If you read my first blog post (here) you will know that our upcoming year long travelling adventure will be my first experience of long term travelling. Not only that, but it will be my first time travelling on a tight budget. I have previously only stayed in 1 hostel, Freehand Miami, and I’m not entirely sure it was representative of a true hostel experience. I was with a large group of people and we booked the entire room thus removing the usual hostel practice of being thrown head first in to a very intimate setting with people you’ve never met before, and removing the minefield of social etiquette dos and don’ts. Plus, Freehand was more hotel quality than hostel, with a pool, and restaurant onsite. (I would highly recommend for anybody visiting Miami and not wanting to break the bank.)
With our year abroad looming ever closer, I wanted to get some more experience of surviving on the bare minimum before we set off. With that in mind, I reluctantly agreed to go camping with Pete, thinking that it would be the ultimate test of my abilities to slum it. I’ve had the opportunity to camp a few times but I’ve always talked myself out of it assuming I was too high maintenance to camp. The thought of communal showers, outdoor toilets and no hair straighteners making my toes curl. And what do people actually do when they camp? You put the tent up, make a fire and eat, ok, then what? But if I was ever going to try it, now was the time.
Being avid (amateur) hikers, we decided to team our camping trip with an attempt at climbing Snowdon. After scouring the internet for the best camping sites, we eventually settled on a pitch at Graig Wen due to its location and excellent reviews. With the date and location set, Pete and I set about ensuring we had all of the camping essentials we would need. After more trips to Decathlon than I care to admit, we were kitted out with a new tent, airbed, sleeping bags, cutlery and cooking utensils, a camping stove, chairs and his and hers wellington boots. I was starting to feel like a real camper. All that was left was to, you know, actual camp.
We booked to camp for 2 nights, arriving Friday and leaving Sunday. 2 nights seemed like a more than adequate trial run, and if I hated it at least I could say I gave it a good go. Friday arrived and, after packing up the car and waving goodbye to the Wi-Fi, we set off for Wales. Pete offered to drive, while I had the (infinitely more demanding) job of choosing the music. For those of you on the edge of your seat wondering what music I went with, just think of the cheesiest 80’s song you can, and I guarantee I not only played it, but also sang along at the top of my lungs* with accompanying car-dance moves.
After a few hours on the road (which no doubt felt like an eternity to Pete), and a stop off for lunch and supplies, we arrived at the campsite. We checked in, picked up a map of the site and found a parking spot. The car park was a 10-minute walk from the pitch but (much to my relief) wheelbarrows were provided to help with lugging our gear up and down hill. After 2 trips back and forth to the car, it was finally time to set up the tent. This is the part I had been dreading but to my utter amazement, we set it up in record time, and I was actually helpful rather than a hindrance. Yay! All in all, it took us less than an hour to get all of our stuff to the pitch, put up the tent, inflate the air bed and set up our area. And with that done, we cracked open a couple of beers, slumped in our travel chairs and admired our handy work.
Beers in bellies, we decided to set off in search of a nearby waterfall Pete had read about. According to Google Maps it was a mere mile away from our camp site. Well, Google maps is full of shit. I swear it felt more like 5 miles of unrelenting uphill battles, I was not mentally prepared for it at all. By the time we arrived at the waterfall, my legs were aching and I was sweating profusely (sorry boys, I’m taken). It was all totally worth it though, the waterfall was very impressive. I stopped to catch my breath and take some pictures, and in the time it took me to unzip my coat and take out my phone, Pete had disappeared, to be found clambering up the side of the waterfall. As Pete will agree, he is ridiculously clumsy so I was terrified imagining him falling to his death on the slippery rocks. I momentarily turning in to his mother and shouted for him to get down immediately.
After spending some time exploring the area, climbing up the hill to get different views of the falls, we were starving, so decided to head back to camp and start dinner. I want to go in to detail about just how hard it was to cook dinner on a single gas ring, with intermittent rain and a howling wind but I’d be here all day so I’ll just say that I was extremely surprised when we not only produced something edible, but it was actually delicious. Our first official camping meal was a roaring success.
We spent the remainder on our first evening drinking beer (cider for me), toasting marshmallows on an open fire, reading, and enjoying the tranquillity of our surroundings. I was beginning to think that maybe I was cut out for camping after all.
We retired to the comfort of our airbed early that evening thinking a good night’s sleep would be the best preparation for our planned trip to Snowdon the next day. Unfortunately, mother nature had other plans. That night, the wind whipped mercilessly around the camp site, and the rain battered our tent. We both got very little sleep, and when our alarm went off for 5am, we were neither bright eyed nor bushy tailed. With the weather still in a frenzy, we decided it would be too unsafe to attempt to scale the highest mountain in Wales. That adventure will have to wait for another trip. An excellent excuse for a return visit, if we ever needed one.
In lieu of mountain climbing, we agreed that the only reasonable thing to do was take a trip to nearby Barmouth for lunch and ice cream. We paid the 70p toll and crossed the Barmouth Bridge, an experience in itself. The Barmouth bridge is a single track, wooden bridge that looks like it’s one strong gust of wind away from crumbling in to the sea. I didn’t much fancy our chances of making it over in one piece in the car. Miraculously, we made it across the River Mawddach in one piece and continued on to Barmouth. After a pub lunch and a trip to the local ice cream parlour (pause for a 30-minute deliberation over topping choices), we took a stroll along the waterfront and enjoyed the views out over Cardigan Bay. We then wandered inland to the old town with its quaint slate-roofed cottages built in to the side of a mountain, in stark contrast to the garish amusement arcades scattered along the beachfront. Sightseeing done, we took a far less nerve-racking trip back over the Barmouth Bridge and returned to camp.
Once we had digested another amazing, campsite cooked, meal, we made the short walk from our camp site to the path that runs along the Mawddach Estuary. En route, we got talking to our camp neighbours. I say we, Pete made small talk while I fussed over their dog, an adorable fox terrier named Flurry (short for Florence). Our neighbours, sensing it may be the only way to get rid of me, offered to let us take Flurry on our sunset stroll. They didn’t need to ask me twice, I almost torn their hand off when they handed me the lead. Our duo was now a trio and we set off to watch the sunset. I’m not sure I could think of a more perfect evening. With the light dwindling, we (very reluctantly on my part) took Flurry back to her owners and spent the remainder of the evening eating make-shift smores; toasted marshmallows sandwiched between 2 slightly melted milk chocolate digestives. Delicious. By the time we settled for our second evening, I was regretting our decision to stay for just 2 nights and wished we could stay for the rest of week.
We woke up early the next day, and after bacon sandwiches all around, we packed up our gear (which wasn’t quite as quick as setting it all up), loaded the car and were ready for the off. And with that my very first ever camping trip was over. I had braved the communal showers, endured the outdoor, natural toilet (natural meaning no running water, basically a toilet seat placed above the bog of eternal stench) and survived the limited internet connection and loved every single minute of it. I guess the moral of the story is don’t mock it until you’ve tried it. You might just be missing out on the time of your life!
In entirely unrelated news, I found out today that there is actually a word for when you get so pissed off you literally throw somebody out of the window. The word is defenestration and I will be looking for ways to fit it into all of my future blog posts. With the amount of times I refer to murder in my first post, I don’t think I’ll find it too difficult.
*I cannot hold a tune to save my life. Pete always tells me I’m a good singer but I think he’s just saying that in the hopes that one day he can persuade me to get up on karaoke and I’ll horrifically embarrass myself in public. I’m on to your game McCartney!