Day 1 To Llanbrynmair

We leave in mist and showers and cross the Prince of Wales bridge, heading to mid-Wales. We pass Raglan Castle and encounter numerous tractors enroute as we drive into the iridescent green Welsh hills. It appears that every possible inch of Welsh road that could be being resurfaced is being resurfaced and stop-go boards abound. I am excited to see several red kites with their iconic forked tails.

We arrive at Gwern-y-Bwlch campsite. It is a pleasant site, snuggled in the forested hills. The only downside is that it has hot-spot only internet, which is why you will be reading this after our visit is over. At least this time I am prepared to be abandoned in a technological black hole. It seems that television signal is a challenge as well. Fortunately, the one side that is available is BBC, so Wimbledon watching is possible if you can accept a bit of buffering as an accompaniment. Having had a serious bout of insomnia the previous night, on arrival, I have a power nap, followed by an exploration of the site.

Day 2 The Centre for Alternative Technology

We have pre-booked entry to The Centre for Alternative Technology, which is a Unesco Biosphere, set up in a disused slate quarry near the River Dyfi. Apart from explanations of alternative energy sources and sustainable building, there are beautiful allotment-style gardens growing edible plants and wildflowers to create a diverse habitat.

Sarah takes us on a guided walk through the woodland, which is being managed as a native, broad-leafed habitat. This means that the rhododendrons have to be eradicated, as they discourage growth on the woodland floor. We call in at the café but its offerings, although delicious, are a little too ‘alternative’ for my meat and two veg loving companion.

Day 3 Coed y Brenin National Park

We are trying to avoid anywhere too peopley and to be outside as much as possible, so I have picked a National Park for today’s visit. This is of course Wales and outdoors means that we run the risk of getting wet. For some reason best known to no one at all, I haven’t brought any kind of coat with me. Fortunately, there are coats lurking in the caravan. I have a postcode for the car park for the National Park but finding it seems to be as fruitless a quest as our search for somewhere to park at the Savernake Forest last month. After driving up what almost certainly wasn’t actually a road, managing not to drive over a precipice when three-point turning and retracing our steps, we do find a locked gate to what looks like a car park. We drive on and find another car park, this time with a solid looking boulder blocking the entrance. This is definitely meant to be a car park. The clue is in the notice that says ‘do not linger in the car park’, along with ‘keep two metres apart’ etc.. This time, there is room to park on the accessible side of the boulder, even though that probably isn’t the car park, so we do.

The Coed y Brenin National Park consists of 9000 acres set in the Rhinog mountains. Allegedly, it was part of the historic Nannau Estate, founded in 1100 by Cadougan, Prince of Powys. We are encouraged to call at the state of the art, ‘green’ visitors’ centre. They must have done a good job of blending it into the landscape as it is nowhere to be seen.

This area is obviously designed for extreme off-road cycling and there are numerous cyclists hurtling down steep paths, to the detriment of brakes and tyres, if not life and limb. The routes have names like ‘The Beast’ and ‘The Minotaur’. Realistically, I accept that the seven mile ‘strenuous’ volcano walking trail is not for us. So we stroll along a wide, flattish cycle track (The Fox), alongside, dramatic, fast-running streams in a granite and slate-strewn landscape, managing to pick a dry spell between the showers to do so.

I may have left my coat at home but my travelling companion, who is chief in charge of food supplies, has neglected to put the mince beef in the caravan fridge. I am hoping he has left it in his own freezer, rather than defrosting somewhere in his kitchen. This means we need to find a shop, something, along with petrol stations, that have been conspicuous by their absence. The upside of this is that it takes us into the centre of Dolgellau, instead of bypassing it as we traverse up and down the A470. This is an attractive small town, with narrow streets and looming, grey, stone buildings. We identify a butcher as a likely source of mince. I wait in the car whilst my companion ventures forth. The time spent in making said purchase was probably long enough to lasso the animal in the field and carry out all necessary processes in between but mission accomplished. We arrive back to the van in time to see Emma Raduanou’s impressive third round Wimbledon victory.