Day 107
Harlech to Tal y Bont: 12 miles
Song of the Day: Fake Plastic Trees, Radiohead
Reason: Was listening to this while walking on the Shell Island Beach, entirely alone and with sweeping views north and south. Nothing could have felt less fake or less plastic, and the song ended up being pretty uplifting and free-feeling
Getting Better
So the shock from getting soaked and frozen two days ago has nearly worn off and I'm starting to enjoy the days again. Although the weather is improving, at least a tiny bit, so that might have something to do with it. Also I'm still carrying an extra pair of clothes so the end of the day isn't just me suffering at a train station, which has a tendency to color my mood.
Anyway, today's walk was supposed to involve lengthy beach stretches without a whole lot of amenities breaks. So I was looking forward to it, though of course wary of what the weather would be like since I wouldn't have an opportunity to take shelter if the weather got bad. But like I just mentioned above, the weather turned out generally fine - it rained a little, but nothing to trouble anyone who's spent more than five minutes in Wales.
The walk out of Harlech started off with a straight shot toward a strip of beach along a golf course. Once on the beach, there were great views back north toward Penrhyndeudraeth, and the clouds floating quickly by northeastward made the mountainous scenery seem like it was constantly shifting.
But that view was actually behind me - what was in front of me at the time was a fairly steep hill that dropped off to the sea with a train track cut across it. But after climbing the many, many switchbacking steps, over the train tracks and to the top of the hill, I turned around and was again rewarded with an even more stunning view up towards the middle of Snowdonia. The beach cut through the middle of the scene, with the sea on the left, mudflats on the right, and far ahead the mountains. All in all it was a view lovely enough to make me stop for a few minutes and just stare at it.
Eventually I had to move on, and after passing along a quick bit of highway further inland, and then a small road toward the coast, I was suddenly following the path sign to sign through inundated marshland. Although I tried my best to keep the water out of my shoes, there was really nothing for it - ever step I was sinking into at least an inch of mud and water, and it of course got into my shoes and socks, to remain there for the rest of the day (even though the rest of the day ended up being extraordinarily dry trail-wise).
Even better, after walking along an undulating but slightly drier path, across a neat black and white bridge and eventually finding myself on the outskirts of Llanbedr, I suddenly realized I'd dropped my guidebook somewhere. If you're wondering how I dropped my guidebook and didn't notice it, it's because I've actually torn the first hundred pages out of the guidebook to carry them better, and so what I dropped was actually about 30 pages of guidebook that I'd been keeping in my pocket.
Since this contained my map, I went back determined to figure out where I'd lost it, hoping it wasn't too far. While it wasn't near, it ended up being not too bad - apparently they'd come flying out of my pocket when I'd taken my phone out of my pocket to take a picture on the black and white bridge spanning the river. Luckily, I'd missed dropping the pages into the river by about two inches, and even more luckily, there wasn't any wind to have done the job for me while they lay there.
Continuing back along my way, I quickly passed through a security-gated area around a former RAF airfield, and eventually found a long, straight concrete path that headed through marshland, with views over Shell Island back toward the Llyn peninsula. When I finally got to Shell Island itself (I think anyway), it of course started to downpour. Luckily I hadn't hit the dunes yet and so stood in a campsite under some trees for a few minutes.
Nudes on the Beach
After the rain, however, the sky turned a brilliant blue with clouds only occasionally blotting out the sun - which was perfect weather for viewing the backs of the huge sand dunes I was passing through. This area - Shell Island - is actually a peninsula except at high tide. It's an interesting place because it's also a vast campsite, but from what I gather more a 'find a place to pitch wherever' variety than a funfair type of campsite. Also the views on all sides were incredible.
After the path cut through the edge of the campsite, I found myself entirely alone on a vast beach. To my north, dark black clouds were passing over the mountains, and all I could think was how glad I was to not be there right now. To the south of me it was grey occasionally - but it certainly didn't look as much like the world was going to end as it did to the north of me.
Anyway (after staring at a particularly well-placed bench for a bit) I eventually turned south. Unfortunately I'm still not entirely sure where Sarn Bedrig - St. Patrick's Causeway - is, as it was high tide and I couldn't see the large rocks, which apparently stretch for miles out towards Ireland. Although to be fair I wasn't actually sure where I was supposed to be looking at all - this might have been nowhere near here. Anyway, I guess I wasn't meant to take the road to Cantre-r Gwaelod, the fabled Sunken Hundred lost to the sea when the drunken guard failed to properly secure the sluice gate one night.
But I don't really feel like I missed much - the beach walk here was lovely. Maybe it's just because I was the only person around on a gorgeous beach for several miles, but I found myself literally spinning around in circles and dancing around on the beach in time with the music I was listening to. I've never felt like Radiohead was a particularly uplifting band, but somehow it felt great and free to listen to them here.
And when I hit the nudist part of the beach (naturist is what it's called I guess, although that always makes me think of botanists and I find the idea of naked scientists studying flowers hysterical) - there was still no one around. I probably didn't take off my clothes, because it was too cold - but you'll never know the difference, and if I did, well this is the one beach in Wales where that's totally cool so shut up.
Anyway, regardless of the nakedness I probably wasn't displaying, the views all around continued to be great. To my right - mostly sea, with the occasional cormorants fleeing from me in terror (for no reason). Behind me, views up to the Llyn Peninsula. To my left, the vast fragile sand dunes of the Morfa Dyffryn National Nature Reserve - and the occasional view of Moelfre, reminding me of one of the first hikes I took in Wales in November and also of what an idiot I was walking that day. And in front of me, incredibly, I could see past Barmouth and towards the hill backing Fairbourne - the peninsula that Aberdyfi sits on the south(ish) of. So close to the end.
Although I was really enjoying this beach walk, and it lasted some time (as it was several miles long) all good things must come to an end. After nearly breaking my ankles on the last part of the beach along smooth round stones, the path left the views and turned inland toward Dyffryn Ardudwy, which again set of reminisces of some of my first visits in Wales - this time to the burial chambers there on Halloween.
I'd actually originally intended to stop here, but given the fact that it didn't look likely to rain anymore, combined with the last two days of ridiculously short hikes because of the weather and getting lost, I decided to continue on and catch the train at Tal-y-Bont instead. And so I spent the next hour scrambling over a maze of dry stone walls (which have likely existed in some form here for thousands of years), playing peek-a-boo with herds of bullocks (which haven't), as I walked over stile after stile after stile following the trail through a confusing but really gorgeous in a super bucolic ideal rural kind of way landscape.
It seems like the path has moved a bit since my guidebook was written, and so after a small bridge and a caravan park, I thought I was lost again. But quickly finding someone to ask - I learned that the train platform was right down the road. So I quickly made my way there, again got changed into my dry clothes and flip flops (again thinking how much better of a mood I'm in if I end the day dry) and proceeded to wait an hour and a half for the next train to come - so I could flag it down like a taxi and amuse myself by giving the driver a special 'hello there' wave when she went past me, so of course she waved back.
Because it's Wales and I'm fairly certain there are laws requiring waving.
