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It’s taken me a long time to get round to this.
I climbed my first Welsh mountain – Glyder Fawr – almost 40 years ago, and only today do I finally finish off the Welsh Hewitts. To be fair, I’ve climbed the big ones and the pretty ones more times than I can remember by all manner of routes, in all seasons and in all weather. I even climbed Snowdon in the dark once to watch the sun rise.
Back to today.
For my final two Welsh Hewitts I inadvertently managed to combine some of the worst Wales has to offer with some of the best, and as has often been the case I managed to make life difficult for myself along the way.
Moel Fferna is a heathery lump with few if any redeeming features, and unfortunately for list chasers it just manages to break through the 2,000 foot barrier. As I discovered to my cost there is an easy way and there is a hard way to climb it, and take it from me you really don’t want to try the hard way. I parked my car in a side road off the A5, down from bridge over the stream that runs past the building with the Owain Glyndwr sign. The way to the mountain is just over the bridge, up the ‘road’ with the 20% incline sign opposite the old chapel. I use the word road advisedly, as the first section is very steep, narrow and the surface is broken up. It’s little more than a bridleway. However, after a few hundred breathless yards it meets a proper motor-able road that comes in from the right. In fact if you are brave it is possible to drive up from the A5 – second left after the Berwyn Arms (the road looks like a farm entrance), and carry on all the way to Pont Newydd, more than halfway but you would be snookered if something was coming the other way. This is evidenced by the 4X4 towing a horse box that Monty and I encountered about half way up. After the road flattened out we disturbed a load of young pheasants which began running about in a panic which drove Monty to distraction. The road continued, eventually ending and became a grassy track.
After a pair of gates the track continued to contour round left towards the spoil heaps of an old quarry, but I decided to climb the slope to the right to make a bee-line for the ‘summit’ which was still shrouded in mist. DO NOT DO THIS!! It didn’t take long before the promising sheep track fizzled out and Monty and I found ourselves wading through bracken, and then heather, and then both together. The going took on a grimness of Foel Cwm-Sian Llywd proportions, surely there is a better way up than this? The answer to that one, dear reader, is oh yes there is, as will be seen later on.
After what seemed an eternity we encountered a really well made path that ran at right angles to our direction. I decided to follow it upwards to gain the ‘ridgeline’ at least, and to get a break from the heather. I had been thrown a lifeline but failed to recognise it, and instead I left the path and once again headed straight for the summit. Within yards was back into deep heather, but this time it was combined with multiple hags and peaty holes such as the one little Monty disappeared into. Just as with Foel Cwm-Sian Llywd, the worst going was saved for the final slopes, and it was with considerable relief that I finally stumbled upon the windbreak style pile of stones that marked the topmost point on this wearisome heap. At least the mist had lifted off, but it was still pretty murky.
- Monty on Moel Fferna
I took a few ‘I was here, honest’ pics, and then looked around to make sure I could see the way off – and saw the quad bike track…. There is a quad bike track the size of a small road that has had the vegetation removed and is completely solid underfoot, and it goes along the ridge in exactly the right direction to reach the road. We were probably only yards away from it when we ploughed through the heather. So without further ado, Monty and I hurtle downhill down the track. The track eventually reaches a col with a minor bump, and then heads off left in the wrong direction. However, at this very point it meets the well-made path I encountered on the way up. This path forms a section of the North Berwyn Way whatever that is, and more importantly for us is that it goes straight down to the quarry mentioned earlier. Then at a point between a small ruined stone building and the spoil heap, the path meets the track, and the track leads to the road.
- Quarry ruin
Road, track, quarry, turn right onto path, turn left onto quad track, summit – it really is that easy, no need to wade through heather, bracken or peat hags at all. Damn.
We sprinted back to the car, and I think we were both glad to see the back of that hill.
Tal y Fan on the other hand is a delightful little hill, an outlier of the Carneddau, and the most northerly Welsh Hewitt. There is a road the climbs out of the Conwy valley up to the 400m mark, and to within a mile or so of the summit. Unfortunately the cloud had not cleared as the forecast suggested it might, and so the tops of the main Carneddau group were still shrouded. No matter, Tal y Fan was clear and dry.
- Tal y Fan
We hopped over the wall and onto a very clear footpath that wound gently upwards over firm ground through sheep pastures peppered with boulders and bright yellow Gorse.
- A real rockery
Several fields later, at the top of the slope, the path meets a wall that runs along the spine of the hill.
- Approaching Tal y fan
This is where the way get steeper, rising in a number of steps over rocky outcrops and a few Monty scrambles until finally, there it is – the top.
- Monty on Tal y Fan
Tal y Fan’s trig point is in fine condition having been rebuilt in 2007, and is large enough to form an excellent windbreak. I break out a celebratory bottle of Badger Golden Glory ale, which I obviously share with Monty Dog (fear not animal lovers, he only had a taste!). Job done!
- Monty celebrating
On the way back down I reflect on the Welsh Hewitts, a lot of great mountains, but also a considerable number of not so great lumps. But that’s it for me, no more tyranny of lists. I’m just going to climb worthwhile mountains from now on – life’s too short for shapeless heathery heaps!