Later in March, despite a brief respite in the Highlands where I managed to escape my anxious mind for a few days,( read about that here ) the anxiety returned not long after I returned home. I found myself having to force the basics again, getting moving, getting on with things. I have very few friends I can call on and those I have I know are busy with their own lives, and anyway I hate the feeling of being a burden. When I’m in this state of mind, I tend to convince myself I’m better off on my own, even though I know, deep down, that the right company and the right environment can be incredibly helpful.

There was a walk I’d had my eye on for some time, a hidden llyn tucked beneath the Aran ridge, but I’d already put it off several times. This time I told myself I had to do it. But yet again I woke feeling particularly agitated. I very nearly postponed it again. Very nearly. But instead, I forced myself.

All the way there I had to fight the urge to turn back. I relied on my familiar strategy: just keep driving…keep going. I didn’t think about the whole day ahead just the next step. I know from experience when I push myself to get out I rarely regret it.

I parked up at Llanuwchllyn near Bala and headed off along the road. The walk began with a long road section, leading to a track that entered the valley, followed by another steady stretch before reaching the permissive path over private land that climbs up to the llyn. It was a stunningly beautiful day, and once I’d been walking for a while I began to feel calmer. The anxiety loosened its grip and I started to enjoy both the movement and the scenery around me.
The approach to the llyn felt magical. As it came into view ahead of me it was bathed in sunshine and its blue waters shimmered beneath the towering crags of the Aran ridge. It was fabulous - thank goodness I hadn’t put it off again. The stillness of the place, the solitude, the sheer presence of it cleared my mind in a way few things can. If you’ve ever heard of a “thin place,” where the distance between you and something deeper feels smaller, this was one for me. I would love to come back here for a wild camp.

After lingering by the water for I don’t know how long, I made my way up the grassy slopes towards the ridge above. I stopped several times just to admire the view back down to the llyn, which was utterly mesmerising from above. I eventually met a fence line and spent some time searching for a safe way across for Nala. After following it for a while, I found a gap where she could squeeze under, while I negotiated it in my own, slightly less elegant way.

The Aran ridge itself is an absolute joy to walk. Once you’re up there, the going is pleasant and unhurried, and on a day like this the views are simply wonderful. There was no one else around, which made it even more special that great feeling of having the mountain entirely to yourself.

I eventually reached the highest point, marked by a beautifully built stone trig point, and found a perfect spot to sit and eat some lunch. While I was there, a man arrived, placed his hand on the trig, said a few words to himself that sounded like a prayer, and then quietly left. I stayed silent, it felt like he was there for his own private reason and I didn’t want to intrude. I found myself wondering what his story was, and what had brought him there that day.

Eventually I set off again, following the ridge all the way back down towards Llanuwchllyn. I stopped a few times to lie in the grass, soaking up the warmth of the sun and simply absorbing the beauty of the day.

Days like this remind me why its worth forcing myself out of the door sometimes, at time when anxiety has its grip on me, even when it would be easier to just stay at home.