Common ground
The email read: "Here's where we'll camp and
this is where we'll walk ok?" I looked at the map showing vague directions
to a campsite near Bala with resignation. Whatever...
David and I used to camp together as kids but I'd never really felt as
enthusiastic about camping in North Wales as he was. The rain became more
persistent the further west I got and the temperature gauge showed 9 centigrade.
we planned to walk Aran Fawdawwy, one of the
more remote Snowdonian peaks, a little short of the 3000' mark and often
overlooked for neighbouring Cadair Idris.
And so it went, the vast arena of North Wales, temporary abode to a ramshackle
crew of sad poets, dreamers and fallen angels, and for us, two brothers, common
ground.
Tryfan
"We'll walk Aran tomorrow yeah?" but
David had already been camping for five days in mostly inclement weather and I
could tell that his spirit was dampening.
Nevertheless, we were back several weeks later, camping near the the
fabulous Mawddach estuary at Bontduu. For me it was one of the best times of my
life and it made it all the better for being right in the middle of a busy
period of school residencies. I just couldn't help but sit around smiling, I
felt so free. Geoff came over from Hereford to join us on a hike up Tryfans'
north ridge. David had arrived with his friend Paul and we were later joined by
Pauls' girlfriend Cath who has the greatest laugh on earth. Most nights were spent goofing around the campfire until around
3am, innocent lunatics under the watchful gaze of the night sky. Joseph arrived later in the week to spend the rest of the week camping with me
and summed up the area beautifully:
"I didn't know there was anywhere like this."
Aran Fawdawwy
Joseph and I stayed on when everyone
else had to leave and go back to their homes and jobs. We moved campsites to Brithdir,
only a short drive from Dinas Mawdwwy and Aran Fawdawwy.
The mountain wasn't particularly difficult or precipitous but in the sun it was
a long hard slog. David phoned to see what we were up to. "You're up Aran?
jammy B*****d..." and then the call was cut off abruptly by the loss of
signal.
As we approached the summit, Joseph sang, "I've got a body, a very busy
body and it goes everywhere with me...."
The Carneddau, Cnicht and Aber
falls
Other momentous mountain walks followed
including a nine mile trek across the Carnnedau peaks of Pen yr Ole Wen, Carnedd
Llewellyn and carnedd Daffid. We camped near Criccieth and were joined by two of
my brothers in law, Elwyn and Graham. Being mid October, we had the site to
ourselves and there were fun times around the fire playing guitars and mandolin,
light shows with flaming sticks and the most incredible view of a spiral arm of
our own galaxy above our heads. Half an hour or so after making a speech about
moderation, Elwyn got drunk and was twice saved from falling in the fire.
Unfortunately no-one could save him from falling on his tent, breaking a
cross-brace in the process. "I AM NOT A CHILD" he slurred as we tried
desperately to squeeze him into his now flat tent to sleep it off.
The following day was dry and mild and we made our preparations over breakfast
before driving over to Capel Curig for the start of our mountain walk.. The
ascent up Pen yr ole wen was steep and unrelenting but we were rewarded with
panoramic views across the sea to Anglesey and west across the Glyderau. Elwyn
appeared to be unaffected by the previous nights excesses as he strided
effortlessly up the steep gradients. The wind was blowing so strongly across one
part of exposed ridge that we could have leaned into it, but the 2000' drop
beyond deterred us.
The descent overlooked the distinctive peak of Tryfan and the Glyderau to the
right. The peaks of Glyder Fawr and Glyder Fach had been the first mountain walk
that David and I had done several years before and we both had fond memories of
the steep climb up Devils kitchen and across the eerie, rock strewn ridge
between the peaks before descending near Cwm Tryfan in a sudden covering of
thick, swirling mist.
Back at the campsite the next day, we spent time on a nearby beach collecting
interesting stones and shells. The beach was remote and the shoreline was
littered with all kinds of debris which we sorted through enthusiastically for
firewood. "What are you going to do with that?" asked David as I
struggled to carry a huge length of wood on my shoulders. David was a
perfectionist when it came to fires, a true purist, a pyromaniac boy scout who
frowned upon any amateurishness regarding the
choice, cutting and burning of wood. His doubts were quickly dispelled on this
occasion as my wood length split easily with the axe and burned beautifully as
only driftwood can, bleached of all impurities by the sea.
Several days later, Lynne and Joseph came over and we made plans with David to
walk Cnicht, not a huge mountain but a real solitary one with a distinctive
peak. Elwyn and Graham had gone back home and the next day David and Lynne went
home leaving Joseph and myself. We spent time on the beach where we were treated
to a view of a rainbow spanning the sea from the Criccieth coastline over to the
south east near the Rhinogs which were now topped with snow.
We had a good walk around Aber falls and we could see the northernmost peaks of
the Carneddau white with snow. The nights were getting colder too with sharp
frosts.
Offa's dyke and the Gospel pass
It was the following year when I made the
suggestion that we combined a backpacking trip with a wild camp and David
responded eagerly by email. He'd been thinking along the same lines and had
recently bought himself a lightweight backpacking tent. We had this uncanny
similarity in thought patterns in spite of our differences and relative lack of
contact and it only became apparent on these trips. We would say something out
of the blue that the other had been about to say. We plucked strings on guitar
in the same idiosyncratic way using two fingers, not five.
We drove to Hereford and picked up Geoff before driving on to Hay on Wye where
we camped for the night. The next day we made our preparations over breakfast,
packing everything we'd need for the wild camp ahead. We walked through the town
looking for the start of the Offa's dyke path which would lead us up into the
hills where we were quizzed by a local landowner wearing tweeds and plus fours
who squinted and made strange twitching
movements as he stuttered and stammered whilst addressing us. He was curious
about our intentions, loaded up as we were with huge rucksacks and politely
suggested that we should be discreet if camping wild. There had been other
symptoms of inbreeding in the pub the previous night. It became glaringly
obvious that it was a pub for locals and for locals only. "YES?" the
barman had barked." As the place filled up, there were loaded glances and
whisperings, paranoiac and increasingly hostile. As we left, a 'youngster'
commented to the barman just loud enough for us to hear something about magic
mushrooms.
Our hike however, took us far away from the sad lives of these retards into
increasingly beautiful countryside and as we passed Hay Bluff along the Gospel
Pass we encountered several people wandering around with their eyes earnestly
scouring the ground for magic mushrooms.
Eventually we came to a youth hostel and made enquiries about camping. It was a
relief just take the dead weight of our rucksacks off of our shoulders for a
while. The girl in the youth hostel told us that the local landowner, Clive was
particularly intolerant of people camping on his land and most of the land for
miles around belonged to him. We were told that some unfortunate wild campers
had been woken abruptly in the early hours by Clive pointing a shotgun at their
heads. Our experiences in Hay On Wye and memories of the film 'Deliverance'
determined our next course of action, we'd camp in the hostels' field. This
wasn't exactly in keeping with our collective vision of the freedom of a
wild camp but we had the field to ourselves and the use of the hostels'
facilities and we were tired. We gratefully set up camp and wandered up Lord
Hereford's Knob, free from the weight of rucksacks. On the way up we came across
patches of Liberty cap mushrooms and at the top a clear view across to Waun Fach
where Geoff and I had walked across frozen ground one new year.
Later that evening after enjoying a well earned meal we lay back with heads on
rucksacks looking up at the night sky. David gave us a guided tour of the
constellations and I Looked up, blissfully happy with my lot, happy in the
present company, watched over by a figurine of Ganesha in an outbuilding
overlooking the field. We enjoyed the show, naturally high from fatigue and the
rewards that come from such efforts until the clouds moved in without warning
and the rain fell. "Shows over boys."
Gradbach
Gradbach scout camp turned out to be the only
campsite in Derbyshire where fires were allowed and considering that David and I
were planning a first ever winter camp, fire was an essential ingredient.
Situated near the village of Flash (highest village in England) not far from
Buxton, this was the closest we'd get in order to do a walk that I had in
mind starting near Bamford, several miles further north east. The snow had
cleared in Leicestershire but was in abundance in Derbyshire. As we approached
the turn for Gradbach we were met by a snow pile blocking the driveway. After
clearing the path we arrived at the scout HQ, an area with a bunkhouse and a
wardens office. There was no one around and with dusk approaching we decided to
drive to a field further on or at least I would have except my car simply
refused to go up the icy path. David's rear wheel drive car did make it, just
and I hastily loaded what I needed into his car. We settled on a spot which
happened to be as far as the car would go and set up camp. The spot was
sheltered and that evening, around a roaring
campfire, we sat admiring the view across a snow covered valley.
The next morning the snow began to thaw and we drove north to Edale on roads
which in places had become like small rivers. Even so, everywhere had a raw
beauty to it and as we parked up in Edale David commented on how tired he was
just from the drive, let alone the walk ahead. We left David's car at Edale,
"£3 TO PARK!" he muttered and I drove us to a spot near Bamford. I
had been up Win Hill before whilst staying over in Sheffield but the route we
were taking, starting from Yorkshire Bridge up Parkin Clough was known to be
tough. It was and as we approached the summit we had to hang on to the rocks to
steady ourselves in the wind. We descended down towards the road. "There's
the next one" I said pointing to the distant Lose Hill. "I thought you
said that it was a ridge walk once we were at the first summit?" muttered
David in disbelief. "Weeeelll...." By the time we had descended Win
Hill and followed the road and track up to the start of Lose Hill we had found
our walking legs and even the sunshine had made a welcome appearance. By the
time we had reached the summit the wind was again threatening to send us back
down the quick way but we looked over towards Hollins Cross and beyond that to
Mam Tor and decided that we'd go for it. When we finally reached the trig point
on Mam Tor's summit, we proudly pointed out where we had started our walk
earlier that day to another group of walkers. They were suitably impressed, Win
Hill seemed impossibly distant. We descended the hill back to Edale and had
dinner by the fire in the Nags head before collecting David's car (£3!!) and
driving back to Bamford and from there back to Gradbach.
The winter camp became a must when the long, cold and dark days of winter forced
us indoors. "I hate being stuck in" we used to mutter in agreement.
We camped there the following year joined by Joseph and again enjoyed surprisingly
mild weather. This time we left hastily a few days after Christmas. Lynne and I
had been going through the long process of being approved and matched for
adoption and Liam, then aged 21 months would be with us soon!
This time we walked along the Roaches, a nearby rocky outcrop. The boxing day tsunami
had struck in Asia and I hadn't heard back from my friend, Andrew who I knew was
in Thailand. Later, I received a text message from him after several days of
worrying silence, "Happy new year."
2005 and beyond
An ominous start to the new year. David died from a heart attack in May whilst
in Wales doing what he loved doing. My dear Dad died two months later.
Aran Fawdawwy and Gradbach
revisited
David's ashes were scattered near Criccieth attended by his family and
friends. Before that, I wanted to pay tribute to my brother in the best way I
knew how. David had never made it up Aran Fawdawwy in life
so a party of us including my eldest son
Joseph, David's best friend, Paul, My brother in law Elwyn and his son, Kieran
did it for him, taking his ashes up with us.
Later, a party of us camped at Gradbach including David's son, Dylan for what
turned out to be the coldest winter camp any of us had ever experienced.
Whilst walking through the campsite, I looked over occasionally at the sheltered
area that David and I had camped previously and I could still see him sitting
around the fire, content and at peace. Later, I dreamt that David appeared to me
at the caravan door (from our childhood) and explained that he couldn't be with
me physically but he was only in the tent just outside.
David's spirit lives on, as does the spirit of my Dad who in different
circumstances would have joined us up the mountains. He must have sometimes
shook his head in disbelief at the antics of his lunatic boys whom he loved
dearly. This writing is dedicated to them and to all future insanities.
David's photographs: http://homepage.ntlworld.com/davewynne