I was under the weather. It was 7.30 in the morning and I was out in my van, driving on impulse and letting the will take me to wherever.
I very rarely go near Llanberis these days even though I used to spend so much time climbing in the quarries. I could almost hear the clipping of karabiners as I basked in the healing warming sunshine. It was so peaceful. Wisps of cloud hung at the valley head and the morning light created a regression of tones from foreground to background, silloueting Dolbadarn Castle, a true castle of the Welsh princes.
As a child Llanberis was a magical place, and the departure point for several walks up Snowdon with my Dad. The steam trains were always a gripping fascination, their historical looking enginesbelching steam as they prepared fpr the chug up the steep railway to Snowdon’s summit.
Here today though, alone and thinkimg about my parents, and age, and my pwn past, Llanberis was as beautiful as ever, but so much of my vision was memories of what once was.