The inertia of my intentions led me to book a night in town at the YHA Hostel. I considered Ted’s offer of the “on the house” stay, but he was a forty minute walk from town.
I resolved to take him up on his offer the following day if my stay in town wasn’t better than a free stay in a bunk room with an outhouse and unknown internet capabilities forty minutes out of town. Granted, the notion of getting to know Ted, solidifying a possible friendship, and thus enriching my soul weighed into my considerations as well. I figured I’d get a lay of the land, give some real thought to an extended stay, and decide by morning.
(These trees are everywhere. They produce white flower blossoms (I think cherry blossom trees?) with corn sized petals. When the wind blows they sail through the air and imitate a light snow flurry. I often thought it was starting to snow before realizing it was flowers rather than snowflakes. It averaged about eight degrees Celsius my first days there... The edge of snow weather.)
After walking around town taking pictures for an hour, I walked up the road leading to my hostel. I shared many of those photos in my last post. The pic below is my first site of the hostel as I rounded a corner. The stop for photos was a welcome break from the uphill climb. The white building was the hostel.
At this point it looked like I made the right choice for the evening.
The walk was absolutely beautiful. The sheep were hilarious. The baby lambs could slip between the smaller holes in the wire fence. If they were on my side of the fence, they’d look at me with great suspicion, then hurry away as soon as I took a step too close.
The little lambs were so funny when they ran. They didn’t run, they bounded, their hind and forelegs coming together as they hopped forward and into the air. Then they’d stop, look back, and run again. I found watching them graze to be surprisingly soothing. The entire town felt slightly enchanted.
While at a visitor center for the hydro-electric plant, I watched a video about Snowdonia National Park. I learned that it was the land of Camelot. There is a lake in the mountains where legend says King Arthur threw Excalibur back to the lady of the lake as he was dying, then he was carried away across the water. The knights of the round table went up to a remote cave and are said to be waiting for when Wales needs them again (I hope they have Netflix to pass the time.)
The hostel, weirdly was closed until 5 pm. Luckily the cleaning lady was there. She let me leave my bag in the front room. Before I did so, she asked, “Is there anything in it that will melt?”
“Anything that will melt?” I asked, dumbfounded.
“Yes, it’s quite warm in the room. It’s the drying room. So you don’t want any food in that melts in your bag, or such.”
I didn’t have any meltable items in my bag, that I knew of, so she led my into the room. There were two long furnaces across the center of the room and each had a higher and a lower bar upon which to hang your wet hiking clothes and gear. -I mean, walking gear. They don’t have hikers in Snowdonia, they have Walkers. It sounds so much less adventurous than hiking, and even less cool than trekking. You’re not going to get as many responses on your internet dating profile if you list “walking” as an interest.
I dropped my unmeltable bag and went back into town. I spent the day having tea, coffee, and fish and chips in various establishments. I walked back up to the hostel around two but it was locked and deserted.
Finally five o clock rolled around and a young guy with a ponytail let me in. His response to everything included the phrase “nice one” even when it seemed to be nonsensical. “Will you be having breakfast?”
“No, I think I’ll pass.”
“Nice one.”
I had the room to myself that night. The bunks were strange. The top bunk was so low that you couldn’t sit up on the bottom bunk, and the ten bed room had a single outlet. There was also a sink and mirror in the room. This was my second stay at a YHA. Both of them had showers with lousy water pressure and the temp would go from ice cold, work it’s way up to scalding hot, then gradually back down to cold again. It was quite a struggle to endure it.
The next day I was up bright and early. I’d actually changed my mind and told ponytail guy I wanted the morning breakfast- “A’right, nice one!”
Ponytail guy was also the cook. He wore the cook uniform of checkered pants, apron, white shirt, and cap. I found it hilarious that he was playing every role. Like, if the toilet clogged, he’d appear in some kind of official plumber uniform (I think the only requirement of that uniform is exposure of your plumber’s crack).
He asked if I was going to go walking up to Snowdon Peak, the highest peak in Wales! It’s somewjphere around three thousand feet. The entire journey up and down takes six to seven hours...of walking.
I told him I’d been on the road eight months, and when not on a bus, train, or plane, I’ve been walking, so I wasn’t much interested. Plus, after watching the National Park video, it didn’t look worth the climb. I’ve seen plenty of views of the bucolic landscape from the window of pf the bus, that was enough.
I did consider taking the Snowden railway to the top. It cost twenty pounds, moves at five miles an hour, and takes three hours round trip. I later discovered that it was only traveling two thirds of the way to the top because snow was still covering the last third. It was the top or nothing for me, so I didn’t go.
Instead I walked to the ruins of a castle, a waterfall, around town, and to the Slate Mine Museum. Then I had potato soup and bread (so good).
By the early evening, I was still thinking of sticking around. Part of me wanted to go out to Ted’s hostel and stay, another part wanted to stay up the hill at YHA with the sheep (don’t read anything into that.. get your mind out of the gutter.).
The slate mine museum was fascinating and I’ll post about it next.
Nice one, cheers!
!steemitworldmap 53.1222 lat 4.1271 long Exploring the little town of Llanberis-Snowdonia National Park, Wales, d3scr