The Snowdon National Park has a cog railway which takes those who don’t want to walk the 6 hours to the summit, on a leisurely two and a half hour up and down the mountain. We have had overcast weather with smatterings of rain for 6 weeks and would you believe it, we woke to a fine clear, sunny day for the rail journey! Views of course, were picture postcard stuff. Get that operation on Sharon’s knees and we could walk the hills.Mind you the train ride was not all beer and skittles. We had to breathe the burnt coal fumes from the steam engine which filled the carriages at every turn of the bend, and we were crammed into the single carriage like buried Chinese warriors. The road trip back to Criccieth was on a Michelin map green road, through the passes in the mountains. We stopped on the side of the road and passed through a gate, ignoring the dead sheep just in front of us, and walked down the slope a little and found a lovely green bank overlooking the valley, the river, the lake and the mountains. The sun was shining, I took off my shirt, laid the blanket on the ground and looked at Sharon, a misty feeling coming over me.
She said,”Your glasses fell off when you took off your shirt!”
We sat on the Criccieth beach on the blue-grey flat round stones for a couple of hours soaking up the heat until the sun disappeared behind the guest houses on the esplanade.