Arswyda a yn alaru i mewn Cymru / Fear and Loathing in Wales

Snowdon as seen from Crib Goch

I'm resurrecting the archives again to write about another walk, and my first trip into Wales with my good walking partner Jon.  Little did we know that every emotion would be tested to the extreme on this little adventure.

The plan was simple.  Get up, make a hasty dash from one side of the country to another in a bid for climbing up Yr Wyddfa, aka Snowdon, the highest peak in Wales, as well as catch as much of the 6 Nations Rugby at the same time.  I booked a cheap hostel via the means of the Internet, and we set off.  Once we arrived at Llanberis, we caught the Pen Y Pass bus, and got ourselves into what can be loosely described as one of the best, yet most naive walks to date.

We started out along the conventional Pyg Track heading for the Miners Track to the summit.  It was while enjoying the clear blue skies, and the orange tinge on the landscape that I decided I didn't like the look the Miners Track.  It was decided to hop up to some higher ground early, and make our way over. 

The higher ground we chose was accidentally one of the 15 peaks over 3,000ft called Crib Goch.  Today, I am more aware of the peaks of Snowdonia, and what they bring, but at the time, I knew nothing of Crib Goch. There is a reputation it carries, being one of the UK's most famous ridges.  Trail magazine recently described it as, 

'a buzz-saw of exposed, angled rock that cuts the crowds into three ragged demographics:  those who climb it and love it; those who won't go anywhere near it and leave it well alone; and those who fall uneasily in the middle'

To put it simply, it is exposed, very dangerous (especially in bad conditions), and very, very, good fun!  The day was clear, and we walked straight over the top, testing our metal of not looking down.

I'd be ashamed to be seen posing with a can of beer up there now

Once past this, it was easy going, crossing over to another peak called Garnedd Ugain, where we had a rest, and found some snow for some beer we carried up with us to chill.  One final push, and we were on top of Snowdon itself.

Nearly a smile, still gurning

We sat at the trig point on the summit, ignoring those using the cafe slightly below, and appreciated the fine views for miles around, and what we had just accomplished.  There was a little toast with the beers, and a hope that the rugby results would all go our way once we managed to get back.  There was little time though, we had to move as we lost time on the way up, and I was known at the time for being worse on the descent than the ascent in these places, so it may take even longer.

We headed further round the range to turn the whole route into a horseshoe, going via Y Lliwedd, and down to Llyn (Lake) Llydaw.  'Longer' was the word to use, it seemed to take forever in the end.  There was a race against time to catch the last bus back to Llanberis, and get to our hostel for the rugby, but we misjudged everything, I hit the wall of sorts with all the walking downhill, and inevitably, we were left with more miles to walk and the use of our thumbs to drivers passing by.

Y Lliwedd

Not that any of them helped us for some time.  Each time a car pulled up, and a friendly communication was uttered, once it became apparent we were English, we got a guttural laugh followed up by a quick get away.  This went on a few times before someone finally took us to our hostel.  I don't recall the name of the place, but it was something more akin to the local pub in a council estate rather than a hostel.  We checked in; got to the dorm, realised we were the only ones checked in all night; headed downstairs for food... then the fun began, and not for us.

It was either at the point we opened our mouths, or when Jon came downstairs in his rugby shirt, we let it known that we were the English boys in town.  To return their compliments, I think we got to talk to every local person staggering around the pub about how Wales had just won the Grand Slam, the most prestigious means of winning the 6 Nations Championship.  

What can you do when surrounded by what appeared to be a bunch of alcohol fuelled, sun drunk savages?  We did what seemed perfectly natural at the time; take the abuse; get hell bent leathered on whatever sauce was working for them; get to our room and wedge a chair against the door handle.

I do like the Welsh, but that was an interesting introduction to say the least.

Crib Goch will have to be returned to in the near future I feel, but I will never visit the place during a rugby tournament again.

Easter Part 2; Are these the Alps? Are my Eyes Deceiving me?

The view from Y Garn down onto the Ogwen Valley, and Tryfan in the distance

I had it planned all the while that when we come to Julia's parents house for the remainder of Easter in Shropshire, I was going to leave Olive with Nana and Dadpa, then whisk my wife away for a lovely day wandering in the Welsh wilderness.

I should admit, this was more of a selfish need on my behalf, as Julia isn't too keen on walking for hours up a big hill, or mountain.  She also hates walking in bad weather.  So, I did my utmost best to be glued to the mountain forecast, and pick the one day where it said there would be no or little rain, lots of sunshine, and cloud free summits.  I truly delivered.  What I failed to mention was the magnitude of snow that was due to fall the night before.  I knew it would be a good sprinkle, and set the scene.  I didn't know it would be this good for April though...

... depending upon who's perspective you're looking at this from.

It was a two hour drive into Snowdonia, we arrived, got dressed, and were ready to walk around noon.  Julia kind of cottoned onto what laid ahead quite quickly.  The clues were the fact everything was white all the way from the tiny 400m Wrekin outside of Telford, to the first slope outside the car in the car park at Nant Peris.

Looking down towards the end of Llyn Peris, which was our start point

From here, I decided to head up the southern slopes of the Western Glyder range to Y Garn.  Looking at the map, it was clear this was merely a 'gentle' slope to the top, as opposed to a steeper, and craggier affair on the other side, which may be less appreciated in the snow.  We barely got far before the task at hand became apparent.  I was kicking steps for us to walk on, and was going into the snow about knee deep consistently.  I was up to my waist on several occasions, and Julia was wise to ignore those routes I was cutting.  Needless to say, someone wasn't having as much fun as I clearly was.

This shows what we went through at times

The going was fairly relentless, yet consistent to the top.  Halfway, a small group passed us with their dog.  Thanked us for the excellent steps we'd made, and took over themselves, so we had a nicely laid out staircase to the summit.  We passed a skier along the way as well, and going by some of the markings in the snow, there were plenty who had taken the opportunity to come by these means this way.

"Are we nearly there yet?"

I felt a bit bad dragging Julia up nearly 950m of ascent to the top, but when we got to the summit, the views were breathtaking all around.  You could see the whole of the North Wales coastline; we were sitting staring straight down the Ogwen Valley, with the Snowdon range looming over us from behind.  What is also amazing in the Ogwen Valley, is you often see fighter pilots training at low altitudes.  To put this into perspective, they were flying some 400-500m below where we sat, and they made some noise as they flew through.

L-R, Carneddau Range into Ogwen Valley and Glyder Range, Snowdon furthest right

Julia appreciating a spectacular view

I was one happy bunny up there today

We sat down alone, looked at our setting for some time, ate some well deserved food, and drank a typically British cup of tea to mark the effort.  We kept ignoring the inevitable, but eventually, it had to happen.  We went back down.

This was predominantly spent having fun seeing who could find themselves, a/. on their bums the quickest, b/. in the deepest unexpected hole.  It was evident in places that as this side faced the sun the whole day, there were areas where the snow had melted.  I don't think there will be a great deal of it left for the weekend revellers anyway.  Then again, the forecast isn't supposed to be all that great either at the moment.

Shame.  I'd love to come back again in a hurry.

Looking East across the Glyders, and Snowdon in the far distance

It was almost a shame to spoil these beautiful patterns with our shambolic walking

Some of our shambolic walking

A nasty, watery gap to leap across

I just liked the look of this solitary tree in the wilderness

Broken Broadband; Two rides; a Two year old on a rock face

I tried to put a quick ditty up yesterday as the only thing to note were the rides to and from work, however, I've lost the home broadband at the minute, and it became an ordeal to type something more than twenty words with my phone.

I couldn't believe how cold it was on this occasion.  This was the first time this year that I have had to wear several layers, and still feel it wasn't enough.  By the time I rode the 19.5km into work, I was seriously wondering if I could feel my right toes at all, and any speed above 26kmph gave a quick dose of the brain freeze as though I ate too much ice cream, too fast... can you eat too much ice cream?  I'll let Olive be the judge of that in the future sometime.

I added another pair of socks for the return leg, and the trip up Shooters Hill certainly showed... there was about 7mins difference in both directions, and I thought I hit it harder coming back (all in a brave effort to stay warm).

I'll always add the links to future workouts in here, the write up will give an indication as to how it felt.

From The Telegraph Website, Photo: Hook News

Aside from all this, I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw an article of a mother who took her two year old daughter up a rock face, in a back carrier. There are so many levels as to how this can possibly be wrong.  To start with, there is the issue of why is there the need to take a two year old up there?  I agree, getting them to appreciate the great outdoors at an early age can only be a great thing, we do so with Olive as often as we can, and I've carried Olive up some big peaks in Wales.  The header picture was taken on one such day to Fan-Y-Big in the Brecon Beacons, but as you can also tell, we took the initiative to not let Olive hang as close to the edge that I was prepared to (Julia was well back, even wincing at the sight of me there).  

As close as we'd get together.  Olive was all wrapped up warm.  Courtesy of Tim Loe

However, saying this, I understand parents wanting their children to be a part of the thrill of their activity, and our decision to keep Olive safe from an edge was ours to make.  The mother here says 'she's been on my back a lot when we've been hillwalking and I knew she was safe and comfortable in the carrier... and [she] started saying she wanted to go on my back while I climbed.'  It was acknowledged as safe by her group, including a qualified Mountain Leader, which I trust, but surely you can have a stronger say over a wilful two year old daughter who wants to stay on your back, and demands "up mummy, up"?  

The most alarming thing for me though was the mother had her helmet on, and the child did not.  Here the explanation is offered, 'I'm aware how it looks in that photo. I'm wearing one and she's not. I regret wearing one myself now. The truth is, the area we were climbing is extensively climbed.  The rock is stable and the routes are short. There isn't really any need to wear a helmet. I put mine on out of habit, but from a safety point of view it wasn't necessary.'  As far as I am aware and concerned, it's a golden rule to have the right safety equipment, and wear it at all times.  If they were planning on rock climbing, then bring a helmet for the child if she is wilful.  To justify yourself by saying you didn't need one either is crazy, sometimes the most well worn routes are the most unstable.  I cannot imagine any qualified Mountain Leader letting any member of their party not wear a helmet for a Grade II scramble, nor a climb of any description.

Maybe I'm getting anal in my old age.

Rant over, as ever, views expressed are my own.

I need to get more concise.

GB