Day 70
Frontcysyllte to Llandegla: 11 miles
Dedication of the Day: To the B and B owners who picked me up from the side of the road
Reason: I had no idea where I was supposed to go otherwise. To be honest, even having arrived there, I still don't know where the B and B is. Not even the general area.
And she was running
So, today I left P near Llangollen and set along my merry way to get to Llandegla. Much like the first ten days on Offa's Dyke, I was again doing a through hike with my tiny backpack with almost nothing in it. The difference now, of course, is that P had given me both the GPS and the backpack waterproof cover. The only problem with that turned out to be that the waterproof cover was for a much, much larger backpack, and so off I went, with a bright yellow cover with like 30 yards of rope tied around it to keep it attached. Because that was the length of rope we had on us.
Regardless, it was a good thing I had it. The walk today was through very, very, remote areas, with no real towns, villages or facilities, and from the looks of the map, skirted the side of some fairly high cliffs on the side of the Clwydian Range. Also, it was supposed to rain that morning, and so it did. Heavily.
After I'd passed the stunning views over the Dee Valley, Llangollen, and the remains of the once mighty but short-lived 13th century Castell Dinas Bran set impossibly high on a lone outcrop, the clouds were clearly starting to gather, with mists on the hilltops behind the castle looking ominously black. By the time I'd gotten to a rather stunning steep-sided cutout in the now towering mountain to my right, it had started to rain. And then it started to downpour. Because there's nothing better than starting out a long day's hike than being soaking wet. I tried to hide under some trees, and it worked for a long time, until suddenly it didn't and I was inundated.
Then, just as quickly as it started, it stopped completely. And so I squished along on my merry way, going much faster than I really wanted to. The reason for that being that I'd booked a B&B online with a place that had offered me free pick up from the trail - but because of my crazy self-imposed no-phone situation, I had to tell them what time exactly to be there. Remember when you had to actually schedule things and then be there and you couldn't be late because someone was waiting and you had no way to tell them? That used to happen.
Anyway, the distance was long-ish, I was going through rough mountain terrain, and I was worried I wouldn't get there on time, so I was hustling along the path. Which, I was coming to realize, wasn't a great idea.
That was because 1) the path was quite high up, 2) the quite high up path was also quite narrow, 3) the quite high up and quite narrow path was also set mid-way up a quite steep slope, and 4) the quite steep slope was covered with quite a lot of wet landslide-capable looking rocks.
But the views here were incredible. Not only was the isolation palpable (the only person I ran across here was a biker who came unexpectedly flying out of some bushes directly at me and I cut the palpable isolation with a similarly palpable and very high pitched scream), but it was also just stunning cliffside scenery falling into rolling green hills all around. When the sun poked out for a look it was gorgeous - and even when it didn't it was still just wonderful.
After rounding several difference outcrops, I finally came to a small wood, jogged through this to reach World's End. Now I'd seen it on the map, and while I still can't say for certain why it's called World's End, I'm willing to bet it's because when you get there you feel like you're literally at the end of the world. Just a hunch. There's not much here except a road that doubles as a riverbed (the river actually runs over the road so cars have to ford it), but after the landscape I just passed through, the narrow valley and river really just felt like as far away from civilization as you could imagine.
And as I went up to round the Cyrn-y-Barn mountain that sits over Llandegla, I could tell that this side of World's End wasn't much different. Though it didn't have the dramatic sharp drops, these hilltops were just vast fields of yellow and purple as far as the eye could see. Little gecko-like things ran away from me as I walked across the duckboards through the marshy landscape.
And then I got to the deep, dark, edge of the hillside covered by Llandegla forest. And just as I was trying to take a picture to give a sense of both the deepness and the darkness, it started absolutely downpouring again. So I put my camera away, ducked into the trees, and was nearly run over by a mountain biker because these woods have some of the best mountain biking tracks in North Wales. And while that's pretty cool, what it means for a hiker on a wet day is a slippery path through giant, uniform trees that crosses many, many other paths all of which look exactly the same.
But I'm not complaining. I realized how lucky I was to be in the forest when I suddenly set foot onto a road that cut the forest in half, and was nearly toppled over by a sudden sideways blast of wind filled to the brim with rain. In the forest I'd barely even noticed it was raining. Here, I couldn't even take the time to properly look at the map on the signboard in the road, because I honestly couldn't keep my balance.
I wish I'd had 15 more minutes in Llandegla
When I got out of the bottom of the forest the rain had stopped, and somehow the sky was at least partly blue. I couldn't figure out how that worked - but then I looked back and actually I think the rain cloud was just settled over the hillside. It wasn't passing clouds it was the place where whatever the air was like when it arrived, rain was going to fall out of it before it left.
I ran down a hill, up a hill, across a highway, through an impossibly narrow space between some houses and onto a road in Llandegla, finally arriving at St. Tecla's Church. Although pressed for time, I saw a sign telling me they had informational boards in the church, and wanting nothing more than to be constantly given information I was drawn inside like a moth to a flame.
And what information they gave me - everything from the history of St. Tecla (originally from Turkey, she refused to marry and so (obviously) people tried to light her on fire, but she was saved by a storm, only later to (again, obviously) be thrown into a arena of wild animals which she also survived - she apparently really didn't want to get married and also really didn't want to die) to the nearby holy well of St. Tecla (to cure your epilepsy, you bring a chicken to the well after sunset, prick it with a pin, throw the pin into the well along with 4 pence, circle the well and then sleep that night under the church's altar - unclear if the chicken had to come with you) to nearby Bodidris Hall (apparently ghosts have been seen duelling on the stairs) to the story of Liverpool children who were evacuated to Llandegla in 1939. It was so. much. information.
I left feeling like I really would like to have seen any of the things that story board was telling me about, but I had to meet a man at a coarse fishing lake (no, I don't know what that is, but it was where I was told to go).
So I hurried along, through more fields, up a hill, around a corner, onto a ridge, and then I arrived - 30 minutes early. And when my ride did come (right on time), we had a very nice chat about all the walkers they had stay at their B and B, which they'd only started running last year, and oh yes, did I mention it was a train station? Of course it was.
So I hadn't been paying much attention when booking, but that night I found myself eating an absolutely delicious home-cooked meal (for real delicious, fresh beans and tomatoes and very good lasagna, and yes I was hungry but it was also good), in a conservatory-style dining room with beautiful field views, from what clearly used to be a train station.
I'm really not sure what my next-themed stay will be. But I feel like I'm racking up quite the tally at this point.
