East of Penrhyn-coch, the single-track mountain road climbs relentlessly along the spine of the ridge. As the ground rises, the steep close-cropped pasture and views of distant windfarms give way to the tightening grip of dank blocks of forestry cut through by gravel tracks. Under the shoulder of Banc y Garn the road, winding unpredictably around outcrops of rock pitted with heather, emerges on to the open panorama of a high plateau.
Away from the trees, the strong wind from the west was keener than I had expected, flattening tall stands of dry grass and raising short, abrupt wavelets on the surface of Llyn Pendam. In the shallow water close to the margin, long strands of water weed moved just below the surface in sympathy with the waves, creating the impression of a vibrant school of fish.
Bright red against the dark of the conifer forest, the berries of a rowan tree worryingly devoid of leaves sent a strong reminder of the advancing year.
Squat clusters of heather plants in vivid flower dotted the open scrub, where trees have been harvested since my last visit. Tree stumps and fence posts alike hosted diverse communities of moss and lichen – some elements threatening to peel from the substrate as the strengthening gale hissed across the landscape. To the east, sunshine cut by the rapidly advancing clouds lit first one then another range of hills in sequence, picking out both familiar features and places I have yet to explore.
Joining a sunken track between steep turf banks I climbed towards a prospective vantage point. The layers of rock – the edge-grain of the country – beneath my boots dipped at a sharp angle, providing a securely ridged foothold. Until, turning a corner, I discovered that the way ahead was blocked by a flooded slough in the road.
Dark water from the hillside above had filled the track to an impressive depth, leaving little margin for a diversion. Clearly, earlier walkers had pressed on regardless, leaving deep cuts and smears in the fragile shoulder, but my robust early education on such matters has stayed with me. Trying not to see this frustration as a metaphor for the year so far, I retraced my steps, and took another route.
