was a piston, glued to the F5 button refreshing the weather forecast
website. And they were all wrong. It wasnt half as bad as had been
predicted - with the biggest suprise being Sunday which was supposed
to stink but was glorious.
Friday was the day of arrival. We'd collected a kitty of funds, been
to CostCo for supplies. The bikes were lashed to the back of the car
and a long slog undertaken. Its an hour on from 'Dudno, but a lovely
drive. We were camping at a place called Shell Island, which is just
above Barmouth, and below Harlech. The site is huge - 300 acres of
sand dunes and beachscape, and only one rule - you may not camp within
20 metres of someone you dont know. Awesome. Its raining when we get
there, but only lightly, so after 45 minutes trying to choose a spot,
we pitch up and as the skies clear, the barbecue gets lit.
Friday night turns out to be the big one. People are arriving up to
9pm and the barbecue churns out meat to feed them all. It gets to 0245
before me and the monster turn in.
I wake at a thousand degrees in the tent. I havent slept good and its
only 730. Bleary eyed I open the tent door and go for a piss. Other
heads are starting to emerge from other tents and I really need to go
back to sleep, but the noise level is on the increase and I've no
chance. Plans are hatched for the day ahead and the group splits into
Four. Two teams are going to Coed Y Brenin to go riding, another will
take some bikes locally to Harlech and there are a couple of no biking
at all-ers.
Coed Y Brenin is utterly brilliant. Its one of these trail centres
with something for all abilities. I have bike envy as we arrive -
noone has a hard tail, and noones bike is less than £2000. Three guys
from our party have gone on a ride called the Dragon's back, but due
to time and my being hungover, I am riding a trail with what looks
like a gay squirrel for a symbol with a mate of the HM's from work. We
wanted a shorter circuit, and setting off I am a bit torn as I wish I
was going on one of the longer rides, but - its the honey monsters
birthday, and I already feel guilty that I am separated from her at
all.
The Gay Squirrel is a fit little fella. And it takes in some brilliant
sections of downhill singletrack which are fast and technical. Its
good riding and when we get back to the car we're both pleasantly
tired but happy. We drive back to camp.
Everyone is at the beach. Being so close to the sea really does make
you feel like you are on holiday. More barbecue action fills the early
part of the evening, and then theres the annual girls v boys rounders
competition, which this year is won by the boys.
Shell Island is in 'Cool Camping - Wales', and it says basically -
amazing campsite, really great location, good for groups, but
reception area a bit pikey. And that is completely on the money. We
all go to this festival thing thats up at reception for the last
couple of hours, and its quite funny. We're all a bit jaded from the
night before, so people start sloping earlier than previous. But all
have had a good time.
Sunday should be shitting it down, but its not. Cooler than sat, but
still beautiful, we decide to stick around until tea time, as its far
too nice to be sat in the car in the middle of the day. We hang out at
the depleted camp, soaking up the sun before finally wandering into
harlech for lunch. By the time we leave its gone 6pm so its a late one
getting back. We've all had a lovely weekend, and everyone is happy.
Pics on FlickR
2 comments:
I have come to the conclusion that checking weather forecasts in this country is utterly pointless. But I still do it.
to quote Jim (speaking about the forecast for magic wood) : "its not worth a wank Kes"
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