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Yesterday, Tim and I set out to climb Snowdon, and managed to get lost about 10 metres from the campsite at the foot of the mountain. We went merrily charging along a path around the side of the lake, and up onto a steep crag of rock, where we surprised a lone goat. We descended from the crag by an ever more precarious route, sliding from tree to tree, and were thankful to reach the lake shore again. We carried on round the side of the lake, which looked absolutely stunning in the glory of a sunny morning with bands of mist, with a glassy still surface which reflected the hills. The grass and moss were lush, bright green and sparkling with dew, and the bracken had turned a rich rust brown. Revelling in the beauty of the surroundings, we were surprised when we hit a rockfall and could go no further. A proper look at the map indicated that we'd been on the wrong path all along, and had no right to go clambering over the crag on goat paths. We were still not worried, as we thought we could pass between the crag and the lake shore, although we soon found that the crag descended vertically into the lake. We had no option but to go back over Goat Crag (actually called Elephant Rock, we found out later - it does actually look quite a bit like an elephant from the right angle), which was not fun at all. Right back at the campsite, we searched for the correct track, and failed to find it, so we gave up and went round by the road to the start of the trail up the mountain.
We hiked up via the Watkin Path, which wound up through several valleys at a reasonable pace, with gorgeous views across the hills. When we were about halfway up, we saw the sea shining in the distance beyond other mountains. At about 800 metres altitude we crossed a pass between Snowdon and the neighbouring mountain, and suddenly the going got a lot tougher. The track was very steep, difficult to follow, and mostly consisted of loose shale. I did a lot of the next two hundred metres of altitude using both hands and feet to grip onto any solid-seeming rocks. It occurred to me that rockfalls were not infrequent - in several places the track had been blotted out by them - and that any shift in the rocks I was clinging to could easily be fatal. The view across the valley was still stunning, but quite terrifying too, and I tried not to look too much as I scrambled on up, panting hard. There was a grassy outcropping to rest on at about 1000 metres, and the last 80 metres of climb were easier even though the mist had descended.
The top of Snowdon is a disappointing place. They are rebuilding the cafe there, so there are hordes of builders drilling and doing buildery stuff on an ugly little construction. Since there are easier paths (most of which start from Pen y Pass, which is 359 metres altitude, and is cheating in my book), there are also billions of other tourists up there, though we had only met about 10 people on the way up the Watkin Path.
We descended by the Miner's Path, which was absolutely lovely, and was a quiet route. As we clambered down the initial steepish rocky part, Snowdon was to our right, towering black and majestic in the mist. In front were two softly shining blue lakes, cupped in a dip of ground around 500 metres above sea-level, made miniature by distance. Between Snowdon and the lakes were beautiful soft folds of hillside, looking like well-weathered skin stretched thin over the bones of the Earth. The lakes slowly became more than distant landscape features, until we were munching apples on a grassy mound on the shore of the first lake, and then taking off our boots and paddling in the clear icy waters. After that part, the track become very easy walking, and wound around the lakes, across a causeway which bisects the reservoir, and down to Pen y Pass. We carried on hiking down the hillside and back through the valley to the campsite.
The grand total was something over 20 kilometres for the day, including the initial excursion over Goat Crag. Since our campsite was less than 70 metres elevation, and Snowdon is 1085 metres, I can feel satisfied that I've actually climbed an entire mountain. This is only the third I've ever done, with Ben Nevis and Dead Woman's Pass on the Inca Trail in Peru being the others (Dead Woman's Pass is debatable, as it is a saddle point rather than a peak - but we climbed over a thousand metres to it, and it felt like a summit, so I count it). I've also climbed Scafell Pike, which technically falls just short of being a mountain, so I've done the Three Peaks now. I am feeling proud, but achey in knees and hip joints now, and my feet hurt from being in wet boots since the evening before we climbed Snowdon. Overall, Snowdonia is absolutely gorgeous, but it does seem to me that there are some extraordinarily ugly bits of infrastructure in inappropriate places there, such as power plants and cafes.
We hiked up via the Watkin Path, which wound up through several valleys at a reasonable pace, with gorgeous views across the hills. When we were about halfway up, we saw the sea shining in the distance beyond other mountains. At about 800 metres altitude we crossed a pass between Snowdon and the neighbouring mountain, and suddenly the going got a lot tougher. The track was very steep, difficult to follow, and mostly consisted of loose shale. I did a lot of the next two hundred metres of altitude using both hands and feet to grip onto any solid-seeming rocks. It occurred to me that rockfalls were not infrequent - in several places the track had been blotted out by them - and that any shift in the rocks I was clinging to could easily be fatal. The view across the valley was still stunning, but quite terrifying too, and I tried not to look too much as I scrambled on up, panting hard. There was a grassy outcropping to rest on at about 1000 metres, and the last 80 metres of climb were easier even though the mist had descended.
The top of Snowdon is a disappointing place. They are rebuilding the cafe there, so there are hordes of builders drilling and doing buildery stuff on an ugly little construction. Since there are easier paths (most of which start from Pen y Pass, which is 359 metres altitude, and is cheating in my book), there are also billions of other tourists up there, though we had only met about 10 people on the way up the Watkin Path.
We descended by the Miner's Path, which was absolutely lovely, and was a quiet route. As we clambered down the initial steepish rocky part, Snowdon was to our right, towering black and majestic in the mist. In front were two softly shining blue lakes, cupped in a dip of ground around 500 metres above sea-level, made miniature by distance. Between Snowdon and the lakes were beautiful soft folds of hillside, looking like well-weathered skin stretched thin over the bones of the Earth. The lakes slowly became more than distant landscape features, until we were munching apples on a grassy mound on the shore of the first lake, and then taking off our boots and paddling in the clear icy waters. After that part, the track become very easy walking, and wound around the lakes, across a causeway which bisects the reservoir, and down to Pen y Pass. We carried on hiking down the hillside and back through the valley to the campsite.
The grand total was something over 20 kilometres for the day, including the initial excursion over Goat Crag. Since our campsite was less than 70 metres elevation, and Snowdon is 1085 metres, I can feel satisfied that I've actually climbed an entire mountain. This is only the third I've ever done, with Ben Nevis and Dead Woman's Pass on the Inca Trail in Peru being the others (Dead Woman's Pass is debatable, as it is a saddle point rather than a peak - but we climbed over a thousand metres to it, and it felt like a summit, so I count it). I've also climbed Scafell Pike, which technically falls just short of being a mountain, so I've done the Three Peaks now. I am feeling proud, but achey in knees and hip joints now, and my feet hurt from being in wet boots since the evening before we climbed Snowdon. Overall, Snowdonia is absolutely gorgeous, but it does seem to me that there are some extraordinarily ugly bits of infrastructure in inappropriate places there, such as power plants and cafes.
