Sunday

I’d been there exactly twice, the first time on a school trip many years ago, and the second a few years ago for one day only with a few friends. The former was a memorable occasion; it was my introduction to mountainous terrain and the pursuits therein. We climbed a 500 ft. slab of rock called, appropriately, part of the Idwal Slabs, and walked up the Devil’s Kitchen in the same vicinity. I remember the latter seemed an impossible prospect because the path was indiscernible; all you could see was the forbidding wall of rock and cascading waters falling down a black chasm. And yet the path was there, and was but one stage on a varied and interesting route. We also walked up Snowdon which I found a gruelling experience (I was tired even before we’d left the hostel), but enjoyable. I especially remembered the lakes we passed as we ascended the track up to the summit.

The second trip is not worth recalling, consisting as it did of a trek along the Snowdon path and back, much of the latter in the dark. My most enduring favourite is the Lake District, but I thought Snowdonia is about the same distance from me so why not see it properly and find if I like it? I arrived at Lake Ogwen at 2.30 and while that’s not a strategic start it did, nonetheless, give me time for a substantial walk if I was prepared for early evening trekking. I was – I often am. I thought maybe I’d stroll around a lake but no, the weather was relatively OK (i.e. not raining and with good visibility), and I wanted to take advantage of the day. Tryfan towered above me, or rather the seductive curve beyond which it is invisible. I had noticed it from the valley road but not realised what it was.

Ascending Tryfan is mostly a scramble, and some of it is quite adventurous. I found this an interesting experience, because I am not used to it. On finally reaching the peak I considered whether to continue my chosen route across the Glyders and down Devil’s Kitchen which promised to be nostalgic and interesting. However after I’d descended down to the col and looked up at the Glyders ridge – probably even more formidable than Tryfan – I realised I was tired of scrambling. An hour or so is an interesting variation, but I do not enjoy interminable hours of foot and hand climbs. I’d also found it more tiring than straightforward walking and it was, after all, quite late in the day. I decided to descend to Lake Bochynal and as it turned out, this was the most enjoyable section – walking, either on grass or a path, in beautiful terrain. I further decided to cut across a fell and descend to lake Idwal, which lies at the bottom of the Devil’s Kitchen amphitheatre. Poignant indeed to see again an area I’d visited many years ago, which is both interesting and forbiddingly beautiful. Wales, I was beginning to realise, is rougher than the Lake District: sharper, more rocky, barren, and grim. It’s not my favourite kind of landscape but inevitably it has beautiful areas and the descent from Idwal back down to Lake Ogwen is one of them. I made a mental note: this would be a good walk to attempt in reverse: up to Idwal (like we did on the school trip), enjoying the slowly unfolding drama as the mountains reveal themselves from below – then up Devil’s Kitchen (again) and maybe down the Glyders, although that would again involve scrambling. Back in the valley I drove over to Llanberis and found the hotel where I was staying.

Monday

The sky was very grey and as I tried persuading myself the sunny break-throughs promised more favourable weather, I knew that I was being irrational. The chances are if there is a preponderance of grey it will continue. Everyone does it: I asked the breakfast waiter if he’d heard the forecast and he replied that it was supposed to be getting better, with stoic optimism.

Tryfan is an obvious endeavour, Snowdon even more so. The latter was my day 2 objective, along Crib Goch. As a sixteen year old boy I’d gazed up at the dramatic ridge wondering what the views would be like; they were delightful from the Pyg track where we were – several hundred feet below – and I reasoned that they must be even better up above. They were, and I’m glad I did this walk although walk is actually a misnomer since it is, again, an interminable scramble. The initial ascent was reasonably exciting, some parts of it requiring strenuous hand and foot action. However on reaching the ridge I realised this was going to be a similar experience to Striding Edge or Swirral Edge in the Lake District, but more difficult and longer lasting. Parts of it are frighteningly precipitous, especially to the right. Some people are able to stroll along ridges not worried that there is an almost vertical drop of several hundred feet literally a foot or two from the narrow ‘path’ they are walking; I am not one of them. Regard (I didn't take this photo):

'Crib' means something like 'fingers' and 'goch' is 'red' and as you see in certain lighting conditions (the above was taken in the morning), the ridge looks red. I took these photos:

I managed to circumvent the knife edge sections, i.e. traverse the ridge lower down and towards the left where it was steep but not alarmingly so, and a slip was more unlikely and any results would be uncomfortable but not fatal. And as I proceeded along Crib Goch in the distance first the peak of Snowdon was obscured in mist, and then the rest of the area. Suddenly, all I could see was the ridge: to the left it was a complete white-out. On reaching the top of the Pyg Track (the easy way up) the trek changes from challenging to sedate – so sedate that throngs of people were doing it, coming up beside the railway line from Lllanberis. Up the final stretch, and there was little reward because of the mist. I don’t like the railway or the café but hey, the latter is there so you may as well use it, and benefit from some fresh coffee.

After a little refreshment and a sit-down in a place more reminiscent of a railway station than a mountain top, I decided a) I was tired and b) the conditions made it a waste of time going onward to complete the Snowdon Horseshoe, which entailed more high level walking in the mist (now very wet) and greater length. Down: that sounded good. And it would be fun to descend the Pyg Track, where I came up many years ago. And as with yesterday’s walk, the descent was far more picturesque and thus enjoyable than the scrambling ascent.

Tuesday

I drove down to the south of Wales – Carmarthen, specifically - principally to meet up with a pal and simultaneously explore some more of the country. My hotel proprietor advised me it would take about 2 hours, which was ludicrous. Welsh folk seem to have perverse reactions when asked for this kind of advice. OK, a massive generalisation – but I experienced it several times. Five hours later I reached Carmarthen, spent a couple of hours with my pal, followed by meal and then bed.

Wednesday

This time, the planning and navigation was someone else’s responsibility, which was pleasant. Lauren wanted to undertake a waterfall valley walk in the Brecon Beacons, which has been described as one of the major attractions of Wales. It was a delightful contrast to the more dramatic experiences of the previous two days: a stroll through a densely wooded valley, visiting and in one case literally passing through/underneath substantial waterfalls. Not so much to say here, except the highlight was the latter: the water fell into the river and the path went in a cave-like area underneath it. Fun. Nice to relax amidst more gentle surroundings.

Thursday

Southern Wales is notable – and famous – for its wild and dramatic coastline, especially in Pembrokeshire. I’d wanted to see this area for a few years, and the same applied to one of the towns in that vicinity: Tenby. I parked above a large, clean and beautiful beach and walked first to St. Govan’s Head and then the other way to Stackpole Head. It’s similar to Cornwall: cliff top walking and a rocky, wild coastline. Nice. However it’s not something I would travel for on its own account, nor the kind of walking I would enjoy for more than a few hours, because essentially it is all rather similar. I ended with an hour or so on the beach, visited Manorbier Castle on the drive back (nice) and then Tenby, which was delightful.

Friday

Time for home, and it took just 5½ hours back to Manchester including breaks of one hour, a 30 minute delay at Birmingham, and a missed turning and slightly longer route. Wales is not too far away and although it simply doesn’t compare to the Lake District it has its own attractions which I enjoyed. The castles are interesting, the southern coastline magnificent, and the country as a whole is remarkably green and wooded. Except in Snowdonia, which lacks the compositions of grass, trees and lake which make the Lake District not only adventurous walking terrain, but also a beautiful, almost poetic experience where you find yourself gazing at views that are entirely natural but which could have been planned and sculpted by the best landscape gardener – not wild and somehow inhospitable, but well composed and friendly. I wouldn't describe Wales as 'friendly' but it's certainly a worthwhile visit.