Aber Falls, Abergwyngregyn

I've done this walk a couple of times and can heartily recommend it, especially if you are not particularly au fait with walking, maps, nature, or have accessibility issues. This walk to and from Aber Falls from the car park at Abergwyngregyn has a straightforward path and pleasant aspect, which presents no serious navigational challenges. You don't need to do the circular walk shown on the map below, and its an option to just walk to and from the falls. There's plenty to see along the way.

Although the map below (from Countryfile.com) shows a 6.69 mile circular path, we extended it, and from the falls, headed further west to an uphill path which tracks north and gives better views over the valley. At the most northerly point of the path, you are rewarded by breathtaking views over towards Puffin Island and the Menai, as well as out over the Irish Sea towards Conwy. At that point, you just head east down a steep back path to Abergwyngregyn, which comes out at a phenomenally evocative derelict cottage. You just turn right and follow the road back to the car park. The advantage of this extended walk (probably about 8-9 miles total) is that after the grandeur of the falls, you are rewarded again by a bracing view out to sea.

Kahlil Gibran Visits Newborough Beach

No. Of course Kahlil Gibran didn't visit Newborough beach. However, the splendid bleakness of Newborough in winter is brilliantly represented by a passage in his 1908 book Spirits Rebellious, which I relay below, followed by a few bleaker-than-bleak photos of the sands. If you squint at the photos, you can see the Snowdonian mountains in the background, merged with the agitated horizon of the sea. Naturally, any visit to Newborough necessitates a trip to the burial chamber Bryn Celli Ddu, which is just a stone's throw away by car, and perfectly in keeping with the "weary days and long nights" of its dark womb.

Winter came and brought heavy snow and strong winds; the valleys and the fields became empty of all things except leafless trees which stood as spectres of death above the lifeless plains.  Having stored the products of the land in the Sheik's bins and filled his vases with the wine of the vineyards, the villagers retreated to their huts to spend a portion of their lives idling by the fireside and commemorating the glory of the past ages and relating to one another the tales of weary days and long nights.  

The old year had just breathed its last into the grey sky. The night had arrived during which the New Year would be crowned and placed upon the throne of the Universe. The snow began to fall heavily and the whistling winds were racing from the lofty mountains down to the abyss and blowing the snow into heaps to be stored away in the valleys. The trees were shaking under the heavy storms and the fields and knolls were covered with a white floor upon which Death was writing vague lines and effacing them. The mists stood as partitions between the scattered villages by the sides of the valleys. The lights that flickered through the windows of those wretched huts disappeared behind the thick veil of Nature's wrath.  

Fear penetrated the peasant's hearts and the animals stood by their mangers in the sheds, while the dogs were hiding in the corners. One could hear the voices of the screaming winds and thundering of the storms resounding from the depths of the valleys. It seemed as if Nature were enraged by the passing of the old year and trying to wrest revenge from those peaceful souls by fighting with weapons of cold and frost.

From Spirits Rebellious (1908), Kahlil the Heretic (Part II) by Kahlil Gibran. 

These offerings were left on the altar stone at Bryn Celli Ddu. Blessed Be. 

Llanrwst

Took a break at a cottage just outside of Llanrwst near Conwy. I wish I could remember what it was called, or locate some of the interior pictures of the place, because it was incredible and full of all sorts of ostentatious fittings and ornaments. The kitchen was one of those authentic rustic affairs in which even a Pot Noodle would taste like cordon bleu, just by association. By photographic consolation, here are some shots of a rainy day visit to Llanrwst town. There is an awesome cafe in the centre, and an antiques shop to hide away in. As you can see, the river Conwy was very swollen and about to burst its banks. The Gorsedd stone circle which resides beside the river was especially built for the 1951 Eisteddfod, so is not ancient, but apparently some of the older locals recall some standing stones being there long before 1951. There are two types of visitor to Wales; those who complain about the weather and let it stifle their pleasure, and those who revel in the mystery and wonder of this ancient land regardless. The latter outlook is strongly advised. If I discover the interior photos of the cottage and its name, I'll add to this blog because it really is worth visiting regardless of the weather. 

 

The label (chalk on slate) reads: 

"Lord if you won't make me skinny, 

please make my friends fat."