Wales Weekend

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In 2005 it was decided that there should be a Lads’ weekend at the caravan in Wales, sometime during the summer of ’06. We lads inspected our diaries, me being the most difficult due to being on a rota, but the date of 30th June to the 2nd of July was found to be the optimum date. Louis and John own a caravan north of Dolgellau, North Wales, which they oft time use for family holidays. Dicky fancied camping and so did I. Near the time of departure Dicky booked a camp site adjacent to Louis’s and John’s caravan site.

A few days prior to departure Dicky arranged to pick me up then go over to Polly’s at Stourport. This didn’t seem logical to me as the route was best from me, to Dicky, to Polly then M5 motorway. I suggested that, perhaps, we should go in the Maxi. Dicky thought it a grand idea and Polly, who till then I’d not met, was equally enthusiastic. I put the phone down and a moment’s thought had me wondering if I’d made the right suggestion. I think I expected the answer to be no!

The days before departure I checked all the usual stuff like water, oil, tyres etc. Checked under the back seat to ensure that all the spares and tools were in place, fan belt, throttle cable, sealed beam, bulbs, distributor cap et al. I packed and drove over to Dicky’s house where his two young sons Dan and Nick helped pack the Maxi. It was proving to be a very warm day, indeed, so I draped towels over the vinyl seats to make them more tenable. Reaching Polly’s we availed ourselves of his toilet, stowed yet more tack. Polly sat in the front with a pile of Ordnance Survey 50,000:1 maps on his knee. (It turned out that Polly is a very accomplished rally navigator and could have been professional so I felt in good hands.) Both lads are over six foot and found ample room in the Maxi’s spacious interior. Dicky was well pleased as he hates wearing seat belts in the back and he had a good couple of inches knee room into the bargain. With the other three seats to his right loaded with soft stowage so he had somewhere to lay his head if he decided to nod off during the journey.

It was blisteringly hot but we made good time till we hit traffic on the A5 round Shrewsbury. We had the windows down and the eight track playing Bowie’s Changes album. A sports car slowly drew level with us in the crawling traffic and the driver had his windows down and very loud music booming out. I glared at him and turned the eight track to full volume. Terrible distortion! and no reaction from the perpetrator! It gave us a good laugh though!

I tried to make good time, as I didn’t want the lads to be disappointed by a car that is renowned to be a bit short on legs (unlike its 1750 cc TC successor.) Polly was great with his little prompts, such as “90 right” etc. On the first tight bend I applied the brakes, as we entered the corner, and found them somewhat wanting compared with the brakes of modern cars. (I forgot just how loaded up we were!) We shot round the corner at something that felt like twice the normal speed. Arms straining against the steering, my heart was in my mouth! I had visions of us launching ourselves through the barrier and out into thin Welsh air; gracefully curving down till we intersected the rock covered floor of the steep Welsh valley, like Thelma and Louise. Surprisingly we did make it round, on an even keel and with no sound from the tyres or even any hint of loosing traction. I glanced over at the lads and found them nonchalantly looking out the window or studying the map. I expressed my misgivings about the last corner but Polly replied, whilst still studying the map, that the car must have the right tyre width for the road and for the weight being carried. It’s only got 155s on! I said. Most modern cars are “over shod” in the interest of fashion, said Polly, some sporty models handle worse than the standard ones. I had noticed this with the Metro GTI; great in the dry, not so good in the wet. After that we continued to shoot round corners!

We made Dolgellau (Pronounce, I think, with the throat clearing sound at the double L with the au pronounced as ee), drove through the town, over the bridge, right then forked left. At the top of the hill we turned left into the camp site. Finding a nice piece of flat ground near a Leylandii hedge Dicky and Polly pitched their tent and I prepared the Maxi for the night.

THE CAST:

JON (POLY) GARRETT

PHILLIP (PIP) TAYLOR

RICHARD (DICKY) HULL

ALAN (MOOSIE) MOORSE

JEAN LOUIS (LOU) JOHNSON

JOHN (JOHNNIE) MANNERS

PHILIPPE (PHIL) JOHNSON

Made it! DOLGELLAU welcomes us.

From left to Right: Dicky, Louis, me, Poly, Phil, Alan.

Peekaboo Poly.

Poly, me and Yvonne the Maxi.

Me watching the fun at the Tent Erector’s ball.

Dicky getting all comfy.

Not enough room in the tent so we’ll fill the Maxi, why not! (Note the makeshift but ineffectual curtains.)

Dicky and me with our first pint of ale in The Ship Inn.

The Ship Inn coat of arms with the fouled anchor.

Poly admiring the bicycle wheel in the Afon Wnibn with Dolgellau behind.

Poly and Me on the foot bridge over the River Wnibn.

Nice cup of tea under the Leylandii hedge.

No, actually home made red wine!

Essential provisions.

Pip, Dick, Al, Polly somewhere on Cadair Idris.

Alan’s Off!

GPS proof of being on Cadair Idris.

Dick and Polly.

Polly and Dick made it!

Something I’ve always done with trig. points.

After whetting our whistles with my home made Merlot Dick, Poly and me ambled down the the road and over the bridge into the town. It’s a very pleasing town with most of the buildings made of the local stone. Plenty of pubs and even a good Kebab house and Indian restaurant. We ate a good meal in the ship and were joined by the rest of the reprobates. Discussing tomorrow we decided that Dick, Poly, Al and I would ascend the mountain Cadair Idris (just under 3,000’) whilst the others would do some other strenuous exercise such as “bench pressing” (Pressing fat backsides onto pub benches.) We ended up doing the usual pub crawl with a late night visit to the kebab house. Here you can get “real” kebabs and not the ubiquitous roast “elephant leg” found in the less salubrious eating houses of Britain. Back at the site we had a few glasses of home made wine and retired to bed

Next morning I awoke early, somewhere around 0500 (You don’t have much choice midsummer without curtains!) and sat in the early morning sun looking over to Cadair Idris. Beautiful. Not much to hear except bird song and distant sheep. A beautiful day but something didn’t seem right, there was something nagging at the back of the mind. I wasn’t sure what it was. I brewed some tea and put the wind-up radio onto BBC2. I was sat on the camp chair looking at Cadair when the news came on the radio. “On this day, 1916, the battle of the Somme started and at the end of the day British casualties amounted to some 57,000.” That was what was nagging at the back of my mind. How could I have forgotten that! A metaphorical cloud came over the morning sky. “Larks were singing, discordant, shrill;/They seemed happy; but I felt ill.”* More tea was brewed, Polly and Dicky got up, Alan came round in anticipation of a fry up complaining of John’s horrendous snoring saying he was going to camp with us next time.

*From S. Sassoon’s Stand-to: Good Friday Morning.

After a good fry up the four of us got into the Maxi and set off for a little car park at the base of Cadair Idris (OS GR 697152). We crossed the road and followed the footpath up a pleasant, slightly wooded, shallow valley. The day was proving to be one of the hottest that year and even early morning it was uncomfortably warm. As we struck out SSW we began to perspire freely and soon sweat was cursing down our backs behind rucksacks and soaking our shorts. There was not a breath of wind to be felt. After a while we changed course (at 692136) SE and followed the escarpment to the triangulation point 893m (2,929’) above sea level. The views were terrific. We could stand on the edge and look down on the lake way below us (Llyn Cadair)

If you’d like to see more photos of the views of Cadair then click HERE.

We made it back to the camp site feeling a little jaded. I think the heat had been quite surprising. After an excellent shower (50p) we set off to find the rest of the lads. They were somewhere watching the Portugal/England match which none of us mountaineers were particularly interested in. We did learn that the Welch are not like us English. If England is no longer in a tournament but one of the other members of the United Kingdom are still in, the English always supports them against the “foreign lot” but here we soon realised that the Welch were unreservedly supporting the Portuguese! I think Offa had the right idea (but should have made the Dike higher).

Needless to say we had a few to drink and a kebab. Poly Dick and me ended up sitting on a hump in the camp site field, in the pitch dark, looking out at Cadair drinking my home made wine. We were getting bitten to death by mosquitos so I drove them away with my pipe! earlier that evening Dicky drank about three litres of water and I found out why in the morning. I haven’t had a hang-over for years but I made up for it on the Sunday morning! God I felt ill! But a couple of mugs of tea and a bacon sandwich and all felt much better.

Poly with a bottle of home made wine late in the evening.

Poly with a bottle of home made wine early in the morning.

Al, Lou, Johnnie, Phil watching the match.

We set off before the others and made good time on the way back. Unfortunately Yvonne began to overheat just as we made the outskirts of Stourbridge but we made it to poly’s house ok. The problem was later traced to a shot water pump. We made 29 mpg but after a new pump and a good service she managed 34 mpg on the same run a year later. Unfortunately 2007 was a wash out!