5th of July to the 23rd of July 2023.
Distance: 542.5km. 19 days.
Alfred Wainwright once said that finishing The Pennine Way was a relief. That he said in comparison to The Coast To Coast Path, of which he felt a regret when finishing. Of finishing The Cambrian Way, my sentiments might be a combination of both.
Cardiff Castle at the start of the trail. Unless a late start, this should be visited the day before if you want to see the castle.
I came across this trail by browsing through the website of the well-known publisher of guidebooks, Cicerone. A mountain connoisseurs’ walk it boasted among stunning mountain scenery underneath a clear blue sky. Although Wales is far from being associated with bright sunny days.
A wooden wizard sculpture on the Sculpture Trail after Castell Coch on the first day.
Designed by Tony Drake, The Cambrian Way is a trail that begins its undulating way through the mountainous heartland of Wales from the castle in Cardiff, with its end at the even more striking castle in Conwy in the north. In between, the hikers will have negotiated a distance of about 480 kilometres and a combined 22 000 metres of ascent, on paths ranging from clear to practically invisible.
The Folly, built as an observatory around 1765. Demolished in 1940 as it could have been used as a landmark for enemy bombers, then rebuilt in the 1990s.
At home, I read about all the iconic mountains and landscapes of Wales, and setting out from Cardiff they are all there ahead of me. Those places with words in their names that I do not know how to pronounce, despite being in a country where English is the primary language. Words like scwd, ddu, bwlch and cwm. Then again, according to the Welsh people that I meet, they too also struggle with their own language.
Abergavenny seen from Blorenge, Sugar Loaf that the trail is crossing over later is seen to the left in the picture.
You do not need to walk far on The Cambrian Way to meet it, Twmbarlwm is one of the first significant hills on the trail. Also known as The Twmp, which translates to something like The Hump. It is a fitting name compared to the mountains later on, but as a hump on the way, it does provide some nice views.
Sugar Loaf, a distinct hill that I crossed over on my third day, with great views from its summit.
Pronouncing the names is another interesting feature of hiking in Wales; as when in an emergency, I can imagine seeing myself breaking a leg, getting stuck in the mist or a peat bog, or something else and having to try to describe my whereabouts with these names interspersed with consonants. Which brings me to the topic of navigation on The Cambrian Way.
The ruins of the Llanthony Priory, not located directly on the trail.
Navigation is an essential skill when hiking the trail, where a notion of a clear path is a lost cause at times. In heavy mist this might pose a serious problem. There were not a few times where I stood there looking out over the landscape with no signs of the advertised path ahead of me, and I often resorted to navigate by the limited map in my guidebook and what I could see instead of trying to follow an indistinct path. Which meant that I probably did not follow the correct route all the time. Avoiding the worst peat bogs between me and where I was heading towards then became the biggest problem.
Before Pen Twyn Glas on the second day of the loop around the Black Mountains, inclement weather rolling in over the hills, Sugar Loaf still visible in the background.
A comparison to the more famous and well-known trail going through the backbone of England then feels appropriate. The Pennine Way was designed by Tom Stephenson, in the same way as The Cambrian Way was, to be a trail where navigational skills was necessary. What makes the difference between the two trails appear to be the number of hikers walking them. Where The Pennine Way appear to have a significant number of hikers making their way on the trail every year, I have a hard time seeing the same of its Welsh counterpart. The proof, if any, is on the visibility of the path. On my through-hike from Edale to Kirk Yetholm, I found it to be well trodden and that most of the time I had clear and visible paths to follow, unlike here (not that The Pennine Way are without sections that may be difficult to navigate, Cross Fell coming to mind).
Wonderful light over the valley below Table Mountain as rain showers and sunlight are mixed in the horizon.
There were times when I felt like path was a Welsh name for an imaginary line on a map. Which only accentuated the satisfaction of finding the way and added to the excitement of hiking the trail.
Crickhowell.
This imaginary line on the map does however take me past some stunning scenery. That is when the weather allows for me to witness it. Expecting rain on my hike, it is Wales after all, I had still hoped that July would be the settled month I had read about. I was either wrong or too late for that, they had got a drought in May and June, and was now welcoming rain. The first three days was dry, after that the weather felt like a lottery operating at several times a day. Most of the remaining days saw me going through almost every weather type imaginable, except those belonging to the winter months.
Pen y Fan and Corn Du from the descent from Cribyn.
If it was not wet in the sky, it was wet on the ground. And when I later found out that my once sturdy boots had got some minor tears in them, getting my feet wet was unavoidable.
The wonderful path beneath Fan Nedd on the way towards Fan Gyhirych.
Arrival at my destination for the day meant to peel off the soggy socks to reveal two feet resembling more like a swamp thing coming out of the trenches from the first world war. It then felt good to sit down to enjoy a cold pint at the bar, and looking back at a walk that after all was not that bad.
The Llyn y Fan Fach lake emerging out of the fog on the descent from Fan Brycheiniog.
On the first day, I ate my lunch at the top of Cefn Onn, where far in the distance I could see the distinct outline of Pen-y-Fan. The Cambrian Way crosses over that very summit, but before that it goes on a slightly interesting detour around the Black Mountains, given that after two days of walking I find myself being almost back at the same place that I started from. In the small and cosy village of Crickhowell after a rainy and blustery walk over the ridge, I find myself just below Sugar Loaf, summited the day before in nice weather.
The market square in Llandovery.
While it cannot be ranked as very high, Pen-y-Fan with its 886 metres above the sea-level is still the highest peak in Southern Britain. It is one of the iconic mountains on The Cambrian Way that I was looking forward to climb, but that hope was almost shattered as a fierce thunderstorm surprised me near a quarry after descending from the Chartists Cave. I hunkered down in a ditch to avoid the lightning, although not escaping the deluge following the storm. Only to emerge near a dead sheep still twitching from its death throes after the thunderstorm had passed by. All quickly forgotten as the rest of the day hiking over the backbone of the Brecon Beacons National Park was an unforgettable walk with wonderful views and surprisingly nice weather.
Wonderful contrast between the sky and the verdant landscape walking up the Doethie valley.
As with hiking in England, I am fascinated by the layered appearance of the mountains here in Wales, all dressed in a green cloak. Not very tall, but still steep. Back home in Norway they would all be covered by trees.
The Claerddu bothy, wonderfully located between the rolling hills surrounding the Teifi pools.
With a few exceptions, I spend the nights at pubs that also offers accommodation. Staying at an inn is one of the things I like about hiking in Britain, they usually have a high standard and offer a lot more charm than a regular hotel. Although, I would have liked to sleep a lot more in my tent, but the rules of camping in England is still a tad confusing to me, and even more so in Wales. A search on the wide web revealed a lot of warnings about trespassing, which put me off. On the way towards Conwy, though, I learn that the practice is not that far away from England, it is relatively tolerated to pitch your tent when in a common land and off the trodden path. However, given the unstable weather, I was not that discontent about staying at a place that also provided good food and a tasty pint at the end of the hike.
On The Cambrian Way towards Domen Milwyn seen in the distance, if visibility is low this would be difficult to navigate.
Llandovery is one of the most charming towns on the Cambrian Way, and I arrive there after another thunderstorm. Both myself and my guidebook become drenched, and I have to almost hang the guidebook up to dry to be able to keep it intact for the remainder of the hike. The two days after the Brecon Beacons provided a variety of different weather. Among Welsh soldiers out on an exercise and young students aiming for the Duke of Edinburgh award, I traversed lesser trodden paths in rain and mist. On the way I crossed over the old Roman road of Sarn Helen, with both ends disappearing into mist like its history has disappeared into time. The Carmarthen Fans with its legendary Llyn y Fan Fach lake is almost all but hidden underneath a blanket of low hanging clouds and surrounding rain showers.
The Arch, built in 1810 as a memorial to George III's jubilee.
The Ty’n-y-cornel hostel is said to be the most remote place of accommodation in Wales, and I had wanted to stay the night there, but the whole place was fully booked by another group of Duke of Edinburgh students. Instead, I landed on going all the way to Tregaron, about eight kilometres off trail, which meant almost a fully 45 kilometres day of walking. As I got closer to the town, my feet shouted stop as they hurt too much, I could barely move. Hailing down the first car passing by, I got a lift down to the centre. I received a warm welcome at the nice Tom’s of Tregaron Bed & Breakfast, but it was the visit to the pharmacy the morning after that saved my hike, providing me with a wonder crème for my sore toes.
The Devil's Bridge Falls.
I had such wonderful experiences from The Pennine Way when sleeping in the bothy of Greg’s Hut and the small shelter at Auchope Rigg, that I was looking forward to trying out another one of the bothies found in Britain. Deep in the wonderful, remote, and undulating bare landscape around the Teifi pools, you find an old farmhouse converted into a bothy. I share the spartan Claerddu bothy together with another group of Duke of Edinburgh students and an uncountable number of spiders peering at me from the cobwebs in all corners of the hut. When I arrived the fire in the oven was lit, and two weird beers from Tiny Rebel provided a cosy evening. Of all things, the bothy had a water closet.
Fascinating view from the ascent of Pumlumon
Pumlumon was a cocktail of heavy rain, heavy wind, mist, rare thunderclaps and given all the ingredients already thrown into the mix, the strange appearance of brief sunlight. I wonder at how all the curves in the horizon appear as smooth as they appear. With all the weather thrown at me, I was looking forward to the evening at the Y Star Inn in Dylife, only to find out that it no longer operated as a pub. Hospitality, though, was not lost and as I had no food with me, the hosts provided me with a frozen pizza and some beers. I shared the place with a couple of mountain bikers from Leeds having had a great time at a bike park near Machynlleth. They provided more beers and fun movies of their downhill adventures on their bikes.
A wonderful of the Bugeilyn lake before another heavy rain shower obscured the view.
After a night at the old and lovely Red Lion (Y Llew Coch) Inn at Dinas Mawddwy, The Cambrian Way climbs up towards the craigs of Maesglase, passing by a derelict quarry on its way. Walking at the top of grassy ridges, I hear roars of air being pummelled through the surrounding deep valleys. This area is the home of the Machynlleth Loop, where the jet planes fly as low as 76 metres above the terrain, and the sounds of them from below feels like unseen beings passing by. Then I spot two of them between the valley sides, with jet streams following in their wake. If only I had a bigger lens with me. On the cliffs below Cadair Idris, spectators are crowding to get a closer look. My home for the night lies about seven kilometres away from the trail, at the Tyn-y-Cornel Hotel situated next to the lovely Tal-y-Llyn lake.
From the Y Llew Coch (The Red Lion) pub in Dinas Mawddwy, a cosy retreat after a long day of walking.
Next day, climbing up Cadair Idris, I begin to wonder if it is such a good idea. The wind and rain are biting, and I am beginning to feel cold as I stare up at a mountain that is no longer there, obscured by the clouds. This is one of the major mountains on The Cambrian Way and I feel a bit down about the weather being as bad as it is. A sudden wind clears up the view and walking at the top, I reckon the views must be formidable from here. I feel lucky given the weather, in the distance is the sea and distant Barmouth. At Penygadair, which is the summit of Cadair Idris at 893 metres, I am engulfed by the clouds and rain again. There is an emergency hut at its summit, which I share with a sheep standing guard at the entrance.
A scenic part of The Cambrian Way, Craig Maesglase.
While traversing inland from its start at Cardiff, The Cambrian Way now makes a detour to the coast and Cardigan Bay to visit the once upon a time fishing town of Barmouth. On the descent from Cadair Idris I am rewarded with a wonderful view of the town and sea, with its wooden viaduct crossing over the Mawddach estuary. The viaduct is under maintenance, the trains are not allowed to cross over, and I am worried that the bridge is closed for pedestrians as well, it would be a long way getting around. It all goes well and with rainbows dancing at my back behind the fishing boats, I arrive at the town. In the afternoon and evening, it is a boon to sit and look out over the sea and sandbanks from my hotel.
A jet plane flying low between the hills on its run of the Machynlleth loop.
From Barmouth the trail climbs up over the Rhinogau, with severe warnings of omitting the summits of Rhinog Fach and Rhinog Fawr when bad weather hits the mountains. Thankfully, the weather from yesterday is in the past and although there is not a clear sky, it is a beautiful day. And a beautiful hike. Once up on the ridge, navigation is easy, almost following the signature stone fences of Britain all the way, but the paths down from both the big (Fach) and small (Fawr) summit are both steep and less intuitive. It quicky becomes one of the favourite stages of The Cambrian Way. At the end of a long day, I fall asleep in my tent at the campsite at Cwm Bychan, with the murmur of a big herd of sheep slowly quieting into the evening.
After a stormy walk across the Cadair Idris, it is wonderful to behold the views of Barmouth and the sea in the distance, as well as the wonderful scenery located between.
Snowdon has at this point started to appear in the horizon, most likely the most anticipated climb on the trail for most of those venturing out to hike from the south to the north of Wales. On the way to that famous destination, I have a thoroughly enjoyable hike climbing up Moelwyn Mawr and Cnicht, and wondering about the remnants of the old quarry and mine situated between those two summits. At Beddgelert, with its sad founding story of the master killing his dog believing it had killed his son, only to find out that the dog had instead saved the son from a wolf, I have a nice evening at the Tanronnen Inn anticipating the climb to the highest point of the trail the next day.
The sea from Barmouth.
In the morning, I wake up at 5 o’clock, with a long day ahead of me. In order to secure accommodation, I had taken a risk and combined the two days of hiking Snowdon and the Glyderau into one. Outside, the clouds barely reach above the roofs of the village, and rain is trying as best as it can to break through the paved road outside. With a hike of at least 15 hours, with no chance of seeing anything on the way, I feel my motivation drop down to a freezing point, below zero.
On the wonderful route towards Diffwys.
It is a first time for everything. For me, it is giving up on a walk. I eat my breakfast, strap on my backpack, but never gets out of the door. Instead, I later find myself waking up in the bed, with the rain still assaulting the town outside. Two other women at the hotel, having lost out on their plan for the day due to the inclement weather too, kindly drives me to the YHA at Glyn Ogwen. Going on a short and wet walk around the Llyn Idwal, I try to convince myself that my decision was the sensible one. By all means it was, but however sensible it is, it still feels a little bit of a failure.
Rhinog Fach.
I decide to walk the next day, no matter what.
At the summit of Moel Ysgyfarnogod.
The final day on The Cambrian Way is a long hike going over one of the longest stretches of high-level ridges on the entire trail. All up in the heavy and low clouds, bringing little light to the scenery visible below. With dramatic views at the start, all views are soon lost as the clouds engulfs me. Navigation becomes essential as visibility are extremely limited and at times the path is not clear at all, and only careful navigation allows me to continue in the right way. I could easily have missed the narrow ridge leading up to Carnedd Llewelyn, the summit being only 21 metres lower than Snowdon, as both the summit itself and the ridge was hidden from plain sight on the ridge I was walking on. It is chilly and blustery, with only glimpses of the outside world, but also exhilarating in a way. The wind is tremendous.
The old quarry buildings of Rhosydd Quarry with Cnicht behind.
Then after several hours I briefly emerge out of the clouds, deep down underneath the dark and gloomy clouds in the horizon I discern a distinct shape. I wonder if this is how it must be felt going over these hills in old times and see the outlines of the watchful eyes of the castle at Conwy looming before them. The following kilometres are the highlight of this last day, as I walk closer to the end with the castle in view. Only to experience the worst weather of the whole walk on the last kilometres and hills towards Conwy, making the few glimpses of the castle a promise of a haven at the end.
Beddgelert.
The streets are all quiet and wet when I walk through them to reach the prominent walls of Conwy Castle, marking the end of my walk across Wales. All soaking wet and a bit cold, it is not time for any moment of contemplation of finishing. I grab a taxi to get to my bed and breakfast (Glan Heulog), which appear to provide all the cosiness I yearn for now. I arrive late on a Sunday evening, so any chance of a celebratory dinner needs to be postponed to the next day. I do get a few pints in town afterwards before returning to my cosy room to rest and dry up. Dinner being a croissant and a cup of instant noodles in my room.
Llyn Idwal underneath a gloomy sky.
Thankfully the weather is nice the next day and I get to walk around this lovely town, taking in all the views of the old buildings it has to offer. A visit to the wonderful castle is mandatory, admiring how big it actually is, providing great views of Conwy itself and the estuary from its walls. A visit to the smallest house in Britain is a humorous opposite to the large castle. And you can walk around the town on its old walls (like Lugo in Spain). It feels like a proper day to end my walk.
Ascent from Llyn Ogwen underneath a sky ladden with rain.
On the train back to London, as the landscape is hurrying by outside the window, it is time to look back on an adventure across Wales and the idea long ago of a south to north trail made by the Ramblers Association back in the 1960s.
Walking on the top of the Carneddau ridge.
While the weather works at its worst it is easy to put on the blindfolds and focusing on the bad moments of the walk, rather than the positive ones. I had some very wet weather on the trail and my feet where almost constantly wet every day, and hurting before my visit to the pharmacist in Tregaron. Then from a distance I can focus on the positive moments and when the tally is done, my Cambrian Way comes out on the plus side.
Conwy and its beacon castle looming far in the distance on the final stretch of the trail.
The Cambrian Way provides some wonderful scenery on its meandering and wet traverse of Wales. Among the scenic highlights of the walk for me was the Black Mountains, the Brecon Beacons with Pen-y-Fan, the Rhinogau mountains, the Nant Egnant valley with the nearby Teifi Pools, Pumlumon with Bugeilyn and the Doethie valley. I really enjoyed the towns of Abergavenny, Llandovery, Crickhowell and Barmouth in addition to Conwy. And those moments walking through the bare and open landscapes, with the feeling of being just me and the nature. At last, it is worth mentioning the friendly welcomes and hospitality met on the way.
Conwy Castle, the end of The Cambrian Way.
Snowdon is still there, awaiting my return.
