The stunning profile of Tryfan, as seen from my tent.

I’d put my tent up at Gwern Gof Isaf camp site which is just off the A5 as you drive from Capel Curig to Llyn Ogwen (http://www.gwerngofisaf.co.uk) and at £4 per night with views like the photograph on the left, you really cannot go wrong. It was 9:30am when I arrived at the site, and thoughts were  were running wildy round my head, as I contemplated the day’s walking. I’d set off for Wales with the idea of doing the Carnedds on the first day and then, possibly revisiting Elidir Fawr on the Saturday. These plans, crumbled and fell like dust in the wind as soon as I saw Tryfan. I steeled myself for the challenge, packed my map, some water and food, and set off into the complete unknown.

There’s a restricted byway, just at the entrance to the campsite and at the very start there is access to a field which you can cross to the base of Tryfan; approaching it from the east you can clearly see the path about half way up known as Heather Terrace. This was the route I had planned in my head: Heather Terrace and then up to the summit from the south face, which I understood to be much easier going than climbing all the way up the north face, though it’s the north face that everyone had told me was the fun part.

Tryfan jutting out of the grass, like a stony stegosaurus.

I followed the path, which is clearly defined on the OS maps too, and ended up at the start of the north face. There was nothing for it but to continue, and spurred on by the presence of other walkers on the mountain, some that were considerably older than me, I started the rocky scramble toward the summit. Considering what I’d read, I was relieved to see climbers of all ages, shapes and sizes ready to take up the challenge. Safety in numbers, and all that!

You can tell where other scramblers have been before, but I doubt anybody does exactly the same route twice. In fact I’d be surprised if they did!

The scramble up Tryfan.

You just keep pushing upwards and using hands, feet, knees and sometimes elbows you progress quite quickly up what is a totally enjoyable climb, as difficult as you’d like to make it, depending on the rocks that you opt to clamber up! It was a scorching day and the water I’d brought with me was exceedingly welcome, after scaling a few rocks, quite quickly, I’d got quite hot. Any excuse to pause, turn around and admire the view, I could just about make out my bright yellow tent in the camp site.
I was abundantly aware that this mountain would be one of many ‘hidden summits’, so was constantly telling myself that the summit was miles away yet, to avoid that gutting feeling you get when you think the top’s around the corner, only to find out you aren’t even close! There are some quite daunting looking parts of the walk, where there is around 50 feet of rock to climb, but if you look around you will usually find an easier route. Buoyed by confidence and now thoroughly enjoying myself, I attempted some pretty impressive looking climbs as I got closer to the summit. At no point did I feel exposed or even remotely bothered by the height, which was a relief. There is a final scramble and before you know where you are, you’ve made it and are rewarded with a flat, rocky summit, dominated by the two large boulders known as Adam and Eve at the top.

Adam and Eve, the two rocks at the summit.

Apparently it’s the done thing to leap from one rock to the other, but having seen the void that awaits you should you miscalculate the jump, I decided to give it a miss, I had, after all, climbed Tryfan via the north ridge, which I hadn’t planned to do two hours earlier. I highly recommend it, certainly on a dry, warm, summery day – I would think in the wet, or cold it is a very different prospect altogether.

The walk isn’t over though, you’ve still got to get back down, which can be done via the Heather Terrace, or as I did, via a few more peaks, specifically Glyder Fach and Glyder Fawr; which I’ll write about in another post.

Snowdon viewed from the Pyg track

The first time I walked up Mount Snowdon (the highest mountain in England and Wales at 3560 feet) was with a group from my sixth form college, the Watkins path was the route, and on arriving at the café I stopped to down water and food. I then unknowingly descended the mountain without actually doing the extra thirty or so feet to the cairn at the summit, and enjoying that 360˚ view. I was mildly aggrieved when I realised what I’d done some weeks later.

For some years this perceived failure haunted me, well perhaps haunted is a bit strong but that ‘summit thing’ crossed my mind on a fairly frequent basis since. I decided that I needed to lay that ghost to rest, and on a whim one December (2004 if I remember correctly) me and a friend decided, that we needed to climb Snowdon. Yes. December?!

It was the 6th of December, cold but not wet, when we set off for Llanberis, armed with a pristine OS explorer map, a flask of coffee, some sandwiches, chocolate and enough warm clothes to start a charity shop with. We’d scoured the map the previous evening and opted for the Llanberis track which pretty much follows the rail track all the way up. It was a long cold walk, but we made the very top, where it was blowing a gale and the air had the clarity of cotton wool; I couldn’t see a thing. Thwarted again!

The next attempt was a couple of years later, this time in the balmier climate of a February morning! There were four of us, and we’d parked at Pen-y-Pass to walk the Miner’s track; in the drizzle. We shuffled through the ever heavier drizzle, rain, mist and just about every other form of precipitation until we reached the start of the climb, proper. It was at this point that my girlfriend of the time decided she’d had enough and wanted to go back to the car, it was clear that no amount of cajoling would make a difference so two of us did an about turn and left the other two to continue. Foiled, again!

Looking back toward the Youth Hostel at Pen-y-Pass

I could see a pattern forming, and didn’t entertain the concept of a lovely view from Snowdon’s pinnacle for a while. Then at the end of March this year, on seeing a promising weather forecast for the approaching weekend, the germ of the idea started forming in my head again. I called my friend, Joe, and persuaded him that it would be a doddle, the sun would shine and it’d make a change from the normal Saturday routine. He agreed, and I put my organising head on.

Having attempted this several times before, I knew an early start was crucial, as the evenings drew dark quite early yet; you wouldn’t want to be on the mountain past about 7:30pm. I suggested, that Joe come over to mine on Friday evening, we could go for a couple of early beers and then leave for Wales at around 8am.

At 2:30am I finished my last Glenfiddich and went to bed! Morning came sooner than usual, and though 8am had passed me by, it was only just gone nine thirty, and there was still time. I awoke the human form which was comatose on the sofa, and informed Joe, that we were still going: I’m convinced getting me drunk was some sort of escape plan. I wasn’t going to be defeated this time.

The car park at Pen-y-Pass was at more than capacity, so we had to park back down the road toward Capel Curig, giving us a mile extra of road to walk before we even got to the foothills of Snowdon. That aside the sun was out, clouds were scarce and I was full of hope and anticipation of the views which lay ahead of me. I put a fair pace on, having done a bit of cycling and walking recently, and lost a couple of stone, I was feeling more than up to the job. My friend who has never attempted anything like this before was finding it a bit more difficult, and was quite shattered after the first fairly steep climb up from the car park to the fork in the path. The right fork takes the adventurous to the summit via Crib Goch, the left one takes the more leisurely, and less life threatening track along the lower reaches of the Crib Goch ridge.

Llyn Llydaw from the Pyg Track

After a pause for a drink, I suggested that we each go at our own pace and would meet at the top, that was a mutually agreeable suggestion and off I went, past the gorgeous lakes of Llyn Llydaw and Glaslyn to the point where the climb starts. This where it gets a bit steep, (and there’s no respite until you reach the ridge just below the summit of Snowdon) if you’re quick though, from here you’re only about 30 minutes from the top, and if you keep stopping and starting to catch your breath, you’ll look behind and note how rapid your ascent is. The path consists of large rocky steps, so at least the ‘where to put your feet’ element of hill walking shouldn’t present too many problems; it was on this point of the path that I saw a chap swaggering up this natural edifice in his Dunlop Green Flash pumps, swinging an Asda carrier bag with his lunch in it, in one hand and clutching a cigarette in the other. Fair play!

The summit, looking toward Llanberis.

Once you’ve reached the top of this abrupt incline, you’ve 99% made it. Take a left turn at the top, by the menhir, or whatever it is and take the, in comparison to what’s been before, gentle stroll to the summit. Catch your breath, take in the vista, take some photos, upload them to Facebook (there is 3G at the summit, if you’re lucky!) Even when it’s warm at the car park, it can be exceedingly raw, and brisk at the summit, especially if there’s a stiffish breeze.

It was a busy summit on this particular day, it was the first sunny day in April, and this must have given everyone that summery, let’s get out and do something feeling. The new café wasn’t open, but I believe its construction progress has been hampered by the atrocious weather, it would have been a nice touch to have had an espresso and a piece of carrot cake at three and a half thousand feet.

After you’ve had your sandwich, it’s time to do the same, but in reverse!

Since this trip I’ve been up once more on yet another beautiful sunny day, so the ghost of Snowdon’s summit has well and truly been exorcised! Incidentally, my friend caught up with me about 40 minutes later, not quite as enthused about the whole experience as I was…

Me at the summit, and still smiling!

Looking down on Nant Peris

Elidir Fawr, is exceedingly handy for the Nant Peris car park on the A4068. The drive was traffic free, as you’d expect at that time of the morning, but even so the Pen-y-Pass car park for Snowdon was full, when I drove past at 8.30am! I parked up at the bottom car park, put my boots on, and a fleece, as it was surprisingly cool; the wind wasn’t what you’d call light either, especially when it gusted. It’s £4 to park all day, but despite numerous attempts, I couldn’t get the machine to take my money, so I wrote a note to that effect to display in my windscreen, locked the car and set off. Two hundred yards down the road, there’s some space to park, so to rule out the chance of the ticket machine miraculously working again, and me being issued with a fine for not paying, I did an about turn and parked my car opposite the chapel, which is right where the route to the top of Elidir Fawr starts.

The view from half way up.

Finally, my walk commences at just gone 9am. The route is easy to follow on the OS map and starts as a narrow lane which winds past some little cottages. You’ll see a small gate on your right where the tarmac ends, and you’re on the footings of the mountain. Only five minutes later you’ll come to a foot bridge – now this is where you get a choice! The route marked on the map ignores the foot bridge and goes straight on, without much of an ascent at all until you reach the head of the valley, alternatively you can cross the footbridge and climb right away, on a clearly visible path. I opted to follow the path which features on the map, ten minutes later the heavens opened, and the cloud dropped; this path was not well used, indistinct from the surrounding field and also boggy, verging on being a river! I turned round and went for the sharp climb, straight to the summit. Other descriptions of the path describe it as a slog, which is probably fair comment, but progress is fairly swift, and you can keep turning round to see Nant Peris rapidly shrinking away from you. As the summit gets closer the terrain changes from sheep friendly grasses, to stone and then right at the top large rocks which you scramble over to reach the peak. You should get great views of Snowdonia, from the top, as it was I couldn’t see much further than the end of my baguette, I only briefly caught a glimpse of Marchlyn Mawr – the reservoir that supplies Dinorwic powerstation – as the clouds swirled around me.

Looking from Elidir Fawr towards Devil's Kitchen

The wind speed at the top must have been gusting up to 60 mph, so I was very grateful for the circular wall, which provided enough shelter for me to eat a sandwich without my fingers dropping off. From the top, I headed down toward the ridge which ultimately takes you to Y Garn, but as it had really started to rain sideways, by now, I took the right hand fork, which takes you straight back to the car park. From this ridge, it was possible to see just how eroded, not to mention steep the path that’s marked on the OS map actually is. It was definitely a good choice, taking the route I did.

A simple, but elegant square.

It’s a tiny town, Dolgellau. Smart, grey, stone buildings jostle for position around the town square; cafés delis, bakeries, an outdoor store, and a jewellers are among the selection of businesses to tempt both the tourist and the local wallet. There’s the obligatory Spar, which it would appear is the town’s only ‘super market’, however other shops offering fresh, local produce complement this and you can eat, and drink with some style on goods all bought within about 100 square yards.

There are two fish and chip shops, tea shops, a staggering number of pubs, and I sampled nearly all of them over the course of the bank holiday! The corner café boasts a frontage which is bathed in sunshine from about 9.30am until at least four o’clock in the afternoon; a mix of mountain bikers, walkers, and local characters make it an entertaining way to while away an hour or two, especially if you’re prepared to throw yourself into the lively banter.

Dolgellau coffee shop, it was a real sun trap.

The pubs cater for all types of visitor, some offer lovely lunches, others a game of pool or darts, and as the sun dips, and the afternoon becomes night, karaoke, and music become available to those who fancy it. I was overwhelmed by the friendliness of the locals and a quick couple of pints at 9pm continued well past midnight, and into the early hours of the morning. It was only the closure of the kebab shop at 2am that instigated a walk, tent-wards. After one evening in the town, my friend and I were being pipped and waved at by people we’d spoken to the night before, as we mooched for a recovery coffee in the sun trap café, the next morning!

The view from my tent

I found a fantastic campsite just outside of Dolgellau, this weekend. You know how Bank Holidays can be sometimes unpleasant experiences: campsites crowded with noisy adult groups, crying babies, squabbling parents – hardly ‘getting away from it all!’ This was different, we were in a field by a river – a field the size of about 3 football pitches – and in it were mine,and my friend’s tents, and just two vans on the other side of the vast field. No chance of tripping over someone else’s awning!

I’m loathe to give the exact name of the site away, as to do so would run the risk of spoiling it. If you really want to know, drop me an e-mail or a message and I’ll let you know. The farmer is friendly, helpful and relaxed, there’s no long list of rules and regulations, and it’s £5 per person per night which includes use of the toilet facilities and the showers (coin operated – 50p). Near the edges of the field, by the river, campfires are allowed, which all adds to the evening ambience.

It’s a 2 mile walk into Dolgellau town from the site, but there’s a garage only 10 minutes walk away, where things like milk can be purchased.

A freshwater lake just above Arthog

This lane, now indicated as a UCR on OS maps, was as recently as the 50s designated a ‘yellow’ road. The journey starts at OS Grid Reference SH647149, and for the first mile or so it climbs steeply until you reach Llynnau Cregennen (see picture).

After the lake the road winds further toward the hills, and after taking a right turn at a T junction, you’ll notice the tarmac beginning to fizzle out. Eventually you’ll take a left fork, marked with the remnants of its days as a yellow road – the old painted ‘give way’ motif on the eroded tarmac.

From here the road climbs in earnest again and spectacular views across the estuary to Barmouth can be enjoyed on a clear day. You’re really on your own up here, and the journey’s only just begun.

As you proceed across a solid, surface through open country, then forest and back to the wide expanses again, you can take in a view that few will see, on a road that only a handful of people will drive in any month.

The gradual, but spectacular climb to the highest point.

The track levels out and a gentle – if a little bumpy – ride through a green and pleasant part of Wales, is most enjoyable. As you take a sharpish right hand bend, keep your eyes open for a fork to the right and follow this, it’ll take you through several different different types of terrain and ultimately bring you smiling to a place just north of Tywyn.

The whole journey from Arthog to Tywyn can take a couple of hours, especially as we did, if you park by Llynnau Cregennen and scramble to the top of the peak to the north of the lake. From the top you get a panoramic view of Cader Idris in one direction and Barmouth in the other. It’s well worth the little effort it takes (20 minutes) to get to the top.

Fish and Chips in Aberdyfi are a must; and look out for the little cottage on the front called Llareggub!

The View of Barmouth

Only when I have something interesting to say, will I bother. 

Thank you for stopping by.

Raven

Green Lane, North Wales