THE QUOTATION below, from the fine old Welsh scholar Ifor
Williams, captures one of the things I love about the Carneddau.
This great hill-massif between the valleys of Conwy and Ogwen- the highest block of hill country south of the Cairngorms – is,
for all its high, barren apartness, an
intensely local place. The terraces
of the old slate-quarrying
communities to the north and west
climb high up its flanks, and it’s
from this direction that I prefer to
approach, rather than the
recreational bustle around Llyn
Ogwen. The better and longer
walks in the Carneddau all start
from the northern side, and they
take you into a landscape like
nothing else in Britain other than
that Cairngorm plateau.
The highest point of the
Carneddau, Carnedd Llywelyn, at
1064m (3491ft) is the second-
highest in Britain south of the
Scottish border. It’s a far wilder,
more remote, less despoiled
summit than the shapelier one of
Snowdon a dozen or so miles to its
west. On a fine day, when you’d be
queuing to reach the very top of Snowdon (and choking on coal
or diesel fumes from the mountain railway locomotives), often
as not you’ll have Carnedd Llywelyn to yourself. Its ridges are
long and spacious. Some of Eryri’s great cliffs shadow its cwms.
The first ever guidebook to a British hill was written in its praise - Hugh Derfel Hughes’ Llawlyfr Carnedd Llywelyn of 1864. I
often think of its author sitting up here among the frost-rimed
rocks and January snow with the preacher Tanymarian. They
watched the mist roll in beneath them while discussing Darwin,
geology and evolution with speculative excitement and eyes
eager for the significance of detail. Even before them, Thomas
Pennant came here in 1781and revelled in the “amazingly great”
view. It is exactly that, and the ascent to and descent from it are
panoramic in their outlooks. This is truly one of our finest hills.
When and from where to climb it? If you want a traverse
and transport’s not a problem, I’d recommend you start from
sea level at Abergwyngregyn, traversing high on the left above
the famous waterfall (a tricky step here where there have been
fatalities, so take care!) The stream above, the Afon Goch, flows
in and out of dramatic little miniature gorges. Leave it by the
sheepfolds of an ancient settlement and climb the northern
spur of Bera Mawr to its rocky crown. Beyond a little dip is the
shattered tor of Bera Bach. You’re now feeling your way into
the high Carneddau. Come well-equipped when snow’s on the
ground and the March days are lengthening to find them at
their best, but even in high summer the feel of this place is
unlike any other.
Below Bera Bach the path used by those shepherds described
by Ifor Williams traverses in from Bethesda. If you’ve planned a
circular walk this is the way to take. It leads to Foel Grach, with
its refuge hut, and on across Gwaun y Garnedd to the summit of
Llywelyn, where there’s a
magnificent circular shelter cairn.
From here you look straight down
to tiny Ffynnon Llyffant, highest
and most remote of Welsh lakes.
All around you, wind will have
bitten in to the crisp snow and
etched sastrugi across its surface.
Come here in May, look attentively,
and you may see small scurrying
birds resolve from perfect
camouflage into movement and
approach. Last time I was here, one
came right up to my feet and fed off
pieces of sandwich I dropped to
her. There was the thinnest crescent
of moon sailing boat-like across the
eastern sky that was echoed in her
bright semi-lunar breast-marking.
Her shaded chestnut underparts
were the tone of the mosses, her
grey nape that of the lichens on the
stones. Every year for as long as I
have known these hills she has been here.
A dotterel! One of our smallest, rarest and most beautiful
waders, providing a link between the two great arctic tundra
regions of Britain – the high tops of the Carneddau, where she’s a
spring visitor, and those of her breeding ground on the
Cairngorm plateau. But you are a long way from home on top of
Carnedd Llywelyn, and will want to descend before darkness, I
suppose? Head back along the five-mile ridge by which you
came, over Yr Aryg, Bera Bach and Drosgl down to Bethesda.
Don’t hurry. These hills have an atmosphere unique to
themselves. Even the detail – the frost-heaved surface, the
scattered stone, the woolly profusion of moss and lichen – is
different to that of any other part of Snowdonia.
The sun will be a deep, orangey red, hanging over Holy
Island, a glint of sea separating it from the mainland of Anglesey.
An eggshell-blue arc in the west will modulate into palest green
and then a yellow streaked with dove-grey. All the spectral
splendour of a mountain sunset will thrill and absorb you as you
descend to the stacked, steep terraces of Bethesda.Map: OS 1:25,000 Explorer sheet OL17, Snowdon & Conwy Valley areas“By now we were on the open
mountain, with Gyrn Wigau to
the left and aiming for the edge of
Drosgl. I looked back and saw that
by now many more shepherds
and their dogs had joined us.
Nobody spoke and nobody
greeted the newcomers - all
simply kept on walking. Then we
saw a flaming torch far to the left
in the region of Llanllechid and
one of the group said, ‘The Bryn
Eithin lads are letting us know
they’re on their way.’”Ifor Williams, “I Ddifurru’r Amser” (1959)MOUNTAIN PORTRAITJim Perrin celebrates a wild and unspoiled mountain that’s the
second-highest south of Scotland
CARNEDD LLYWELYN
FURTHER READING: William Condry, The Snowdonia National Park (Collins
New Naturalist, 1966); Showell Styles, The Mountains of North Wales
(Gollancz, 1970)
FACILITIES: A visit to Bethesda’s Douglas Arms is a must – Don’t take the
locals on at snooker!32 The Great Outdoors July 2019