|
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Having already begun our climb up the slopes above Nant Gwynant, Jell and I were able to have a gentle start to the morning while we waited for Nick, Daniel and Sophie to make their way up from the valley floor. We had breakfast, sharing our last tea bag (!) and enjoyed the stunning blue skies, early morning warmth, and the tiny stream, perfect for batheing tired feet and filling water bottles.
|
|
 |
|
|
 |
|
Once packed up, our walking immediately began to climb steeply, gaining one of the many levels, relics of the area’s industrial past. We passed rocks, crystals, mosses, grasses, bird life and butterflies - the natural world mingling intimately and smoothing the
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
past industrial scars.
Following the path up to the ridge was easy navigation, but already hot work, and the weight of a day’s water heavy in our packs. We moved slowly upwards, chatting to a few other walkers who were taking a welcome opportunity to rest on the large sacks which remained from path reconstruction work, and which now formed comfortable seats!
The climbing rapidly became steeper, and the path more scree--like. It was evident how much conservation work had been done, placing large boulders to protect from erosion, but it was still far from easy underfoot.
|
|
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
 |
|
|
As we moved on up the ridge, taking frequent breaks (to admire the view of course!) we looked back often to see if we could spot Nick and Daniel approaching. We never saw them, and it wasn’t until much later that we found that they had instead taken the Watkin path up the mountain.
The South ridge gave us impressive panoramic views, back over the Moelwyns which we had recently crossed, and on into the hazy distance. On the near slopes of the ridge was more evidence of the industrial past, and a view down the steep sides to deeply coloured yet crystal clear lakes.
|
|
|
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
The ridge was a long slog in the heat, but the views were phenomenal, and all the while we had the motivation of the summit peak looming ever closer into view. The number of people passing in both directions increased as we got closer to the summit, and as we neared the station the litter and accompanying gulls multiplied.
As we sat on the rock at the top, overlooking the impressive Lliwedd ridge and Watkin path, I felt a bit irritated by the swarms of people, shuttled up by train, yet somehow not ready to really experience being part of the mountain, perhaps because of the ease of their journey. But equally I hoped that some people who would not otherwise have seen that (once) wild space would feel some of the awe of the place, and develop a passion of their own.
|
|
|
I was happy though, despite the crowds, their litter and misunderstanding; I was on a mountain, drinking in the space, the wide skies, the far horizons, the croaking ravens, lost in my own enjoyment of a summit - but well aware that some of the empty spaces we had been able to indulge in during our journey had been more special, more awesome (though perhaps less hard-won) than this, our highest point.
After resting and eating, we took our message baton to the summit trig point. Not only did we have to brave and battle the hoards of people, there were also swarms of flying ants! Jell explained that they ants swarm to the highest point in search of a mating queen - a long journey for any unfortunate ant on the lower slopes of Snowdon!
We took photos with the baton (below positioned on the line pointing to our Cadair Idris start), and explained to a few more
|
|
|
|
confused walkers the story of our strange carved stick.
As we turned around about to to descend, Daniel and Nick appeared. Happily Nick’s foot had not prevented them walking this final day (as we had feared may have happened) and we were able to take group photos at the trig point, and another with Cadair behind us.
|
|
|
|
|
Our descent on the Llanberis path was hot, and long, dusty and pounding, but with my poles we were able to make a reasonable pace. We stopped a few times in the grass away from the path, looking towards the climbers on Cloggy, and trying to feel rested by a break, yet still parched by the unrelenting sun.
As the path flattened out into the fields above Llanberis we met Sophie who had walked up to meet us. We had another welcome break with her, and she told us the fantastic news that dinner for the evening was in Pete’s Eats, courtesy of the JMT. Perfect!
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
We walked past the station into the town, and the tarmac felt hard! Comfy benches, pints of tea and juice at Pete’s and the biggest cottage cheese salad I’ve ever seen were enjoyed and devoured before Sophie lead us down to the lake and towards our finish.
|
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
 |
|
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
The evening light on the almost mirror-still lake, the pinks and oranges on the boats and slates were beautiful, light and peaceful. We walked around the head of the lake, through the train yards of the slate museum, and climbed up through the woods along the other side. The extra climbing and walking was almost too much, but all was worthwhile when we reached the respite of the wonderful Cae Mabon. We received a fantastically warm welcome from Jessica, who made us tea and told us stories of the house and founding of the retreat. All exhausted, we headed to our barn and caravan, before collapsing into our sleeping bags - not only at the end of a long day, but a long week, and an incredible journey.
|
|
|
|
