Go up the mountain, go up to the glen

The morning after E and K's wedding (more of which later, perhaps) dawned bright and sunny. Base camp was extremely quiet - for reasons that might have had something to do with the vast amounts of champagne and wine that the guests had been plied with all the previous afternoon and evening . My walking companions to be, were in a state of dishevellement - and yesterdays talk of "doing the Carneddau" (the bigger set of mountains on the last photo posted on this blog) was rapidly being downwardly revised to going up onto the first ridge - after lunch. With my day sac packed and boots twitching in the car I wasn't in a mood for hanging around drinking coffee for three hours - so decided to strike out on my own. Its not every day (or even year) that I am in Snowdonia when the sun shines.

It's also not every day that one gets to see sheep being sheared on the mountainside. I was surprised. I thought shearing was done in spring, not autumn. But I know that there is a widespread practice of bringing the sheep off the mountains in autumn and either sending them to slaughter or to continue fattening them on the lower lying pastures of Ynys Mon. Either way you can get more sheared sheep in a trailer.

The sheep were quite surprised too. They had no time to ask what style they want. Just clamped between the teamsters' knees and given a "number one". Once released they wander about in a daze for about thirty seconds before jumping more than a metre in the air as if to say "**** me, I'm still alive"

Shearing may be hard work but the view is astounding.

And gets better the further up you go (that's the Glyders and Tryfyn in the background)


Its not as steep here as on the other massifs in Snowdon. Just a long slow slog up a seemingly endless ridge. More akin to a Scottish mountain than the steep precipitious slopes on the other side of the valley. Even the local wild horses seem to feel the strain. (That's Yr Elwyn and Carnedd Llewlyn in the back ground - the later is much higher- the second highest peak in wales )


And there's a cabin at the top to shelter in times of inclement weather - bring your own drinks though -its not a luxury, licensed Swiss style mountain hut.

Eventually one can look back down at what's been achieved.


It's at this point that the hill fog starts to drift across the top of the upper ridge (behind me). The path is faint - barely waymarked with cairns and as the fog takes a grip I realise it's time to do a quick refresher on the principles of walking on a compass bearing. The fog only shrouds the top 200 foot or so of the mountain. But enough to make it feel like an adventure and enough to preclude a side trip out to Yr Elwyn (the largest peak here that I have not climbed). There's people up here with eght year old kids who don't have a map and compass or know how to use them - that's scary!!!! In the dips between Foel Grach and Carnedd Llewlyn and then Carnedd Dafydd the views come back again - but the very high level walking is done in mist. I share wedding cake with unknown fellow walkers on top of Llewelyn (I'd packed portions for four) - seen, as ever, in mist and then follow the far more visible path round to Dafydd. Tramping betwen the lichen covered boulders and outcrops of quartz and feeling more alone and yet more connected than I have done in months. On the peak of Carnedd Dafydd I look at the time and take stock of the state of my legs and decide not continue onto to Pen-yr-Ole Wen but to cut a direct track back to Bethesda on the narrow incline of the Cwm - a strategy that leads me to discovering some interesting vegetation - of a rather deep and quacmatic nature. Back in the village well before sunset- but back in the B&B I wish I had chosen one with a lift. Man, I could barely walk up the stairs.