14th - 15th May:

Attendees: G. Peppit, S. Goodier, M. Peppit, E. Sampson, G. Sampson, A. Tickle, L. Stout, M. Johnson, C. Goulden, J. Hood, S. Glasius, M. Clowes.

Leaders: C. Goulden, G. Sampson

Not sure which God Geoff is invoking, but another couple of days of astonishing weather for a DPC Meet; this time in Wales (Croesor) to be exact. Indeed in all my 38 years I have never experienced such glorious weather in Wales.

The Hut is rather beautifully situated overlooking the Cwm Croesor with nothing but deep countryside before the Snowden range on the near horizon to the north. Almost next door to the Hut is the gorgeous house and gardens of Plas Brondanw.

I confess that gardening is not my forte but even I recognise that to carve this type of garden out of a wild Welsh hillside is no mean feat. look for yourself; www.plasbrondanw.com/gardens/

The walking party that fine Saturday included our President, Mike, Martin, Chris G and LOM. With due deliberation, and at no unseemly pace, we ascended Moelwyn Bach stopping at frequent intervals to enjoy the splendid view down onto the coast and beyond. On reaching the summit there was a large party of Welsh people; I found out they were Welsh when Martin asked them where they were from. To our Saxon ears they had sounded distinctly foreign. That embarrassment over we lay down beside a pool on the peak and thought of the meaning of life.

Mike meanwhile had also thought of the meaning of life and decided that his time was better spent exploring the fleshpots of Porthmadog and had turned around for home. Concerned that some mishap might befall him ( or someone he might meet) we enquired if he had a mobile on him. He said he had but that it didn’t work. Chris lent him his phone and explained how it worked; it appears Mike was unaware that they required charging from time to time. “Elf and Safety duly complied with, we came off the Bach (as they presumably say around here) and dropped down to a col ( as most people call it , but a cwm as the Welsh call it) overlooking Lyn Stwlan before starting a steep haul all the way up to the top of Moelwyn Mawr. 

Before we started our ascent we had yet another little coffee break. Whilst your President slept soundly, and very audibly, a party of about a dozen young girls skipped and simpered past us; a school party led by what looked like a satyr and stern lady with a clipboard. At this point the lack of Mike really hit us and we could only guess at the merry exchange with the girls and their teacher had he been with us. Anyway the lady with the clipboard looked suitably worried, even in his absence, when she saw five elderly men prost(r)ate on the grass beside the path with one them giving the appearance of having just died ( your President). Her charges were duly hurried along. Had we been tramps on the Embankment our reception would have been similar…

Views from the ridge and the not so distant Snowden and the various little Lyns, were suitably inspiring. At this point, or shortly after on our descent, we realised we were off track to knock off Clint as well. However by way of recompense we explored the very large and clearly once very important abandoned quarry before wending our way back down Cwm Croesor to the Hut via the pub where the President, duly revived, bought his first (and I trust not last) series of Presidential Pints.

Incidentally, we clocked up 10.10 miles and 6,046 feet of ascents according to my gizmo thing.. Yes, the Tigers would have done twice the distance in half the time but it only counts if you were there on the day and for an Age Concern party with only a handful of working organs, not too disgraceful.

Dinner that night was a gourmets delight. Chris had done something complicated with prawns and after Syd and I had spent hours scrubbing horsehit off at least a thousand button mushrooms with the Hut nail brush, also produced a very flavoursome stewthing (Sorry Chris forgotten the French name). Now if Chris and Martin started a restaurant… there’s a thought. A gourmet dinner followed by the famous Cholesterol Cracker, a Syd, Geoff and George breakfast designed to give them pesky statins something to think about… bliss.

For illustrations of this amazing expedition try this: https://flic.kr/s/aHskzmLgTf