My feet have been itching to have rough rocks under them for weeks. My brain needed me to return to Anafon and so today I did. I had planned a cycle-camping trip this week but the appalling weather – the remains of Hurricane Bill (named after my dad? – he liked the raw power of storms) relegated my outing to this one dryish day.
Anafon is a kind of hidden valley in that because it is a dead end, very few bother to walk up it. Nevertheless, it possesses a desolate beauty and suited being the location of a hideaway for the fugitives from an apocalyptic virus in my scifi Left Luggage. (still looking for a wise publisher). My wife was also walking but up in the Lake District with a group from the science conference she’s attending. Funny to think both of us hiking up in the hills a hundred miles apart. I tried shouting a greeting (no signal on my phone) but I’m hard of hearing so didn’t hear her response.
I’ve done my walk before and so anticipated the vistas and exhiliration with increased pulse. Of course climbing steadily uphill for the first hour from the Aber Falls carpark sent me into near tachycardia. That’s when I saw the signpost leading up to Drum, the summit of which was my destination for lunch. Enroute I met a feral pony on the track. She seemed reluctant to move but we exchanged greetings. Some of my words reflected on how much these wild ponies stink! I know all horses have a strong odour but my, after rain the feral ones, with no grooming, made me run towards fresh air – uphill.
I add a photo of the Anafon valley. You can see Anglesey in the distance beyond, and the Irish Sea. With binoculars and the ability to see around the Earth’s curvature I could have seen my wife on her walk.