One Woman Walks Wales by Ursula Martin

Author:Ursula Martin [Martin, Ursula]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-909983-61-8
Publisher: Honno Press
Published: 2018-02-06T00:00:00+00:00

COAST TO COAST PATH SNOWDONIA TO THE GOWER

Route description: Another high mountain route including the peaks of Snowdonia from the Carneddau to Cader Idris, continuing past the great dams of The Elan Valley from remote moors to beautiful valleys before crossing the Black Mountains to reach the Gower coast.

Length: 207.1 miles

Total ascent: 13,415m

Maximum height: 1,043m

Dates:  10 November – 18 December 2014

Time taken: 39 days

Nights camping/nights hosted: 16/23

Days off: 5

Average miles per day: 9.29

It was only a three-week break but I came back to a tangible difference: darker evenings and a sharp chill in the air. The weather was cold and bright, there were sunny days and the beginnings of frosty nights. When I’d stopped I could kid myself that it might still be late summer, but it was definitely autumn now. Now I watched the wind scatter falling leaves around me. There was no going back.

The forecast told me I was set to walk through a week of gales and rain. First I had to walk west from the end of the Cambrian Way in Cardiff along the coastal path to the tip of the Gower where I’d pick up the tail end of the Dragon’s Back, a path that led from the Gower back to Conwy. It was another mountain route, but not quite as challenging as the Cambrian Way. This time I’d miss out the Brecon Beacons and go around the Rhinogs, rather than doggedly over every peak as the Cambrian Way had taken me.

A gale blew as I walked along the clifftops of the coastal path, the crumbling edges scattering drops of earth. There was mud and rain, leaves rattling and scratching. A flock of crows rose and flapped ineffectually at the oncoming force, fighting to stay still. Trees washed themselves in the wind, swaying and swishing, freeing the detritus. Dead dry branches too stiff to flex came down with a crack and thud to start new lives as moist, rotting beetle-homes, delicately disintegrating flake by flake. The time for relaxed walking was ending. Body temperature and waterproof kit were now problems to take seriously.

It was all a bit of a shock, really. I knew it was coming but it was still pretty difficult to cope with. I could still do this but I had to be more regimented about it. It took definite steps to get into bed warm and clean. Before this temperature drop I could stop anywhere, scatter my belongings and slump for a while, mostly sleep safe in the knowledge that no rain would come overnight. Now I had to clamber into the tent, shed wet trousers and jacket in the tiny entrance, keep muddy kit away from the tent walls, climb into bed, tucked up by 7pm, make sure I’m warm enough, no skin left uncovered.

The clocks had changed; sunset came at half past four, total darkness by five-thirty, so I had to stop and make camp by a terribly early hour. I’d been used to nice lazy mornings, a gentle wake-up, sit and stare for a while before lumbering off, as long as it was by 10am I didn’t mind.

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