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After ascending the hill and passing over its top, we went down its western side and soon came to a black, frightful bog between two hills. Beyond the bog and at some distance to the west of the two hills rose a brown mountain, not abruptly, but gradually, and looking more like what the Welsh call a rhiw, or slope, than a mynydd, or mountain. "That, sir," said my guide, "is the grand Plynlimmon."
"Thou noble tree, who shelt'rest kind The dead man's house from winter's wind; May lightnings never lay thee low; Nor archer cut from thee his bow, Nor Crispin peel thee pegs to frame; But may thou ever bloom the same, A noble tree the grave to guard Of Cambria's most illustrious bard!" Start for Plynlimmon Plynlimmon's Celebrity Troed Rhiw Goch.
I passed a large village called Troed y Rhiw, or the foot of the slope, from its being at the foot of a lofty elevation, which stands on the left-hand side of the road, and was speeding onward fast, with the Taf at some distance on my right, when I saw a strange-looking woman advancing towards me.
This rustic bridge enabled me to cross without running the danger of getting a regular sousing, for these mountain streams, even when not reaching so high as the knee, occasionally sweep the wader off his legs, as I know by my own experience. From a lad whom I presently met I learned that the place where I crossed the water was called Troed rhiw goch, or the Foot of the Red Slope.
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