The early part of the route weaves in and out of the lower hills beneath Yr Eifl, rising up to about one hundred and twenty metres (390 feet), before dropping to sea level in an old quarry at Porth Y Nant. From the floor of the quarry there is a steep and steady climb out and on to the pass that splits the mountains of Garn For and Garn Ganol, achieving three hundred and fifty one metres (1148 feet) ascent, before dropping back down again to sea level on the outskirts of the village of Trefor. The route follows round the coast here at sea level before heading out on to the A499 for a short, shielded road walk to Parsal campsite. There is a total ascent on the walk of seven hundred and ten metres (2329 feet).
The day was still trying to make its mind up weather-wise with thick grey cloud overhead and a light mist still lying over land and sea. Looking inland it was grey, enigmatic and mysterious, while out to sea there was hope on the horizon with patches of blue sky and light. Crossing the small headland (Penrhyn Nefyn) to Nefyn, I had a good view of the small group of cottages nestling in the lee of the cliff. Inland there were good views to The Rival Mountains (Yr Eifl) in the distance. After a short distance on a path along the cliff above Nefyn beach the route turned inland to begin the first of the day's climbs. Once I had made some height, on the shoulder of the hills I enjoyed stunning views out across the low cliff to the blue waters of Porth Dinllaen and beyond to St George's Channel.
Just before you reach the highest part of this stretch the path passes by the village of Pistyll. Passing Pistyll Farm steading the old church of St Beuno’s lies in a small dell to your left. The church is in a lovely location with great sea views.
St Beuno lived here in the 6th C, although the current church is primarily 15th C with even more modern additions, including the slate roof. I am a sucker for old churches and could not resist visiting, despite the miles in front of me. It was a delightful space in which to watch the play of the light through the windows on the slate floor and just to sit and enjoy the quiet solitude of the place. There is a nice feeling of calm in the churche's interior, with a real feel of sanctuary about it. I must have spent a good half hour sitting in the church's splendid silence and only left very reluctantly.
Coming off the hillside there is a short walk on road before the path crosses over open countryside again, heading for the small hamlet of Sychnant. Passing through here I stopped at one of the small cottages to speak to an older couple who were enjoying the sunshine in their front garden. For about half an hour the gentleman regaled we with stories of the expeditions that he and his wife had enjoyed in their younger days. Apart from walking all over the mountains of Snowdonia, he was proud of the fact they had never holidayed outside the local area.
I had a warm greeting from the campsite owner who had taken the time to go to my website and knew a bit about my adventures so far. We spent a long time talking as he showed me about his campsite, pointing out all the really nice sea and mountain views. Like the older couple I had spoken to earlier in the day, he had walked extensively in the local mountains and knew all the local routes. Previously a working dairy farm, the owner had turned to camping and caravanning as a way to supplement his income and it had gradually taken over the farm. Sadly, he was starting to think about giving it up, feeling that it was no longer worth the effort and the trouble.
After he left, I took my time setting up in what was virtually an empty camping field (one other caravan) and after dinner I just sat back and watched the sun complete another arc across the sky. It had been a wonderful day's walking, with what must have been some of the best views I have had in my trek around the Welsh coast.
And yet, my chat with the owner had left me with a feeling of melancholy. From farmers giving up prime dairy herds, to others letting go of prime arable land for 'development', it had a repeated refrain on my coastal journey. Not for the first time on my coastal adventure was I reminded that it is a fast changing world that we live in. Brought up in what was a small farming village on the west coast of Scotland I had seen the disappearance of farming, its seasons and lifestyle giving way to 'progress', as greenbelt land was released to meet an ever-growing need for housing and new fangled machinery took the place of people, herds of cattle and flocks of sheep on the remaining land. If the owner gave up on his venture, I wondered how long it would be before the builders moved in. It was sad to think that the Wales I was now walking and camping might not be there for my children to follow in my footsteps.