A song of ascents

At the end of the summer Arturo and I took a spur-of-the-moment ten hour coach journey to Betws y Coed in North Wales, where we swam in lakes and rivers every day and went for long walks, always mis-judging our route back and ending up far too far out. One day we climbed over Mount Snowdon, stopping at the top to drink the fizzy wine they were selling, and then had to stumble down the other side, chasing sheep along the way, before it got too dark. We ate a cooked breakfast every morning, tried ales in countryside pubs, and spent our evenings watching re-runs of James Bond films on tv.