I know this post is a little outdated at the time of publishing due to these events happening in mid to late February, but the whole world has been up in the air recently due to the coronavirus pandemic, so my focus has been on things other than blog posts. However, I feel this post is still important to get out there, and incredibly relevant to my work. Be prepared though, it's a long one.
Toward the end of February one of my oldest friends took the long journey from our hometown to come visit me in Wales for a week. Now this visit from Ben wasn't just any visit, as Ben also has a deep passion for all things outdoors, and has been using film photography as a means of expression and documentation long before I ever started to; so whilst this was a holiday for Ben, for me it was the busiest (and most enjoyable) work week in this semester as of yet (perhaps now this needs to be updated to 'at the time of writing').
As a warm up of what was to come, the evening of Ben's arrival we ventured up on a well beloved and local walk with a few of my Aberystwyth based friends as this time of year is when frogs and toads come out in their droves to mate. Every year I try to walk up to the top of Constitution hill to see this spectacle, as it is something I used to do with my father when I was a child, albeit in Sussex as opposed to Ceredigion. We were not disappointed this year, and in fact had to be more careful than in recent years not to step on any of the toads as there were that many out and about.
On the first full day, Ben took me to a place I had only seen once before. A hidden stream and series of waterfalls in Penglais woods, somewhere I spend a lot of time in due to its close proximity to my house. A few years previous, the last time Ben came to visit, some of our mutual friends showed us this waterfall, and I had never been able to find the way back to it since then and believe me I tried time and time again. I was shocked at Ben remembering the path so well considering I had - or so I thought - scoured these woods for any hint of the path up to it and had been unsuccessful. It was magical seeing this waterfall again after all this time, and now having the ability to take gorgeous photos of it with such a close friend only added to the experience.
We had taken a few smaller walks throughout his first full day, but Ben was still settling in after a long journey from home, so the next major walk didn't take place until the following day, when it was my turn to decide on where we walked. Initially I had chosen a gorgeous seaside to river walk which I am incredibly fond of, however due to the barrage of one storm after another, the path off the beach to follow the river round was flooded, partially because of the river breaking its banks and partially because the ground must have been so water logged that the non-stop rain had no where else to go except to continue topping the river up. At this point we decided to continue along the coast and up an incredibly steep path following the Wales Coastal Path as described on my OS maps. Despite being so local, this was a walk I had never personally been on and I was excited to discover something unknown with a close friend by my side. At this point the rain has stopped, but the clouds were still threatening to break open again at any moment. When I say it looked steep, it felt even steeper. I'm no stranger to carrying multitudes of camera and hiking equipment up steep inclines, even scrambling up rock faces at times, but the mixture of sopping wet grass and the large vertical distance over a short horizontal one really got to me and I had to make a few stops along the way. Once we reached the top of this incline we were met with an other worldly scene full of sharp layers of slate covered in various lichens and mosses. I was somewhat more used to these materials than Ben, as I have been living in Wales for 4 years at this point, far from the rolling chalk hills of the Sussex South Downs, but even with this experience, the view we were met with was shocking. I couldn't believe this was so close to my house and I had never ventured up there before.
By this point the clouds had cleared and it was a very welcomed break of blue skies and a fluffy white clouds across the horizon. We sat down to have our lunch, and maybe make a coffee before heading further along this path, but no sooner had the sky cleared that it decided to hail full force down on us. It was at this point we made the executive decision to head back down the path instead of continue on because we didn't know what was up next, of how long this hail was going to last. If the path was steep coming up, it was certainly steep going down now it was covered in ice, and I was worried about slipping and falling on to my camera and lenses. Seeing as Ben and I had come prepared for rain and were wearing our waterproof trousers, Fueled by adrenaline and worry for not wanting to get injured or stuck in the heavy hail shower, I decided to slide down the hill on my bum, aided by the slick nylon of the waterproof trousers, and accompanied in this endeavour by Ben. As miserable as the weather was, we were having the time of our lives, laughing and shooting down this hill at speeds I would not have thought possible, all the while joking that someone could be looking over from the town and see these two distant figures speeding down a hill faster than someone would be able to walk it. Halfway down the path, the hail suddenly lets up, stopping almost as quickly as it had started. Not wanting to walk back up the path, and half fearing it would hail again, we stepped off to the side to make our coffees before heading back down to dry off at home. It was at this point I managed to snap these two gorgeous views of Aberystwyth, one before drying my lens off, and one immediately after.
The purpose of this trip was not only to reconnect with Ben but to go camping in Wales, something neither of us had done before. I had been planning the perfect place for months previous to this, down to bus times and where exactly we would stop for tea and lunch breaks on the hike to the camping spot, but mother nature had other plans for us. What with storm Dennis in full force, and our intended camping spot of Rhinog Fawr being under snow, it was with heavy hearts we decided to skip out on camping and instead just go on a day hike I had done before, up to Llyn Cau at Cadir Idris. Again, due to the storm we decided not to summit the peak, but seeing as Ben had never seen a sight like this in the UK (he had however been camping in the Black Forest a few years previous, where sights such as these were aplenty) it was certainly not going to be a disappointing trip. So the day after our hail filled adventure, we prepared to set off on the earliest bus possible, hoping it turned up this time as before any of the previous days walks we had attempted the trip then but no buses turned up at all. We suspect this is because of the weather and flooding that had been happening locally and across the UK; we were in luck and the bus turned up on time!
Now, we weren't fully unprepared, we had both done all we could to make sure this was as safe as possible. Both of us are fairly experienced with hiking and camping, we were constantly checking the weather forecasts leading up to and during the bus journey, we had packed all the necessary equipment and made sure we were wearing all the correct clothing (we had even purchased some extras a few days before, things such as waterproof gloves and extra hats and socks). We felt confident in our ability to do this walk comfortably, especially with my knowledge of the trail as I had done this trip a few months beforehand. About 30 minutes into the bus journey to Cadir Idris, a man gets on and starts talking to the bus driver about how he will be summiting Cadir Idris that day, mentioning a bad storm rolling in some time in the afternoon. Whilst obviously we were a little nervous about the storm, this seemed to give us a bit of a boost, we weren't the only ones walking up there and this man was even going further than we had intended to! At this point we were both excited about what was going to be a good day taking - hopefully - wonderful photos.
Once the bus arrived, we got set up for the walk. This meant putting our waterproof trousers on, securing our bags on our backs, and our cameras where we could easily access them. The weather seemed fine, maybe a light mist of rain here and there but nothing extreme, and no hints of anything worsening other than what that man on the bus had mentioned, but we were spurred on by the fact that he had set off just before us and was still planning on doing the whole circuit across the mountain ridge. The most of the ascent to Llyn Cau is made of steps, some very shallow, some requiring you to scramble on your hands and knees, but mostly they were your average sized stone steps. There was a fair amount of water running down these steps, in places channels had been constructed or carved to keep the water off the step surface; when I had visited a few months previous there was water running down the steps then, however there was more on this day due to the recent barrage of storms that had hit the Wales particularly hard. Perhaps a third of the way up, but past the steepest portion of the walk, there is a large stone footbridge crossing the river and leading toward a pocket of trees. It was here we decided to have a short rest and the first round of sandwiches and tea we had packed for this journey. We discussed the pictures we had taken and hoped to take, taking particular note of the differences we were looking for due to the fact I was using black and white and Ben was using colour film.
Once we set off again the weather had turned slightly colder, but nothing alarming at this point. We had both all but forgotten what the man on the bus had said about a storm rolling in and still continued to cheerily greet people we passed on their way back down and the few who overtook us when we stopped to take photos. At one point it had started to spit a little, right when I had to change the roll of film inside my camera too; I did what I had many times in the past and gently curled my body over my camera in a squatting position whilst I did this to minimise the chance of any rain getting inside my precious Olympus OM1. I don't know what it was that started this, because I hadn't consciously realised anything was turning or going bad yet, but I started to feel very negative at this point. Things were frustrating me that normally wouldn't and I began to have a very short fuse. Even if I hadn't noticed what had made me feel like this - and in hindsight I think it must have been something to do with the weather/pressure and constant thoughts of my dads illness due to my projects concepts - I had certainly noticed how I was now feeling/acting and tried desperately not to take it out on Ben, and possibly hide it if I could. I suspect a similar mentality had come over Ben at this point, because the rest of the walk up was done in a very different tone to the ground we had already covered, we were still talking and joking a bit, but there was certainly a metaphorical cloud above us as well as the very real ones overhead.
Our original plan when we got to the top was to sit down, make a pot of coffee and have our second round of sandwiches before exploring a bit with our cameras and then walking back down, but that is not what happened. We were both very happy to see Llyn Cau and know we had made it to our destination, but decided to stick with our flasks of tea instead of get the stove out as the wind had now picked up considerably and we were not sure if we would be able to light it as all of my jet lighters were empty so we only had regular ones which are not windproof (and I didn't feel like taking the chance of using my fire lighter near a gas canister). If the mood hadn't taken a turn for the worse before, it certainly did now. ~I'm no stranger to crying on a hike, mostly because doing this project forces me to constantly be thinking about the concept and the reason I am there, but the pressure you could feel from the weather at this point was pushing me closer and closer toward the edge. Twice I have walked to Llyn Cau, twice I have cried upon arrival, except when the first trip was just a small weep, this was buckets. It was honestly a very cathartic experience, and Ben being a good friend and knowing me very well knew to just leave me to it and explore on his own for a bit. As silly as it may sound, I really connected with the landscape then, I may have been frustrated and upset but I was crying with the mountain this time, not just on top of it. As the raindrops and mist joined forces with the tears on my face both of us decided that as much as it was awesome in the most biblical of senses to be up there surrounded by the elements, it was time to head back, and fast.
Both of us had stopped taking any photos at this point, our hands too cold even inside gloves. These gloves were waterproof and yet if we clenched our fists water would pour out of them as if we were ringing sponges; however we feel this may have actually been beneficial to an extent, like mini wet suits for our hands! Most of the walk back down was done in silence, both of us concentrating too hard on not falling over on the wet slippery stone path, each balanced oddly due to bags and cameras on our backs and shoulders. We stopped once again at the place we had had our lunch on the way up, hoping to get some cover from the trees and maybe have a warm drink. The stove was lit and instead of making coffee we tried to dry and warm our gloves a tad, instead still drinking from the tea flasks we had made before leaving. Everything seemed okay at this point, not fantastic obviously, but nothing horrible and we were on our way down, only the steep steps to go! that was until I went to take a picture of this fallen tree and its roots, the way a slice of light was coming through the canopy and falling on its silver bark, all other trees nearby being dark and straight trunked this one stood out like something from a fantasy novel. Perhaps it was one of those fantasy novels where the wicked Fae lure the unsuspecting visitor to their demise as once I got over there and cocked the shutter, now away from the small gas stove, the cold really set in. I could hardly move my hands now my gloves were off, and I certainly couldn't hold still to take the photo. I snapped two and just hoped they would turn out alright before I had to struggle to turn around and rush back to Ben (perhaps Fae really were trying to keep me there, a victim of the mountain) where I could feel the cold penetrating to my very core. He too noticed how bad it had gotten once I mentioned it, as if we were frogs in a slowly boiling pot of water not noticing they are being cooked alive, except we had noticed and it was now a panic to pack up and get back down. Everything at this point was a struggle, gloves being put back on, the stove top being turned off and unscrewed, even pushing hair out of my eyes felt like an insurmountable task.
The steps on the way down was an entirely different feeling to the steps on the way up. Where before we were filled with excitement and the air was electric, now we were doing nothing but concentrating on where each foot falls next, and looking for hand holds to steady ourselves with our heavy bags and fragile camera equipment. We paused only briefly a few times to regroup and take stock of our progress, other than these few moments of rest did either of us look up from the ground; There were no pictures taken and next to no conversation had bar a promise made to each other that neither of us would slip and injure ourselves. The moment that promise was fulfilled and we reached even ground, no more stone steps in sight, was one of elation. However glad we were to be at the base of the mountain now, we did not linger long and swiftly began the walk back to the bus stop. There was still over an hour and a half to wait for the bus back to Aberystwyth, and we were worried it was not going to turn up on time due to all the recent flooding in Wales and surrounding areas - especially after we were scorned by an absent bus the morning before. We had stood in the cold, now not moving but glad to be on level ground, for only a short while before we decided to try and see if the small hotel at the base of the mountain was open, even if only for some shelter but also to help ease our worries of the last bus not arriving.
Going into this small hotel (bed and breakfast?) both myself and Ben were quite anxious, but the draw of a potentially warm and dry room was too much of a pull to ignore. We rang the bell and an older gentleman opened the door and said we could come in for a pot of tea and some biscuits - it was as if he had just offered us a place in heaven! We remove as many of our wet layers whilst still remaining decent and go to sit down next to the electric fire whilst he brings us our delightfully warm pot and pair of mugs and begins some expected small talk, Ben mentions how beautiful the view was from here - you could see layers of mountain and forest, with waterfalls very far away in the distance - but the man was having none of this and curtly said that it was not that great when you live out here all the time. We were a bit taken aback by this but guessed he had a point perhaps, even if he did put it rudely (although I'm not sure either me or Ben would ever get sick of something like that, no matter how cold we got). From this point on wards the man kept leaving the room and going in and out of various doors we could see from our seats by the fire, then coming back and talking about benign things such as how Greggs the bakery now have contracts with Asda's to open in-store bakeries (something I have yet to see), and every time any city was mentioned he would talk at length about the quality of the football pitch there - not the team, the pitch and grounds itself. Then back out of the room to dart between doors hiding unknowable scenes to us. He would repeat this talk, walk around, talk, walk around routine for a while, every now and then repeating any information about the bus services he had, sometimes mentioning previous guests to us seemingly unrelated to anything anyone had said, and then Ben asked where the toilet was. It was close to the time we would have to leave to wait outside for the bus so we would probably have to leave soon after Ben got back.
The man took this opportunity to sit down and talk to me very intently and non-stop, I'm sure it was just because he can't have very many visitors there, especially during storms in the middle of February, but if he wasn't giving off slightly Norman Bates vibes by this point, he certainly was now. He had sat down in the arm chair that was uncomfortably close to mine and absolutely would not let me just look out the window and enjoy the view, I had to talk to him (or rather listen, as I couldn't get a word in even if I wanted to) and as we had both finished the pot of tea there was nothing I could do except nod and squeeze in a couple 'mhmms'. After what felt like an eternity Ben walks back into the room and stutters out something about there being a blockage, eyes darting back and forth between the man and me, I understood immediately what he had done but the man stared at Ben in silent confusion. This prompted Ben to stutter out a clarification of there being a blockage in the toilet upstairs which seemed to drive the point home to the owner of the hotel, who swiftly but still silently went off to go look at the damage.
Ben was sweating at this point, a visible sheen to represent his guilt and anxiety over what he had done to what we can only assume is very very old plumbing. As we could hear the old man moving from room to room upstairs, occasionally coming down to go into a cupboard only to emerge with (yet more) cleaning supplies, we hastily began the long process of putting back on our still wet clothes. This would have been an incredibly unpleasant experience without the added anxiety of the now silent judging looks of the man whose toilet Ben had befouled. Once the man had finished the unfortunate job he had been tasked with, Ben tried to apologise at least twice more, but he wouldn't even acknowledge Ben, let alone reply to him, so I paid for our tea and biscuits before we swiftly made our way to the side of the road to wait for a bus that may or may not be on its way.
The bus stop - and I say that very loosely - was a small grass verge on the side of this main road. Not even a sign to indicate it was a bus stop, I only know it is one from previous trips to Cadir Idris I have taken. We are stood there in the rain and wind, no shelter from anything, hoping beyond all hope this bus hasn't been cancelled due to the floods other parts of the country were suffering from because that would mean having to go back into the small hotel and asking for a room for the night. Every time a larger vehicle approached the corner our hearts would stop hoping that it was the bus, and what felt like an age later it was actually the bus and not some other HGV.
Now, I've been pleased to be on a bus before, but I don't think I've ever been quite so pleased as I was at that moment. It may have been drafty, it may have rattled, the seats and windows may not have been the cleanest, but it was dry (when we got on at least, we definitely left a puddle of water I apologised profusely for), it was warm, and it meant we were going home.
After getting in and changing into dry clothes and turning the heating on, we began to tell my housemates and one other friend how the day had gone and what the weather was like. I mentioned how I was chilled to the very core and even after hours of being in the house and wrapped in blankets with a hot chocolate I still felt very very cold deep within me, the all sort of laughed it off but Ben was feeling the same too. It really made us realise that no matter how experience and prepared we thought we were, it can get dangerous out there really quick and perhaps we hadn't been as prepared as we had thought. Even the next day after waking up I was still feeling this great sense of chill within myself that was hard to shake - that's just how wet and cold it got up there.
With only two days left of Ben's visit, we spent the next day resting and recovering but we didn't stay far away from landscapes as we took a trip to the local museum and art gallery - something we have done every time Ben has come to visit me in Aberystwyth.
We spent hours looking at the landscape paintings there, both of local Aberystwyth and further afield. Studying the brushstrokes and the lighting in each image, discussing the position at which it was painted and composed from, talking about why we liked the aspects we did and how we could maybe incorporate certain compositional techniques into our own works in the future. Afterwards we sat in a nearby cafe and planned our last walk of his visit for tomorrow, and we decided what better way to end than the place we started, Constitution Hill.
We didn't go the exact same way we had gone the first night when looking for the toads, instead Ben took the lead and we went down a side path he had gone down on his very first trip to Aber back in 2016. I was still doing an Astrophysics degree at that point and was busy in a lecture one day so Ben had decided to explore the surroundings for himself and this is the pathway he had found. The path itself we would later find out is a continuation of the Wales Coastal path we had been on earlier in the week just in the opposite direction. It hugged closely the hill, but felt dangerously close to the edge of the cliff at points, I remember we were both talking about how glad we were it was dry because it felt bad enough without the added traction issues caused by wet and muddy paths. This path eventually opened up just enough for a picnic bench to sit there, looking one way you were met with the sudden drop off of the cliff, and then a seemingly endless sea, and the other was a forest of dead and burnt looking trees. Neither of us have been able to find any sources explaining the state of these trees, and have never been able to find where they end before having to turn back into town, but its certainly a sight to see.
It had started to spit as the sun began to go down, so we decided to venture away from the cliff edge path and along the patch of dead trees before heading to the top of Consti and joining the route we took on Ben's first night here. Getting to the top of the hill we came across a building that I neither of us had ever seen there before. It was small and door-less, the inside covered with graffiti, but something about this little brick hut on top of an otherwise empty hill down the road from the attractions advertised at the top of the train tracks was captivating. We didn't go inside, there was an energy about the place stopping us from doing so, even though it was only small you couldn't see fully round the corners and honestly neither of was wanted to know all that much. Especially as we were still recovering from the Cadir Idris trip.
The sun in its setting hit the damp clouds in such a way that everything began to turn purple, I had never quite seen anything like this before and I don't think Ben had either. We sat at the top of the hill not too far from the abandoned brick hut and watch the sun disappear behind the sea. It was a beautiful end to a wonderful week, even if it was a little bit dangerous and incredibly wet and windy the whole time. Neither of us can wait to do something like this again, especially after all the travel restrictions that have been implemented nationwide which have been stopping us from getting even the smallest fix of a hike that we normally would.
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