3 nights in Wales - Change of plan

The heat in the middle of the day was intense, so there was no rush to do anything. That was part of the beauty of this trip really. No pressure. No mileage targets. No summit goals. We sat in the shade for a while and just slowed down properly.

Buddy wandered around investigating absolutely everything as usual while Teddy settled into campsite life almost immediately. They are so used to these little adventures now that they seem to understand the routine before I even unload the car.

Eventually, once the worst of the midday heat had faded, I got camp set up.

Simple. Comfortable. Exactly enough.

There is something deeply satisfying about pitching a tent knowing you are staying exactly where you are. No racing daylight. No checking maps. No worrying about water sources or how far is left to climb. Just a small space that becomes home for the night.
And with the sea only a short wander away, it already felt special.

Down Through the Dunes

Later in the evening we wandered down towards the beach through the dunes at Morfa Dyffryn Nature Reserve.

That walk alone was worth the trip.

The sandy path wound between the grass covered dunes with the sea slowly appearing ahead of us. Buddy trotted along in his cooling vest looking very pleased with himself while Teddy took things at his usual slower and more thoughtful pace.

I think one of the reasons the coast hits differently when you spend so much time in the mountains is the contrast. In the hills everything feels vertical. You are always climbing, descending, navigating, working.

The beach asks absolutely nothing from you.

Sit down. Listen to the waves. Breathe a bit slower.

That’s it.

After the last few months, that was probably more important than I realised.

Evenings Like This Are Why I Keep Going Away

Back at camp I cooked burritos on the little stove while the evening light started turning golden around the campsite.

Not gourmet.

Not Instagram perfect.

Just proper campsite food after a long warm day outside.

And somehow it tasted brilliant.

Maybe food always tastes better outdoors. Maybe everything does.

The boys settled quickly afterwards. Teddy curled up quietly while Buddy still had enough energy left to patrol the pitch a few more times before finally accepting bedtime.

I sat there for a while just looking around thinking how glad I was that I hadn’t cancelled the trip.

That’s the thing sometimes. We get so attached to the original plan that we miss the fact the backup plan might still be brilliant.

This wasn’t the wild camp adventure I’d imagined.

But it was still adventure.

Just softer around the edges.

And honestly, I needed that.

Beach Showers and Slow Mornings

One thing I absolutely loved at Brennar was the outdoor beach shower setup.

Simple wooden screens. Pebbles underneath. Trees around it. It felt perfectly suited to the place. Sandy feet, salty air and campsite mornings.

There is something really grounding about campsite life when it is stripped back to basics like that. You wake up with the light, make a coffee outside and everything slows to the pace it probably should have been all along.

I think this trip reminded me of something important.

Adventure does not always need to be extreme to matter.

For years I have chased mountains, distances and difficult days because those experiences genuinely shaped me. But sometimes what you actually need is a beach, a quiet campsite and two little poodles asleep beside a tent while the sun disappears into the sea.

Sunset on the Beach

The evening light at Morfa Dyffryn was unreal.

As the sun dropped lower the whole beach changed colour. Gold across the water. Long shadows across the stones. Families still paddling in the distance while everything slowly became quieter.

We sat there for ages.

No rush to leave. No reason to.

Looking back now, I think this first night set the tone for the entire trip.

Adapt. Slow down. Enjoy where you are.

I’d originally worried that changing the plans would make the adventure feel like less somehow. Instead it reminded me that the important part was never really the mountain or the wild camp itself.

It was always this.

Time outside. Time with the boys. Time away from noise, pressure and routine.

And sat on that beach watching the sun go down beside Teddy and Buddy, I honestly wished I’d booked longer.

We set off for Llanberis for the next two nights, camping right beneath the hills of Snowdonia at a simple little campsite tucked under the trees. It was basic in every sense, but perfect. We arrived around 10am and managed to grab a shaded pitch beneath an old tree, which quickly became our little refuge from the heat. The tent went up easily, the boys settled almost instantly, and for the first time in a while there was nowhere to be and nothing to rush for.
Once the evening cooled slightly, we wandered down into Llanberis itself and headed toward the lake. The whole place had that strange mix of beauty and industry that makes Llanberis feel different from anywhere else in Eryri. Mountains towered above us in every direction, but everywhere you looked there were reminders of the quarrying history that shaped the valley.

We stopped at Dolbadarn Castle, standing proudly above the water like it had been watching over the valley forever. From across the lake it looked almost unreal against the backdrop of the mountains and blue sky. We also visited the old Quarry Hospital museum, which was fascinating and slightly haunting at the same time. Inside were displays showing the brutal injuries quarrymen suffered, old prosthetic limbs, medical tools and stories of the doctors who treated men injured by explosions, falling rock and machinery. Looking out from the hospital windows across the lake toward the mountains almost felt surreal knowing how hard life once was here.

Afterwards we sat by the lake for ages watching people swimming, paddle boarding and simply enjoying the evening sunshine. There was no rush to move on. Eventually we wandered further along the lakeside to scout out the quarry path for the following morning before heading back toward camp as the light began to soften.

That night was stunning. Across from the campsite the quarry stretched high into the mountainside, layer after layer carved into the rock. As darkness settled, the whole valley seemed to go quiet apart from the occasional breeze through the trees. Lying in the tent looking out toward the quarry with the mountains silhouetted against the fading sky felt very special.

The next morning we were up early to avoid the heat, although thankfully the day turned out cooler than expected. Our plan was to explore Dinorwic Quarry properly. I wanted to see the old miners’ cottages and climb higher into the quarry itself to get a sense of the scale of the place.

The walk was brilliant. The old quarry paths twisted between towering slate walls and endless stacks of shattered rock. Some sections felt almost otherworldly. Narrow slate lined pathways climbed through the remains of workshops and machinery while huge rusting drums and abandoned engines sat slowly being reclaimed by time. Every now and then the views would suddenly open up across Llyn Padarn and the mountains beyond and it honestly felt hard to believe places like this exist.

A lot of the quarry was unfortunately closed because of filming for the Elden Ring film. There were security staff everywhere along with production vehicles, fencing and equipment scattered across parts of the mountain. Even so, we still managed to explore plenty and see some incredible sections of the quarry. In a strange way it actually added to the atmosphere a little. The place already feels dramatic and unreal without film crews turning up to use it as a backdrop.