I've been away for the last few days on the Isle of Anglesey with a group of students who were taking part in a mini-expedition. More specifically, I've been on Holy Island, where we made a two day, east coast to west coast crossing, via the highest point - Holyhead Mountain. At only a meager 220m above sea level, it does well to claim it's mountain status, but as the highest point on the Island, it seems a worthy title. At last, the skies have cleared, temperatures dropped and the winds faded, allowing us to enjoy some glorious winter sun for our ascent.
We watched the ferry pull out from Holyhead harbor and head off towards Ireland, which was visible as a silhouette on the horizon, from our summit lunch spot.
After crossing over the tops, we picked our way along small paths, down by the climber's cliffs and onto the track.
This was where the navigation began and the real adventures started. Navigating in the mountains is a breeze compared to navigating through fields and farmland - the exact territory we now found ourselves in. Public rights of way may exist on a map and may indeed still exist on the ground, but that's not to say that anyone has ever actually walked that way in the last forty years!... After entering into a maze of gorse bushes and bogland, we found hope in the form of this old sign...
After passing some large horses, followed by a field containing two pigs and a large lady dressed in pajamas and wellies, we also had to admit defeat at the sight of this sign. Thankfully, a further search revealed a 'yellow arrow' footpath marker indicating the direction of our salvation from underneath the grasp of a dense bramble bush.
Then, of course, there were the gateways. Any narrowing of thoroughfare of a waterlogged field inevitably resulted in a mud-fest.
Even the most nimble of hikers couldn't avoid the shin-deep quagmire.
As we struggled on towards the bunkhouse, the sun dipped ever lower in the sky, feet became tired, socks became wet, trousers became muddy, bellies became empty and the full expedition experience of having to encourage your weary body 'push on' was enjoyed/endured by all.
Sometimes my students say the funniest things and I always think I should write them down in a book. As the sun began to set, one lad sat on the ground and claimed he could carry on no further. I went over to attempt a motivational pep talk, but received this reply in the most serious of tones: "Sir, you don't understand... It's too hard and I can't carry on... I need a double expresso and three sugars". It was kind of funny and sad at the same time. The students weren't even teenagers.
Digging deep, (and unable to magic up the requested caffeine boost), we pulled together the required mental and physical resources to make it in time for a much needed hot dinner, without (just) needing to use our torches. Some of us were even able to marvel at the colours in the sky.
After dinner, we spent some time star gazing on the nearby beach and playing my new favorite game, courtesy of Gill and David - thank you - it's been getting plenty of action!)
The following day (Saturday), saw us back at the beach for more activities, before completing our journey.
We stopped for lunch on a beach in a deep zawn.
As saw some good rock arches on the walk across the range.
Finally, we arrived at our pre-placed minibusses. It had been an emotional journey!
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