Nice Fooling Today
If you were to spend a little time perusing social media groups or speaking to casual observers, it wouldn't be long before you came across bald assertions that "Snowdonia is too busy in the summer these days" or "I wouldn't bother with North Wales now, it's becoming like The Lakes". Such claims are, of course, absolute nonsense, and while tales of overcrowding - and the associated problems thereof - on Yr Wyddfa and in the Ogwen Valley are well founded, Yr Wyddfa and Ogwen do not Snowdonia make.
The honeypot areas occupy a tiny fraction of the 823 square miles which make up the national park. This has recently led me to ponder on something I call the 'Snowdonia Dichotomy', whereby I would estimate that 90% of all the mountain miles trodden each year are within a ten mile radius of my home, but further afield I have never struggled to find a quiet hill on which to walk. There is no shortage of unsung hills to enjoy and they hide in plain sight as you drive past them on your way to climb the prestigious, status-enhancing peaks found on the usual tick lists. They are often relatively small and rarely pretty, so why would a discerning hillwalker bother themselves with the unloved and unheard of? Excellent walking, solitude and dazzling views are just a few reasons for which one might forsake the box office bangers for something a little different. Try them, you might like them!
Moel-ddu
The Eifionydd Hills are wonderful to look at and even better to climb, but remain relatively quiet and are often thought of as hills for the connoisseur. Nevertheless, it appears to me that the majority of these so called connoisseurs have a major blindspot, in that few of them ever make it further south than Moel Hebog.
This assumption is backed up by sound evidence, and anyone finding themselves wandering around the secretive mountain sanctuary of Cwm Oerddwr will be struck by the quality of the scenery and the scarcity of decent paths. Oerddwr is not a popular place. Two hills dominate the cwm, the chief of which being Moel Ddu, which languishes in obscurity. Those in the know will have trodden the bogs above Aberglaslyn Hall, peered through the cobwebbed windows of Oerddwr Uchaf and pioneered a way onto the beautiful curving ridge which terminates on Bryn Banog, the hill on which I once greeted a taciturn apparition which minutes later had mysteriously melted away into nothingness. Beyond Banog, a wall can be followed down to the bwlch above Cwm Ystradllyn, and up the other side onto Moel-ddu, the cornerstone of the Afon Glaslyn as it escapes the mountains and flows placidly through the reclaimed coastal plain of Traeth Mawr. To look from the summit of this twin-peaked hill, and I don't say this lightly, is to experience one of the finest vistas in the Welsh mountains.
Foel-Ganol and Yr Orsedd
Tucked away, just beyond the sight of Aber Falls' tourist throng, lies a small chain of heather clad peaks, usually eschewed in favour of the ancient track at their feet which ushers the walker towards a circuit of Drum, Foel Fras and Llwytmor. They could so easily act as a precursor to a wider expedition and, in my opinion, would offer the most pleasurable walking of the day. To each their own, I suppose.
Remaining with the status quo, maybe it's better, then, that they are appreciated in their own right, for a short day or a summer evening stroll when the light of golden hour rakes across the hillsides. Dwarfed by Llwytmor, Foel Dduarth has delusions of grandeur, guarding the upper Anafon Valley and presenting a bold front, up which I have never been remotely tempted to affect a direct ascent. Alternatively, let's take the aforementioned track northwards before leaving it for maze-like paths through an acre of gorse and back to the ridge. A rising traverse heads up to a col. Here, an out and back to Foel Dduarth serves only to prolong the enjoyment, but those wearing 'Dewey Goggles' will scuttle off to bag Foel-Ganol and Yr Orsedd. The walking is stunning but ends much too soon beneath the minor top of Pen Bryn Ddu. Or so you might think. Devious paths (if you can find them) make their way down to an extravagant sheepfold on the valley floor, where you will find yourself a seat and watch wild Carneddau ponies before sauntering back to your mode of conveyance.
Craig Wion
I will always remember the first time I emerged from Bwlch Gwylim onto the boulder-strewn gritstone pavements of Craig Wion.
It was a late afternoon in November and the westering sun hung low in the sky, bronzing the heather and the rock beneath my feet. A little further on, past the small llyns of Twr Glas and Pryfed, I reached the modest summit cairn and sobbed a little. Not since my first visit to the Rhinogydd had I experienced such an overwhelming response to a landscape. Gathering myself, I continued on my way. The certainty of Bwlch Tyddiad and the Roman Steps lay a trifling two kilometres distant so, although late in the day, I remained untroubled by thoughts of retracing my steps. Once committed, I recalled Harold Drasdo's words from 'The Big Walks', describing the journey I was now on as "a splendid mile of Celtic badlands". As I found a way through rough, pathless terrain and several transverse canyons I began to feel quite out on a limb until at last, in fading light, I gazed down on Llyn Morwynion, knowing that easier ground was close at hand.
Foel Offrwm
Thoughts of Foel Offrwm had been niggling away at me for years before I finally found my way onto its 405m summit. When walking from Llanfachreth to Rhobell Fawr it was always there, taunting me, as it also did during many visits to the Precipice Walk with friends of advancing years and limited mobility.
I haven't climbed all of the hills in North Wales yet, but I want to; I'm that kind of person. But in the case of Foel Offrwm, it just seemed rather unethical to drive all the way from Capel Curig for a walk that took less time than it did to get there. But what if I were to do the Precipice Walk and Foel Offrwm together? I floated the idea to my main walking partner, Dave who, having done neither, thought it a great idea. So one morning in early January we found ourselves enjoying what might be the finest 'easy' walk in North Wales. Halfway round, we decided to go off piste and visit the hill fort on Foel Faner. Hill forts never fail to deliver great views but this one was a cut above the rest; the full length of the Mawddach estuary framed by Cadair Idris and the Southern Rhinogydd.
Surely the view from Offrwm, another hill fort, would be more or less the same. That proved to be the case, at least when looking down the Mawddach. The difference, however, was in being 100m higher, the view now covered 360 degrees and was absolutely wondrous, surrounded as we were by 'real mountains' such as the Rhinogydd, Rhobell, the Arans, Dyfi Hills and Cadair. Recently, one of my oldest friends relocated from England to within 2km of Offrwm's summit. I foresee many more ascents of what she likes to call, 'Pre-drinks Hill'!
Gyrn Ddu and Gyrn Goch
Just east of the popular Yr Eifl and outwith the national park by a measly 7 kilometres, you will find a compact range of hills which, like their near neighbours, leap straight out of the sea. Two of the three principal peaks rise as attractive cones and present as obvious targets for all keen hillwalkers. Inexplicably, however, they remain largely forsaken - and that's just how we like them!
Sturdy stone walls criss-cross the range which is comprised of smooth, grassy slopes crowned with rocky tops. But what is the walking like? In a word, superb. An approach from Rock Cottage zig-zags up an old quarry track where the distinctive 'cheeow' of the chough may be heard. On reaching a col, the juxtaposition of fertile pastures and bare, golden hill slopes can't be ignored and a good track bisects the two. This is the highway from which several route permutations can be devised. My preference is to ascend Gyrn Ddu first before heading across to Gyrn Goch. The outlying Dewey of Bwlch Mawr is worth a visit but Gyrn's Ddu and Goch should be seen as essential, regardless of their diminutive stature. Such is their proximity to the sea, these two peaks feel a great deal higher than they are and their summits are of the finest vintage; Goch's, a perfect perch which plunges headlong down to the coast and Ddu's, a ragged rocky knuckle, crevassed and as rough as anything you will find in the Glyderau. Both are excellent viewpoints, linked by faint, unpeopled paths. These wonderful hills are not to be missed.
Carnedd Y Cribau
Shy and retiring, sub 600 metres and surrounded by glamorous neighbours, Carnedd Y Cribau is the epitome of an unsung peak. Seen in the minds of many as a mere staging post on the long walk from Moel Siabod to the aqueous interior of the Moelwynion, this unprepossessing peak has much to commend it.
There has long been talk of the splendid view of the Snowdon Horseshoe from old man Siabod's lofty top, but as a coign of vantage for such a prestigious subject, Carnedd Y Cribau is without equal. An approach from the Pen y Gwryd Hotel is wet underfoot and rather drab but gets the job done in a timely fashion. Alternatively, an extremely scenic ascent can be made from Nant Gwynant via Bwlch Rhediad. The most rewarding journey, however, begins in Dolwyddelan and makes its way to the remote lakes of Llynau Diwaunydd, followed by an absorbing climb to Bwlch Rhiw'r Ychen where a stellar view unfolds. For keen mountain photographers, Carnedd Y Cribau should hold great appeal but as yet remains virtually undiscovered. A full day of photographic exploration could easily be spent on and around this modest hill, such is the abundance superb compositions, and when combined with a wild camp, it is as good as it gets.
Foel Meirch
This pesky little protuberance is the bane of baggers operating in the Carneddau, and as a minor incident on Carnedd Dafydd's Mynydd Du ridge, it would be quite a stretch to view it as a hill in its own right. Nevertheless, rules are rules! Over the years I'd walked past Foel Meirch several times before realising it was a Nuttall. Times change, you see, and in the first edition of the book it is nowhere to be seen.
I'm not selling it very well, am I? Bear with me, and I'll elaborate. The capture of this peak, if approached my way, is all about a single, shocking moment of revelation. Let's walk. Just beyond the northern limit of Nant Ffrancon's 'tow away zone', a pleasant green track scythes its way up the flank of Braich Ty Du, eventually reaching a large sheepfold. To the east, a wide, featureless cwm of tussock and bog holds little appeal, but that's where we're going. While forging a way towards the head of the cwm and the distant ridge above, meditative states can be arrived at, such is the mind-numbing monotony of the landscape. Stick with it, it's all part of the plan. After 1.6km, the end is in sight, but one would be forgiven for thinking "Why am I doing this?". Not long now! On cresting the ridge, and quite without warning, all is revealed. Cwm Llafar; magnificent, awe inspiring and quite staggering in its scale and savage beauty. Llech Ddu and Ysgolion Duon rise above while the meandering sliver of the Afon Llafar adorns the valley bottom. Turn right for Foel Meirch, which I assure you, you will share with no one, and from which the view is much improved. You're welcome!
Pared y Cefn Hir
The site of another hill fort overlooking the Mawddach, Pared y Cefn Hir (aka Bryn Brith), is the perfect mountain in miniature, and well worth a couple of hours of anyone's time.
We first became acquainted after I spent a fruitless afternoon prowling around the tops of Cadair Idris with my camera. During my descent of the Pony Path, I left the cloud base and realised that a very special golden hour was in the offing if I got my skates on. With time at a premium, I rushed down to Ty Nant and drove to Cregennen which exceeded my expectations and would have been as good a place as any to set up my tripod, were it not for the beckoning prow of Pared y Cefn Hir looming yonder. My memories (although they may be false ones) remind me that I ran up the hill in 10 minutes flat to enjoy one of the most arresting displays of light I had ever seen.
Since then, I have become a regular visitor, but these days my ascents are more languid affairs. The lakes at Cregennen can be busy in summer, but I have seen surprisingly few others on the heights above them. It is a short, steep climb with some entertaining scrambling to fuel the illusion that you are climbing a 'real' mountain, but the superlative view from the top makes a mockery of the idea that a hill is only worth climbing if its height exceeds 609.6 metres. This is a place in which you will want to linger. Thereafter, almost a kilometre of joyous ridge walking leads to a marshy col where a good path can be picked up, steering you pleasantly back to the car park.
Foel Hafod-Fynydd
Visiting the source of a great river is as good a reason as any to find oneself in remote, seldom seen locales, and while some of our most celebrated watercourses begin as mere trickles issuing from nondescript peaty pools, others enjoy more august origins. The Dyfi is a good case in point. Many are those that have looked down upon Creiglyn Dyfi from Aran Fawddwy, but relatively few have stood by its shore.
My first close encounter with the infant Afon Dyfi came during a bagging spree in the eastern Arans where I expected to see no one and wasn't disappointed. After negotiating the peat hags of Llechwedd Ddu, my strongly held belief that any hill is worth climbing was brought under scrutiny and was still in doubt on the steep descent of Esgeiriau Gwynion. My final peak of the day was to be Foel Hafod-Fynydd, and while hauling myself onto its broad back my sense of humour began to fail me. On the summit ridge, my mood lightened and by the time I had reached the neat quartzite cairn I was euphoric. The sparkling waters of Creiglyn Dyfi lay below me, enclosed by high ridges and Aran Fawddwy's impressive east face. Although a kilometre out of my way, I strolled down to the llyn before following Llaethnant, eventually arriving above a series of cascades and emerald pools where I steeled myself, for this walk has a sting in its tail. Between me and my car lay 2.5km of road walking with 340 metres of ascent and, by now, the afternoon sun was blazing down on hot tarmac.
Pen y Geuallt
I can't for the life of me remember how I came to know this hill as Pen y Geuallt. I've never seen it written on a map and the website, hill-bagging.co.uk, has it down as Clogwyn Manod.
Onomastics aside, I originally climbed this 418m 'Tump' quite by accident during my first summer living in Capel Curig. I found myself without a car and for several months took to investigating Nant y Geuallt, a hidden valley which lay behind the caravan I rented from a local farmer. Clogwyn Mawr and Crimpiau, I already knew, but the shaggy ridge on the other side of the nant was completely unknown to me. It was a period of self discovery and also a change in mindset in that my fixation with standing on and photographing the highest mountains was tempered by an urge to stravaig and explore, just for the hell of it. In the course of my exploratory forays I blundered through heather and bracken, sunk into bogs and fell down holes, occasionally stumbling across places of interest, such as the Yeti Club's 'Waenhir' hut, which became a favoured place to while away my evenings, isolated from the farm dogs' incessant barking. I also chanced upon an undiscovered crag and excitedly traced my potential new routes up it, only to be told by the late, great John Appleby that it had been climbed out decades ago!
Looking down on my shenanigans had been Pen y Geuallt, and one evening I weaved my way up and around gorse-covered hillocks until I found myself standing by the cairn. What breath I had left was taken from me by an extraordinary view straight down the barrel of Dyffryn Mymbyr. Over a decade later, I can see Pen y Geuallt from my office window and smile inwardly as I recall that innocent first summer here in Capel.