Backbreaking but Beautiful: Nuttall Bagging in North Wales
With a long Bank Holiday weekend on offer, it would have been rude not to bag a few Nuttalls. I left it until the end of the break to do so, though, as Friday, Saturday and Sunday were taken up with other things—including lots of shopping and gardening.
So, on Monday morning, I set off to North Wales with my rucksack fully loaded and a route planned. I drove to Dolgarrog and then headed off on a tiny mountain road to a small car park not far from Llyn Eigiau. The plan was to head into the Carneddau to bag a few summits on their eastern edge. It was a somewhat grey day, with clouds shrouding the mountain tops and no one else around. There was a cool breeze, too. I donned my jacket, put on my gaiters, hefted my backpack onto my shoulders, and started off along an easy track up onto the ridge to the west of Llyn Eigiau. The first target was the summit of Llyn Eigiau (735 m).
I had some nice views out over Llyn Dulyn to the Carneddau on the way up and soon reached the rocky summit, surrounded by a grassy plateau.
From here, I continued upwards along a relatively easy gradient, following a wide, flat ridge toward the highest point of the day—Carnedd Llewelyn (1,064 m) that I’ve visited it a few times before. It felt like a bit of a detour, but it was the easiest way to get to where I wanted to go. I stopped for lunch a little before joining the main path. From this vantage point, I had a good view southward along the ridge I’d be following later. It’s not very clear in the photo thanks to dramatic clouds, but earlier I’d had a view of it and the three new Nuttalls I was hoping to reach.
After a restful lunch, I was back on my feet and heading up to the rocky tops of the Carneddau. I had yet to see another soul, but I expected to find someone at the summit of Carnedd Llewelyn—it is, after all, the second-highest peak in Wales. I joined the main path and made it to the rocky summit with its circular windbreak of stones. No one was there. I paused briefly, but the clouds obscured most of the view. With another peak bagged, I turned left and started descending the rocky slopes toward the ridge leading to Pen yr Helgi Du. It was steep in places, and I eventually came across a couple also heading down. I overtook them and left them behind on some steeper, scrambly sections where I had to stow my walking poles and use my hands.
From here it was a short climb to Pen yr Helgi Du (833 m). The couple I’d passed were heading down toward Ffynnon Llugwy, so I was once again alone in the mountains. The path was well-defined, but it felt like few people came this way. It was a lovely ridge to follow, with dramatic drops over the cliffs of Amphitheatre Wall, a narrow ridge through the saddles, and steep rocky climbs and descents to the summits. I bagged Pen yr Helgi Du and then descended to another saddle for a steep scramble up to the summit of Clogwyn Llech Lefn (637 m). Despite the steep climb, this was a fairly flat, grassy summit—but it doesn’t count as a Nuttall.
I continued down into another saddle and over a stile. As I started the next climb, I felt a twinge in my back. The twinge soon became a fairly sharp shooting pain. I do sometimes have back issues, but now wasn’t the best time! I was miles from anywhere, carrying a heavy pack, and about to climb another Nuttall. I was also planning to spend the night under canvas in a small tent on a thin air mattress. I tried to ignore the pain and gingerly made my way up, being mindful of foot placement to avoid jarring my back. The climb wasn’t too bad, and I took several breathers—partly to rest, partly to sneak in some painkillers. I made it to the grassy summit of Pen Llithrig y Wrach (799 m). This was the fourth Nuttall of the day and offered some amazing views of the Carneddau to the west and precipitous drops to Llyn Cowlyd to the east. I could see the stream feeding the reservoir far below—my intended destination for the night.
All that remained was a steep descent over rough ground. This proved to be the most difficult part of the day, as my back was now in agony—and descending seemed to make it worse. I had little choice, so I carefully picked my way down through rock and bilberry bushes, avoiding boggy patches and scanning the valley below for flat grassy spots.
Eventually, I reached a lovely flat grassy area next to the stream flowing into the reservoir. It was still quite early in the day—under normal circumstances I might have continued—but with a sore back, a perfect-looking campsite, and a good distance already covered, I decided to stop for the night. I chilled for a while, did some stretches and yoga, and soaked in the views.
A group of walkers passed, saying they were on a circuit of the reservoir. I later saw them making their way along the far slopes. Llyn Cowlyd is the deepest lake in North Wales at around 70 m, with an average depth of 33 m. It supplies water to Conwy and Colwyn Bay, as well as to the hydroelectric power station at Dolgarrog via the huge black pipeline from its northern end.
As the sun began to set, I took my time setting up the tent for the perfect pitch—it certainly looked good against the dramatic mountain backdrop. My back was still sore, and getting in and out of the tent was a challenge. It was tough to get comfy inside too. I cooked some dinner, kept up the painkillers, and took it easy as I settled in for the night.
The campsite was indeed perfect—flat, grassy, and sheltered from the breeze by some rocks. It rained a little overnight, but I stayed dry and cosy, if not particularly comfortable.
Tuesday dawned drizzly, but it had dried up by the time I’d finished breakfast and got more painkillers onboard. I lingered a bit to let the breeze dry things out and packed up just before it started raining again. I considered taking the easy, flat route along the western side of Llyn Cowlyd, which would be the most direct way back to the car. But my original plan was to bag three more Nuttalls along the ridge to the east of the reservoir—so that’s what I did.
First was a slog through boggy slopes that steepened as I entered the clouds. I took it easy, stopping for rests, and eventually reached the summit of Craiglwyn (623 m). This was Nuttall number one for the day, with some views down to Llyn Crafnant.
At least there was a little track now as I headed north along the ridge to Creigiau Gleison (678 m), which involved a nice scramble, and then to Creigiau Gleison North Top (632 m). That was it for summits today. I now had a fairly long walk back to Llyn Cowlyd, over the ridge on the far side, and then off toward Llyn Eigiau and the car.
The descent was a bit circuitous through boggy areas, but I eventually joined a path I’d once raced up during a mountain adventure race. I crossed below the dam at the end of the reservoir, from which the huge black pipeline snakes across the mountainside. I then climbed up over the flanks of Craig Ffynnon, past the remains of Eilio Cottage, and followed a wide track to the breached dam of Llyn Eigiau.
The dam was built in 1911, but the original contractor was accused of corner-cutting and pulled out. The dam later burst in 1925 after 26 inches of rain fell in just five days, causing a flash flood in Dolgarrog that killed 16 people. The broken dam, with its insufficient foundations, is now a haunting sight.
From there, it was a short walk along an easy track back to the car.
That’s six new Welsh Nuttalls bagged, taking my total up to 92. These Nuttalls may have ‘done a number’ on my back, but I’ll be back for more—once it’s healed. Here’s a map of the Nuttalls in Wales. Green triangles are those that I’ve summited, the white ones are those still to do.
