Sheep

We awoke to the bleating of sheep.

Mount Snowdon

I remember the night before, how we arrived at our campsite late and had to set up the tent by the headlights of our rental vehicle. The sun had set over Mount Snowdon and we were on its southern slopes, not far from other tents and caravans. Rain through the night, with cool winds, made us sleep in layers and woke us every so often, so that the morning seemed to come just as we had finally drifted off.

The sound of the animals was our early-morning alarm. Looking out the tent, we were surrounded on all sides by curious sheep.

Neighbours on our site.

DW couldn't get enough of them. Before breakfast, she was out of the tent, taking snapshots and trying to befriend them. Meanwhile, I was always mindful of where I stepped.

Along the road, on our way through Snowdonia National Park and toward Harlech, on the west coast of Wales, every turn had me prepared to hit the brakes, as it was common to see these wooly creatures out on the road. And every time we saw them, DW wanted me to stop so she could get out of the car, or at the very least, slow down so that she could roll down her window, and snap away.

These are her photos, not mine.

It's surprising that we made it to Harlech at all that day.