Dduallt: Looking out towards the Arans
It was late one night,
as I was re-checking the galley proofs of the seventy-eight chapters
making up Classic Walks, when the phone rang. Jim Perrin was on the
line. "Get out the Dolgellau O.S. map and look at the huge tract
of mountain country between the Arenigs and the Mawddach Estuary. A
walk linking the Migneint in the north with Cader Idris in the south,
including Arenig Fawr, Moel Llyfnant and Rhobell Fawr would have a
quintessentially Welsh flavour with all the beauties, problems and
archetypal character of that country." Any recommendation from
Jim is good enough for me and I hastily agreed to the last minute
addition. Ken Wilson used all his persuasive powers to get Jim to
extend his walk to a marathon crossing of the hills from Blaenau
Ffestiniog to Dolgellau over Manod Mawr, the Migneint, the Arenigs,
Moel Llyfnant, Dduallt and Rhobell Fawr. But Jim was spared —
merit, not severity was our guideline, I reasoned, and anyway, the
Migneint and Arenig Fach had already been admirably dealt with by
Harold Drasdo.
Jim's manuscript duly arrived and I read it with more
than usual interest for I was not well acquainted with the area. My
interest quickened even more when I read that Jim rated Rhobell Fawr
his favourite Welsh mountain. This made it an exceptional hill for,
as readers know, Jim is a most discerning and sensitive commentator
on the topography of North Wales and he knows every cwm, llyn and dol
in the Principality. Rhobell Fawr leapfrogged to the very top of my
list of hills to be climbed and the first opportunity arose one day
in early June. North Wales was suffering a heat wave and I planned my
day very carefully. No thirty mile marathon of sweat and aching
limbs; a mere fifteen mile hill crossing from Llanuwchllyn to
Dolgellau would give me Dduallt and Rhobell Fawr followed by a gentle
descent to the Mawddach. The morning was deliciously cool as, at 5.45
a.m., I left Dolhendre on the Llanuwchllyn to Trawsfynydd road and
made for the hills. Whilst crossing the Afon Lliw a heron flapped
loosely overhead. A good farm track leads south of the rocky bluff,
Castell Carndochan, and then an indistinct path winds up through the
pastures, between twisted rowans and tumbled-down walls, now
overgrown and thick with moss.
The fields were bright with harebells
and heath bedstraw and my feet left a track through the dew. After
half an hour the path petered out and the hillside was rough with
tussocky grass, bilberry and deep heather. I paused for a moment
under a line of rock outcrops falling away on the south side of Craig
y Llestri and looked about. Rolling mists clung to the valleys below
and completely covered Bala Lake but, rising well above the mist and
already bathed in sunshine, ran the long line of the Arans. The view
north was dominated by the shapely profiles of Craig y Bychan and
Moel Llyfnant, while to the west Dduallt, my first objective, rose
abruptly from the flat moorland belying its 2,153 feet. From the east
Dduallt appears as a long whaleback, ribboned by buttresses of grey
rock, and I altered course to make for the north ridge, the natural
route of ascent. The high, open plateau under Dduallt has recently
been fenced and drained and I suspect the conifers, at present just
visible topping the ridge to the south, will soon be marching on
towards Dduallt itself. From a distance the drained area appeared
white with what I suspected to be lime but turned out to be cotton
grass.
Rhobell y Big Summit
My eye caught a glint in the heather and I picked up a tiny
metal ring bearing a code number. It was the identity ring of a
homing pigeon and a local fancier traced the owner to Ballymena, Co.
Antrim. The pigeon had been released from Haverfordwest in 1980 and
had almost certainly fallen prey to a peregrine falcon. From the
increasing number of birds lost, pigeon fanciers reckon that the
peregrine population in Wales is multiplying. The north ridge of
Dduallt is quite broad, but always interesting with rock outcrops to
be negotiated and ever widening views west to the Rhinogs and south
to Rhobell Fawr. Ragged grey clouds hung over the Rhinogs but it was
only 8.00 a.m and the sun's warmth had hardly taken effect. The way
ahead to Rhobell Fawr was blocked by a huge forestry plantation
filling the valley on the west side. The 1974 Landranger map showed a
gap in the trees on the south side but this too had now been planted.
However, from my bird's-eye view I could see an obvious broad
fire-break leading in the general direction of Rhobell Fawr and I
made for this. The forest was not as impenetrable as it looked from
above because rocky ground prevents close packing of trees, unlike
some of the dense Northumbrian forests, I was intrigued to see the
smaller fire-breaks had recently been planted with cupressus.
The
Forestry Commission now realises that most fire-breaks are useless
and they are filling them in with fast growing crops like cupressus.
It was a relief to emerge from the trees high up on the north
shoulder of Rhobell Fawr, where Welsh sheep were grazing the close
cropped grass between the rock outcrops. The ewes and their lambs
ignored me and I thought what clean and peaceful creatures these
Welsh sheep are, an altogether superior breed to the nervous and
scraggy Swaledales and Scottish Blackfaces of the north. Jim Perrin
talks of a tame fox on Dduallt. I did not see it but I was rewarded
by the sight of a young fox, with a white tip to his tail, watching
me until, when I was within ten metres, he turned and slipped away
into the rocks. Rhobell Fawr is virtually unknown and not a vestige
of a path scars its upper slopes. The O.S. pillar at 2,408 feet is
tastefully constructed of natural stone and in no way intrudes on the
landscape. I sat down for a second breakfast by the pillar at 9.45
a.m. and although the sun had not quite dried the dew on the grass it
was quickly evaporating the clouds on the Rhinogs and Cader Idris.
The three sheets of water visible to me, namely Lake Bala, Lake
Trawsfynydd and the MawdachEstuary were beginning to sparkle. Set
in an unfashionable tract of mountain country and hardly worth
climbing for their modest heights alone, Dduallt and Rhobell Fawr are
ringed by the popular ranges, Snowdonia and the Moelwyns to the
north, Cader Idris to the south, the Rhinogs to the west and the
Arans to the east. But the vast Coed y Brenin forest dominating the
view west put a damper on my enjoyment and, sadly, blocks of forest
were the predominating feature all round. Our mountain tops are
becoming oases in a desert of forestry which goes to feed the chip
board factories and pulp mills. My heart sinks when I realise that the
development of new and hardier species of conifer will enable trees
to be planted to a greater height. Perhaps soon even our mountain
tops will be enveloped, and North Wales will become a boring
switchback of green carpet like much of Scandinavia. However, the
south west ridge of Rhobell Fawr is still clear of trees and provides
a gentle descent. I followed a magnificently constructed dry-stone
wall until, at Bwlch Goriwared, I met a good track coming over from
the west. The end of a walk is important when assessing its overall
quality. A long bash over miles of metalled road leaves you with
bruised feet and a short temper.
Not so today, for the descent from
Rhobell Fawr continued in an idyllic manner as the path led through
lush pastures, the air heady with the scent of gorse, may and
foxgloves. Hazel and alder grew in the hedges and a pair of buzzards
soared overhead. With the sun now high in the sky the sheep were
panting, even in the shade of the walls, and the hills were
shimmering. My usual haunts are the fells of the north of England and
the Scottish Highlands and I delighted in the typically Welsh
scenery. With small fields, woods, rock buttresses, lichen encrusted
boulders, tiny whitewashed cottages with slate roofs, a proliferation
of bracken and ferns and butterflies, where else could I be but
Wales? We become so used to expressing outrage at erosion and litter
and man's despoliation of the countryside that it is rare to have to
cope with other emotions stimulated by perfection. This was such an
occasion and it left me feeling quite dizzy. A short cut along a
marked Public Footpath (Llwybr Cyhoeddus) took me past the farm of
Cae and then I emerged above the tiny village of Llanfachreth with
its steepled church and line of terraced cottages. I stopped at the
tiny shop to buy a can of coke. The local inhabitants were conversing
in Welsh but broke off at my arrival and greeted me in English.
This
circular walk hugs the steep slopes of Foel Cynwch and returns along
the shore of Lyn Cynwch. I took the lakeside section of the walk
enjoying the shade provided by overhanging sycamores and oaks. The
blue rippling waters of Lyn Cynwch set against the backcloth of Cader
Idris maintained my mood of elevation until, at 1.00 p.m., I crossed
the bridge over the Afon Wnion and entered the fine old town of
Dolgellau. Dolgellau, county town of Merioneth and centre of the
great Gold Rush in 1862, but today choked with coaches and day
trippers and the streets littered with ice-cream wrappers. I was back
to reality. ■
Richard Gilbert 1983: First published in Climber -June 1983
