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You can find the current article at its original source at https://www.theguardian.com/environment/2018/oct/22/country-diary-braced-early-morning-breeze-dolgellau-gwynedd
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| Version 0 | Version 1 |
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| Country diary: braced for the early morning breeze | Country diary: braced for the early morning breeze |
| (17 days later) | |
| The sun was still below the horizon when I left the village, the sky a cloudless blue graduated towards red, and it was only just above the hills when I reached Cadair Idris. The car park at the top of the pass was already full of folk keen to take advantage of the fine day, which promised to be the last for some time. Balking at the prospect of so much company, I carried on a few miles to Cross Foxes, to test a route I’d passed several times but never explored. | The sun was still below the horizon when I left the village, the sky a cloudless blue graduated towards red, and it was only just above the hills when I reached Cadair Idris. The car park at the top of the pass was already full of folk keen to take advantage of the fine day, which promised to be the last for some time. Balking at the prospect of so much company, I carried on a few miles to Cross Foxes, to test a route I’d passed several times but never explored. |
| At this height, the breeze was stronger than I’d expected, moving the branches that overhung the lane to Tabor and sending the first dry leaves of autumn swirling into shallow drifts. The narrow road, bounded by banks and dry stone walls, rose gently along the shoulder of the hill – opening up the view of a rank of barren, unforgiving ridges. A thin mist still lay across the slopes, insubstantial but most visible where the rising sun created a sharp line of shadow across it. Areas of pale rush and rough grass stood out against the dark green of the cropped meadows, while on the higher land the senescing bracken fronds added a deep, rusty orange to the soft range of colours. | At this height, the breeze was stronger than I’d expected, moving the branches that overhung the lane to Tabor and sending the first dry leaves of autumn swirling into shallow drifts. The narrow road, bounded by banks and dry stone walls, rose gently along the shoulder of the hill – opening up the view of a rank of barren, unforgiving ridges. A thin mist still lay across the slopes, insubstantial but most visible where the rising sun created a sharp line of shadow across it. Areas of pale rush and rough grass stood out against the dark green of the cropped meadows, while on the higher land the senescing bracken fronds added a deep, rusty orange to the soft range of colours. |
| A sudden gust of wind sent a shower of crab apples, conker-sized and hard, rattling on to the lane, to bounce and roll a surprising distance before fetching up against a bank. Some of the older, slightly softer fruit showed signs of bird attack, and I wondered whether the pair of jays I saw swooping across the edge of the woods nearby might have been responsible. | A sudden gust of wind sent a shower of crab apples, conker-sized and hard, rattling on to the lane, to bounce and roll a surprising distance before fetching up against a bank. Some of the older, slightly softer fruit showed signs of bird attack, and I wondered whether the pair of jays I saw swooping across the edge of the woods nearby might have been responsible. |
| The woodland, with the noise of the wind limited to the canopy overhead, was still and dank. Boulders and pieces of stone wall were covered with a continuous layer of moss, rather than the mosaic of lichen on the more exposed walls. Past the old Quaker meeting house, the road begins to drop away. In the distance a corner of the Mawddach estuary, deep blue in the morning sunshine, illustrated just how far I still had to walk. I headed on down the long hill towards Dolgellau, and breakfast. | The woodland, with the noise of the wind limited to the canopy overhead, was still and dank. Boulders and pieces of stone wall were covered with a continuous layer of moss, rather than the mosaic of lichen on the more exposed walls. Past the old Quaker meeting house, the road begins to drop away. In the distance a corner of the Mawddach estuary, deep blue in the morning sunshine, illustrated just how far I still had to walk. I headed on down the long hill towards Dolgellau, and breakfast. |
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