Twas a miraculously bright and sunny start to the day. After the previous day’s deluge, we took up the landlady’s offer of taking our luggage to our next port of call. She also took us by car back onto the Way at Clwyd’s Gate – a mile or two beyond Bwlch Penbarras, but more importantly beyond two hefty hills – Foel Fenli and Moel Eithinen. After the previous day’s experiences, we felt disinclined to begin the day with too much exertion.
Even so, we were soon climbing the gentle hills that represented the end of The Clwydian range – Moel Gyw, Moel Llanfair and Moel y Plâs. The views were magnificent; looking back to the higher peaks of The Clwydians, they looked majestic and benign; but we knew better! As we reached lower land, the progress became slower as we had to negotiate flooded fields and boggy pastures.
Within a mile or two of Llandegla, we passed sheep who seemed excited and vociferous beyond that which would normally be caused by our presence; the stimulus for such mayhem soon became apparent – a buggy from which the driver was dispensing feed. The farmer stopped to chat; he was familiar with our home ground, as he had married a lass from Biddulph. He seemed genuinely interested in our walk. He was phlegmatic about the floods, confident that they would recede as quickly as they had arrived.
The afternoon started more arduously than we would have liked with a long climb up through Llandegla Forest. Emerging from the woodland, we found ourselves on open moorland. Naturally, this was very boggy, but the worst bits were traversed on raised wooden walkways. We descended to the pretty stepping stones at World’s End, before traversing the scree slopes below the Eglwyseg (pronounced Igloo-sig, I think) Crags. The weather had remained bright if bracing, and this was a spectacular part of the walk.
Not far from Dinas Bran, we descended to a country road at Rock Farm. This is where we were leaving the Path, and we telephoned our hosts at The Britannia Inn, who kindly agreed to pick us up. However, purple-grey clouds suddenly appeared over the aforementioned crags, and we decided to walk Britanniawards. We had nearly reached the inn when Tony, the proprietor, found us. He had thought that Rock Farm was further north than it actually was; the fact that we were on the move had not helped him! We apologised, and on reaching our destination placated him with a pint of his own Guinness.