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Llŷn Peninsula 2: Not dodging Storm Lilian

Posted on 23 August 202426 August 2024 by Rob Ainsley

It blew up, literally, about half four in the morning. The wind abruptly swung from the west and now, unshielded by the hedgerows, I was suddenly getting the full force of 70mph gusts. The tent was being almost flattened, the poles ready to snap.

There was no chance of taking the tent down in this wind, so I quickly released the poles to flatten the tent. Even pegged down, it looked ready to blow away any minute, so I put the bike on top to weigh it down, and retreated to the campsite toilets to sit out the next few hours with sudokus.

I just had to hope that my friends Si and Sue, in their campervan adjacent to my tent (and the only other peope on the campsite), didn’t look out to see how I was. They’d have seen a tent with a body-shaped shape (actually my panniers etc) under a bike, and perhaps assumed the gale had flung the bicycle onto the tent and onto me, with catastrophic results.

Calm after the storm: Tent back up the morning after grappling with Storm Lilian

Eventually, by half six, the storm eased, and I could re-raise my tent and get a few hours sleep at last. I hadn’t dodged Storm Lilian this time but I’d survived unscathed. However, if you live around the Southport area and see a water bottle blowing around the bay, it could be mine.

Flat calm (almost): Level lanes amid the hills of the Llŷn Peninsula

Anyway, after a hearty breakfast with Si and Sue in the late-morning sunshine, I could set off east, with the wind at last behind me.

Shingle life: Criccieth beach

More pleasant hilly scenery on quiet lanes, again mostly flat, made me feel good, and I scooted through the gentle countryside to Criccieth. Just beyond, Mynydd Du campsite was full, but only of caravans: its tents-only field was empty apart from me.

Field day: Mynydd Du campsite outside Criccieth

I was welcomed for one night (despite warnings to the contrary on the website) for just £12. A bargain. It gave me one of the best views I’ve ever had from a campsite.

Good beer in anyone’s language: Glaslyn Ale by Purple Moose of Porthmadog

With the tent set up, I cycled the mile or so back into Criccieth, admired the beach and castle, and enjoyed a pint of local real ale in the Victoria pub, amid locals chatting in Welsh, apart from a single oft-repeated word of English interspersed. A particular word of, erm, seven letters. It was a curious mix.

Eat it up: Dinnertime view from Mynydd Du camping spot
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