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FlintshireWalk Details: Top details: The Walk: |
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This would be our highest county top since we last visited Wales over six months previously. That time the weather had been appalling, and true to form the bright sunshine we had enjoyed in England turned to drizzle as soon as we crossed the border this time round. I had thought about parking in the village of Pentre and approaching Moel Famau from the less frequented northern side. However, in view of the potentially inclement weather we decided to take the shorter tourist route from the Bwlch Penbarras pass to the south. This had the added advantage that we could subsequently bag the “bonus marilyn” of Foel Fenlli which lay nearby. Earlier in the day, from the Warrington and Halton tops, we had seen a white line on the western horizon and wondered if we might encounter snow on Moel Famau. Sure enough, as we got closer we could see that the Clwydian hills were indeed capped with the white stuff – we were pretty excited at walking in this (we certainly hadn’t expected it in mid-April), but a bit worried that Bwlch Penbarris at 350m high might not be passable. In the event there was no problem. There was plenty of snow right even below 300m, but it had all melted from the road, and we were able to join the dozens of other cars parked at the car parks. There was enough snow for people to be sledging down the lower slopes of Foel Fenlli; the upper slopes looked steep and ominous above. On the other side of the road, our main target of Moel Famau looked a far gentler, easier proposition, despite being higher. The snow was clearly melting quite quickly – we could see meltwater dripping off of the plants all around.
All too soon though the main tourist route finally made it up the hill to join us. We continued back on the tourist trail along the relatively flat ridge of a hill, the summit clearly visible about a mile ahead, crowned by a low tower looking for all the world like the last rotten molar protruding from an old man’s gums. There were still a fair few walkers around, but the majority of them were fairly professionally fitted out. This bit of path actually forms part of the Offa’s Dyke National Trail – one couple we passed were certainly carrying big enough packs to be through-hikers. I wasn’t sure I envied them in the cold drizzle and snow! The path steepens again in the final approach to the summit; we’d been walking fairly flat out all the way up yet this final hill was the first time I’d felt even a little puffed. Either I was getting fitter or Moel Famau was ridiculously easy for a 500 metre hill. I feared it was the latter! As we crossed the 500 metre contour the drizzle turned to snow, which gave a bit of a winter wonderland fell to proceedings as we reached the tower, but unfortunately also obscured the view a little. We could still see far enough to make us realise it was a cracker though!
You have to heave yourself up onto the lowest step leading up the tower (there are flights of steps on all sides), as the ground beneath has been eroded away. The steps lead to the large viewing platform at the top, where toposcopes describe the panorama around (we were right, it had been Snowdonia we had seen earlier). Fortunately there were few people around whilst we were at the top, but I can imagine in summer the tower groaning under the weight of visitors. In the base of the tower alcoves have thoughtfully been provided where walkers can shelter from inclement weather. We couldn’t be bothered with this, in fact we decided to make the hilltop even more inclement by having a snowball fight. I think most of the people at the top were happily lugging snowballs at their friends – it was just the perfect snow for it – soft, light and fluffy, the sort of snow you get in Christmas films rather than the brown icy sludge of south east England. Our momentary return to childhood completed, we circled the broad flat top of the hill, viewing the tower from all sides, seeing the viewpoint in all directions and visiting the friendly local trig point. Eventually we decided we should push on with our bagging quest, and strode happily off down the hill at such a rate of knots that we were almost making a whooshing noise as we passed other walkers. It had been a very easy but very enjoyable hill, although I think the lying snow certainly played a large part in our enjoyment. We decided that we would tackle the marilyn of Foel Fenlli while we here, even though it wasn’t a county top. “Just in case we ever decide to do the marilyns,” we said, “it would be a bit silly if we had to return to this same car park”. Oh dear, those are ominous words… First of all though, we would have a quick break at the car to warm ourselves
up and get a bit of energy food inside us. That also means that the ascent
of the ominous slopes of Foel Fenlli will be a separate story… visit
our marilyns page to find out about it.
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We set off up the tourist path, which was very
easy walking indeed. Well made up underfoot, and gently sloping up around
the side of the hill, it didn’t present much of a challenge. To
get away from the stream of walkers making their way up the hill we headed
away from the main path and took a slightly smaller path which took a
steeper route up the face of the hill. Looking back, Foel Fenlli looked
steep and ominous behind us. To our left there was a beautiful panorama
across a wide valley, with Snowdonia shining white in the background.
Either side of the path there was plenty of virgin snow which Jim was
eager to be the first to leave footprints in – I think we both added
some distance to our walk as we did our best to leave mysterious trails
of prints that just stopped in the middle of nowhere! The snow was so
soft and fresh and clean that we decided it must have fallen the previous
night – the rate it was melting at seemed to show that it couldn’t
actually last through a whole day anyway. It had already melted off most
of the vegetation, revealing that the hill was covered with heather. It
must be stunning up here when the heather is in flower. For now, away
from the tourist route it had a satisfying stark moorland quality about
it, aided by the burnt patches of heath management. Partially frozen pools
of black water amongst the heather just added to the desolate effect 
Construction
of the Jubilee Tower began in 1810 to commemorate George III’s Golden
Jubilee. Unfortunately the builders ran out of funds, and the tower was
eventually completed to a less grand design in 1812. The top of a high
hill is never the safest place for a building and come 1862 a storm destroyed
much of the tower, leaving just the ruins of the lower storey. In the
1970’s, to commemorate the investiture of Charles as Prince of Wales,
this lower storey was restored into the low viewpoint tower that we see
today.