My Fickle Heart (Part 1)

Remember when I professed my undying love for Scotland? I swore that it's rugged coastline had won my heart and that I might have to break up with Oxford and go steady with Edinburgh instead.

Well since I can't commit to anything I promptly fell out of love with Scotland and in love with Wales two weeks ago, when we spent the weekend in that gorgeous country with two friends from church. How could I not? For starters, there's Welsh.

I don't even know where to begin...

If we end up stranded on this mountain we will die, because we can't read the help sign.

We entertained ourselves for hours trying to pronounce this unpronounceable language. Who knew that the double L made a phlegm sound in the back of the throat?

Welsh language plus Welsh terrain? Amazing. I don't even care if I can't read the help sign and die on the mountain because by golly I'll go out with the best view.

Beautiful, even in the rain.

On our way up Cader Idris. I'm smiling because we haven't hiked into the rain cloud yet...

Just us, lots of rocks, and the sheep on the mountain today...

...because the wind and rain are out of control!

But we made it!

Got a picture? Great. Let's get the heck off of this mountain.

Just in case you suspect me of being overly dramatic (who? moi?), here is the memorial stone of a runner who DIED on this climb. Running kills. I've stopped.

We made it to the top of Cader Idris despite the driving rain, strong wind, slippery rocks, and overall unpleasantness because we were too stubborn to quit. I would love to go back and make the climb again in better weather; according to Google Images, this is what Cader Idris would look like in sunshine:

The sun did decide to make a slight appearance on the hike down, and the view made the soaking wet jeans totally worth it.

Wales, I love you.