This was the only day when it didnít rain at all Ė in fact the weather was glorious. However, we were still frazzled from the day before and getting to Barmouth in the morning was rather tedious. Jon wanted to walk along the coast, which meant we had to go out of our way around an RAF air field, and he complained somewhat unkindly at the (lack of) speed at which we were walking. In Barmouth we had fish and chips and a welcome rest. Jon and Tim bathed in the sea while I enjoyed reading my book in the sun. The afternoon was not quite so relaxing. The long trudge along the estuary - which was certainly very beautiful - seemed to take forever and we were continually overtaken by other people, including small children, who unlike us had had the foresight to equip themselves with bikes. After that we went up into the hills where the frustration continued Ė we got completely lost in the woods, which were so thick that the GPS didnít work, and spent a lot of time retracing our steps and climbing over high stone walls. The hotel turned out to be much further away than expected and we arrived there totally exhausted (yet again!)


Mum and me outside our hotel in Llanbedr


looking north to the Llyn peninsula from Llanbedr across Shell Island


looking nort-north-east


looking nort-east


Mum and me having a short rest near a camp-site


Mum and me having a slightly longer rest on the beach in Barmouth after lunch at a fish n' chip shop.


looking towards Cadair Idris from Barmouth


looking south-west from Barmouth


looking north to the Llyn peninsula from Barmouth


looking towards Cadair Idris from Barmouth (again)


Dad and me on the beach in Barmouth. Me wearing those cool bathers (Marion and David gave me) while Dad's wearing those...! (look we both look happy for a change!)


Mum with her favourite toy. What is it that women like so much about phones?! ("Who is it, Darling?" "Strangely enough, John, it's Pope Gregory IX, inviting me for drinks abord his steamyacht, 'the Saussy Sue', currently wintering in Montigo-Bay with the England cricket team and the Balanese goddess of plenty." "Really?" "No. Not really. It's just Ellie.")


me trying to dry myself with Dad's rubbishy "towel". It's made of some syntethic material that's supposed to absorb water, and was bought to save space (in our rucksack) that would have been wasted by a big REAL towel. Only problem is that it has to be kept in some huge tube that wastes loads of space to be kept moist. (why should a towel be kept moist? Honestly, it was designed by some fool of a Baldrick!)


me trying to dry myself with that piddly little thing Dad calls a towel again


Dad and me with the Mawddach Estuary and the railway bridge over the estuary behind us, and Cadair Idris behind that.


Dad in his obsession with trains took a picture of the bridge with a train on it here.


Mum and me at the beginning of the railway bridge across the estuary.


looking east-south-east across the estuary towards Cadair Idris from the bridge.


looking east-north-east across the estuary from the other side.


looking back across the estuary to the bridge and Barmouth from "the Dark Side". ("Remember, Luke: Don't give in to hate, 'cause that leads to the Dark Side.")


Mum and me a long way up the estuary now. (look! that smile of mine almost looks as if it's not forced!)


looking east-north-east to where we would have come from, had we gone over the southern Rhinogs (Rhinog Fawr & Rhinog Fach)


nice photo of Mum while she's still smiling. (I think that's where we had a short picnic before heading south uphill into a woods and getting lost.)


Mum and me in front of Cadair Idris. We were lost by then. (we're only smiling because we've gone completely bonkers and now were totally hysterical.)


nice picture of Cadair Idris. taken while we were lost. ("We're lost! Don't panic! Don't panic! We're lost! Don't panic, Mr. Mainwaring!", "No, Corporal Jones. We're not lost. We just don't know where we are.")


view of Cadair Idris' western most ridge


"Not far now. Only about 300 metres" says our stupid guide. It turned out to be at least a kilometre. "They must have moved the hotel!" says Dad when he finally gets there long after us us (poor crippled little man!), the hotel having been at least 3 times further down the road than he estimated.


another picture of Cadair Idris. we took quite a few that day, in case the weather was bad the next day. The day we go up it.

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