Hill of Angels by Blake (a pilgrim)
Today was rainy to say the least. With the weather outside giving an all new meaning to the term sideways rain, it seemed our hike to the hill of angels would have to be put off. Surprisingly, when asked to vote on what we should do for the day, an overwhelming majority voted that we hike today, hoping that the ominous clouds held the rain for the few hours our trek would take. Alas, it was not so. When we started off, there was only a slight mist. Mist turned to a drizzle. Drizzle turned to rain. Rain turned to a downpour. With ”gale force” winds, as Peter called them, blew the rain in every which direction. The number of sheep was astonishing to say the least, with entire hill sides covered with white wool (although their leavings were not so majestic). During our hike, Hunter started a soldier impersonation, and in under a minute, everyone was firing their walking stick rifles at enemy sheep and calling air strikes into their water bottles. After about 3 hours into our 2 hour hike in the Welsh bog, we arrived back to Ffald-y-Brenin.
After a sitting around the fire to dry off, Elyse, Zac, Fiona, Astin, and Adam made us a wonderful dinner. The announcement of the winner of the battle of kitchens was a few. minutes later, and after much debate, we tied.
The most interesting moment of today was when we were at the middle of the hike. We were on the angle hills, and it was raining torrential. We were hiding on the dry side of the rocks, which soon was proven nonexistent. The rain was piercing through our jackets and ponchos, and the clouds were streaking past at amazing speeds. As we sat there, Shawn told us the story of the hills original name, fairy’s” hill, and the native people’s equal fear and admiration of the place. It was truly amazing