The Giants Chair Living in rural Shropshire during the sixties as a child, I already spent a great deal of my free time in the beautiful countryside around the peaceful county town of Although poor financially my parents were able to give us the one commodity that money can’t buy, time. So it was, during one of our first holidays in North Wales I was to become bewitched by my passion for the mountains of It was midsummer during the mid sixties and my parents had scraped enough funds together to take the family away for a summer break. We therefore now embarked on our very first camping holiday. Off we set to explore the valleys and hills of Wales, complete with two ex-army ridge tents without fly sheets and made from canvass held up with heavy wooden poles, a combination that certainly any old boy scout would have been proud too own. Other then the tents, we took with us some very rudimentary camping equipment indeed, plus whatever else we could use to make the trip as comfortable as possible. The equipment comprised of two old brass primus stoves, rubberised canvas ground sheets and sleeping bags made from ex-army blankets sown together, These turned out to be very itchy against the skin, giving endless nights of uncomfortable sleep. This by any standard was old fashion basic camping without the fancy frills they have today. The journey into North Wales, took our old battered Austin Somerset car, a good couple of hours due to all the weight the poor machine had to carry, not just the tents and luggage we had but also four children and two adults, it was a pure wonder it managed to even climb the steep pass of Dinas Mawddwy. However a great cheer arose from the back of the car as it crawled to the top of the pass and the old machine gave a sigh of relief to be at last going downhill toward the coast.
The The initial objective was Tywyn, but it was late and a camp site was urgently required to see us over to the following day. On approaching the junction at Minffordd we took the road towards Tywyn and were relieved to see hand written sign on the side of the road, advertising a camp site. We should have guessed by the sign and the cheap cost that this was going to be slightly less than basic. It was nothing more than a field that a farmer had decided to utilise in order to make a few pounds from the daft English who were gullible enough to part with their hard earned cash. The camp site was by a beautiful shimmering lake called Tally Llyn, that sits gently in the steeply sided pass under the shadow of Cadair Idris, (The Chair of the giant Idris.) leading down to the Welsh seaside town of Tywyn on the Cambrian coast. Cadair Idris is a dark brooding mountain range in central Wales rising from sea level to almost three thousand feet and once thought to be the highest in Great Britain because of its bulk coming from the costal plane and the attraction it has to the many rain clouds heading in from the sea that deposit their content of moisture on its hill sides. On the north side of this mountain is the beautiful Mawddach estuary and the famous railway viaduct leading across to the old fishing
Dinner by the Old Austin Somerset Our camp site was on the Shore of Tally Llyn Lake at a location called Pentre farm. The camp site, if you could call it a camp site, was in fact, very basic, just a grass field with no running water, toilets or any other basic amenities and owned by a mean craggy old Welsh farmer, who spent most of his time cursing the English and moaning at us for flattening the grass on his field. In the pecking order of life this old buzzard of a farmer regarded the English as something to be scrapped off the bottom of his boot.
Good old Fashion Basic camping. We set up camp and enjoyed a hearty meal of sausages, baked beans and instant mash potato washed down with a tin mug full of tea. Oh boy did we know how to live. However the food was hot and cooked, therefore serving the purpose to replenish the energy we had lost on the journey to this paradise. The first night was spent sleeping in our home made sleeping bags, lying on the canvas ground sheets, four kids in one tent and our parents in the other. After a rather sleepless night being eaten live by the many insects the Welsh valleys have to offer, and entombed in our very itchy sleeping bags, we emerged early the next morning, quickly washing in cool water and then got dressed eagerly anticipating the adventures that the day would bring. Breakfast was simple, tea and toast with some slightly under cooked bacon and runny eggs, again washed down with warm mug of tea. My parents spent the morning clearing up after breakfast and taking the opportunity to sit in the warm sunshine, in order to read the newspaper they had brought with them on the previous day. As per normal that morning my sister and brothers had gone off together down to the lake, leaving me on my own.
Brothers and Sister off without me Being the youngest in a large family is rather like having some infectious disease, always regarded as the pain that had to be dragged along because the grownups said you had too, just a somebody that had to be looked after. Rather like an unwanted pet that a child had grown tired of after Christmas. Therefore any excuse that could be used when the opportunity arose to leave the burden behind would be taken by those who had to carry the awful burden of looking after a younger sibling. So it was that morning that I being the unwelcome burden, was not invited to join the chosen golden few. I therefore decided that I would make my own adventure. I spent the first hour drawing and reading comic books, but soon became very bored. Feeling in an unsettled mood I looked around for something else to interest me. After wondering around the area for thirty minutes or so, I could see that behind the old farm, there was a small stream running down from what appeared to be a dam made from earth, being a boy deeply fascinated by water and dams, I decided that this needed to be investigated. Checking first that nobody was watching, off I marched armed with a pocket full of sweets and an inquisitive mind. So it came to pass that I was taking my first solo steps onto this huge pile of rock and earth called a mountain, which stood behind the old farm. Here I was at the tender age of eight or nine years old, inexperienced and without any proper equipment, making the steep climb up the side of a Mountain and into a very dangerous environment full of unknown dangers and conditions. It was dangerous enough that I was even attempting this foolhardy adventure, but the fact I hadn’t even told anyone where I was going, could have been a real recipe for disaster. However this thought hadn’t even crossed my mind and was therefore not even considered as a reason for not going. The route took me around the perimeter of the old farm building and off up the side of this mysterious hill along the little bubbling stream at the back of Pentre farm. Climbing up and up the steep side of a tumbling little stream I soon realised that it was far steeper then I had anticipated and somewhat a bit of a challenge. However I was determined to show my elder siblings that I was made of sterner stuff then them, I wouldn’t be beaten by this mere lump of earth and rock they called a mountain, I was in my mind, a great explorer challenging the unknown. After an hour or two of puffing, panting and sometimes crawling I had managed to climb several hundred feet up the Mountain side, over rough boggy grass and scrabbling across what appeared to my small size, huge craggy lumps of rock on the side of the hill.
Looking Down from theTop of the Cwm At last I finally arrived on what appeared to be from the road, an earth dam with a small waterfall tumbling down the left hand side. I scrambled up the side of this huge earthen dam only to be rather disappointed to find no great lake, just black boggy moor land sitting between two very steep ridges emerging high above me somewhere in the cloud. In fact it is the base of a dark Cwm that separates two of the three ridges leading onto Craig cwm Amarch; this in turn leads to one of the ridges that lead onto the summit of Cadir Idris.
Cloud dancing around the ridge As I looked up in awe towards the apex of this cold black towering ridge my imagination went into overdrive. This towering crag of black rock was shrouded in great swirls of dark brooding cloud, dancing around the cliff face of the mountain and clawing at the edges of the rocks, evil demons attempting to devour the very soul and heart of the mountain and pluck the eyes from the giant Idris, who sits brooding in his giant stone chair. I was completely overcome. Although I wasn’t aware of it at the time it was one of those rare precise moments when a new path in life opened up. I just knew that I would have to become part of this magical domain and ever since I have always regarded this moment as the decisive turning point of my passion of being on the mountains. The view from my vantage point I sat down on a small crag of rock with this wondrous spectacle behind me and the beautiful I wasn’t quite ready or brave enough to take on the challenge of a high mountain ridge on my own just yet, that sort of challenge would come a few years later. After what seemed an eternity sitting admiring the spectacular views, I decided that I was now very hungry and it was therefore, time to head back to base camp. I made my way back across the earth dam and started on my decent back down the hillside along the little stream to the rear of the farm house, unaware I was to face the wrath of my angry parents who had no idea where I had vanished too. On returning back to the farm, I made my way over to the camp site as if I had only been gone for a few minutes, oblivious to the frantic searching that had been taken place over the last hour or two. My mother was horrified when she found out where I had been, the family had spent the last three to four hours scouring the entire area. My father was about to set off for the nearest police station to alert the authorities. As for my siblings, they had all been dressed down for not looking after me or allowing me to go with them. I was given a long stern talking too and put on a tight leash for the rest of our stay at Tally Llyn for my stupidity. However it was too late the seed had now been sown. I had become infatuated with this environment and it had started a love affair that still affects me even today. I would spend the coming years taking every opportunity to explore the side of every hill or mountain I ever came into contact with. Once again returning to my original roots
Some forty years after my little adventure, I parked in the car park at Minffordd and walked down the old farm track that runs at the back of the lake. Here I found the old farm with the track leading up beside the little tumbling stream. Gone was the old craggy farmer, the farm house was now a lonely sad deserted derelict building used to store old farming equipment. The farm buildings and fences around the overgrown farmyard now appeared broken and unkempt. It saddened me to see the old place like this and part of me wished I hadn’t returned, sometimes wonderful memories are destroyed when we try to relive them and perhaps should be left as memories. After walking around the back of the farm I retraced the steps I had taken many years before up to the little stream. The climb up the side of the little stream somehow didn’t seem quite as steep or scary as it did, all those years ago when I was a kid. I once again followed in my old footsteps too the place I sat all those years ago, looking in awe at the spectacle unfolding before me. Although I did search I couldn’t find the rock I had left the coin under, perhaps time and the mountain had devoured it, excepting my small token as a lifelong token of friendship between myself and the mountains I love.
Looking towards the Giants chair on the summit of Cadair Idris
After spending a few minutes lost in a time warp, I continued up the left hand ridge I had been too frightened to take those many years ago. The swirling clouds were still dancing around the top but gone was that childhood imagination. I had climbed so many peaks over the years that any fear of the unknown was now suppressed to childhood memories. After climbing the ridge gaining the summit of Craig cwm Amarch, I spent a few moments gazing down its black treacherous cliffs to the little lake of Llyn Cau, nestled under the protective summit of Penygadair and Craig cwm Amarch, I then took the ridge over the Stone Shoot and up to the summit of Penygadair, the highest point of the Cadir Idris range. Every year, for the last ten years and as a thank you for the wonderful childhood memory this mountain gave me. I have made it a quest to climb this majestic mountain in the middle of
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