Skip to main content

Extreme Sushi

At a tad under 3000 ft, Aran Fawddwy is the highest British mountain south of Snowdon, but it’s relatively unknown because of its isolation. It’s also, from my point of view anyway, a bit of a pig! The walk begins and ends in the valley of Cwm Cywarch so there’s no leg-up; you have to gain every inch of that height through your own efforts.

The first stretch is a scramble over rock and streams.















You look back and reap the first rewards of your hard work,













but it’s only a brief respite before slogging on through very wet and boggy ground. There’s another scramble and then, some two and half hours after you’ve started, you reach the summit – and it’s shrouded in cloud.

Find some shelter and reward yourself with sushi and a Mars bar.
You descend out of the cloud base which is just as well as there’s a narrow ridge to cross with dramatic drops either side. As the clouds drift the sights take your breath away and make you feel utterly alive.

Comments

Fennie said…
Thanks for dropping by. Indeed, we both have been having adventures but yours was much bigger than mine. Where is this mountain? I've never heard of it.

All the same I was higher up than you were (I imagine) simply because 'Le Massif Cantalien' is so high to begin with (otherwise the rivers would never get to the sea but just simply run round in circles).

Still your climb was further upwards than mine and your poor legs have taken punishment far beyond the call of duty in recent days. In fact it's a bit of a wonder they don't simply fall off.

As for leaping on a horse - I only wish I could - I fear these days that I would have to be winched up like one of those armour-suited monsters of old. I do believe though that I could leap on a donkey which, if I remember rightly, was Stevenson's favourite form of travel and a suitable beast for carrying you up mountains.

All the same, I think I would rather share the donkey's oats than face raw fish with my head stuck in the clouds, if ever I reached the summit. Raw fish and long distance running must come equal first in my anathema stakes.
You do push yourself - don't you?
I think I'll take my pleasures sitting down, thank you.
P.S. No, Rufus still can't be left anywhere without him freaking out. We shall have to start a programme of training for him.
Pondside said…
Hi Chris - I enlarged that first photo and nearly had an attack of vertigo (perhaps a bit of hyperbole here, but it was a shock!) What a gorgeous walk you had. Can I go sometime? I don't know about your hiking food though....very Fusion!
her at home said…
Sounds ideal to me long climb followed by Susi with a view count me in next tiem!
muddyboots said…
Phew, l am exhausted now, so glad Holderness is flat. LOL.
Two and a half hours?!? Blimey,I'd need more than a Mars bar, probably a stretcher.

Although, I have to admit, it does look beautiful.
Fabulous climb but I would fall over at the top if faced with sushi. What about cheese and pickle sandwiches or even pork pie?
mountainear said…
Well done, that's some climb. I'm afraid I sit back and just look at mountains while consuming any available food at base camp.
Frances said…
Chris, you are truly amazing. Didn't you just fun a marathon?

(While I was on an errand in midtown today, I saw many folks whose trim physiques indicated that they would be running in the NYC marathon this weekend. At least, I think it's this Sunday ... am I out of touch or what.)

It was fun to try to imagine which country they were from before I heard them speak a word.

There are all sorts of bleachers set up in the southern end of Central Park where the finish line will appear.

Perhaps one year you might come over and do this run? I'd definitely take the day off to cheer you on!

xo
Lori said…
What gorgeous scenery! And sushi, sushi, I want sushi.
Maria said…
Love the photo! You and Tom?
Arrgghhhh heights, a sheer drop on both sides AND sushi - well good for you flower, I'm shuddering at the very thought of each one and would shut myself in the understairs cupboard at the mere suggestion of all three at the same time.
3000 ft!! I would need oxygen, a stretcher and some good old Dutch courage to get me up there - Mars bar and shushi indeed!! Stupendous photos. Well done Chris!

Jeanne x
Maggie Christie said…
Your poor legs! You're a tough woman and tres posh - summit sushi? Mars bars, yes. But I normally get squished cheese sarnies if I'm lucky. I much prefer your idea of a picnic!
Brown Dog said…
Extreme sushi, indeed! I imagine you and Tom tucking in to one of those glamorous tin tiffin carriers, possibly administered by a sherpa just out of camera shot.

I love your pictures and descriptions of a real Welsh mountain walk, and you both look glowing images of health and achievement up there on the summit. I think the scramble over rock and streams and the boggy trudge would probably finish me off even before I got to the low cloud.
Flowerpot said…
WOW!!! Wish I could do that one too...
Chris Stovell said…
Thanks very much to you all for taking the time to leave a comment. I'm really sorry I haven't replied to you individually but I'm right up against it this week.
Edward said…
Sushi and Mars bars? I'm sorry, but that's just plain weird. Great photos, though.
Sally Townsend said…
A truly invigorating walk, must blow up the pic like Pondside (if I dare)
Calico Kate said…
Stunning scenery ~ but sushi and a mars bar??? very odd combo!
CKx
Sharon Whitley said…
did this yesterday - and it was (almost) cloud free - so that was a first - fabulous place, not done it from Cwm Cywarth but will do next time! Not sure about the sushi on a mountain, I'll stick to the egg butties!

Popular posts from this blog

Happy Endings, New Beginnings

Blended families come with conflicting loyalties and at Christmas time nearly everyone has somewhere else they feel they ought to be. Throw partners into the equation and it gets even more complicated. Since Tom and I aren’t especially hung up about Christmas we’re happy to let our children go with the strongest flow, but I have to say it was a great delight to have the girls and their partners staying with us this year. When such moments are few and far between they become very precious. My stepsons weren’t far from our thoughts either, not least because we had the very happy news on Christmas Day that my elder stepson and his girlfriend had become engaged. Congratulations Dan and Gill, here’s wishing you every happiness together. Tom and I end a year that has seen the fruition of many years work, both of us crossing important thresholds within weeks of each other. I’m really looking forwards to seeing Turning the Tide published next year and it’s been so satisfying, after al

Reconnecting

I hadn't realised it until now , but it’s probably no coincidence that my last post was about our trip to Norwich, a city I’ve loved since studying at UEA. I wrote, then, that coming home was a hard landing, a feeling that took me completely by surprise as it’s been such a privilege to live in this beautiful, remote spot on the very edge of the west Wales coast. A trip to Skye at the end of October - Tom’s choice - with Ma, was a truly lovely holiday. The weather was kind, the colours of those breathtaking seascapes will stay with me, as will all the happy memories we made that week. And, because our small cottage had been so beautifully modernised and worked so well for the three of us, it was easy to imagine what it might be like to live somewhere different. If travel doesn’t broaden the mind, it certainly brings a new perspective. By the end of the year, Tom and I had decided that it was time for a change, time to move closer to a town (we are neither of us, as they say, getting

Fly Free, Dottie Do

‘How many days to my birthday?’ Ma asks. I do a quick calculation. ‘Eighteen,’ I reply. ‘Eighteen days until your ninetieth birthday.’ Ma pulls a face and shakes her head. Every sentence is hard work for her now, when each breath is a struggle. ‘You’ll have to write a book about this, you know,’ she says, with one of her quick, mischievous smiles. ‘“Carry On Dying”. Make ‘em laugh, make ‘em cry.’ The smile fades. ‘Who knew,’ she adds wearily, ‘that dying would be such a palaver?’  It’s only eleven days since Ma was diagnosed with a high-grade, aggressive lymphoma, four days since she was overwhelmed with pain and breathing difficulties and was admitted as an emergency to hospital. Until a few weeks ago, she lived completely independently; shopping, cooking, cleaning and tending her much-loved garden. The deterioration in her health is shockingly rapid. The eight days preceding her death are a living hell, a constant battle with the ward staff to get Ma the pain relief she’s been presc