In search of Mountain Goats

Mountain Goats have roamed Snowdonia for many years and I always enjoy seeing them from time to time, especially when it involves a walk up the Rhinogs (or more correctly Rhinogydd). The Rhinogs have always had that little extra feeling of wilderness for me, where better to view wild goats. I should really refer to them as feral, since they are descended from the domestic goats of pastoralists some 10,000 or so years ago. So having parked in Coed y Brenin, Tamsin & I headed for the rocky northern slopes of Rhinog Fawr.

Our route up in to the hills took us past the picturesque Pistyll Gwyn, which had a decent flow after a few nights of autumn rains.
This is a lovely walk with great views, so nothing would be lost if we didn’t sight the goats.

Cardigan bay & Lleyn peninsula from the Rhinogydd

It was here that I spotted the first small group of goats. Tamsin was busy sketching a view that she felt would inspire her fantasy writings, and so I was meandering amongst the rocks when I spotted 3 goats a little below Llyn Du. At a distance that was towards the limit of the optics that I was carrying, the normally very skittish creatures remained relaxed whilst I took a few pictures & then retreated.

We continued to enjoy our time on the mountain but it wasn’t until we were practicing our parkour balance descending the wet rocky track at a fair rate of knots, that our second goat sighting occurred. We heard an eerie bleating from several hundred feet above us. Tamsin the trusty spotter wheeled around to see…

Spotter Tamsin

.. two billy goats with generous horns calmly grazing amongst the crags & another goat high above them, bleating (see featured header image).

Billy Goat

I did take some rather shaky video of the goats but given that for part of it I was prone in a midge infested bog at the time the quality is limited, apologies.

Hope you enjoyed, take care of yourself & our precious planet 🙂

One of my favourite walks – Y garn, Glyderau loop

This is one of my favourite walks. A circular loop from the Youth Hostel by Llyn Ogwen, taking in some of Snowdonia’s fine mountain peaks.

Do be aware that some of the going is quite rough, there are sections of scrambling on scree and that in winter you are likely to need crampons & ice axe. That said, it’s an exhilarating mountain walk with fine views.

As one leaves the car parking area and follows the well made path to Llyn Idwal, it’s great to view the imposing cliffs above you with the knowledge that you’ll soon be walking above them. Upon reaching the lake we turn right to head up the slopes of Y Garn. This path is steep & particular care is needed in icy conditions. As you climb, do take time to look around and take in the views; looking east across Llyn Ogwen with Tryfan on its righthand shore or looking north along the Nant Ffrancon valley and out to sea.

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Nant Ffrancon with snow tipped Carneddau

Upon reaching the summit of Y Garn, fine panoramic views are available, looking over most of Snowdonia. Again take in Tryfan to the east or look south-west to Snowdon & her relatives.

Now we must descend about 250m southwards to Llyn y Cwn before ascending the shaded scree slope to the summit of Glyder Fawr, the highest point on this walk. The rough & jagged rocks of Glyder Fawr provide quite the dramatic viewpoint. Now we can enjoy the high level walk eastwards from Glyder Fawr, via Castell y Gwynt to the similarly rocky summit of Glyder Fach.

Whilst it is possible to descend almost directly via the eastern scree slope of Glyder Fach to Bwlch Tryfan, it may be more enjoyable to take the slightly longer route to Bwlch Tryfan by diverting towards Llyn Caseg-fraith, as shown on the map.

Once we have reached Bwlch Tryfan, follow the rock strewn path downhill past Llyn Bochlwyd & its associated waterfall and then all the way back to where we began.

In total a very enjoyable walk of about 7 miles with a climb of around 3,300 ft. Whilst timing will vary upon your pace & how much you stop to enjoy / photograph the views, it is best to allow most of a winter’s day to complete this – say 7 hours.

Below is my map for this walk, embedded via Viewranger:

Natural History Photography – Why? Reason 1

4:30 am Beep, beep, beep. The alarm goes off. I’m comfy & warm, it’s freezing out there but there’s stuff to do before getting on the road. Why do I get up? To take some landscape shots…

A few hours later it’s still dark and we’re at our first destination. I’m reckying by torchlight for the perfect spot to set up the tripod. The car was reporting -6 degrees when we stopped, feels at least that cold to me. Damn, there’s a light breeze. I’ll really need that breeze to drop, if the reflections are to be perfect.

The first glow of dawn light tinges the sky, it’s so peaceful, serene even and I feel that oneness with mother nature that you just won’t get in a town or with a bunch of folk. Time to take a few longish exposures.

It’s light now & the sun is about to rise above the horizon, birds start singing, it’s time for the main event. The breeze has dropped, almost as if nature is holding her breath & right on cue too. Boom, those first mandarin coloured rays of sun illuminate the Snowdon Horseshoe. The warm light quietly yet inexorably rolls down the mountains, illuminating them in it’s fiery glow. The lake in front of me forms a perfect still mirror, reflecting the morning mountain beauty; mingling it with reflections of the lake’s own glacial boulders. Click, the picture I wanted, saved to flash card. Time to just enjoy these fine moments of sun-kissed mountains & lake.

Then it’s back to the car. Get out the stove to cook up beans on toast for breakfast. And then time to drive to our daytime destination, there are 7 hours of daylight left to make best of, with camera & Shank’s pony.

Snowdon Horseshoe at dawn, from Llynnau Mymbyr
Snowdon Horseshoe at dawn, from Llynnau Mymbyr

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Dawn to the Soul

Dawn to the Soul

A beauteous scene, dawn upon lake.
A strong comparison, perhaps to make.
Moral ideals, versus acts that you take.

Walk to the edge, tread with care.
Cast eyes down, take a stare.
Open your soul, if you dare.

In that reflection, what do you see.
Angel or Devil, what might you be.
Good deed or bad, how much the fee.

To yourself, you might lie.
On Reaper approach, tis time to die.
Meet it with honour, or inexorable sigh.

Dawn to the Soul

Listen to a reading of the poem:

Missed Reflections

Missed Reflections

Missed Reflections

I stand quietly, soaking in my heart-warming surroundings. A thought crosses my mind.

As we’re whisked, by modern travel & busy lives, from one business or social connection to another; what reflection do we miss?
Do we lose a valuable perspective, an engaging encounter here, a fulfilling experience there?
Or do these things simply not matter in our modern world of searching for artificial creatures on our smartphones, for artificial fulfilments in artificial lives.

I continue to ruminate upon the thought whilst enjoying the sensory inputs around me.

The bouncing strides of a female Wheatear flashing her pied tail feathers as she goes.
The gentle caress of a shrimp as it swims across one’s digits.
A warm sweet petrichor wafting across my nostrils affirming the life giving rains that recently blessed the land.
The gentle lap of waves, twitter of birds, sigh of breeze.
Before it is all briefly shattered by the cacophony of a productive unit delivery system whooshing another canned group of humans to their inevitable expedited destinies.

The thought forms sharp focus in my brain.

How can we remain connected to nature, rooted in earthy reality; when the only reflection we have time for is our own. The mask we check, the aurora we hope to maintain whilst facing this media centric, image obsessed human sphere that we have created for ourselves.

Perhaps we would do well to make room for a more natural type of reflection. A reflective consciousness that tethers us to base earth. That feels nature, breathes it, lives within her bounds. How else shall we know the answer to questions like that a wise person once posed …

“When the last tree is felled, the last river is poisoned …”
What good will all your money do you as you gasp your last oxygen starved breath through dry parched mouth, hunger pangs in belly?

I’ve only ever heard one convincing answer… no good whatsoever!

So how else shall we learn to save ourselves – the greatest conservation challenge that we face.

TL/DR
We move ever further towards valuing that which we do not need, at the expense of that which we do. In doing so we give ourselves no time to recognise the folly of our own ways.