Mini Mountain

the gentle ascent to Angel Rock

By The Bimbler

Set back from the rugged Pembrokeshire Coastline on the edge of the Preseli Mountain range stands Mynydd Carningli with it’s windswept summit at 347 Metres… just 47 metres above the accepted minimum elevation to be considered a mountain. It is said that until the middle ages vagrants occupied sheltered spots on the mountain during the milder months before heading down before winter set in. The English translation of Mynydd Carningli is ‘Angel Rock Mountain’ and draws reference to legend that Saint Brynach of Pembrokeshire used to ascend to the summit in search of serenity and to commune with angels.

Although I can’t say I’ve been blessed with the company of angels on any of my visits… there is an anomaly which can be experienced by anyone visiting with a compass. As you move around you find the needle swings erratically deviating from from it’s Northern default setting… sometimes even spinning slowly as you carefully move among the rocks.

Fortunately the magnetic peculiarity didn’t have a detrimental affect on my meths stove so after heating up some food I’d brought along I looked around and realised that among the heather and ferns was a huge swathe of delicious Bilberries

I gathered and gorged on them shamelessly til I could eat no more but as my eyes attuned to the small fruits it became apparent that they covered many acres so I put aside feelings of guilt at decimating the tasty edible resource and scoffed a few more.

after lashings of tea I spent a long time leaning against a smooth rock which perfectly contoured my back, taking in the views and thinking about what activity would have taken place here through the Iron and Bronze ages, certainly there are traces of hill fort and having such a panoramic view it would have been a place of great importance at the time.

As I found myself easing into the serenity of the place it was nearly dusk so decided to stay for the night as I’d brought along my Sleeping and Bivi bags. The night was calm and the Atlantic winds gentle. In between the patchy cloud cover I enjoyed glimpses of stars and planets and occasional shooting stars tracking across the sky. Eventually my eyelids succumbed to gravity and I dreamed of Angels whispering in my ear.

… ok I made that last bit up!

In reality I fell asleep and woke occasionally to check there were no axe wielding lunatics but as usual there were none to be seen so satisfied I would make it through the night I drifted in and out of slumber with the distant sounds of bleating sheep and waves lapping against the shore.

The following morning I warmed up under the sun before heading back down to continue exploring. It wasn’t until later that day after being stared at by everyone that I caught my reflection in a window and realised over half my face was covered with a purple stain courtesy of the previous evenings Bilberry excess.