devil's Kitchen, Ann followed the route west towards the next lake, perched high in the hills. Ann told me she'd swum here in summer. 

Llyn Idwal in the distance

Although there was a climb to go, the summit of Y Garn was mapped out ahead of us, and the path smoothed out.  The landscape kept changing every few minutes, and the clear weather meant the views gave rise to a few more wows.

Y Garn ahead

By the side of Llyn y Cym

Tryfan and the Glyders from the ridge

We stopped for a moment, and Ann pointed out the Adam and Eve stones at the top of Tryfan, and the ridge of the Glyders. Ann's original plan had been to walk that way, but that will have to wait til next time. On the other side of our ridge, Yr Wyddfa - Snowdon - was coming into view.

Looking back down the path we'd just walked up

A few more minutes walking and we reached the summit of Y Garn, at around 950 metres. Time for some food, so we settled into the circle of stones at the summit and broke open our rucksacks. After a while we were joined by a nice couple and Lucy, their dog, who searched us carefully for crisps. We chatted for a while, and the woman told us a horror story about novice walkers mistaking the national park boundary on the map for a path, and going over the edge at Foel Goch. 

From our lunch spot, looking over to Snowdon

Over the edge, Llyn Idwal and Llyn Ogwen below

During our stop, the sun had gone behind the clouds and I felt cold for the first time, after sitting still for a while. So out with the hat and gloves for the walk down from Y Garn.

Cold weather gear on (pic by Ann)

Nant Peris was now clearly in view on the east side of the ridge, and Ann pointed out the Snowdon mountain railway train before trying to show me where her house is above Llanberis. I think it was around here that Ann told me she had a dog...she'd left him at home in case I didn't like dogs. So we decided that for the next walk, he'd definitely come along too. 

Ann: that's my house!

Soon the sun was out again, and there were amazing views down into Nant Ffrancon. We got close to the edge to look down at the ravens wheeling on the wind below.

Looking over to Pen yr Ole Wen on the other side of the nant

Pen yr Ole Wen looked like a fearsome climb, but Ann said there was a good route with a gentle approach from Llyn Ogwen. Another one to do when I return. After the dip from Y Garn, we were heading uphill again to the next peak - Foel Goch, which falls away on either side down into the nant.

Looking back to Y Garn

From here, Llyn Ogwen came into view, and Ogwen Falls just below the bridge over the A5 - something you never see from the road. Ann pointed out the Carnedds on the other side of the valley. There was a shrieking in the air, and two RAF Hawk jets screamed past below us. I looked back up to Y Garn, and was surprised at how fast we'd descended from the summit.

Llyn Ogwen, Ogwen Falls, and the ribbon of the A5 on the right

Down on my hands and knees (winds and vertigo) I nosed towards the steep fall away from the ridge, to see Anglesey spread out in the distance. It was like seeing a bit of family history - my mother's childhood home in the nant, and her father's first - and failed - business venture away at Penmon, before he and my grandmother bought Ffrancon House at Tyn-y-maes below us in the valley. This is where my grandmother painted and my grandfather wrote.

Looking towards Bethesda, with Penmon on Ynys Mon in the distance

Ann was now checking the map for what we'd do after the next few peaks: she had her eye on an old path to take us down. 

Ann points the way

Llyn Ogwen again, with Tryfan on the right

We followed the path  up to Mynedd Perfedd - the sun had come out again so it was off with the cold gear. 

Another summit ahead

Looking back to Foel Goch, you can see how quickly it drops down. It's  about 120m down before a climb back up again.

Even on the ridge, the landscape kept changing. Lunar rocks all around us now. By this point, we were both thirsty, and I'd stupidly not packed a bottle of water. Ann told me about her days planting trees in Canada, and drinking from boggy water. She inspected puddles for possible sources of liquid, and sampled one or two.

Ann surveys the view from the top

Marking the summit of Mynedd Perfydd

Ann spied a pool of rainwater right next to the summit marker, and after careful inspection, declared it fit to drink. I slurped happily. I decided that Del might be Wild Wales, but Ann is Really Wild Wales.

I demonstrate the alternative to water bottles

We looked over to the perfect pyramid of Elidir Fawr - one of Ann's home mountains.

Elidir Fawr, looking over Llanberis way

A bit more of Nant Ffrancon came into view below us, and I looked down to Tyn-y-Maes, where my mother was brought up. I think it's here that you can see how this used to be at sea level: there are wave marks on the rocks at the cliff face.

Tyn-y-Maes below

Now it was over to Carnedd y Filiast, and the ridge smoothed out as we walked along the contour line. It was astonishing to be walking on the flat but at such a height. 

Looking back - Y Garn in the distance

Wonderful light and shadows looking down into the valley

There was a snug little cairn at the summit of Carnedd y Filiast, and we settled down into it to shelter from the wind. 

At the top of Carnedd y Filiast

Ann looming strongly

From Carnedd y Filiast, Ann guided us down quite a steep slope to an unnamed bit of ridge at 720m. It was a rocky path, with some slithering over the stones. But most of the rocks were dry, so it wasn't too difficult. 

Heading down

Ann had a route in mind to get us down to the floor of the valley, and took a compass bearing just in case rain and cloud headed our way. We dropped down to this last resting place, and settled into a nice pen of rocks. Ann pointed out the Penrhyn quarries below, and I told her about visiting my mother's old friends in Bethesda - one, a miner, totally disabled from silicosis. Poor Bethesda: a terrible inheritance from the mines. Ann showed me some of the old miners houses at Gefnan, with long thin gardens stretching out behind them. I remember reading about the slate miners' strike and lock out in the last days of the 1800s...terrible times. 

From our snug pen: Penrhyn quarry is just to the right

Now it was time for the descent, and for me, the really tough part of the day. There were very tight contour lines coming down, and it was hard to get any kind of rhythm, trying to place my feet on rock and grass. The poles came in very useful, but my ankles were beginning to jangle. But after a while, the difficulty only added to the day: it was good to have part of the walk that felt hard.

Ann mountain-goats it ahead

We tacked down the hillside, and got bleated at quite violently by a sheep. S/he kept shouting at us, then running ahead, then turning to yell again. Strange. I thought longingly, and carnivorously, of welsh lamb and roast potatoes.

Looking back up to the ridge, with tasty sheep

Ann was nimbly leading the way, but I was ever so glad when we made it down to the old road. I checked to see if my legs were still attached. It was bliss to be walking flat, and on tarmac. Now it was a couple of miles back to the car park, along the old road that runs parallel to the A5 on the other side of the valley, past the farm of Maes Caradoc, where my cousins used to spend their summer holidays. Further along, I was thrilled when Ann pointed out Blaen-y-Nant, now an organic farm. A couple of years ago, I bought a David Woodford print of the farm...more connections: David Woodford bought Nant Ffrancon house when my mother, uncle and aunt sold it after my grandmother's death. He still lives - and paints - from there.

Blaen-y-Nant farm, huddled into the valley

And more connections when we bumped into the farmer himself, out inspecting his stock with his three dogs. Ann introduced me, and he said he had a sketch done by my grandmother. I hope to visit him when I'm next back. A few more minutes and we were back in the carpark. What a fantastic day, with a 'wow' factor nearly off the meter, and such great company. Thank you Ann, for a stunning walk, and for being a fantastic companion. Here's to next time!

Looking over the valley: I climbed that!