Dancing At Lunacy

Note:  Never “Mount” Snowden – just the name, or the Welsh Yr Wyddfa.

At 1,085 m, it’s the highest point on the British Isles outside of Scotland.  My son Harry is a keen climber, and had already done Ben Nevis, Scafell and Carrauntoohil, so he was keen to add this one to complete the set.  And I was delighted to tag along.

I flew into Liverpool, and then we drove to Ffestiniog, a little village in stunningly beautiful Snowdonia National Park.  We stayed at Y Pengwern, which I would love to believe is Welsh for penguin, despite any evidence to support this.

It’s a community run pub/ restaurant/ accommodation, and is very good value.  The staff were friendly and helpful, rooms comfortable, and the food and drinks tasty and well priced.  It’s the only facility in the village apart from a well stocked store, but nearby Blaenau Ffestiniog 3 miles away has a greater selection of restaurants and shops.

There are a number of tried and tested routes up the mountain, and we had originally planned to use the most popular and easiest Llanberis route.  But when we checked our location, it was on the other side of the mountain, about 40 miles away, and so we looked at closer trail heads.  Watkin’s Path was only 15 miles away, and appeared to be within our capabilities.

Car parking is available across the road from the start – the machine didn’t seem to be working, though.  And there are loos here too.

The route starts up some stone steps before opening out into lovely old woodland.  The birdsong was wonderful, and I even heard my first spring cuckoo!  I shall write to The Times forthwith.

Coming out of the woodland the hillside was a hazy carpet of bluebells, with some pretty waterfalls to the right.  We passed Gladstone Rock, and remarked on the Welsh singing tradition (insert Bill Bailey cheese-on-toast gag here).

There was a ruined bulding, formerly used to house copper miners.  The copper gives the lakes their greenish tinge.  The path continues in slate steps and packed stone, and is very well maintained.

Are there any fish in the clear pools, I wondered.  How would they get there, asked H.  Well, see, when a Mummy fish and a Daddy fish love each other very much….I explained.

After a brief stop for one of Harry’s sweet potato muffins, where a very enterprising seagull edged closer and closer to me, we reached the final and trickiest section, which was very steep and required some scrambling and hand holding.

I saw some slugs en route.  How did they get here?  Ans: very slowly.

After having had the path mostly to oursleves, the busy cafe at the top, Hafod Eryri,  was a bit of a contrast.  It was very blowy, but there was a decent enough view despite the clouds.  The Llanberis path runs alongside a narrow guage and pinion railway, which does make the summit accessible for many people.  I was amazed at the number of dogs who had made the climb, and enjoyed reading all the information boards about the history, geology, and legends associated with the mountain.

My fingers had become red and swollen during the climb, and so I was alternating holding each hand up to my shoulder.  Occasionally I had both hands up, and I must have looked like a surrendering prisoner trotting along behind H.  On the descent I was tiring, and I stumbled now and again, but the only serious injury I sustained was a paper cut from the lid of my hot chocolate in the cafe.

It took us 3 hours to get to the summit, and 2 1/2 to come back down.  Having been sunny all week, it was rainy when we got up, but the rain soon passed.  It was overcast, but clear, which was good climbing conditions.  And we felt very proud of ourselves once we’d finished.

Filed under: nature, travel, Wales | Tagged: climbing, Snowden |