Around Britain

After a full, but meatless, breakfast at the Old Station Hotel, I set out from Llandudno Junction. This part of Llandudno is named, it seems, after its railway station. I was soon at the bridge over the River Conwy. The traffic on the bridge was light as the A55 had been diverted to a tunnel under the river. Facing me on the far side was Conwy Castle. This impressively dominated access to the town of Conwy. The medieval wall surrounding the town is largely intact. The castle was built for Edward 1 in the 1280s. Conwy belonged to a different Wales to the one I'd experienced along the north coast on my previous trip. The town buzzed with activity and there were plenty of shops and restaurants. Several visitors were about in the streets.

I climbed a steep road out of the town through a gateway in the medieval wall. I was soon in open country with the sea concealed from view by hills to the north. I passed over Synchant Pass. This used to be the main road providing access to the coastal villages. It fell into disuse when the coastal road was built in the 19th century. As I crested the pass a sharp descent revealed itself with the sea in the distance. I turned right just before I reached Capelulo and headed towards Dwygyfylch, accompanied by a stream running beside the road. The village was quiet with the A55 and the sea front on the far side. It was one of the quarry villages. The quarries supplied ballast for merchant ships on return trips after they'd discharged their cargo.

By means of a back road to avoid the A55's polluted air, I entered Penmaenmawr. This was a lively place with plenty of shops. I stopped for a Costa coffee made by a machine in a general store. I drank this by a pillar of the hard local rock. 5000 years ago this type of rock was used to make stone axes.

Beyond the town I could see a mountain sloping at a steep angle into the sea. With no alternative I was forced to join the A55. As I approached I could see that the westward half of the dual carriageway disappearing into into a tunnel. The eastward half remained exposed on a shelf above the sea. The road was straight and the traffic fast. Remarkably, the Welsh Government had made superb and costly provision for walkers and cyclists. A walk/cycle way used a supported path partly on a bridge above the road but otherwise tacked onto the side of the mountain with the road beneath. The beneficiaries of the wonderful piece of engineering would have struggled without it.

With the mountain behind me I reached Llanfairfechan. I was tempted by a cafe but decided to press on. I faced a section where the path ran beside the traffic for half a mile but then I joined a minor road.

A notice board proclaimed a Tea Room ahead. A subsequent notice extolled the availability of tea with scones. I was more than ready for such a treat but the large building that housed both the tea room and a hotel looked quiet. A list of the opening hours showed Wednesday as a blank.

I took a narrow, elevated road well above the A55. Half way along a notice announced that the road ahead was closed. I'm well used to ignoring such notices as I don't see why they need apply to walkers. To my surprise a special track had been built to accommodate a section of the national cycle network. I followed this but became increasingly mystified at why so much should be spent on such a minor road. There were heaps of spoil, JCBs and dozens of workmen. This was costing millions. A barrier protected the site and there was no one near enough to ask about the project. Eventually I reached a connecting road. There was a workman standing in the back of a vehicle so I spoke to him. He told me it was a road widening scheme combined with drainage works. Apparently the A55 had been affected by flooding and these works were designed to mitigate the problem. It seemed like a massively expensive solution but I didn't know enough to make a proper judgment.

Later I reached Bryn just after crossing the River Afon. I took another minor road. The map told me I'd be crossing the railway but I couldn't see it. I sat on a wall beside a ford to study the map for some other landmark that might confirm I was on the right route. A young man came up and we fell into conversation. He told me the railway was some way below the road and one crossed it on a viaduct. It was easy to miss. He said he was going to Bangor so perhaps we might walk together. Matthew was studying marine biology. He'd just returned from a trip to Snowdonia, camping out with the super light gear that was now available. One could get a tent weighing 800 grams and, in the States, they'd got the weight down to about 500 grams. Matthew was slightly worried about a paper he'd just submitted. Due to a computer malfunction, the paper had not been delivered. Marks for an overdue paper were capped to incentivize students to deliver work on time. He was cautiously optimistic that he wouldn't be penalised in this way.

In no time we were in Bangor High Street where we went our separate ways.

I ate at an Indian restaurant recommended by the hotel manager. There was a single customer who left the restaurant soon after I arrived. I didn't hurry my meal and must have been in the restaurant an hour. Throughout that time no one entered the establishment. The food was ordinary and I left some of my curry on the plate. The waitress asked me whether I wanted to take the uneaten food away with me. I'd already told her that I'd come on a recommendation from my hotel. What could I do with cold curry back in my hotel room? I declined politely as I'm sure she meant well.

Mileage today 16.72; total 2802.74.

Drizzle fell as I left Bangor. I had planned to walk along the shore line so as to see the two bridges across the Menai Strait to Anglesey. The map indicated no obvious route and the weather discouraged a diversion. I crossed a road bridge over the A55 and was soon in Felinheli. The only positive thing I can say about it was that there was nothing to detain me there. Even a modest tea room would have drawn me in. However, it was from Felinheli that I got my first view of the Menai Strait and to Anglesey beyond.

The last section to Caernarfon was a superb walk/cycle way increasingly used by locals as I neared the town. My first impression of Caernarfon was that it was substantially given over to car parks. I seemed to cross one such after another as I sought the town centre. My appreciation of the centre when I reached it was curtailed by a heavy shower. I retreated into a cafe as much for the shelter it offered as for anything else. However, they did serve me a fine pot of tea for one pound and a cheese sandwich.

Later I walked along the quayside beneath the walls of the castle built for Edward 1. Construction began in 1283 and the medieval walls along the water front were built at the same time. This became the administrative centre of North Wales. I crossed the foot bridge over a small river and looked back on the town. The medieval castle and walls dominated the view.

I now entered a Nature Reserve walking alongside Foryd Bay. The tide was out so the whole bay, almost landlocked, appeared as a huge expanse of shimmering mud with a backdrop of hills on the Llyn Peninsula. From about this time there was considerable aerial activity with helicopters and small single engine planes. Most, if not all, of these aircraft came out of Caernarfon Airport situated just north of Dinas Dinlie where I was to be staying that night.

Llanwrog, the last village before Dinas Dinlie, was a disappointment. It had no shop despite being quite a sizeable place. However, the Harp Inn did look promising. It had a stack of newish metal beer barrels in the adjacent yard and the pub sign glistened as if its gold coloured metal had just been polished. Then I saw the “For Sale” sign and the blank menu board beside the front door. It had gone the way of so many pubs.

Dinas Dinlie, looking out over Caernarfon Bay, hardly looked more promising. There was a Gift Shop and a Fish and Chip Cafe. The place needed the sun to show off its advantages. My hotel looked like a large green house. I received a warm welcome from the Indian Proprietor. He told me that I was the only guest that night. That must have been a disappointment to him in the week prior to a Bank Holiday Weekend. His wife, who I never saw, cooked me an excellent Indian meal.

Mileage today 16.33; total 2819.07

My host had left India in 1985. How did he and his wife come to be in Dinas Dinlie? That was not revealed. As he served dinner last night snatches of a sports commentary reached me from a back room. I asked him whether he was watching football. That idea was scornfully rejected. His passion was cricket which he'd played 30 years ago. He followed the one day cricket league in India. This league is so commercially successful that participating clubs can pay enormous sums to enlist English stars and other eminent players from around the world.

My host was very hospitable and charming and, in the absence of other guests, I had his full attention. He assiduously attended to my needs. However, I did learn that it was important to steer well clear of certain topics like “filth in the media” and the service provided by BT. That organisation had let him down badly. Once launched on these subjects he was inclined to rant in a way that soon became tedious.

As soon as I left the hotel a dog in the distance started to run towards me. I stood my ground and the dog circled me no doubt identifying my defensive weaknesses. His owner arrived on the scene apologising. “He's a rescue dog and he behaves like this whenever he sees someone with a rucksack.” I took this to mean that he'd been part of a rescue team operating in the hills where those he saved would invariably be wearing rucksacks. Obviously my saviour would have been wise to avoid Lakeland towns where half of the people in the streets would be wearing rucksacks as they set out for a day's hiking. Rescuing so many people at once might be beyond his powers. I'd always thought that rescue dogs were those that had suffered from cruel and neglectful owners and then been rescued themselves. Now I know better.

Soon after my departure I had to join the A499 heading south west. There was an excellent path alongside the road for cyclists and walkers. I reached Clynnog Fawr ready for refreshment. I saw that its Post Office had been closed in 2006 so hope was stifled. Then I came up to a petrol station which incorporated a Londis store. They had a coffee machine and a couple of tables with chairs. I sat down with my coffee and a flapjack to find that I was in the Book Exchange corner. A woman came past who had been behind the counter. She seemed friendly so I told her how delighted I was to have found her shop. We fell into conversation. She had been in the village for 30 years and had a 104 year old mother who lived in her own home in Maldon, Essex. The mother had little time for carers. “By the time they turn up I'm already dressed so I don't need them” is what she says on the subject. Her secret is prunes which she eats every day.

Just beyond the village I came to St. Bueno's Well at the side of quiet road running parallel to the A499. In olden times families brought children here who suffered from “the falling sickness” (epilepsy). In the seventh century, St. Bueno had effected some miraculous cures. Inside a four sided structure with thick walls there was the well. The child would be thoroughly doused in the well water. Then the child had to sleep for one night on a particular tomb in a nearby chapel. Might the treatment have been more harmful than the disease?

I left the A499 near Trefor. This was a small coastal town with some industry and discarded material dumped on its fringes. A local youth knew nothing of the Wales Coast Path. This climbed rapidly out of the town. I struggled on the hillside when the path disappeared. I was reduced to following sheep tracks which led nowhere but still helped me as I edged up the steep slope. At last I came up to a wide track obviously used by vehicles. On this I made swift progress.

I asked the only person I met on the hill where he was headed. He turned out to be a freelance sound recordist just recovering from sepsis. He'd nearly died. A blood count which is normally 5 read over 400 but the antibiotics saved him. This was his first outing since being discharged from hospital. He'd parked his car below. He pointed out the distant beach of Nefyn where I was headed and told me that the Welsh Learning Centre was close to Nefyn. He spoke about the Welsh language and its recovery over the last few decades. I shook his hand and congratulated him on his recovery.

I descended to the B4417 and eventually reached Nefyn. The Nanhoron Arms was an impressive hotel for such a small town. It had been refurbished last winter. They expected 38 footballers for dinner at 7.15 p.m. Could they cope I asked at the bar. “We've had weddings here with 200 guests” was the reply. Nevertheless I decided to eat at the (for me) very early hour of 6 o'clock.

Distance today 13.44 miles; total 2832.51

A cold bright day - too cold to wear my shorts. I consulted my map outside Nefyn's town store. An elderly man with a white beard asked if I was lost. I was standing at the major road junction in a small town. How could I be lost? I was just planning my route. However, I'm sure he meant well. I said I wanted to avoid the main road. He advised me to take the road back past my hotel, the scenic route he called it. That seemed wrong to me, so I waited until he was inside the store and then went straight on. After a while I realised that I was on the A497 after all. The local had, of course, been right and I was completely wrong. Not wishing to face him again I pressed on as the route was not out of my way. At a pub at the first crossroads I continued on a minor road which eventually took me to Dinas.

At Dinas I turned east away from the peninsula towards my destination for that night Pwllheli. Originally it had been my intention to penetrate further out into the Llyn peninsula but hoteliers at Abersoch and Aberdaron had required me to stay at least two or three nights. This might have been because of the upcoming Bank Holiday Weekend. This condition was unacceptable to me.

I joined the B4415 and then turned off it going south to Llanbedrog. The town had developed through its quarry providing hard rock for export. I stopped in a pub for a toastie and a pot of tea. Then I walked down to the beach. Given the cold this was surprisingly crowded. Nearly everyone was clustered on the dry powdery sand near the road providing access to the beach where there was a cafe doing excellent trade. Most people were sitting behind deck chairs being used as wind breaks. The sea was out of sight over acres of wet sand, streaked with water left by the tide, stretching far into the distance.

The Welsh Coast Path was signed and marked on my map but it had no physical presence on the ground. However, the sand was quite compact so it made easy walking. At the top of the beach there was a steep bank, thick with vegetation, without any apparent access to the land above. Ahead lay a headland concealing whatever awaited me on the far side. I rounded the headland and was confronted by a long beach which seemed to be crowded with people. As I got nearer I realised that they were not people but rocks coloured dull pink like human flesh. There wasn't a single person on that beach. Perhaps I'm close to the time for an operation to remove the cataract on my good eye.

The Welsh Coast Path proceeded on an embankment above the rocks. I came to a golf course just inland. Three youngish men were using an electric buggy to get round the course. One of them greeted me and I asked how he was doing. “The course record is safe” was his pithy reply. I didn't ask why they didn't use their legs to get round the course.

I used Google Maps to find my B & B. There I was welcomed by Ross who'd been brought up in Hackney, London in the 1970s and 80s. Ross was the manager and did everything apart, sometimes, from the cleaning. I was in the family suite on the top floor which was the last accommodation available when I booked. We climbed several flights of stairs to reach it. “Where's the fire escape?” I asked. “You just jump out of the window” quipped Ross. Unfortunately there were no windows. This was a loft conversion - each room with sky lights out of which I'd be unable to climb. If I did then what? I'd be stranded on the roof probably out of reach of the firemen's ladder. I resigned myself to my fate.

Mileage today 14.38; total mileage 2846.89.

There was only one train to London today at about 1.30 p.m. There was nothing to do in Pwllheli so I decided to walk to Criccieth and pick up the train there. I checked at Pwllheli station that the train did indeed stop at Criccieth and set off. I chose to walk along the A497 as the Wales Coast Path went out to a headland and the conditions might not be conducive to fast walking. There was one unpleasant stretch without a pavement but otherwise there was an adequate pavement for walkers.

Just before reaching Criccieth I passed near the village of Llanystumdwy. This is famous for being the home of David Lloyd George, the last Liberal Prime Minister, until he was 16 years old. He attended the village school and that completed his formal education as he didn't go to college or university. The same school now operates as a Primary School for ages 4 to 11.

I reached Criccieth about an hour and a half before the train was due. I found a tea room to help pass the time until I caught the train. This was a slow train to Birmingham New Street. I then walked to Birmingham Moor Street to travel to Marylebone as Euston was closed to enable work to be done.

The journey took well over 7 hours.

Mileage today 8.2; total mileage 2855.09.

I had a disconcerting encounter outside Marylebone Station before catching the train to Birmingham. A homeless man greeted me with a warm smile and asked me how I was. He then told me that “shit” had happened down the road last night. The man didn't ask me for money. He was treating me like one of his mates. I wasn't at my smartest. One of the handles on the plastic bag carrying my papers and lunch had broken. My walking shoes were dirty and a pair of battered old sandals stuck out of the back pocket of my rucksack. My appearance generally was quite drab. I would not have been out of place settling down on the pavement to chat about what that “shit” was that had happened.

I had to scuttle from Birmingham Moors Street to Birmingham New Street to catch the only train of the day to Criccieth. I arrived there just before 5 p.m. with the idea of walking to Porthmadog where I'd booked my hotel. The rain was steady but it wasn't cold and there was hardly a breeze.

I left Criccieth on the Welsh Coast Path (WCP) which ran close to the railway, crossing it a couple of times. The path circled Graig Ddu as I moved through a sheep farm. I soon joined a minor road which passed Black Rock Cafe and Shenanigans Bar near a Holiday Park. Each appeared lifeless. A mass of housing at Morfa Bychan separated me from the sea shore. To the north inland there was a ridge called Moel-y-Gest. The map showed a fort on the highest part (262 m).

In Porthmadog High Street I found the Royal Sportsman Hotel which seemed to be the only hotel in town. I reached it about 7 p.m. having walked for a couple of hours.

Distance: 5.62. Total 2860.71.

I walked down Porthmadog High Street to the crossing called the Cob. At the start of the Cob there was a wooden carving of Madocks but no clue as to who this man was. I was soon to find out. The Cob took the A497 and the Festiniog railway over the River Glaswyn. There was a separate path for pedestrians, cyclists and electric buggies. On the way over I noticed several islands, many submerged apart from vegetation showing above the surface.

An information board on the far side told me that William Madocks (1773-1826) had been behind the project. He thought the area would be transformed by this new transport link and the embankment was completed in 1811. Madocks had struggled to finance the venture and was pursued by numerous creditors. The pressure eased when he was able to levy charges for use of the crossing. Then disaster struck. A severe storm damaged the Cob in 1812. However, the Cob had proved its usefulness so Madocks was able to raise money to carry out repairs. In 1814 the Cob opened to traffic again. Madocks was saved from continued financial problems by the local slate industry. An 1821 Act of Parliament granted permission for the creation of a new port to take advantage of the natural harbour created by his work. This harbour was capable of handling ocean-going ships. Bleanau Festiniog and its slate quarries were 12 miles away from the port. International demand for the slate burgeoned. The slate was brought across the Cob to the wharves by the Festiniog Tramway (later railway). At last Madocks's finances improved but he died whilst away in France on holiday shortly afterwards.

I stopped for a coffee bought in a convenience store in Penrhyndeudraeth. I then followed a minor road going south. It adjoined marshland and crossed the River Dwyryd before turning inland at Llandecwyn Station. I crossed the A496 at Bryn Glas and started a steep ascent on a minor road. I passed through a pleasant area of mixed woodland and fields. There was hardly any traffic apart from the odd tractor and animal transport. After Eisingrug the road climbed up the side of Moel Geodog (369 m). A section of the road was gated at each end, presumably to keep the sheep from straying too far. I inadvertently cornered a ewe and her lamb just before the second of these gates. The animals ran towards me in a panic as they knew the gate cut off their escape. The ewe ran to one side to get past me and bounced sure-footedly off the stone wall. Apart from sheep I had no company although two cyclists passed me travelling in the opposite direction. The road was designated as a cycle route.

I passed a small standing stone and then a much larger one. We'll never know why they were erected but I thought it possible that they were put up in memory of people important to the local tribes. Thereafter, when describing a place, it could be defined by reference to the person associated with the nearest standing stone.

I stopped briefly at Merthyr Farm which provided a camping site with hook-ups (presumably to a supply of electricity). Something odd happened at about that point although I was unaware of it at the time. Later the view opened up beyond the plateau and the sea was on the wrong side of me (left instead of right as it should have been). Then I saw a gate identical to the one where I'd cornered the sheep. I was walking back the way I'd come. I've no idea how this happened. I hurried back to make up for the loss of time, eventually descending into Llanfair, just south of Harlech.

A tea room was well advertised on the A496. I turned off the road into a large car park. On the far side there was another Tea Room hoarding at the bottom of a winding uphill road. It said another 200 metres but I decided to turn back rather than waste any more time.

I took a minor road away from the A496. It added a little distance but I avoid main roads if at all possible. I encountered a young man at the side of the road. I asked him what he was harvesting before noticing that he had a pair of secateurs in his hand. He told me that the Council, in cutting back the roadside hedges, had left a few bits, including brambles, sticking out into the road. He was cutting these back. It seemed a strange occupation for an apparently fit and sane young man on a weekday.

Soon I was back on the A496 at Llanbedr. I stopped at a general store for a coffee and eccles cake. Now I had just over 5 miles on the main road but I found that there was a pavement most of the way. At Barmouth I turned right to reach Marine Parade on the sea front where I found my hotel.

Distance today 19.92 miles. Total: 2880.63.

I left my hotel at 9.30 but wasted much time in Barmouth. First I bought a paper then I had to gain access to the railway bridge that would carry me across the River Mawddach. After a while I realised that I had to leave the town on the A496 to reach the access point. I paid the voluntary £1 toll and walked across the wooden bridge constructed for the railway and opened in 1867. On the far side was Morfa Mawddach Station. This had been an important junction in Victorian times when there was another railway line running alongside the river and connecting the station to Dolgellau. That line was a Beeching casualty and was now the Cross Britain Way.

As soon as I reached the A493 I began to climb the path up the steep hillside. This joined the WCP near the top. There I met a couple reconnoitring the WCP for their walking club. They were staying at Barmouth and checking a section of the walk each day. We wished each other well and went our separate ways. Soon afterwards I joined an asphalt road heading south west. This was being used by a logging outfit. An empty work vehicle stood amongst piles of stacked timber looking like pit props. One hopes that these are no longer needed.

At about noon I looked back on Barmouth and its bridge from high up. This was poor progress. Just out of view was Fairbourne between the A493 and the railway on one side and the river and sea on the other. There's a station in the village. The village made the news recently as the local council have informed the 850 residents that the Council will cease to maintain the sea defences. Much of the village is at or below sea level and depends on a sea wall. This wall has a limited life. The village will have to be abandoned and will revert to a salt marsh. Many of the residents own their own houses which they now find almost impossible to sell at any price. Apparently they will not receive compensation. It's forecast that the village will cease to exist by 2045: a harbinger of what the future might be for many of us.

As I progressed over the plateau Barmouth dropped out of sight at last. I followed a minor road down to the A493 just before Llwyngwril in the hope of finding a coffee at the garage mentioned by the couple I'd met earlier. I never found the garage but there was a convenience store that sold hot drinks. This had shut for a two hour lunch break half an hour before I reached it. I sat on a picnic table outside to drink some water and eat a biscuit.

I now faced another steep climb to the top on an asphalt road serving the sheep farms and one or two dwellings. There was no one up there and I met no vehicles. There were several gates on the road. The land was almost level once I'd made the top and I was able to make good progress. I reached Rhoslefain on the A493, a village which appeared to enjoy no services except a bus stop and a church.

I now joined a minor road. At Tonfanau I found a village with no visible houses, served by a station. The railway crossed the River Dysynni and I was relying upon the road doing the same as indicated by the map. There was a bridge beside the railway crossing which seemed fine for pedestrians and cyclists. However, on the far side there was a heavy build up of vehicles and an official looking man on the telephone. The bridge was blocked to vehicles at each end by two collapsible posts which were firmly in place. The bridge did look a bit fragile for heavy vehicles but I didn't find anyone to ask what the problem was.

I now approached Tywyn with the need for refreshment more urgent. In the main street I entered an empty cafe and approached the counter. Behind there were three women engaged in conversation. I waited patiently and eventually one of the women took my order for a mug of tea and a cream scone. It was worth the wait.

I was now dependent on a track marked on the map which ran parallel to the WCP. I engaged Google Maps in Tywyn and typed in my destination, the Aberdovey Hotel. It was 3.8 miles on the A493. No other route was offered. The track left the town beside a mobile home park. Initially the track was easy to follow. Clearly it had been used by vehicles. I heard people on the WCP which was 100 yards away above the beach. It followed a line of sand dunes. Google Maps told me repeatedly to turn north and head back to Tywyn to join the main road. No doubt frustrated at being ignored it gave me its most absurd instruction yet - “Proceed 200 yards and then do a U-turn.” If I was to turn round why should I not do so immediately. As I approached Aberdovey I came to a golf course. This was not marked on my map bought a few months previously. To circumvent this I headed for the WCP but this didn't exist on the ground (only in theory). I walked on the beach for a while with sand dunes separating me from the golfers. I then followed a partially collapsed wooden ramp back onto the golf course. I kept to the edge of the course hoping to avoid any golf balls being hit in my direction. I noticed a crossing over the railway on the far side of the course so I made my escape onto the main road.

Aberdovey looks to be an affluent place. I found my hotel looking out over the mouth of the River Dovey. Other guests were noisy. At 1 a.m. I had to shout at the top of my voice “Would you keep quiet please.” It worked.

Distance today – 17.19 miles. Total: 2897.82.

I faced a shorter distance today so I made a later start at 10.30. There was a minor road heading inland out of Aberdovey. My photo copy of the O.S. Map had missed out part of the town so I had great difficulty in finding the way into the countryside. I explored numerous dead ends before hitting the right route. I passed a farm and felt for my map to check whether it was shown. The map had gone. Without it life would be very difficult so I had to go back. I passed a couple and asked whether they had seen it. They hadn't. My best hope was a small park where I remembered checking the map. There was no sign of it. I even checked the dog dirt bin in case someone had thrown it in there. There was one other detour I'd made through someone's garden in the false hope that their garden path was a public right of way leading up the hillside beyond. There the map was on the far side of their entry gate. I hurried away aiming to make up for the lost time.

Just after the road joined the WCP the couple I'd met before were sitting down to rest and enjoy the view down over the River Dovey mouth. They were pleased I'd found my map and I enjoyed a few moments of conversation with them. Shortly afterwards I saw a car parked just off the road. The couple who I took to be the car owners were approaching me but were thwarted by a flooded section of the road. They both climbed a grassy bank to get round it. I walked straight through it and the woman exclaimed that I'd get my feet wet. It was shallow and no water got into my shoes. I told her that my shoes would soon dry off. I was torn between continuing on the tops by following the WCP or descending into Happy Valley and walking along the road that ran through it. The woman said Happy Valley was lovely so I opted for that.

It was a steep descent which passed through an area where the trees had been harvested. This had left a lifeless tangle of wood fragments obscuring the path. One or two small streams found a way through the mess. Beyond this the path led me to a wide fast-running ankle-deep stream that I had to ford. I stopped briefly to change into dry socks.

The valley road was narrow. In the first few minutes I met four vehicles all of which took up the entire width of the road. Each time I was forced into the hedge to allow the vehicle to get by. After that traffic was infrequent. I passed a centre giving access to the Bearded Lake. Steadily I climbed towards the valley head leaving the farms behind. As I began the descent I met an energetic type walking on his own. He, his wife and dog were staying in a local holiday cottage. He was doing an 8 mile loop alone as he'd exhausted the dog yesterday. He explained that the Bearded Lake was covered with water lilies which showed the first signs of coming into flower. He was carrying in his rucksack an Ipad onto which he'd downloaded the O.S. Map for the area at a cost of £6. He was using an App called View Ranger. He showed it to me on his Ipad.

I descended to Cwrt on the A493. There was nothing there except a few houses and a bus stop. At Pennal there was a shop and a pub called Riverside which I entered. The publican strode about energetically talking to everyone. At 4 p.m. he arranged for me to have a cheese and pickle baguette and a pint of ginger beer shandy. Whilst I was there the publican took a booking for a meal for twenty people. In the garden there were several customers enjoying the sun sitting at picnic tables. There was no shade so I sat indoors.

I left Pennal on a quiet country lane but had to rejoin the A493 for nearly 2 miles before crossing the bridge over the River Dovey leading to Machynlleth. The Wynnstay served an excellent meal. The solo diner at the next table was a retired engineer. He told me about his troubled relationship with his controlling father who left him in the care of friends at the age of 16 when the father went abroad for a few years. Conversations with people that one will never meet again have often have a special character. Confidences can be exchanged which would normally be premature with a new acquaintance.

Machynlleth is associated with Owen Glendower, Prince of Wales, who held a Welsh Parliament there in 1404. In 1291 Edward 1 granted the right to hold a Wednesday market in the town. The market is still held on the same day over 700 years later.

Again I was disturbed at night this time by noisy equipment in the old people's home next door. I was allowed to change my room.

Distance today – 11.02 miles. Total – 2908.84.

Another fine day. I set off on the A487 which had a pavement for walkers and cyclists. The previous evening I'd broken off both the side pieces on my specs. They proved to be insufficiently robust when I sat on them. Emergency repairs with a roll of sticky tape seemed to be holding up.

A solitary walker with a pack went by whilst I was checking my map, completely ignoring me . Another serious walker is such a rare sight that I felt disappointed. However, I'd never push my company on anyone.

At Derwenlas a minor road set off uphill away from the main road. At this point I passed the Black Lion pub but it was too soon to satisfy any eating and drinking fantasies. The lone walker was outside the pub studying his map. He had has back to me.

I now enjoyed a pleasant interlude in an area of mixed farming and forest before I rejoined the A487. I was back to dodging traffic as there was no pavement. I went through Glandyfi, a place so small it hardly justified a name. A track from there led to Dovey Junction Station. I could now see the river which was quite wide as it neared its mouth. This river has forced me inland as there's no bridge until Machynlleth.

At Furnace there was a building that had survived from Wales's industrial past. It had been built in 1755 and used by a charcoal burner to produce iron. The building was only in use for that purpose for 50 years by which time coke was recognised as a a more efficient material. For a start it didn't involve chopping down woodland in the vicinity.

I took a minor road from Furnace up the hillside. This gave me a lengthy spell on a quiet country lane. I passed a couple of women walkers but no one else. Eventually I reached Tal-y-bont which looked sizeable so I had real hopes of refreshment there. The convenience store had closed down permanently. The White Lion pub and its menu posted outside looked so uninviting that I didn't bother to enter. Instead I finished my biscuits and drank some water just beyond the town. This was at the point that another minor road struck off away from the A487.

I passed through Penrhyn-coch and, south of that, joined a long straight road through Capel Dewi and on into Aberystwyth where I found my hotel less than 10 minutes away from the station. I was out about 9 hours today.

Distance today - 18.91 miles. Total - 2927.75.