A Misty Wild Camp in Autumn
Walking, camping and almost everything else had been put on hold for the last three weeks. My aunt had been staying who is severely ill, needing almost 24/7 care. My sister, my parents and I had all decided we’d be around for Corrine to come for a holiday from Cambridge where she lives alone. It was hard work and because we all wanted to be around to support each other, we barely did anything away from home other than work. When it came to the day of Corrine’s departure we were all tearful, despite it being a difficult three weeks it had also been so lovely to have her stay and take her out for walks and trips. Time suddenly felt very empty and we weren’t sure what to do with ourselves. So Brochan and I decided the best thing to do with our time was go camping for a night.
The beginning of September is one of my favourite times of year, the bridge between summer and autumn when everything starts to turn. So I had felt a little frustrated sitting still indoors for most of it! We decided to stay quite close to home as I was working with my parents the next day and needed to be back in the morning. As we didn’t end up having much time in the evening to walk far, we picked a spot we knew that was only about an hour’s walk into the hills.
It was early evening on a Saturday and we parked up in a large lay-by near the footpath up the hills. The weather was beautiful, clear blue skies and comfortably warm, berries hung in the shrubby hedges and sheep bleated from the fields. After having a browse of the OS maps for these hills we had found a little footpath that we’d never walked up, which is where we were headed. It was beautiful, felt almost like we’d gone back in time in Wales, it didn’t seem like many people roamed this path and it was lined with old walls cloaked with mosses and lichens, tender little fern fronds emerging from cracks. The trees seemed ancient, all twisted like they were guarding faerie realms above a small clear brook. I think my parents named me well when they called me Brook, these forgotten spaces on mountains, of old trees and tiny streams is where I feel most at home.
The path continued up past an old forestry plantation which seemed it had just been left to go wild, a thick blanket of moss lay on the floor and bird song echoed around the trees. The trees were mostly larch, their tiny scaled cones clinging to the ends of their branches. I love larch trees, one of the only deciduous conifers in the UK, in spring their needles emerge from sleeping twigs, acid green and as soft as feathers. Then in Autumn they put on a fiery display of orange amongst the persistent dark green of other conifers.
Passing the small plantation, we came out onto the open moors and headed straight up the mountainside. The beginning of dusk was falling as we walked so we sped up, not wanting to pitch up in darkness. As we reached our chosen spot, only the peaks of the hills were still red from the setting sun, the rest cast in that blue light between day and night.
As dark was falling soon and I know this place isn’t often frequented, we decided to pitch up straight away. Usually we wait until just before nightfall so we’re not seen from anywhere, although our green tent does camouflage very well into the mountain grasses. Then we lit the stove and heated up our pre cooked dinner of lentil sloppy joes in buns. Once dark had completely fallen we went for a shot walk around the hills to look at the stars glimmering in the black sky. Then snuggled down into our sleeping bags for the night. It may seem odd but I love these colder camps more than summer ones. There’s something about feeling the chill around your face while also feeling so cosy in your sleeping bag and waking up to coffee and hot porridge to warm you from inside, all these things just don’t feel as comforting in the warmer weather.
When we woke up it was to see thick mist rolling over the hills and above the valley. It felt like we were in a folk tale, everything dark green and the hills obscured. Brochan made some coffee while I watched the mist with Floss. Much to our annoyance we hadn’t brought porridge with us, as we had thought we wouldn’t have a lot of time to enjoy it in the morning. As it was we had plenty of time and, on such a chilly morning, really wanted some hot food, we’ve definitely learnt to never leave breakfast behind again! Thought we will probably forget…
Once our coffee was drunk up we packed everything away, I pushed up all the grass where the tent had been; I try to leave absolutely no trace when I camp. Then we set off through tall grasses threaded by webs glistening with dew, a fat bodied orb web spider hanging in the centre of each, gently swaying in the light breeze. The path we followed was a more familiar path, wide and grassy, passing thick conifer forestry. Sheep hung about, watching us as we passed, then we descended down a steep track and back to the car.
