A River Wild

The road falls away ahead sharply, descending into the Vale of Conwy where, in the distance, I can see Waterloo Bridge. Below it, the raging flood waters of the Afon Conwy hammer away remorselessly at its stout abutments. It is at this point as I approach – it’s always at this point – that I am struck by an innate sense of adventurous excitement, for just around the corner lies Betws-y-Coed; aesthetically, the picturesque little town has the feel of a rugged base camp about it where gnarly adventurers trade anecdotes of mountains conquered; geographically, its location to the south east of Snowdonia means it acts as the gateway into Wales’ largest and oldest national park for many thousands of visitors each year. Who doesn’t get a pang of enthusiasm for the outdoors when they cross that bridge?

Yet despite its appeal, I usually pass right through Betws without stopping, too eager instead to get on with the business of scaling Snowdon, Tryfan or one of the Glyders. Not today though. Today, the little town is my destination as I plan to do something I cannot believe I have never done before –see Swallow Falls from the far side of the Afon Llugwy. And to paraphrase Paul Simon a little here, I do have a travelling companion with me today but he is neither nine years old

DUDLEY IS MANY THINGS BUT ONE THING HE IS NOT IS WELL BEHAVED ON A LEAD...

nor the child of my first marriage. More appropriately given the inclement January weather, he is a brown Labrador with a lust for life and a weatherproof coat that trumps the most expensive jacket you can buy on Betws-y-Coed’s high street. His name is Dudley and he’s as eager as I am to get going.

But as we stride purposefully out of Cae Llan car park, I am nervous… Dudley is many things but one thing he is not is well behaved on a lead; the first few hundred metres of our walk up the high street to the Pont-y-Pair bridge at the top end of town were always therefore going to be something of a banana skin and did not disappoint. Having dragged us out into the road at least twice in pursuit of discarded foodstuffs, he and I eventually made it across the aforementioned bridge where we paused momentarily to check out the route and formulate a plan – that plan being to follow the Llugwy upstream through the forest trails all the way to Swallow Falls, a walk of approximately two miles each way. Simple! And so, with the plan metaphorically stowed in one pocket and Dudley’s lead (finally) jammed into the other we set off through the woods in high spirits.

As we picked our way along the path taking in the spectacular scenery, you might say I had begun to feel a little smug, vindicated as I was for my choice of walk that day. Apart from a nagging sense of guilt at not having walked this trail sooner, the main reason I had picked it for our adventure was because I figured it would be a far safer, easier and more sensible route to take than anything offered further up the road in the mountains at this time of year. And I was right. The going was good on the path, it was looking like it would be an easy route to follow, the forest surrounding us was blocking out the worst of the drizzle nicely and the still raging waters of the Llugwy to our left were providing a spectacular aural as well as ocular feast for our senses. In short, we would not be troubling any Mountain Rescue team today.

Dudley on the other hand had not read the same script. Genetically pre-loaded with a Labrador’s magnet-like attraction to water, all he seemed to want to do was plunge suicidally into the torrent of angry looking white foam crashing past him at lightning speed – an indulgence on his part I was not keen to sanction. Thankfully, after weighing up several options for a suitable launch point, even he realised it was not a good idea and instead decided to get his aqua fix by wallowing hippo-like in the calmer waters of the mini lagoons formed by the many huge boulders that line the banks of the river on both sides.

Luckily, my walking companion seemed unperturbed by his self-imposed waterbased restrictions and set to work exploring every inch of the pine carpeted forest floor instead, returning to my side occasionally and then only to trade drool soaked sticks for edible canine treats. As we walked along together, I could not help but be struck by the peace and quiet of the forest that day – notwithstanding the constant and deafening roar of the river. Of course, it was early January and a week day to boot, but even so, the feeling of having the whole trail to ourselves was difficult to ignore and quite at odds with how busy Betws gets during holiday season. Indeed, throughout our entire journey up to the falls, Dudley and I passed just one other walker on the path. Besides that other eminently sensible chap with a nose for a good ramble on a damp day, the only other signs of human life we saw were that of three canoeists casually putting into the Llugwy from its far bank as though it were a summer’s day. As Dudley and I huddled together around a moss covered boulder at the water’s edge to catch a glimpse of them rushing by in their vessels, we were impressed with their skills and both a little jealous that we weren’t with them on their adrenaline fuelled adventure.

The path we took allowed for several tantalising glimpses of the falls ahead of us in the distance before winding around an impressive escarpment and finally offering us up at the viewpoint situated a few hundred metres or so downstream of Swallow Falls. Making my way down to the viewing platform and lining the falls up in my sights, what I saw was impressive; a violent and unstoppable force of nature and a reminder if it were needed of how small and insignificant Dud and I were set against it. He for his part was taking a more prosaic view of the scene, opting to ignore the spectacular views and wrestling unsuccessfully with a half exposed tree root situated dangerously close to the cliff edge instead. Realising that his plans to enter the water earlier that morning looked like child’s play compared with a base jump from this height, I shouldered my rucksack grudgingly and hastily escorted Labrador’s answer to Bear Grylls off the viewpoint and back down the trail in the direction from whence we had come.

Our return journey back to the car passed off without major incident I am happy to say, though as it was now early afternoon, the trail was beginning to get busier and bizarrely, the water seemed to have calmed a little. Towards the end of the walk as we neared Betws, I spotted a natty little cave worthy of note nestled in a rocky outcrop beside a kissing gate that we had both somehow missed on the way up and that was pretty much us done, but not quite…

One of the best things about a walk that ends in Betws-yCoed is the myriad food and drink options awaiting you as you complete your trek – that and the tantalising opportunity to spend your child’s inheritance on an item of outdoor gear you probably don’t need. But as I’d already shared a sandwich with a greedy dog and a cheeky and opportunistic robin and my appetite was sated, I decided to reward myself for my efforts with a warming coffee. And with that, the hound was stowed in his rightful place in the third-class seating area of the vehicle and we were away, leaving Betws behind us once more, safe in the knowledge that we will return to Snowdonia soon with one less thing to tick off the bucket list. n

Nick Embrey is the author of Lab Tested; the Layman’s Guide to Living with a Labrador – a book that lifts the lid on the absurd behaviour of Dudley, his ever so slightly unhinged chocolate brown Labrador. Lab Tested is available to purchase on Amazon