Situated in the stunning little town of Beddgelert, a place swathed in history and folklore, it posed as the perfect opportunity to get re-acquainted with my favourite country. After a long, winding drive from the South, sweeping up country roads and down mountain inclines, I finally arrived at the cottages. The host, instructor, and yogi – Rebecca – greeted me, leading me to the dining room to meet the others. The next hour consisted of us all getting to know each other, sitting in armchairs by the fire with mugs of our favourite drinks to warm us back up. Pretty quickly, I found myself surrounded by some of the coolest people I’ve ever met. “And so,” said Rebecca, as everyone finished settling in. “Let the weekend begin!”

THE FOOD

Honestly, the food was undoubtedly one of the best bits about the whole retreat. Being a massive foodie myself, knowing that I would be staying somewhere that offered an array of filling, hearty, homemade vegan meals, I was slightly ecstatic to tuck in.

Everything was inherently healthy – detoxifying us and rendering us ready for the day (or night) ahead. Plates filled with cuisine from all over the world, made from scratch right there in the kitchen. Chocolate cakes and apple crumbles were baked fresh for dessert – always with the option of seconds. Lunch consisted of a surprisingly gourmet “packed lunch,” with ingredients I had prior never thought would be delicious together. Not to be dramatic, but even the food itself was an experience.

Meal times at Morris Mountains are set out to be social – the whole group sits at their place at the dining table (unless it’s lunch, where you all gather around a waterfall), spending the following few hours just talking, sharing stories and anecdotes and secrets. For my time at the retreat, the ladies acted as a sort of psuedo-family – they were all excitedly supportive when I told them about this here blog, but all discouraging and fierce when I suggested the mere idea of war journalism.

We had more of an opportunity to learn more about one another whilst sat around this table than we could as we trudged up the mountains (possibly because we’d spend the latter trying to catch our breaths without looking like we were doing so). Everyone sat around me turned out to all be deeply interesting people – from the woman with the deadpan humour and endless stories of India, to the Bolton living embodiment of a pocket rocket who always had a funny quip at the ready, to the two friends that spent the whole retreat absolutely roasting each other, to the woman with the nose ring whose eyes glinted with mischievous intent. As we sat there for hours, eating good food and sipping lemon water and tea, we chatted like we’d known each other for years.

THE YOGA

The once- and twice-daily yoga sessions occurred in the local town hall, in the sort of place you could easily mistake for a Scout hut. With obscure – yet oddly relaxing – music playing in the background, we would start each day and end each evening with an hour of yoga. I’m one of the least flexible people in existence, so the prospect of having to shift my body into strange positions for an extended period of time was slightly daunting – however, Rebecca seemed to know what we all needed and when, modifying the routine as necessary.

Over the course of the weekend the poses became easier (although they weren’t particularly difficult in the first place – merely positions that were entirely foreign to my body), and after each session you definitely felt as if you’d achieved something. With a heavy focus on breathing and just simple mindfulness, the classes also aided as a subtle form of meditation. At the end of each class, I would feel  the tension slowly work its way out from the scoliosis in my back, and the effects would last for hours.

THE HIKING

As a group, you get to decide the level of strenuosity you want to undergo on the trips out. The days would start with a 9.30am hike (after yoga and breakfast), clambering up rock faces and trekking across hills. The views were unprecedentedly beautiful, with the mountainous backdrops and dramatic scenery aplenty. There were abandoned stone houses and old bridges made of large slabs of flint, with sheep dotting the land. It was exhausting and it was wet, but it was absolutely stunning.

These trips out into the wild side of North Wales were made up of the contrast between gasping for breath, and telling my hopes and dreams to anyone that was interested (which honestly was everyone – not a single person spent more than two minutes on their own in contented silence).  We’d break the hikes up with trips to cafes for cakes, or just to stop and admire everything around us. When we’d reach the top of a particularly challenging precipice, we’d all just slow down and stare out, feeling blessed and happy and – despite the winds – warm.

THE ACCOMMODATION

Imagine finding yourself tucked away in the heart of Wales, in a cosy little cottage that has been passed down from generation to generation – with each new owner adding a quaint detail here, a small feature there. You’re surrounded by tearooms and ice-cream parlours, and the vast, unchanged beauty of Wales. The antiquated atmosphere tempts you into relaxing back in a plush leather armchair with a glass of wine, fat wax candles flickering away on the dining table. Your new psuedo-family surrounds you, as Rebecca’s mother, Hillary, cooks up food in the open-plan kitchen. Dinner is served at the large oak table – which, of course, overlooks nearly eight acres of tamed woodland.

With fluffy rugs and wooden everything contrasting the flat screen television, you’ll feel as if you’re in both a medieval lounge and a contemporary home at the same time. Honestly, with us all in our assigned rooms in the evening, bumping into each other when we snuck out for tea or a late night read on the sofa, it felt like I was in some kind of sorority house.

The bathrooms come as either en-suite or shared, with the largest offering a ginormous bathtub styled from a 60’s interior decoration magazine, with plush stairs leading up to the basin. It was quirky, it was kitsch, and the floorboards creaked. I loved it.

THE TREATMENTS

Hillary is a woman with many talents, trained in the likes of reflexology and Indian head massage, amongst others. She offered treatments during the stay, and I was more than just merely excited to try one. I’d heard about the benefits of reflexology in regards to people like me (i.e. people with Crohn’s), and here was someone who could both knead out the weariness of seven-hour-long hikes and offer a temporary fix to my ailments.

The whole thing was super relaxing and I felt incredible afterwards – and not just because of the free life advice I was handed at the same time. Having an absolute stranger believe in you wholeheartedly and offer suggestions for your ideas is one of the most pure, and inspiring, things that a person could witness. Definitely an unexpected feature, but wildly appreciated nonetheless.

Considering the fact that the whole business has only been up and running for two years, it’s quite remarkable what Rebecca has been able to achieve with it all. She’s expertly trained in all things mountain and yoga, and literally built the whole business from scratch through sheer willpower alone. Despite innumerable setbacks with it all, she’s managed to plan and create this whole retreat. Amazing.

This weekend was awesome, and I’m so glad I was given the opportunity to experience it. I would 100% go back, and met the loveliest people whilst clambering across the North Wales countryside. I am deeply thankful to the team at Morris Mountains for offering me a chance to witness all that they get up to, and am excited at the prospect of eventually visiting again in time.

Have you guys ever been on a retreat such as this, or want to try Morris Mountains out for yourselves? Let me know in the comments below!

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