Winter in Wales - Glydr Fawr and Crib Goch

There's an old adgage that I've stuck by all through my time in the outdoors, one my father told me. "Any fool can rough it, but it takes a skilled man to make himself comfortable in any situation." This has resonated with me; where others will take only the bare essentials and suffer the consequences, I've been happier to carry a little extra weight for a lot of extra comfort.

However, there are times when even the most prepared man has to rough it. I had to do it, in driving horizontal sleet on Glydr Fawr. In winter. Boy was I roughing it.

The storm that the UK's been suffering for several months showed it's teeth whilst we were there - on our first day we started out on a bleak, damp midwinter's day which quickly developed into the worst conditions I've ever experienced on a mountain. Horizontal, 45 mile an hour driven sleet, rain and hail greeted us in different stages. The wind was just about bearable, but me and Charlie are both 100+kg and it was giving us difficulties, especially on the higher slopes. Whilst it didn't make the ascent any fun per se, it did make it a challenge. Even putting crampons on was sketchy, as everything threatened to get blown over the ridge line at a moment's notice. It was even windy enough to affect the outcome of an HDR shot I took of the mountain.

After we crossed the snowline (which was only around 200m below the summit) the ascent got nice and fun.
With crampons on we tramped up the approach slope, careful to give a wide berth to the cornice sat in the nearby saddle. It wasn't technical, it wasn't difficult but it felt fun to front-point up the last of the slope, haul myself up onto the summit ridge and then tramp the last few hundred meters up to the summit.

The decision on the summit was that we really didn't want to hang around - when you have to bellow to be heard and can barely open your eyes because you've got vicious winds being driven at you, you don't want to hang around on the most exposed bit of mountain. Not to mention we were both soaked to the skin having forgotten to bring waterproof trousers. We thought we'd make a swift descent to the car, dry socks and warmth. Charlie, being more sure on his feet than me in the deep powder snow we were encountering trotted down rapidly, whilst I took the slow, steady 'plunge step' approach.

All in all, though, it only took us 3 hours to go up and down a 1001m mountain - a massive improvement on my pace from Scotland, which is a positive. However we were absolutely drenched - I had pools of water in my boots and I stretched my softshell trousers beyond their elastic limit - they went all baggy! I'll tell you something for free - the drying room at the hostel was very well used that night, and I was very, very thankful we decided to stay in a hostel rather than camp. We'd have had a mare of a time if we'd done that...

Day 2 was to be a winter repeat of a route we'd done the last time we were here - the Crib Goch route up Snowdon. Whilst you might say what's the point, it's something you've already done, it's a totally different undertaking when covered by a thick blanket of snow and blasted by icy winter winds. Especially when that snow is poor condition, thick, deep and exhausting. Much of it was the same, yes - but much of it was different, and it was an interesting approach. It took longer than last time, and we had some whiteout, which was an interesting experience. Everything just dissappears and you lose all perspective of distance, space or even direction - thankfully I had a massive yellow lump to follow who knew the ridge and the line we had to take. At least there was one of us...


The walk off Snowdon, however, was the most difficult bit of the day. The snow was terrible - incredibly deep and seemingly hollow underneath - me and Charlie both repeatedly fell into the snow up to our crotches, but only one leg at a time, so the other would fold comically underneath us as we struggled to use our axe and hands to stand up. I even snagged some pleasant holes in my softshells, including putting my front points through the back of my knee, which wasn't too much fun. It's just another thing to buy, I guess...

All in all though, this trip was more a battle with poor conditions and exhaustion than a technical challenge, orfun per se. But hey, you've got to have the bad days to make the good ones worth it. Hopefully a period of calm some time in the next month or so will allow us to have some fun before this winter season ends. Having said that though, a good portion of me is excited for a summer's climbing. I graduate university in May, and after that all I have to do for summer is find a job and climb.

Photos from A Cloudy Place

So Charlie (finally) got around to uploading his, much nicer, far sharper and better composed pictures from our visit to Snowdonia in November.

Enjoy!

Enjoying a warming beverage after the first section of climbing

On the second section of Tryfan, looking down into the Ogwyn valley. That rucksack is as heavy as it looks.

The beautiful view off the west face of Tryfan

The cannon - it feels far more exposed than it looks. Honest.

And my gazelle-like descent.

Hanging out over the Ogywn valley - a rare shot without cloud

"Gorillas in the mist" on Crib Goch

 In news, we have a confirmed date for Scotland - we head up into the great white north on the 11th of January. Kit lists, accomodation booking, sourcing guidebooks and working out plans are in full swing, as is indoor practice. Things are getting better, what with 2/3 sessions a week and I'm back up to confidently climbing 6a+ on a top rope and leading 5+, so we should be in good shape for some proper mountaineering!

See you all soon

Wales, again! Tryfan and Crib Goch

Impromptu weekend away in Wales? Oh yes please!

This isn't going to be a long one, I'm somewhat busy at the moment, but here it is!

The beautiful view of the Ogwyn Valley from about halfway up the North East face of Tryfan

Tryfan
After enjoying a lovely full cooked breakfast at the YHA, me and Charlie set off in the car for the rolling green-and-grey of the Ogwyn Valley, and specifically Tryfan and the Glyder Fach ridge. Initially we started up the North Face path, which if I'm honest was sloggy, steep and painful with our 15-20kg loads. I was slow and extremely tired, slightly annoyed at my own lack of fitness (especially since I've spent so much time in the gym recently...) which meant Charlie kept having to stop to wait for me. Eventually, after about a kilometer on the flat and 150m of elevation change, we moved into the fun bit of the day: Scrambling.

Charlie showing the world how it's done

Now, for those of you that don't know, Scrambling is something of a halfway point between pure rock climbing and walking. The terrain is more of a collection of small boulders with decent hand and foot holds than a flat rock face, and is relatively easy to ascend with the correct gear - you don't even really need ropes or protection unless you move onto really exposed stuff. It was my first taste of pure, graded scrambling (although we didn't follow a specific 'route'...Tryfan doesn't really have any) and if I'm honest it's damn fun. Yes there were some bits that were rather committing, and more than once I was thankful for the almost physics-bending grip and stiffness of my Mammut Monolith B2 boots, and I was slow and the weight and size of my rucksack made some of it rather sketchy but it was absolutely awesome to play mountaineer and actually climb a mountain.



After a slightly embarrassing event involving a dropped piece of tent, we made the summit both taking the time to jump Adam and Eve, the two crowning rocks on Tryfan's summit, and then set on the descent back down towards the Far South Peak and Glyder Fach. Originally the plan had been to climb up to the summit of Glyder Fach, then descend  towards Llyn Bochlwyd where we would set up camp. However, when we got down to Bwlch Tryfan, the mini-valley between the two peaks, we decided we were too lazy, too cold and the car was far too close to really justify staying out. So we made the executive decision to go back into Llanberis, find somewhere to sleep, grab a pint and some food and enjoy a comfortable night.

Crossing the complex of fords on the descent from
Tryfan, in blowing wind. Sketchy.

Charlie on Adam & Eve. We were the only people out of
around 20 at the summit to do it. Frankly I was dissappointed.

In the end, after the YHA we'd stayed in on Friday night confirmed they were full, we found a home in Pete's Eats. Anyone familiar with Llanberis over the past three decades will be familiar with Pete's, on the Llanberis high street. Theirs is a nirvana for tired, hungry climbers and walkers - free wifi, free charging, massive plates of food and (if you need it) a cheap, comfy bed for the night or even the simple pleasure of a hot shower. Honestly can't recommend them enough, and will even go as far as to give them a shout out here; if you ever need anything in Llanberis (even if it's just advice on a good route to take), they'll help you out. Find them at: www.petes-eats.co.uk


Crib Goch
Sunday was going to be shorter - we had a 6 hour drive home ahead of us, so instead of doing a massive loop, we decided to take on the infamous ridgeline of Crib Goch.

After another long slog of a walk-in, exhausting and sweaty in heavy mountain boots and windproofs we made it over the granny stopper at the bottom of the route, and I headed off to break my Crib virginity.The scrambling was technical and relentless, although the shedding of 90% of the weight from our packs certainly helped to make the moves easier. We weren't alone on the ridgeline, but it did somewhat concern the pair of us the quality and suitability of the kit and expertise of the groups we met. Whilst you may be able to do the Crib in sturdy trainers and a light jacket in a dry, clear summer's day, but on a windy, cold and damp November afternoon it's downright dangerous.

Unfortunately the ridgeline of Crib Goch itself doesn't really lend itself to intense conversation, so I was left alone for a lot of the time, but I've found that it's quite nice. Just being alone with the conditions, the mountain and your own thoughts is a beautiful thing. Every now and then I'd catch up with Charlie, we'd enjoy a cup of tea and then set back off along the seemingly never-ending ridge. We'd be held up now and then as we negotiated an overtake over another group, but mainly for me was just the faint, yellow bobbing shape at the edge of my vision and a uniformly grey skybox. The cloud was low and the conditions were windy and cold (but thankfully largely dry) so there wasn't a huge amount to see, but it was fun, committing and technical. There isn't really much else to say really, the pictures do that for me!

(I'm still waiting for Charlie to send me the pictures from Day 2, as my phone had died. Pester him for me, would you? There's a good reader.)

We decided to not do the Snowdon summit; it's something we've both done before and we were hardly going to see anything special, so it was time for the long (but rather quick, it seemed) decent down the miner's path to the car, a well-deserved bottle of lucozade and the long slog home, to the realities of life.

It's always sad to leave the mountains, but it just means I'll have to go back for more. And soon.

Now all I have to look forward to is a Scottish winter. Oh wait...that's going to be amazing. Psyched!