I awoke to the sound of the neighbor cat Tooksie mewing and pawing at the (second floor) window, which I had opened just a tiny crack, as Sue had warned me he would try to come in. I wasn't certain if I should let him in, but I finally did, hoping he would visit with me for a bit, he had other plans in mind and slid out the bedroom door and down the stairs. The house was silent and I wasn't sure anyone was awake, but in a few moments I heard Sue's voice welcoming him to the kitchen.
The breakfast gods took pity on us, and we had our first sensible-sized breakfast in two weeks--a bowl of cereal and a cup of coffee each. Such kind people! Erwin was all a-dither about our finding our way back out of Lymm (as he had been concerned when we showed up on the doorstep without having called for help finding them), but it wasn't any more or less confusing then any other navigation challenge so far, and we headed west into Wales. At first not much different than the English pastureland, but gradually shifting to more mountainous terrain with scattered castles and glimpses of sea. I had chosen a route suggested as one of the "most scenic" drives in Great Britain, and it was beautiful--steep green mountains and deep blue glacial lakes; valleys with isolated stone farms and scattered sheep. At one scenic lay-by we heard a cuckoo calling incessantly far away across a lake.
Uncertain if we had missed a turn, we stopped at a roadside cafe to ask directions and share a sandwich--a thick slab of excellent fresh whole grain bread with smokey, thick sliced ham and sharp cheddar, home made crisps with the potato skins left on, a nicely dressed mixed salad and ginger beer--far better than your average US roadside fare. I hadn't been sure before we left home how quickly we would progress in our post-Wall wanderings or how much walking we would be up for, so I had not made reservations ahead of time for tonight, and I had printed out instructions for several walks of various lengths and difficulties in Snowdonia National Park. By the time we had reached Osmotherley, it didn't seem likely that we would make it to Jill's at a civilized time if we tried to get from Lymm to Llandenny in one day, so I called around trying to find a B&B in Dolgellau on the southern end of Snowdonia. The first one I found that had suitable rooms available was a five star B&B at almost twice what we have been paying per night, but I didn't feel like putting in huge amounts of time finding something cheaper, so I went ahead and booked two singles plus dinner.
After looking at our hiking options, we decided on the "Precipice Walk"--3 miles/2 hours around an oval mountain top near Dolgellau--supposedly a "moderate leisure walk" with not much up and down and stunning views. It did not disappoint. The views and ecology shifted as we walked round the mountain and all of it beautiful. The Snowdonia Precipice Walk webpage has a very nice video flyover view of the walk (http://www.eryri-npa.gov.uk/visiting/walking/Moderate-Leisure-Walks/precipice-walk/precipice-walk-video), but it can't compare to the experience of walking. The warm late afternoon sun and a drying wind on the western flank of the mountain, cooler breeze and a patches of dappled shade on the eastern flank. distant mountains a patchwork of conifer and deciduous trees in new leaf, green grass and low shrubs, deep brown heather and pale green bilberry, crag and scree.The river Mawddach River winding below and opening out into the Irish Sea in the distance. The growing, pleasantly teasing edge of sweat and tired muscle and thirst. Not as peaceful and quiet as the Wall, since there was a thrum of jets overhead and distant buzz and banging of road building along the river far below.
I haven't found the star rating system particularly accurate at home, but it has been quite accurate for all our B&B's this trip. The one three star hotel was perfectly adequate, but not pleasurable; the four star B&B's have been quite pleasant. Tonight's five star accommodation has far more really nice touches. Tea in the conservatory when we arrived--served in bone china--not the finest, most delicate of bone china, but still pretty and approaching translucent. A back garden tumbling down to a stream edged with cedars, crisscrossed with rustic bridges, and planted about with benches. A tiny bedroom, but peacefully decorated in white and mauve, with a spacious bathroom with heated marble flooring and a shower big enough to move about in and with decent water pressure. Dinner was what dinner was--no menu to choose from--but the chef's creation was very fine. Cream of parsnip soup with tiny savory croutons and micro greens (Pop even thought it tasted good until I told him it was parsnip). Pork medallions topped with a mild cheese and bits of fresh tomato and served in a puddle of Calvados sauce with a side of rich scalloped potatoes, plus a small platter with tiny servings of broccoli, cauliflower, carrot batons, sweet and sour red cabbage, and mashed potato with carrot bits. Moist, light sticky toffee pudding with meringue, soft whipped cream, and vanilla ice cream. The coffee in the drawing room. Pop headed off to bed rather than having coffee, but I took my bone china cup and saucer and wandered out into the garden and down the road to exchange bleatings with the neighbor sheep. On the way back, I noticed a decaying tire swing hanging from a massive beech above a carpet of wild allium in full bloom, so I set my cup and saucer on a stump and spent a few minutes shoving off from the beech tree and skimming and spinning back and forth above the alliums.
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