We're currently in Caernarfon on the coast in North Wales and still very much in the Welsh-speaking area - have just been chatting to the owner of this internet cafe, who is a native speaker, and he was saying there are fully Welsh versions of Windows, Linux and many associated applications. Luckily I have an English version to use!
We spent last night in the wild Welsh Highlands - set off around midday yesterday once the truly torrential rain subsided and spent an initial frustrating hour or so "bush-bashing" through dense woods, bogs and brambles before making it out onto more open territory. We ascended Moel Hebog, Moel-yr Ogaf and Moel Lefn none of which had any real trails to the top so there was plenty of rock-hopping, scrambling up scree slopes and making our way gingerly down steep and slippery descents. On making the top of Moel Hebog, I exclaimed "we knocked the b***ard off", in a tribute to my countryman Sir Edmund but then he'd just climbed something more than 10 times as high when he said that so was probably more justified in saying so! We camped a bit below the last peak with some very springy heather under the tent and a gurgling stream nearby for water. Dinner, after a hard day's hiking, was simply delicious, topped off by Steve's contribution of rhubarb and custard for dessert.
This morning we walked back down through the forest to the main road into the town of Beddgelert, where we've been staying. Beddgelert means the grave of Gelert, who was the favourite hound of a 13th century prince of North Wales, Llewellyn. One day, when Llew went out hunting, Gelert was mysteriously missing. Upon returning from the hunt, Llewellyn was greeted joyously by his favourite dog who was covered in blood and gore. Llewellyn in his horror found his son's cot empty and a trail of blood nearby. In despair, he ran Gelert through with his sword. At that moment, he heard his son's cry from the courtyard outside and upon running out, discovered his son sitting next to the bloodied corpse of a giant wolf, slain just minutes before by his most faithful hound. A Welsh story! The sense of loss, regret, poignancy is something that is central to the culture and history of this people: there will always be a feeling of "what if", of something irretrievably lost for this little country that has always been too close to her powerful neighbour to be left alone. It's a remarkable story of resilience that her language and identity have survived to this day and seem to be stronger than for many years. Britain's Aborigines!
Hwyl fawr to you all until next time!
