lost in the detail

 

A5

A sheet of paper, the fifth lumbar vertebra, a musical note at 880Hz (an octave above the orchestra’s tuning pitch), a German car, or an ancient highway first built by the Romans? An online “people’s encyclopedia” lists many alternatives. But the trunk road in question, from Marble Arch to Caergybi and  thence the voyage to Ireland, was redeveloped by Thomas Telford. Later it was immortalised in song by the likes of Christy Moore, celebrating its significance in delivering itinerant workers, Guinness from Dublin and milk to London.  In an old mill by the road at Pentrefoelas, a new “craft brewery” produces “Y Gwin Du” stout. The brewer, a local language champion, told me this was an apposite tribute to that “black wine”  from across the sea that regularly passes their gate by the truckload. 

There has been a perpetual “peace flame” between Bethesda and Nant Ffrancon for 26 years, offering hope to all who pass; all the more pertinent today.  As a frivolous aside, ephemeral yeti were seen up the valley in 1967. Further along, at Llyn Idwal, Ymddiriedolaeth Genedlaethol (National Trust) has erected a sign instructing you where to take the best photo of the legendary “dead lake”. Those influencers get everywhere.  Today the path is almost over-engineered to enable people with walking difficulties to get there. Purists might complain, but I’m happy. Many years previously I ascended the formidable ridge of nearby Tryfan to leap between the “Adam and Eve” rocks at the summit. But I mostly recall my mother’s mispronunciation of the mountain as “triffen”.
 
I enjoy using A5 size walking atlases. Contemporary 1:25000 OS single-sheet maps are too big. Inconveniently double-sided, they unfold to the size of a pool table. It’s easy to lose the detail when a mountain breeze catches them like sails. I miss the colourful contour-shading of the old Bartholomew quarter inch to the mile series on rugged cloth-backed paper. There must be a happy medium between less and more. With the appropriate scale you can see the context; a clearer sense of where you are in the scheme of things. I’m reminded of those well intentioned guide books that wait until you’ve turned the page before they say “meanwhile”. “Meanwhie, had you turned left back there, you could have seen a spectacular view”. Too late. Just like those recipes that, half way through, say “Meanwhile, cook the pasta". Too late too. At school, a teacher of English was fond of saying before an exam “Read the rubric boy”. Read the instructions first. 

A few miles off the A5, training for the ascent of Everest was centred on Pen-y-Gwryd Hotel, still a hallowed hall of heritage, diolch byth. At other settlements nearby, some longstanding climbers’ institutions have become victims of progress and corporatisation by private equity firms, or by hedge fund managers who know nothing of hedges. There’s a cafe I will call “Josh’s Nosh”. Everything celebrated by those sweaty outdoor types has gone; from its earthy charm to the scruffy walls festooned with decades of mountain memorabilia. It has been gentrified and standardised into a faceless travesty. It was known for its pint mugs of tea. Only this last vestige of tradition has been preserved today; as if in mockery. Even worse, they have kept the name, to the chagrin of its customary clientele. In a location where names usually have a sacred significance, this is one they should have changed. Reading the reviews, I think Josh’s market research was lacking.

The road brought me to Cymru sixty years ago. Via Llangollen and Corwen too, maybe even through Towcester and Chester, it brought me Hiraeth before I knew what that was, and has played a big part in my life since. It’s up there with the A470, but that’s another story.

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I look forward to your comments. Also it would be nice to know where you are in the world. Thanks for reading.

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