Saturday 17th AugustNikki had already packed most of her stuff up before I emerged. After a loo trip I got on with it and was fairly pleased with my lack of faffage. The wind was so strong that I had to keep my tent roped down as I rolled it up from the leeward end, but at least it was dry. We were away around 10.30.
To our considerable surprise it was not raining. The sky was thick with leaden clouds and there was a very strong south-westerly, which meant that our progress was rapid. However, after about 6 miles it was time to reach for the waterproofs.
This was no mountain drizzle but a full-blown Atlantic depression in all its nastiness. Wave after wave of rain hit us, soaking everything, but mostly we progressed pretty well. We reached Nefyn around 11.45 and there was a tea room. We went in to find that it was of the "greasy spoon" variety rather than a refined one with cake. I decided that I needed beans on toast, which I ordered, but never before have I seen so few beans on a slice of toast which is meant to be swimming in them. After half-an-hour or so we carried on with our trudge towards Bangor.
I knew there was a hill, as we had to round Yr Eifl, three peaks, the tallest of which is nigh on 2000', which stand guard over the northern portal to the Lleyn peninsula. However, I had forgotten how high the road went. The hills disturbed the wind and sometimes it was most unhelpful. We ground our way up to about 850', including climbing a chevron just after Llithfaen and we had to examine Nikki's bike which was making some unpleasant noises.
She had two broken spokes in the rear wheel. I took the broken ones out so that they shouldn't flap about, but it was clear that that rear wheel just was not designed for the sort of load that she was carrying. I suggested, since she is a faster rider than I am, that she go on ahead to try to find a bike shop in Caernarfon, which was still about 18 miles away, get her wheel fixed and wait for me in a tea shop. She agreed to this and soon after we parted company we reached the summit and began to descend towards the A499.
Years ago my sister lived along this road, in Clynnog Fawr. I remembered how busy it was then, being the main road between Caernarfon and Pwllheli. At the height of the holiday season it could become non-stop traffic and that was how it was today. However, a recent engineering project had put a cycle lane in on the east side, and it was an excellent facility. Some of it was smooth, purpose-build tarmac, bits of it were the old road where the new one took a different route, and this cycle path carried on all the way to the village of Ffrwd, only a little more than a mile form the cycle path alongside the Welsh Highland Railway. The point at which the sign warned that the cycle path ended there was no indication of any alternative to the A499, which was still pretty unpleasant, but across the road was a minor road towards Llandwrog ad this made a very pleasant alternative to the A499. I followed this for a couple of miles and then joined the path alongside the railway, knowing that I was almost in Caernarfon and really not feeling like pitching a tent in the appalling conditions we had had to endure.
Eventually I was met by a welcome sight.
The first task was to find Nikki so I made my way to the town centre and looked or a bike shop. There was no sign of one, although I had spotted a bike hire place near the castle. I tried a shop at random and asked the proprietor whether she knew of a bike shop. She was just getting to the interesting bit when I received a text message from Nikki, who was in the car park by the castle with two spokes, two tyre levers and a Park spoke key that had been lent to her by the bike hire people, who had now closed in disgust because no-one wants ot hire bikes in weather like this.
After a phone call we saw each other so I made my way down the hill to the castle.
"I've got a very good plan B," I said to her.
"Does it involve being warm and dry?" she replied.
"Yes, it does. We find a B & B for the night."
With remarkably little protest from my companion we hied us to the Tourist Information office and asked about B & Bs. Every one they had on their books was full. However, they gave us a map and showed us a couple of roads where B & Bs hung out and we found one almost straight away with a vacancy.
We knocked at the door, which was answered by a youngish man with a slight foreign accent and the dirtiest feet I had seen in a long time.
"Do you have a twin room for the night?" I asked.
"It's a double."
"Is there room for an airbed on the floor? We're not attached."
"Probably. Come and see."
So we did.
It wasn't just a double bed, it was a 4-poster, so ideal for hanging wet sleeping bags on. My sleeping bag was wet, my downmat was wet, my silk liner was wet and so was my polyester blanket. I don't think Nikki had fared a lot better. We showered, found some dry clothes and an electric heater and whilst I was in the shower Nikki went beyond the call of duty and turned my cotton shorts, which were very wet indeed, several times on top of the heater. By the time I was out of the shower they were dry. What was more, the rain had stopped and we were ready to hit the town, it now being about 5 pm and neither of us having had a proper lunch.
There was a curry house and we were the only customers. We ordered food in the form of poppadoms, starters and mains, and I had some Cobra lager. Nikki had a lassi. My balti arrived in a bucket. We were to find later that the curry house had only just reopened after a refurbishment and I think we were its first customers.
There was still some daylight after we had finished eating we wandered around Caernarfon, looking at the castle and the water.
Then, knackered as we were, we went to bed.
