I was deep in the folds of the mountain of Tryfan when it first happened. When time seemed to stop ticking at the breakneck pace it always does when I’m sitting at laptop, working on a deadline. Instead of blue light from a screen, I was sitting at my tent door, basking in the purple glow of dusk as it crept into the Ogwen Valley, in Eryri/Snowdonia national park. The luscious green of the grass on the mountainside had turned a more muted shade and the blue of the Menai Strait in the distance had become barely distinguishable from the twilight sky. Continue reading...
