Returning in Lonely Defeat

Actually lonely and phlegmy defeat. I caught this nasty cold at the hostel in Caernarfon, and that was it. I headed back to London and got on a plane as fast as my little legs would carry me.

Fortunately, I left on a high note. I went out to Mount Snowden and took the train to the top, but I decided to walk down instead. The summit was completely enshrouded in clouds. Although it ruined the view, it was very otherworldly to actually be standing inside of a cloud. I enjoyed the solitude while hiking down the path. All I could hear was the wind and the occasional sheep bleating. Once I descended past the clouds, there were some amazing views down into the valleys with glassy lakes at the bottom and across the countryside onto slopes of other mountains. I realized as I was walking that this was just what I had traveled all this way to do and that I should really consider leaving while the experience was still fresh in my mind.

When I reached the town at the foot of the mountain and was waiting for the bus back to Caernarfon, the excitement of hiking down all on my own began to wear off, and fatigue overwhelmed me. My head was so clogged up that I couldn't hear. I could see people's lips moving, but had no idea what they were saying. I knew then I had to go home. The idea of navigating my way onto a ferry and across the sea to Dublin was completely beyond me. As soon as I got back to Caernarfon I went to the tourist office and got the timetables for the train back to London.

I have never been this glad to be home after a trip in my life. Usually I leave a vacation with some regret, but this time I didn't mind leaving one bit.