Rhyd Ddu PathWith the Yorkshire 3 Peaks walk not too far away, and with long-COVID basically flattening me, I decided that I needed to give myself some confidence that I’d be able to complete the Y3P, or bail out early enough to get the deposit on the AirBNB back. I wanted and needed to walk mountains, rather than reps of Box Hill, and with nobody free to walk with me, I picked Snowdon. It’s very much a known quantity, and while I’m respectful of all mountains, I felt confident tackling Yr Wyddfa on my tod. I woke to an unsocially early alarm, set the sat nav, and headed North. Although it’s a reasonable drive, I love the journey, and the anticipation that it brings. Arriving into Llangollen I always feel that I’ve arrived, and the drive along the River Dee, onwards through the many familiar names and places energises me. I got to Moel Siabod Café at about 10:30, loaded up with food and drink, and headed to the start of the Ryhd Ddu walk, passing many familiar locations along the way. The section of the A4086 from Capel Curig the junction with the to A498 is one my favourite bits of road in the world. I love the sense that I’ve arrived. Parking in the Rhyd Ddu station car park I changed, packaged everything up into my rucksack, and considered my clothing options. I had a light waterproof coat and light showerproof over-trousers. The weather was fine, and I didn’t want to wear or carry more than I had to. I left the over-trousers in the car, and got as far as the railway crossing point before I realised the folly of my decision, returned to the car, and threw them in the pack. Before this trip, I’d never heard of the Rhyd Ddu path, and only found it by Googling Snowdown, and looking for a “there and back” route from Llanberis (which this route is not BTW). I set off at a geriatric pace, content that I had ample time, the weather was glorious, and I wanted to conserve whatever lung capacity and energy I had in me. As I gained height, the valley behind me opened up wonderfully, revealing the approaching steam train. As it chugged along, it periodically tooted it’s horn, and a couple of seconds later an unseen train would toot in response. The echo from the valley was beautiful to listen to. I saw scarcely a soul on the way up – just one guy who commented on the wind, and a group of 4 gals. That was about it. Oh, and a giant caterpillar.
Drying myself to the point that I could actually see where I was going, I drove to the Glyn Peris B&B.
Arriving into the hallway, sodden, I was greeted with a degree of disbelief. My boots were wet, so it was agreed that I’d remove these, which simply put even wetter socks onto the pristine carpet. Removing my socks gave way to feet that were at the point of dissolving.
By unspoken mutual agreement (but with a firmly disapproving look), I sheepishly made my way to my room – the hall carpet bearing testimony to my unsuitability to an accommodation of this standard.
Tomorrow would be the Ranger Path. Tonight would be about getting dry and fed.