Snowdonia: The good, the bad and the windy
Day one
Our escapade unexpectedly commenced with a trail discovery just outside Dolgellau. This serene introduction through dense woodlands to hidden waterfalls set a contrasting tone for the day ahead. It was a gentle start to what would unfold into a demanding adventure.
Progressing, we found ourselves at Cadair Idris's base, where the ascent challenged us beyond mere winds; the muddy path demanded caution and perseverance. Yet, the awe-inspiring sight of planes gliding through the valley provided a fleeting respite from our strenuous endeavor.
The day's end brought warmth and camaraderie, as stories and laughter were shared over a cozy pub dinner. The evening’s tension dissolved in a hot tub, under the embrace of the night.
Day Two
The next morning revealed our boots compromised by an oversight; they had been left too close to the heater overnight and were barely functional. Nevertheless, a bit of creativity and some superglue prepared us for another day's challenge. Despite the relentless rain, we embarked towards Snowdon via the Pyg Track, immediately met with harsh rain and wind. My lack of waterproof trousers left me particularly vulnerable to the cold, turning an arduous trek into a battle against the elements.
Passing Bwlch y Moch and heading towards Bwlch y Glas, we found brief shelter from the wind. However, the conditions quickly became more perilous, with snow and ice underfoot signaling an alarming transition into the mountain’s colder, more dangerous reaches. About 30 minutes beyond Bwlch y Moch, at an elevation of roughly 730 meters, the reality of our situation began to sink in. The path grew icier, the air colder, and my soaked trousers no longer just uncomfortable but dangerous, leeching warmth with every gust.
Faced with the increasing likelihood of hypothermia or an injury on the slippery ascent, the decision became apparent. Despite the strong desire to press on, the safety of our group could not be compromised. At 730 meters, with a heavy heart, I decided to turn us back, prioritizing the well-being of the group over the summit's call.
Back at camp, we felt the pull of the nearby town and gave in to it. We landed in a cozy pub, easing into the evening with a playful round of "Guess the Year" for each song that came on. Our quest for food led us to Cosy Fish and Chips, where we found what might just be the best fish and chips out there—a spot I’d warmly suggest if you're ever around.
With our appetites satisfied, we returned to camp, ready to dial up the relaxation with the hot tub waiting for us. Gear tucked away, we settled into the soothing warmth, our eyes fixed on the stars emerging above. It was a peaceful close to our journey, soaking in the stillness of the night, a gentle pause before stepping back into the rhythm of daily life.
The Debrief
Reflecting on our trek, it's evident there's a mix of triumphs and lessons tucked within our journey. Our main goal, summiting Snowdon, eluded us, yet the fact we all made it back to the van without a scratch is a win in itself. This adventure has been a real eye-opener, providing clear insights on where we can fine-tune our approach for the next time we face the wild.
Preparation, as it turns out, is everything. The absence of waterproof trousers was a glaring oversight on my part. Starting off drenched was far from ideal, teaching us the hard lesson that there's no substitute for the right gear. And speaking of gear, the saga of the boots was a rookie error. Taking charge of my equipment would have spared us from a bit of pre-hike panic and DIY boot repairs.
Timing our ascent could've also used a tweak. Had we set off a few hours later, we might have sidestepped the worst of the rain, leaving us to grapple with the wind alone—a scenario I believe we were better prepared for. Additionally, re-evaluating our route for better wind shelter could have made a significant difference. It's a reminder that flexibility and adaptability are just as crucial as a solid plan.
The stark realisation that my survival kit remained at home when it could have been a lifeline was a wake-up call. Ensuring we carry a comprehensive first aid and survival kit is non-negotiable, a fundamental aspect of preparedness we overlooked.
These revelations from our escapade aren't just critiques but stepping stones for growth. They underscore the importance of gear management, strategic planning, and the readiness to pivot as conditions demand. Armed with these insights, I'm already plotting our next adventure with a renewed focus on preparation and safety. The mountain still calls, and next time, we'll answer with the wisdom gained from our previous missteps.
We live and learn.
