There is so much rock in the Llanberis Pass that I used to wonder if I would ever be able to know it fully. Over the past 16 years I’ve done my damn best to explore each and every obscure fold in the landscape and in rash moments I tell myself that I must be getting close to exhausting all possibilities.

Then, right out of the blue, Big G drops an intriguing pic on my desk and I’m left reeling – where did he find this? How could I have missed it? Have he and Martin Crook been casting spells again? The mind boggles…

Dear NWB readers,

A cursory stroll up the valley from the Cromlech Boulders can be a treat at this time of year, with the traffic left behind there will be only the hustle and bustle of the pied wag-tails, the cookoo's distant utterances and the rush of the merry stream. After a couple of hundred metres the clustering of boulders becomes denser and from it rises a dry stone wall.

(Close inspection of this area of rocks will reveal a modest cubicle of stonework, lovingly pieced into a hollow between boulders. This is, or rather was, the famous Cromlech Toilet - a remarkable and delightful feat of aesthetics, and a practical feat of self-flushing, a plastic pipe conveying a constant source of flushing which passed beneath an ornate wooden seat, carrying ones offerings into the deep voids between the rocks below, with virtually odourless results. Despite the excellent stonecraft there was never a roof, so that from ones position of privacy the arch of sky and rock, the very essence of nature in all its facets could be enjoyed, whilst - as it were - answering its call.

Reinstatement might be good, especially in the current situation; uninformed visitors regularly (forgive me) paying unfortunate homage to the crevices of our beloved roadside rocks)

...we digress.

Follow the wall uphill until it finally fades away, at which point a holly tree marks the route. From beneath it contour leftwards for fifty or so metres to our prize; a small round-topped wall set amidst perfect landings. (Gr 632 567, hard to see from the road)

It sports a break which is easy to grasp in several places though the continuation moves are not so amenable. What we have here is a feast of old school in-balance crimping. Indeed it may have only limited value to the under-thirties.

Clearly the setting is beyond comparison, the grassy ledge below fit for a banquet.

Blessed are the weak, for they have the most to go at.

Big G

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