Back on the Saddle

Ever wonder how the steep slopes along a creek are mowed?

I had recovered enough for a short ride last week (11 miles, to meet up with friends). Wanting to make up for lost cycling time, I'd already completed three rides this week (covering 86 miles) before setting out today.

Cycling alongside the bay reliably brings me joy.

Besides relishing the views, I keep an eye out for butterfiles (like this lovely Anise Swallowtail).

And of course, for birds—like a Great Egret hunting in the shallows, with the newly-restored Hangar One at Moffett Field gleaming in the background.

Visiting the rookery entails a long ride, which I wasn't confident I could pull off. But it's now late in the nesting season, so today seemed like my best option. If need be, I could hop on the light rail to get most of the way back home.

Taking the light rail would mean forgoing a bakery treat ... Would there be a luscious fresh fruit tart waiting for me? [Yes!]

Last week, 11 miles. This week, 132 (with today's 46-mile excursion). Imprudent, perhaps. But wonderful!

Caernarfon, Take Two

It was time to bid farewell to our lovely country house (and Buster) on this, the last day of our tour.

Our guide assured us that today's waterfront stroll and visit to the fortress at Caernarfon was superior to the wildflowers and butterflies that were featured in our itinerary.

I'd seen the outside of the castle when I'd visited in 2017, never imagining that I'd return one day to explore within its walls.

In addition to wandering through the historical displays, of course I needed to climb to the top of the tallest turret, in the Eagle Tower.

The spiraling stairs were a squeeze when you'd inevitably cross paths with someone heading in the opposite direction.

The top afforded an eagle's-eye view of the environs in all directions—

—the town bordered, in part, by centuries-old walls and the adjacent waterway.

We enjoyed one more lunch together before leaving Wales, ending our adventure at the train station in Chester where we had begun.

Postscript: As we wrapped up our trip, I developed a sore throat that turned out to be my first experience with Covid. Isolated at home, I focused on learning more about IT bands. With low expectations, I worked through the steps in one particular video from Tone and Tighten. “You might find a spot,” he said, “where it's particularly painful, like there might be a little bit more of a knot in there. What I want you to do is spend some time on that ... until it kind of releases.”

Step three, foam rolling my quad ... Ow! Ow! A knot? It felt more like rolling off the edge of a cliff. Twenty seconds? Thirty? I visualized my IT band having been ”stuck“ on the far side of that knot, until I flattened it.

That's all it took to eliminate the knee pain that had plagued me relentlessly for a week.

Nant Gwynant

Yesterday's hunch was spot-on: We started today's hike along the same path, then kept on walking in the Nant Gwynant valley on our way to the Watkin Path (which we would not be taking to the summit of Snowdon).

We stopped at a café about three miles into the hike, happy for a warm break. Brightly-colored colanders were a key part of the overhead light fixtures!

Our route took us through the protected farmland of Hafod y Llan,

past waterfalls,

along narrow, rocky paths,

over stone walls,

streams,

and through fields of bracken.

With on-and-off drizzle, I wore my rain gear all day. If I'd peeled off my outer layer of water-resistant pants, I knew I'd struggle to pull them back on (and stay dry in the process). My all-black attire inspired our guide to capture a photo of me being tailed by some local cattle. Who doesn't appreciate a clear trail?!

With enough ibuprofen, I completed the last real hike of our trip: nearly 8 miles with 1,020 feet of elevation gain. Tomorrow our merry little band will disband.

Afon Glasyn & Llyn Dinas

Today was a choose-your-own-adventure for the three of us who would not tackle Mt. Snowdon.

We started by following the road past the copper mine we visited yesterday, and then continued on a trail along the Glasyn River.

We passed through land that has been preserved through donations to the National Trust: for its wildlife and natural beauty, for its connection to historical legend, and beloved by the people.

I was pretty sure that we would be hiking this same trail, as a group, tomorrow. I persuaded my comrades to explore a short side path leading to a small waterfall, as it seemed unlikely that we'd veer off the main trail as a group.

It was an easy walk alongside Llyn Dinas, where I was captivated by a house across the lake, nestled at the base of the mountainside. What would it be like to live there? [Dream on.]

When the trail turned away from the water, we headed back. Stone walls are ubiquitous in the countryside. The effort to build them had to be back-breaking (and time-consuming)—but here they are, still standing. No wood to rot, no wires to rust or break—essentially maintenance-free.

Continuing into town, we visited St. Mary's Church. The windows weren't limited to traditional religious imagery: here we found Sir Galahad and St. George.

After picking up a few things in town (more ibuprofen, for me), we headed back to the inn where we're staying. Along the way, a tree with wavy branches caught my eye.

I've been excited to see many unfamiliar plants, like this brightly colored specimen in the St. John's Wort family.

I managed to walk a full 6.2 miles without too much difficulty (because it was essentially flat). I wasn't disappointed to miss Mt. Snowdon (especially after one of the group quietly confided that she enjoyed the Glyders more (fewer people, compared with Snowdon).

Tomorrow is our last real day of hiking, and I am not gonna miss out. I will walk.

Aberglaslyn Gorge

We started the day with a visit to the 19th-century Sygun Copper Mine, conveniently within walking distance of the inn where we're staying.

Since California has significant mining history, I'd toured the site of a historical gold mine. And I knew that Welsh miners were among those who worked in the New Almaden mines, bringing cinnabar-laden rock to the surface. The opportunity to climb up through a section of this copper mine was fascinating.

Our route through the mine deposited us uphill of the entrance—and right next to the trail we would follow to reach the Aberglaslyn Gorge.

The trailhead wasn't obvious. In fact, it looked more like ... a brook. My current hiking boots are waterproof, which had seemed superfluous for my typical outings. [Not today.]

From our hillside vantage point, our view included the inn where we're staying (lower right corner in the next photo).

As we made our way out through the valley, a group of school-aged children approached. I overheard one exclaim “Americans!” as they passed. [Unusual, are we?]

We followed the footpath along the river's edge, grateful for the handholds drilled into the rock around one narrow bend.

Reaching the town of Beddgelert, many of the buildings seemed perilously close to the water, but ... they've been there awhile.

We enjoyed some tea and scones before exploring the town. We were drawn to an outfitter's shop, where a fleece top printed with small flowers caught my eye. “I don't need another fleece top,” I sighed. Our wise guide admonished me: “It's not about what you need, it's about what you want!” She was right; I'd surely have regretted walking away. [Besides, it was on sale.]

Life is all about how you make it.

At dinner, we walked past an unusual (for us) sight: coal burning in a fireplace.

Covering some 5.5 miles today, almost half of which was flat, was tolerable. Ibuprofen helped, but didn't have a lasting effect. As luck would have it, one of the women in our group has relevant expertise (knees, in particular); the problem is with my IT band.

Tomorrow's ascent of Snowdon is off the table, for me.

Glyder Fawr & Glyder Fach

It was a sunny morning in Dolgellau, our home base for the past couple of days; today we would head northwest to explore the Glyders.

Feeling daunted by the description of the terrain (the “Devil's Kitchen,” in particular), I was more inclined to join two others for an abbreviated version of the adventure. But my comrades were fully confident that I could do it, so here we go ...

Our guide shared a legend about a prince's son being drowned in Llyn Idwal by his jealous uncle, after which no bird will fly over the lake. [I did spot two Canada geese in the water (they're everywhere!?), but perhaps they waddled in from the shoreline.]

Before we reached the trickiest part, a couple of young guys passed us, heading down. (Thankfully, we would not be returning this way.) Shaking his head, and moving faster over the rocks than I ever would (in casual shoes, no less), the second one remarked “Let's go for a walk, he said!” At least I knew what I'd signed up for.

The Devil's Kitchen is that v-shaped notch to the right of center in the next photo. With the rockfall fanning out below. Which is where we were going.

Being in the middle of the group allowed me to capture a clear perspective on a section of the climb up Devil's Kitchen. Having handed off my poles to our gracious guide, I'd ascended (more or less) on all fours. I'd decided that the key was to focus, focus, focus. And not look down.

I'm happy to report that we all made it, unscathed, and paused to admire the view on our way to the summit of Glyder Fawr.

To appreciate the scale (and the challenge) of this walk, look for the tiny figure in the field of rocks in the next photo. (That's me, thanks to one of the members of our group who snapped the photo.)

I can imagine how legends about giants might have developed. Thousands of years ago, long after the glaciers had receded, our ancient ancestors could not have conceived how these massive slabs of rock came to be strewn about.

Clear skies rewarded us with a panoramic view. Having ascended the highest peak in the Glyders, we trekked onward to visit a second one.

Early on, our guide had surveyed us about any physical limitations or issues we might have. My ankle was better, but still feeling not quite 100%; when I shared that I had a “cranky ankle” she exclaimed “A crankle!” without missing a beat. The ankle would soon be forgotten on this hike, as I developed a sharp pain on the outside of one knee. All the climbing, and babying my ankle, may have spawned a new problem. I was trailing the rest of the group; putting weight on my bent knee was excruciating, so I was essentially dragging that leg along.

Our next destination was Glyder Fach (with, of course, a bit more climbing). It was windy up there, so we'd all bundled up.

My favorite feature (so far) was Castell y Gwynt (aptly, “Castle of the Wind”), atop Glyder Fach.

We also visited the iconic Cantilever Stone, but surprisingly only one intrepid member of the group chose to clamber up for a photo op. Out of the question, for me; it would take a full-body agility that I didn't have, at that point. We crossed a boulder field and began our descent.

The others pulled ahead (a far cry from my pace yesterday!) and wouldn't come into sight again until about a mile and a half later, near the end of our route. I had begun to wonder whether I could make it down under my own power. Our guide pulled a knee strap out of her pack, which unfortunately didn't have any effect.

We covered 6.2 miles, with some 2,400 feet of elevation gain—most of that (~1,960 feet) over a distance of ~1.4 miles. I believe it's safe to say that this will stand as the most challenging hike of my life—even if you factor out the knee pain.

Three more days of hiking lie ahead. Tomorrow, at least, promises to be mellow.