The walk from Llangollen to Clwyd Gate isn’t that long—only 13.5 miles, in fact—but it packs a lot a drama and variety. The day starts with Dinas Bran, or, I should say, the day can start with Dinas Bran, since the ascent to Dinas Bran and the descent into Llangollen that I did on Friday are both technically off the Offa’s Dyke Path. The path simply passes by Dinas Bran with an indifference that amounts to sauciness. So, from Llangollen, you simply need to get to the other side of Dinas Bran, since it sits between you and the path.

My B&B host shrewdly offers to drive guests the little five minute ride through town and around the hill for five pounds. “It’ll save you 45 minutes of walking, and you’ve already climbed to the ruin,” as he put it. True, but I’m not here to save time. But over breakfast I also reasoned that I am not here to kill myself by proving some Heraclitian point and climbing the same mountain twice, so I simply walked the road around Dinas Bran. And from there, the views remain stunning for hours.

Llagollen sits under not just Dinas Bran, but also at the southern end of a massive rock formation called Eglwyseg Mountain that is like catnip to rock climbers. The path curves around the western edge of this up-jutting of land with cliffs, heading north. It climbs partway up into the scree and hugs the edge. At times it reminds me of parts of Colorado.

After all this dazzling walking with only a few sweaty bits of altitude change (more steady rises up the side), the path drops into a valley at the north end called World’s End, which is more adorably isolated than apocalyptic.

The guidebook notes of the road you now walk for nearly a mile that “It is quiet enough on weekdays, but surprisingly busy on fine weekends as cyclists, motorcyclists and cars tour the back roads, enjoying the scenic splendor.” Hey, I’m thinking, this is the weekend. As if to dramatize this, within minutes of reaching the road at World’s End, I saw a cyclist, a motorcyclist and, a bit later, a guy on an ATV. Only one car, thankfully. Not exactly a traffic jam.

The road rises out of the valley to the next surprise, a stretch of upland moors. My sister Tracy will recognize the wooden plank bridges over the marshier bits. Just before I left the road to go onto the moors, I met some guys on mountain bikes, who, believe it or not, were riding on the path through the moor to get to the forest preserve and recreation area you can see in the distance in the next photo.

And then…yes, this is the sort of day that can only be recounted like a breathless child—and then…and then…and then…

The forest preserve is wildly popular with mountain bikers, but fortunately they have trails of their own, and the ODP way through the preserve isn’t laid out well for mountain bikes, so I could hear them whooping, and would every so often see them where paths crossed, but mostly I had a mile of forest walking that, to continue my ‘reminds me of’ theme, reminded me of being in a state park in, say, upstate New York.

Then the path drops into a valley for some farmland walking, but with intermittent views of big hills to the north. This is the Clwyd Range, which I am very pleased in retrospect that my walking itinerary divides in two.

It’s no more demanding than the Black Mountains in south Wales (at least so far; I’m writing early Sunday morning, before tackling the second part of the Clwyds), but I’m 20 days in, and while I am much more physically fit (and lighter!), I am also tired, and the prospect of hard rises and falls for 16 or so miles makes me glad that there’s a night’s rest about 4 miles into the range.

Finally, a word on tea and B&B hosts. Every day I break a B&B host’s heart because I decline their tea. Years ago, they used to push full English breakfasts (eggs, bacon, sausage, grilled tomato, mushrooms, toast, maybe some blood pudding, all after you’ve had a bowl of cereal) with almost missionary zeal. But things have changed, and in my visits in the last few years, they seem to accept with equanimity the fact that you might just want eggs and sausage but not the rest, or even just some cereal and yogurt. But they believe in a hot cup of tea after a walk so deeply that my polite refusal of the offered tea when I arrive completely puts them off their game.

I am just 23 miles from Prestatyn, the end of my ramble, and I have one good vigorous 11.5 mile day in the Clwyd Range ahead of me today, with a mostly easier final day. Fine by me, as I am tired, but I have to say I am loving this last leg of my journey.

Miles walked: 13.5