The weather forecast had said that the low cloud would lift and visibility would be good, but why, oh why do I ever believe the forecast?! When I arrived at Mynydd Rhiw this morning, the low misty cloud shrouded the whole of the peak, with visibility down to a few yards. I was there, so the walk would go ahead regardless of adverse weather conditions, after all it wasn't as though I could get lost or be injured.
The dogs jumped joyfully from the car and galloped off up the path into the mist. I whistled, and they galloped back to join me. We took the left hand path that would take us around by the dry-stone wall, along the southern edge of the summit. There was an acrid smell in the air from the burnt stumps of heather and gorse, remnants of the winter land clearing. Skylarks twittered overhead, and a bird, about the size of a Blackbird, flew over to the right, calling loudly - could it have been the Ring Ouzel that I had so long wished to add to my 'seen' list? The mist did too good a job of hiding him for me to be certain. Normally, as I walk along this path, I would have a view of the wide curve of Cardigan Bay, but today I could just about spot a sheep on the other side of the wall. I had brought three lenses for my camera, just in case, but it looked as though I wouldn't even need one. The path had become quite overgrown since I last visited, the combination of rocks and weed making it a little treacherous, so I decided that it would be safer to take a wider path over towards the middle of the summit.
I walked on, feeling disorientated, a fog not just in the air, but also in my mind. It was like walking in twilight, giving me a sense of sleepiness: a desire to sit down and snooze, rather than walk on. Then suddenly I came to a car: I had already reached the far side Mynydd Rhiw. I must have walked much further than I had thought, and somehow I had managed to totally miss the towering outcrop that housed the gigantic masts for the TV and mobile phone companies, as well as having missed the stone hut circle - a home to Iron Age man. I turned and headed back, taking a path over to my left to head along the northern edge of the summit, but once again I became disorientated, and suddenly looming up on my left, instead of on my right, were the aerials, shrouded in mist. By now I just wanted to get away from the place. I had a sense of unease, a sense of being followed. I know there were no humans there, or living humans at least, but perhaps the spirits of the past were joining me on my walk, wondering who I was, and why I invaded their solitary home.