led by a sneezing escort in a hooded
cloak. “It's the damp you know. It gets to you.”
All well worth the £5 entrance fee.
Matthew and I return to the rectory, choosing an indirect route via
Abergynolwyn. (I recall a long weekend spent here in Feb 1984 with college
friends. Time flies.)
By the time we reach the coast at Fairbourne there’s a strong easterly gale. We
walk down the banked stony shore…progress is difficult.
Several trees are blown down partially blocking the road back …and to think
there was no wind blowing a few hours earlier back at C.A.T.
Matthew prepares a veggie split pea meal. It tastes fine when plastered in hot
Barmouth at Night
Jenny, Phil, Jon, Bernie and I drive to Barmouth. Fishing boats are tied up close to
shore. Gale, spray, lights. Quite dramatic weather.