Machynlleth, rest day, July 26, 2017

It rained, but that did not affect the day very much. In the morning went to MoMA!  Not related to the New York original, but it did have a small exhibit featuring local artists.  My favourite was this piece made out of fine jewellery wire.  Since a title had not been given it, I am calling it Uncontainable Woman:

This watercolour(?) was done by a nine-year old girl.  Would you believe?

The one piece of embroidery was charming:

A detail:

The afternoon's event was the reason for the rest day.  It was a Just For You Falconry Experience.  To see better photos than I took go here: <http://www.raptorexperiencewales.co.uk/just-for-you/page17.html>  

You go to this falconry place a few miles outside of Machynlleth, which you are still trying to pronounce, and Luce will bombard you with such an array of facts about these birds that your head will be swimming or spinning in just a few minutes.  I cannot remember the half of it, but what I can tell you is that the birds are weighed every day because their weight, to the ounce, determines whether they will fly, which determines how much raw chicken (if any) they get, y es muy complicado.  

Now, if I am not mistaken, the eyes of this bird (yikes, but it could have been a different owl) can change from yellow to blue when necessary....they have a blue membrane sort of like a cataract that comes down when needed:

This is Barry with a bigger fellow:

And with a bald eagle.  Isn't he majestic?

No, you can't get away:

You really can't.  (You have to stay just like that to have your silhouette drawn for the USPS logo):

This is a brother and sister pair of Barn Owls from South Africa.  They have the softest little feathers:

Part of the "experience" is putting on a leather glove and letting the birds land on you as they swoop in to get their little bit of raw chicken.  It is amazing how delicately they alight. When they do, they land with a talon over the bit of food to secure it, then dig it out.

Although I could not absorb the myriad facts I was told, I did get a thrill seeing the birds so close up. You get to see the the makeup of the feathers, the little pads on the bottoms of their feet, so many details normally too far away to be seen.

I am not going to tell you what these birds eat as a main course!  You will have to spend a few hours with Barry and Luce to find out!

Tywyn to Machynlleth July 25, 2017

From Tywyn one starts out with a 4+ mile beach walk.  I hit it at low tide, the best time to see this huge beach in its vast stunningness:

Blob with blobby finger-lik eprojections:

Yet something else one had not previously thought about:

By and by this morning I heard the sound of hundreds of bleating sheep.  Glancing off to the left, I saw hundreds of sheep being herded by a couple of border collies, and a couple of "shepherds" seated atop small tractors, and those shepherds where a whooping and a hollering, just like you think they would.  The whole scene was out of view very quickly as sheep, dogs, and men on tractors disappeared over the brow of the hill.

Where there are sheep, there are cows.  A whole bunch were committed to blocking the road as cows are wont to do.  "Please, cows, would you let me pass?"  Finally, when you get close enough, they do, but I was concerned lest their new activity cause them alarm and they decide t come after me after all:

But they went on their way:

Tree: 

Pretty view:

Just-about-to-be-consumed nectarine, on top of memorial stone to Arthur:

Everything Old Bought And Sold read the sign:

A neat and tidy little place it was.  Why it has not kept its rating, who knows:

Sort of like not abseiling in the quarry, except there were no timber stacks to be seen:

Barmouth to Twyn July 24, 2017

Tonight, in Machynlleth,  I am staying at a hotel that was built in 1870, well, not as a hotel then, but as a private residence.  There are remnants of its history.  The floors slant at such a tilt that I wondered briefly if I should use my poles whilst navigating the hallways.  To get wi-fi, the computer has to be stuck out the window.  The second option for wi-fi is to come to the lounge, where I am now.  But I am getting ahead of the story.

Yesterday started out with a super walk across the old Barmouth bridge.

A view, maybe from the bridge, but does it matter?

I was up in them there hills (looks a lot like Two Bosom Peaks):

Who gets right of way around here:

Would you believe I was just about to abseil in the quarry:

But decided to forgo the experience.  Besides, I do do not think that this pile of slate was the quarry exactly.

Speaking of the quarry, though, brings to mind an encounter with man taking a morning walk. Learning that I was walking the WCP, he offered some advice.  "When you get to the WCP sign just ahead, ignore its telling you to turn left.  Stay on this path instead.  It is much nicer."  Got to sign, took advice, and the recommended path was quite lovely, as promised, then after about twenty minutes, I met the WCP in exactly the place he told me not to turn left.  It was a pretty detour, however.

Walk to Tywyn, though stunning,  was L O N G as in 19 miles (counting navigational issues and detour), and I would have liked to checked into the B and B before 4:00, but the somewhat unpleasant host of Preswylfya Guest House would have nothing to do with my request, nor would he allow me to drop off my pack.  So, on arrival, desperately wanting to doff the boots, and with an hour and half to check in time, I took the little Talyllyn train to wherever and back.  It was a sweet, slow, but not spectacular journey, and sitting down, drinking a bottle of sparkling water, while looking at the countryside was quite pleasant.

The claim to fame of said train is that it was the inspiration for Thomas the Train, as you can see:

 The green-doored carriages are first class:

Originally the tracks were laid to transport slate from mine to port, but then it was decided to add a passenger train for families and others in the area, so around 1865 Thomas was born!

Llanbedr to Barmouth July 23

Along the way this morning, was the largest camping+car site in the EU.  Somehow, sleeping in a tent right next to your car, which is right next to hundreds of other people sleeping in tents right next to their cars, seems at odds with the experience of being one with nature.  

Just after the car+tent extravaganza, was a two+ stretch of beach walking, not the kind of beach walking where you want to kick off your boots, through them over your neck (a really great feeling), and feel the sand and water between your toes, pero bueno.  One third of the beach is devoted to people who want to cavort without being encumbered by bikinis and such:

This is where they get to cavort:

But at 8:15 on a chilly Sunday morning, not a tuchas was to be seen:

One may wonder whether the prosecution for overstepping the boundary is the same or different from that for not shutting a gate.

There was an optional mountain route today between Tal Y Bont and Barmouth.  I was kind of scared to take it because the last optional route I took way back at Mostyn was a nightmare.  But took it I did and it was just gorgeous, way more gorgeous than the photo would lead you to believe:

A sweet little waterfall en route:

Stone walls snaking through the countryside:

I don't have Ruth's name-the-mountain app, but I will call these hills Twin-Bosom-Peaks:

Now here is a structure waiting to serve as a sukkah:

I really liked my hotel, The Tilman, in Barmouth.  It didn't look at all like the sukkah.  Even though it was rooms over a bar-restaurant, not my favourite genre, everything worked so well, especially the shower, which, in these parts, tends to offer a different surprise every night.  And the wi-fi was state of the art!

Llacdecwyn Station to Llanbedr

Woke up this morning and did not hear the sound of rain striking the pavement.  It actually was not raining despite the prediction.  Oh, joy!  Let's celebrate with a bright patch of thistle:

The walk today was easy and gorgeous:

A little church surrounded by a big cemetery:

Made a stop at Harlech Castle

So now I have seen the four big ones in Wales:  Beaumaris, Caernarfon, Criccieth, and Harlech.  As it is said, that and $5.00 will get you a latte grande.  Speaking of food, I did have a delicious Welsh fudge ice cream cone, a new flavour for me, keeping with my commitment to try a new flavour whenever possible

Looking down at some artifacts(?) neatly arranged:

Boats in a mud flat:

Don't those yellow lines look like an invitation to cross?  I thought so.  But you weren't supposed to the penalty for which was just a little bit more road walking:

A different sort of penalty, £1000, will keep people remembering to close the gate even though this particular one could not be open due to its being padlocked shut.

The walking is becoming more beautiful by the day.

Porthmadog, July 19-22

Arrived at Porthmadog to find my new poles waiting, as poles can do nothing else, at Tudor Lodge, Carl and Anja, the kind proprietors, having received them on my behalf.  I rejoiced to see them, you can be sure.

Later in the afternoon, Ruth and Paul, my dear walking friends arrived, and after a cup of tea we ambled over to a neighbouring town to have dinner at a most fine restaurant, where, whilst dining, we plotted out our activity for the next day.  Since we were likely to be treated to fine weather, a rarity in these parts and in these times, and since Ruth and Paul drove here, we took advantage of all options and decided to tackle the terrain around Beddgelert where I had been rained out a week or so ago.  But before getting to the adventure of the day, and a glorious adventure it was, AND only doable with companions who have the skills of Ruth and Paul, you must become acquainted with the sad story that gave the town its name—which means, alas and alack, The Grave of Gelert.

Gelert was a dog who belonged to Llywelyn the Great, Prince of Gwynedd.  One fine, or not so fine, afternoon, Llywelyn returns from hunting to find his baby missing, the cradle overturned, and Gelert with a blood-smeared mouth running to meet him. Believing the dog had savaged (savaged, I tell you) the child, Llywelyn draws his sword and kills Gelert. After the dog's dying yelp Llywelyn hears the cries of the baby, unharmed under the cradle, along with a dead wolf which had attacked the child and been killed by Gelert.  Llywelyn is overcome with remorse and buries the dog with great ceremony, but can still hear its dying yelp. After that day Llywelyn never smiles again. (Narrative adapted from a website, maybe Wikepedia.)

(The dog and the wolf do look a lot alike, don't you think?) On that sad note, we moved on to our walk.  It was gorgeous beyond belief, 

This is Ruth using an app that can identify the surrounding mountain peaks after you wave your phone up and down and around and around, and if you can get a signal:

So maybe she could tell you the names of these in the photo, even the peaks obscured by clouds.  I could not:

Paul, meantime, was busying himself getting the lay of the land:

And a good thing, too, because.....

Yes, the walk certainly had its adventurous bits.  But we all survived.  Ruth and I:

And Paul and I, as well:

Well, really, there was no issue about Ruth and Paul's being able to get through it!  

Some heather:

Then, under the protection of the local dragon....

We returned to Porthmadog, went to another fine restaurant where we enjoyed another superb meal. This establishment requires you to sign a form if you want to take your delicious leftover cod in a fishy bag.  I signed!

 It is one of the highlights of my walks to spend time with Ruth and Paul, but today our adventures went in different directions.  Ruth and Paul dropped me off at a slate mine where I had an underground tour and then took the Belineau Festiniog RR back to Porthmadog, and they went to meet a group of friends to walk the Pilgrim Trail, all in the POURING rain.  Tomorrow, the walk south along the coast continues, most likely in the rain, again.