Day 26: Trevor to Nefyn
That was a walk along the coast
That one had it all. Weather, spectacular skies, waves, beaches, archaeological sites, lunch cafes, views and wildflowers.
It also had an expected and exhausting climb. Plus some sadistic and unannounced uploads. And just when we thought it was safe to relax, an additional climb in an area that less skilled trail builders couldn’t have managed to squeeze into.
Also, some nasty descents, mud, cow slime, rain, wind… hmmm, this is starting to read like it’s unpleasant.
I’ll start again. Because it was epic.
Port of Trefor
Our day began in the small tidal port of Trefor. The boats were rocking in the tide as they left us. The sky looked threatening, but the Internet guaranteed that it wouldn’t rain until tonight.
We set off with the triple peaks of Yr Eifl above us. The guide warned us that this would be “the most challenging walk on the Llyn Peninsula”. We were prepared.
But first, we had about a mile of cliffed coastline before we started climbing.
YOU ARE Canadian
We had barely passed the port when a young man with a huge backpack met us on a narrow pedestrian bridge. When he greeted us, Kate and I detected a non-Welsh accent. Kate laughed and asked, «Are you Canadian?»
And it was. Also, a little confused why we thought it was funny. He was a college student and spent 12 days backpacking along the Welsh coast before heading to London to take a one-credit beer course.
Who says college has gotten easier? Today they even have to study to drink beer.
He had wild camped the night before during a storm and was heading back to «the tent» at Trefor for supplies and water. I wished him luck. Trefor did not seem like a “supply” place. But I pointed out a bathroom next to the parking lot that had running water.
I thought he would pass by us later, but we haven’t seen him since. Maybe he was assaulted “studying.”
The great cliff
Unlike the large cliffs and mountains that occupied the beach on our walk from Conwy for the first week, there were no tunnels or million-dollar bike trails to stop us from climbing the mountain in front of us.
The map told us we had a 1,400 foot climb across the saddle between two peaks. The third peak was home to Tre’r Sieri («City of the Giants»), a massive 2,000-year-old Neolithic ruin. I was hoping to do a side hike to take a look, but as we started climbing, the mountain was covered in fog. Today there would be no views of the mountain tops.
The rise
The big climb started with some nice switchbacks along rows of hedges and small paths leading to some remote cabins and holiday lets.
The trail then ascended the side of the mountain. You know it’s steep when you see mountain goats lying down to rest. We continue climbing, straight into the clouds. And rain.
the clouds
As we approached what looked like the summit, we couldn’t see 50 feet ahead. But the trail improved, eventually widening and smoothing out enough for two sodden cyclists to pass us and disappear back into the mist.
Kate climbed like a champ. We both got well soaked in the fog, but it wasn’t cold or rainy enough to bring full rain gear. If I had worn mine, I would have drowned in sweat.
In the end we began to descend. A stone monument appeared in the fog. It marked the entrance to the secluded Nant Gwertheryn valley, home to a Welsh cultural centre.
A coffee for lunch
Kate had read that Nant Gwrtheyrn had a sort of museum about the revival of the Welsh language, something that interests her deeply. He’s been chatting to almost everyone we know about whether they speak Welsh and what they think about it.
Kate hoped to learn more from the experts. I had heard they had a nice cafe. They did it. The food was hot, tasty and served inside, out of the drizzle.
The coast and the climbs
We were looking forward to the big climb and steep descent down the mountain, so we left lunch thinking the difficult part of our hike was over.
It wasn’t.
Not only were we less than halfway to our destination, but we had traveled less than half the total vertical.
After leaving the cafe, the trail passed through some abandoned iron mines until reaching a rocky beach. Then he turned and climbed again up a steep slope of the promontory. And then head back towards the beach.
And every time I told Kate that it looked like we were done with the climb, we would either go down again or find some other hill that needed climbing.
Even after the trail turned inland, he managed to find something worth climbing.
a lost lamb
When we finally found relatively flat ground across some pastures, we were both pretty exhausted. Kate, who already had some leg problems before starting today’s walk, was exhausted.
Being physically exhausted is 90% of the emotional expense.
That’s when we found a little lamb that had somehow managed to get to the other side of the fence from its mother and the rest of the flock. He saw us and started running back and forth along the fence, bleating for his mother. I tried to lift the fence where he should have crossed but he didn’t come close to me.
There was no way to help. Not without a door or a sheepdog.
This did not improve Kate’s mood.
He had little to say for the rest of the walk.
More miles and climbs
The trail sensed his depression and sent him a few more climbs, some unmarked switchbacks, and some mud and rocks. But also many wild flowers. This path is masculine. The flowers make up for almost everything.
Finally at home
We limped to our accommodation super hungry and tired. We had enough in the tank to shower, eat and sleep. But it was the best kind of tired.
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