Are there really nine tops? Surely the map shows only two Arenigs? That is so, but like others before me I am taking the liberty of using ‘Arenigs’ to describe a diffuse group of hills that owes no allegiance to a recognised range and which, without a name, would remain unsung and unknown. Arbitrary this may be, presumptuous perhaps, but tidy and defensible certainly, as all eight of the other tops rise in the shadow of Arenig Fawr.
The Arenigs' domain is a vast quadrilateral of some 200 square miles, bounded by the Afon Eden and the A470 W, the Bala gap and the A494 E, and the B4407 and the A5 N. Open windswept fells predominate in the N, bleak in winter but a dazzling aromatic array of pinks and purples in summer. Further S the terrain becomes more broken with scattered outcrops and extensive afforestation. Rarely, however, does the walker tread rock, and nowhere is the use of hands even remotely in question. Tracks, faint but reliable, ease the way most of the time. Stay with these and the Arenigs can be kind; stray and you may find bog and jolty tussocks lying in wait (although even then, to be fair, their impact is muted and nowhere does the errant walker suffer as he may in the Rhinogs!).
The Arenigs are simple hills, hiding little. It could scarcely be otherwise with nine peaks scattered so widely, yet there are a few secrets left to uncover. Who, from the road, would suspect the sparkling lakes that snuggle beneath the E ramparts of Arenig Fawr and Arenig Fach? Who would anticipate Arenig Fach's craggy E face? Then there is the sprinkle of little tarns adorning Craig y Bychau, the austere but wistfully beautiful Hesgyn Valley, and the pristine joys of Dduallt and Rhobell Fawr.
Arenig Fawr is the unquestioned doyen of the range, a large elephantine peak of 2800ft with a regal bearing. Unsightly quarries offend its N face but these are of small moment. Its rambling fells offer excellent sport, especially if you walk the full length of the ridge from Craig y Bychau to Pen Tyrau. Across the road Arenig Fach is a much underrated hill; looking deceptively dull, its soft heathery top is ideal for munching bilberries on a sunny afternoon, and for views of the Migneint it is second to none.
Moel Llyfnant is, in many respects, the more logical ‘Fach’, being linked to Arenig Fawr by a grassy col. Like the official Arenig Fach it is a languid grassy mound from most viewpoints, but still worth the occasional away-day. Some 2 miles W again lies the last top in this cluster, Foel Boeth. King of a dull shallow ridge it is all but forgotten, and understandably so.
Three more hills rise to the NE. Carnedd y Filiast and its satellite Llechwedd Llyfn are gently curved hillocks of rampant heather. Foel Goch is a loner, surrounded by roads, barely lifting its head above the prestigious 2000ft barrier. Study the map, though, and you will find it is a big mountain, fully endowed with ridges and cwms and well worth the occasional day.
The two remaining tops, Dduallt and Rhobell Fawr, lie well S. Set apart from their peers and the world both revel in a happy harmony of fells, woodlands, rock and marsh. Like good wine, these are peaks to relish on a special day.
The Arenigs glory in vast open views. Rising apart, unclustered, there is little to deflect the eye. Take the view from Arenig Fawr (and let this speak for the other peaks too). Arenig Fach and the Migneint lie to the N. The NE skyline is filled by the rounded swell of those two lonely outliers, Carnedd y Filiast and Foel Goch. Rising beyond Lake Bala are the Hirnant hills and the distant Berwyns. The urgent thrust of Aran Benllyn kindles the spark SE, while SW the sharpness of Dduallt complements the soft curve of Rhobell Fawr with the Dovey hills and Cader Idris arcing the horizon. The scene is stolen W by the Rhinogs, with Moel Llyfnant providing a massive foreground. The circle is completed NW by the ranges of Snowdonia, with Snowdon itself, Tryfan, the Glyders, Moel Siabod, the Moelwyns, Cnicht and the Ffestiniog hills all competing for pride of place. Set this in your mind's eye within a mosaic of moors, forests and glittering lakes (for you should count yourself unlucky if you cannot see at least Llynnau Conwy, Tryweryn and Y Garn) and you have a picture to treasure.
Looking north-west up the Lliw Valley (AG23)
The Migneint
This is a book on hills, but no essay on the Arenigs would be complete without an introduction to that remote wilderness known as the Migneint over which they preside.
The Migneint is an expanse of windswept moorland, cupped in a shallow depression with higher ground all around. No ridges or hills gladden the eye. Instead you have the austere beauty and solitude of virgin moors and their secret places: a haven of tranquillity for quiet contemplation with a unique ethereal charm that, once experienced, long casts its spell. The sense of other-worldliness is enhanced by the absence of landmarks in the long miles of marsh and heather. There are no tracks and scarcely a cairn; even one solitary stone astride another, marking a spot height, is an event!
The Migneint has acquired a harsh reputation as a confusing and squelchy bogland, full of knobbly tussocks and deep trackless heather. While this has some truth, it can often be exaggerated. You must treat the Migneint with respect. There will be few, if any, fellow walkers to help in case of trouble. Plenty of map and compass work is needed, and when mist swirls it is an eerie place, best avoided. Yet there are ways through which are easier than you might suppose. During the wet summer of 1985, for instance, I crossed the Migneint in both directions, a walk of some 14 miles, in an unhurried seven hours. I had ample time for pictures and a leisurely lunch on Arenig Fach, and ended the day with dry feet! I was alone that day, incidentally, and that is the best way to appreciate the Migneint's delicate charms. Despite the rigours, it is no place for groups.
Arenig Fach across the Migneint (AG13)
Arenig Fach is the unquestioned king of the Migneint, looking a veritable giant and reassuringly familiar as it towers over its wild and marshy serfdom. Combine it with a crossing of the Migneint and you have a pearl of a day in country that is both wild and serene, remote yet evocative.
Arenig Fawr
Arenig Fawr is not a mountain you can ignore. Set apart from its fellows and totally dominating the surrounding moors, its twin-topped summit makes it an impressive and familiar sight for miles around.
Most visitors form their first impression from the W when its smooth, uncluttered slopes suggest a simple straightforward peak. However when you see it from the E, say from Llidiardau at 874382, you may well have second thoughts. For though the profile is little changed, with the conical top as pre-eminent as ever, a craggier face is now evident, especially S. Even then, neither of these lowland viewpoints reveals either Llyn Arenig Fawr or the cluster of little tarns near Craig y Bychau. To observe these you must take to the fells – which you may do with confidence. The senior Arenig is a friendly giant offering easy going. Even in mist it is safe, provided you stay on the main tracks and only leave the top alongside the remains of the old wire fence that crosses it.
Sad to relate the trig point on this lofty summit faces a memorial to eight American airmen who died on the mountain in 1943 when their Flying Fortress crashed on the final stage of its flight from the USA.
Llyn Arenig Fawr route (AG1)
The classic route up Arenig Fawr.
The route starts over a stile at 846396. A slow rise up a stony road is dreary and quite uneventful until, after 0.5 mile, the desolate Llyn Arenig Fawr comes into view below the frowning bastion of its guardian peak. A sombre, melancholy scene. The road ends by an old sluice house and weir but a track carries on, rambling up the heather-clad slopes of the ridge that rises enticingly before you.
The scars of civilisation now yield to the wild of the fells with views of the crags that threaten the lake improving with every step. Higher up the ridge the path crosses