Glyder Fawr

The first time I climbed Glyder Fawr in Snowdonia, it was raining, misty, cold and miserable. The day before I’d climbed Snowdon via the Watkin path with friends I would later trek to Everest Base Camp with, and we’d done it as a training exercise and to get to know each other better. I got to the top of the Glyders twice more between 2007 and 2014. It was about time I went again.

The weather forecast was for clear, cold weather and I knew there would be some snow on the tops of the Snowdonia peaks. I was staying in Bangor and I reached the area in darkness the day before so I didn’t know exactly what to expect. I wasn’t to be disappointed. I set off from the car in a bitterly cold wind and walked along the A5 in the Ogwen Valley until I turned off at the visitor centre to make my way to Cwm Idwal. The last time I was here I was with Rufus, and we’d circumnavigated the lake with one of us paddling and splashing his way along the water’s edge and the other one, knowing his role, throwing stones. At one point Rufus had set off up the steep and winding steps that led into the Devil’s Kitchen route to Glyder Fawr. I’d had to stop him in the end as he was still recovering from a bout of Pancreatitis and I didn’t want him to over do things.

Today, I set off along the same route up into the narrow cleft in the sheer mountainside. From the lake, it’s very difficult to see the route and it looks as if ropes and climbing gear will be required. But close up there is a path amongst the jumble of rocks and boulders that have fallen from the cliffs, albeit one that fades in and out of clarity even as you are walking it. The steps from boulder to boulder are high and it makes for hard going as it’s difficult to get into a rhythm. This morning it was made harder by the ice that had formed where water was seeping onto the path and the verglas on the rocks , which was impossible to see. I only knew it was there when my boots failed to grip and I went flying. The first of three slips due to difficult conditions.

Behind me, Cwm Idwal and the lake slowly lit up and behind them, Pen yr Ole Wen shone brightly in the morning sun. Ahead, the shadows made spotting slippery rocks even harder. I plodded on slowly, straining to reach the next rock step and holding on it case it was icy. Around me, trickles of ice clung to rock faces and icicles threatened to drop as the sun began to melt them. Far below, I could hear the voices of walkers and climbers, mostly hidden by the twisting and confused path.

After what seemed like hours, but was just under and hour, I reached the first proper patch of snow. It was frost hardened and the steps of yesterday’s climbers provided good foot holds. Although I’d brought crampons with me, I hadn’t felt the need to use them as from the start point there seemed to be little snow on the mountain tops, and they were in the car. I carefully made my way across the snow and up to the dry stone wall that marks the end of the big steps and the transition to less steep inclines. Here there was more snow, which was easy to navigate and I was soon in the little cwm with the lake where I had planned to take a break and plan my route up onto the summit.

I sat and stocked up on calories, and the sun kept me warm as I scanned the side of the mountain looking for the path I’d used last time. I spotted a steep gully filled with scree and snow, which seemed the obvious path upwards and it was this that I made for to start the final ascent. The sun disappeared as I started and it went a little chilly. It was much steeper than I first thought and walking on scree was tiring. Some of it was frozen solid and this made progress a little better but every now and then, I’d step on a patch that had thawed and my footing would go. This section of the climb was just hard work without the rewards of new views and I found it very tough. It was difficult to find a stable spot to rest and so I tried to keep going to get it over and done with. As the slope began to ease, and as the sun popped back into view, I came across a large expanse of snow. It was too steep to walk safely on and I wished I’d brought the crampons. But I traversed to the right to an outcrop of rock and made my way along a snow free section until the slope eased off completely. Now all that was left was a short scrabble over rocky ground and the summit was mine.

These rocks, shattered by the repeated freezing and thawing of water in cracks, define the top of the Gylders. It’s an alien landscape of sharp, pointed crags in between which is a carpet of weathered stones. There was a thick frost of the rocks which made them treacherous but at least I could see the slippery patches and I was able to avoid them. To my right, Snowdon and Crib Goch stood out from the haze and to my left, beyond Glyder Fawr’s summit was Tryfan and Glyder Fach. I still had to be careful where I stepped but the summit is flat and it was pleasant walking in the bright, warm sunshine. Every now and then a wind would pick up but just as quickly it would drop again. I took my time walking between the towering crags, which all had snow piled up against them in deep drifts. Ahead, overlooking the Nameless Cwm, a long crescent of corniched snow overhung the vertical drop and I made sure to avoid going anywhere near it.

Without warning, a strong, cold Easterly wind started to blow and the top became much harsher. It was time to go back down. I followed roughly the route I’d taken up but avoided the steep gully by using the path I should have taken, which was longer but less steep and better underfoot. I managed to reach the cwm quickly and stopped to have a flask of soup to prepare me for the drop down through the Devil’s Kitchen again. By now there wwere lots of people making their way up and my descent was slowed by stopping to talk to people, to share the conditions on top and to generally chat about how fine a day it was. By the time I reached the path around the lake I was tired and aching but the worst of the descent was over. While I still had to be careful as the icy paths hadn’t thawed, I could spend more time enjoying the surroundings and appreciating how wonderful this place really is.

Just before I reached the main road, an RAF Hawk jet screamed over head as it negotiated the tight turn around Pen yr Ole Wen and headed off down the Nant Ffrancon valley towards Angelsey and its home. I trudged wearily back along the road and slumped into the car. It had been a long day. I’d been walking for more than 6 hours, covering 7.5 miles and climbing to just under 1000m.

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If at first you don’t succeed…

…wait two weeks and try again.

Yesterday I set out once more to try and catch the sunrise from the top of Pen y Fan. ‘You fool’, I hear you cry. Yes, well I hear that a lot and I’ve got used to it by now.

If I’m perfectly honest, I don’t really like climbing Pen y Fan. I love the feeling of getting to the top, but there are other hills and mountains that I prefer climbing as the routes are more interesting. I’m not training at the moment, so I climb for pleasure and for the opportunity to take photographs. Carreg Goch has become a favourite as the surrounding hills and valleys make wonderful subjects. Fan Brecheiniog remains my all time favourite; Llyn y Fan Fawr nestled beneath it is my happy place and the route up from Tafern y Garreg along Fan Hir is one of the best ridge walks I know.

So back to yesterday. I wasn’t climbing for pleasure as such. The goal was to reach Bwlch Duwynt by 8am for the sunrise. I trusted the weather forecast which told me that, unlike last time, the tops would be clear of cloud. I also anticipated some snow at the top which always makes for a classic winter mountain photograph. The journey to the car park was better than last time; I was the only one on the road and the conditions were much better. The temperature only dropped below zero as I dropped down onto the A470. I had the car park to myself and immediately I could see in the near darkness that there was plenty of snow on the hillside and some on the path.

Snow is easy to walk in. Unfortunately, this snow had thawed during the previous day and refrozen over night. As I picked my way carefully up the first part of the path I quickly found out that the patches of snow on the path were treacherously slippery. On went the head torch and I started to tread more carefully. It was darker than last time because there was high cloud overhead, hiding the pre-dawn sky. I wasn’t worried about the cloud ruining the day, but the icy snow was making the first part of the climb energy sapping. I couldn’t get a rhythm going and had to stop, side step and take longer strides to avoid the worst of it.

As the darkness slowly faded, and as my eyes got used to it, I saw that further up the path there snow was continuous on the path. Ideally, I’d be using crampons on this kind of ground. I don;t have crampons. It was going to be interesting.

I hit the thicker snow and found that while it was frozen, it hadn’t turned to ice. My feet broke through the icy crust and found grip underneath. Apart from the odd patch where ice had formed the walking got much safer, although the sensation of walking on a sand dune where your foot goes backwards as you push forwards still remained.

I lost all sense of time as I trudged on. Several times I looked behind, across to Fan Fawr the the hills beyond. Each time they were brighter and all the time I expected to see the first pink light of dawn highlighting their summits, letting me know that I had been too slow. But suddenly, the wind picked up and I knew I was nearing the bwlch. Sure enough, a few weary minutes later, I got to the shoulder of Corn Du and saw the whole of the Gwaun Taf in front. Apart from the bit where the sun would come up, which was obscured by a cloud. And Pen y Fan was missing!

A bitterly cold wind was blowing from behind so I made sure I had my back pack between me and the chill and I stood to see if I could judge when the sun would rise. I quickly realised there was little point in standing there as I’d only succeed in getting colder, and the cloud wasn’t going anywhere. So I turned to my left to make my way around the foot of Corn Du to Pen y Fan, which was slowly appearing from the mist. The rocks beneath my feet were clear of snow but thick with clear ice and this was by far the most dangerous bit of the climb so far. The wind threatened to catch the back pakc and unbalance me, the ice would stop me getting a grip and the steep drop ahead would ensure a swift descent.

Gingerly I made my way to where the route to Pen y Fan started. The path that is normally so clear and flat was nowhere to be seen beneath a featureless blanket of thick snow which sloped down the Corn Du and dropped steeply to Gwaun Taf on my right. Untouched snow, no footsteps. It was beautiful. I made sure I took photos before I spoiled the snow, then set off to try and follow the path.

I have an ice axe. I bought it when it was on sale, and after recommendations from a magazine review. I hope to use it winter climbing in Scotland or Nepal but I’ve never considered it necessary in the Brecon Beacons. And while I still wouldn’t take it with me, I felt at that point that it would have been useful in case I slipped. The snow here was deep and deeply frozen. Although not as slippery now, it was still difficult to walk on and not knowing where the slope started beneath made my first few steps quite tentative. But soon I figured out where the path lay and found myself on the more gentle slope leading to the summit of Pen y Fan. At this point I could see behind me the snow of the Craig Fan Ddu ridge turning pink as the new sun lit it. It was worth every chilly, slippery step.

On the summit, I was alone and at first enveloped in mist. This soon blew off and the views north and west were magnificent. This is always worth the effort of the climb and I spent a few minutes just enjoying. But it was too cold to linger and so after taking the photos I wanted, I set off back down to the snow covered path, passing another walker on the way. We chatted about the conditions and joked about the over crowding and then parted – two lone dots on a white landscape.

Coming down the same way I went up was easy to start with. The deeper snow provided better traction coming down and absorbed some of the impact so my knees didn’t hurt so much. But inevitably, just as I was passing another walker coming up, I slipped into a deep gully at the side of the path right up to my knee. I managed to struggle out and we both laughed as I told him not to come over as this was the deep end. I had hoped that the icy snow near the beginning of the path might have melted as the sun rose but it was as slippery as ever and I had to work hard to avoid the ice. Even parts of the path that weren’t covered in snow had frozen where the melt water had flowed. But I reached the car park unscathed and relatively intact. There were very few people there even 9.30.

This was my 53rd Pen y Fan ascent.

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Kitchenwatch 4 – When things come together

It’s called a living room, but that doesn’t mean you have to live in there all of the time. Both Rufus and I have struggled a little bit remaining in one room during kitchenwatch. We’ve had walks together and I had considered leaving him out in the garden while I went shopping. The threat of thunder storms and the need for me to be around some of the time as the builders discover more little legacies from the guys who built the kitchen extension meant I didn’t want to do that. So we’ve lived in the living room for most of the last 10 days.

Today, the builders were due back to finish off the fitting the bits and pieces, check the water and replace the fridge and washing machine. As we wouldn’t really be needed I decided we’d head off for a morning on the hills. The weather forecast was for a cooler morning which meant better conditions for both of us. So after making sure the builders had everything they needed, we set off.

The plan was to revisit the waterfalls on the hill above the River Tawe near Cerrig Duon stone circle. We set out from the car and there was a chilly breeze but we soon warmed up as we walked. It didn’t take long to climb the side of the hill on an old sheep trail. They’re always the best way to ascend a hill as sheep take the easiest route and we often follow their tracks for this reason. Today, in the cooler weather, Rufus was ranging far and wide, enjoying the freedom to investigate interesting aromas without me calling him back.

At the crest of the hill, we surprised some green sheep, their wool dyed to identify them. A few years ago I saw pink sheep, the red dye having run and faded over time and once I saw a flock of multi coloured sheep. There were reds, greens and blues and with the fading creating subtle differences in shade, the effect was surreal.

The sun had warmed the morning up as well and it was pleasant as we walked over the flat of the hill. We found the stream and followed it against the flow. I stopped to take photos of the waterfalls and Rufus waded and paddled and lapped at the fresh water. Suddenly, I realised we were fairly close to Llyn y Fan Fawr. This circuitous route had brought us close to the southern end of the lake and although we still couldn’t see the water, I knew from previous times (when I’d been lost in mist and had passed the lake without realising) exactly where I was. I took the executive decision to head for the lake. Rufus was already ahead and I knew that once he saw the lake there’d be no stopping him anyway. So off we went, a little further than I had planned. We’d done the climb and the going was flat with a few little ridges. On one of those ridges, I saw the water and Rufus charging towards it.

We sat on the bank of the lake for a few minutes and I threw stones for Rufus to chase or catch. He seemed to be doing well with plenty of energy and I was feeling good and over to my left was the path that led up to Fan Brecheiniog. It was very tempting to set off but I wasn’t sure as I hadn’t planned it and it was only a few weeks ago that Rufus was seriously ill. But all the time we’ve been walking this past two weeks he’s been strong and although his right knee is stiff when we get home, it’s never stopped him from charging out into the garden at the least excuse.

So we set off slowly up the path. It’s steep and rocky and I kept a careful eye on Rufus; as he was ahead of me it wasn’t hard. He was pulling away and at first I called him back to try and ease his pace. But he was happy, and eventually I let him go. It’s a short but sharp ascent and although I’ve done it many times, it’s not often I do it without at least one pause for breath… ahem… to take photographs. This time I managed to do it in one go. I think it was because I kept my pace slow and steady. At the top of the path, we stopped to chat to a trio of walkers also making their way up. Rufus was keen to get going so I left them behind and we set off for the final pull to the ridge.

I love the top of Fan Brecheiniog. It’s my favourite mountain in the Brecon Beacons national park. The views are stunning and on a day like today, they were all visible. The lake was a deep turquoise blue and clear enough that I could see the bottom of the lake around the banks. A breeze kept the sun’s heat at bay. We walked along the top with a sense of space and freedom that is one of the reasons I love it here. There were more people on the mountain today than I have ever seen in one go before. We passed a group of about 20 young walkers all chatting away; I overheard one say he loved this mountain because of the solitude and I chuckled at the irony. We passed two small spaniels and their owners and there was much wagging of tails as Rufus said hello.

At the far end, Foel Fawr, we sat and enjoyed the view from the cairn back along the way we’d come. Rufus was looking bright and still had energy to wander about but I didn’t want to push things, so we turned around and headed back down. I’m constantly on guard looking for little signs that his blood disorder is coming back to the point of paranoia but there was nothing. At the lakeside, we chased stones again and then set off on the direct route back to the car. Despite days of fine weather, it was still boggy underfoot and I struggled to find a fairly dry path through it all. Above us, two Red Kites wheeled and soared in the warm air. By the time we reached the river again, we were both starting to tire a little but as we neared the car, Rufus was still walking faster than me. He was glad to get onto the back seat and have a lie down, though.

The journey home was uneventful and every time I checked on Rufus, his eyes were shut or drooping. We got home just in time to speak to the builders. They had just finished and were clearing up. Everything that was planned to be done had been finished, apart from the wiring in of the oven, underfloor heating and sockets, which is due to be completed on Monday.

I have a kitchen!

Although I was tired from the walk, I managed to clear the living room of it’s temporary kitchen (kettle, toaster, sandwich toaster and water) and started to fill the cabinets. As there are so many more of them than I had before, I still haven’t filled them all and I’m still trying to decide where everything should go to make the most of the new layout. It’s all strange at the moment and I’m sure I’ll change my mind before the week is out. Rufus has indicated his approval by having his food and drink there.

There is still work to do to finish it all off. I will be having the gas fire and boiler replaced later this year and all the existing pipework runs through the kitchen, so that has been left for the time being. I haven’t decided what to do with the space by the window where the units used to be, but they left me offcuts of worktops which I can use to make a breakfast bar of sorts. And I have to decide on the tiles I want so that I can get the builders to come back and do those.

But I have a kitchen. Now all I need to do is learn to cook!

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Second snow

On the odd occasion that I looked out of the office window last week, all I could see was the white capped hills finally visible after weeks of rain, low cloud and darkness. Last week Rufus and I headed up to one of those hills and although we got snowed on, we had a great walk. I found some waterfalls I wanted to photograph and so we planned a return visit. With the weather forecast showing fine weather today, we set off before dawn to get to Foel Fawr before the crowds – it’s very popular with people sledging when there’s snow about.

I watched the temperature drop as we climbed along the hill road until it read -2 centigrade. Fortunately the road was clear of ice, although sheep and ponies had decided to stand on it rather than the snow either side. Eventually, we got to the quarry and a few yards later, the car park. The car park was frozen but as it had been churned up the previous day, there was plenty of grip for the tyres. We set off, carefully at first, but then more confident as the going underfoot became less slippery. Off the car park surface, the snow was thick and we left deep foot prints as we went. With no paths visible, we struck off towards the rocks of the quarry and hoped for the best. Rufus four paw drive meant he sailed over the snow but I found myself boot deep in unfrozen mud and at one point I nearly lost my balance as the marshy ground tried to stop me.

I was finding the going quite tough with the snow and I kept an eye on Rufus to see how he was coping. Better than me! He was bounding and sprinting all over the place, then stopping to sniff at some unmissable aroma. We were following a fox’s track at one point and he stopped so often that I left him behind. It was great to watch him run, bounce, and hop to catch up, with no sign of problems with his knee.

At the waterfall, there was a short but steep climb down and I kept a hand on Rufus’ collar to make sure he didn’t go too fast to stop at the edge. I stopped for 10 minutes at the waterfall but it was a little disappointing, and the treacherous conditions meant I didn’t fancy scrambling down any further to change the view point. Instead, after a few snapshots, we set off back up the hill, much steeper now and harder with the deep and slippery snow. The path we took last week was covered in snow and hidden but I set off in the general direction to climb up to one of the levels of the quarry. The route I took led along the slope and I had to dig the sides of my boots into the snow to stop me slipping down again. Rufus, making the most of his 4 paw drive, saw no problem as he kept level with me but several yards lower on the slope. Then he tried to get up to me.

The snow was so deep between us that every time he took a step, Rufus sank to his tummy in it. He was struggling to make any headway, so I dropped down and gave him a hand. Together we managed to get out of the deepest snow and Rufus was able to follow my footsteps until we got on firm ground again. Then he was off as if nothing had happened. It didn’t take us long to get back the car.

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First snow

Up at the crack of dawn this morning – which wasn’t hard as at the moment the sun rises around 8.20. But we were up before that and after a swift breakfast and a glance out of the window to see that all was well with the weather, we were off. With bad weather, I prefer to stay local so we don’t waste time travelling when we should be taking advantage of the dry conditions. Today, though, we headed north as the [prevailing weather was coming from the south. With the suggestion of heavy showers and possibility of thunder, we made our way towards Foel Fawr and Garreg Lwyd. No mountain today, but the hills surrounding the quarry would be ideal for some black and white photography I had in mind.

By the time we’d passed puffing cyclists on the long and winding hill climb of a road, I could see a light dusting of snow at our destination and the temperature gauge in the car was dropping towards the zero centigrade mark. Slush covered the road and for a few minutes I missed my Freelander. By the time we got to the car park, the sleet had started and we spent 10 minutes sitting out the snow shower, watching the black clouds roll over and blot out the last of the blue sky. But there were no rumbles of thunder and as the shower passed, we set off towards the quarry workings.

The ground was white underfoot and the snow thick enough to start to collect in Rufus’ paws. It balls on his pads if I’m not careful but I kept an eye on him and he was having no trouble as he sped off. I was taking my time and taking some photos and he was already bored. I wished I’d brought my walking gear rather than just the camera bag as the morning was turning into a lovely one despite the clouds around. But instead, I decided to use this as a reconnaissance trip for more photography, as there were several waterfalls and outcrops of rock that would make for good subjects in early morning light.

At one point, Rufus got so fed up with waiting for me that he sat between me and the waterfall I was taking pictures of and refused to move until he’d had a treat. So I packed the camera away and we walked on for a bit until the snow started again. It was light at first but got heavier and when I looked up, the tops of the hills had disappeared beneath a low cloud go snow. Not prepared for really bad weather, it was time to turn back. We squelched and squished our way back over bog and little streams until we reached the little car park and the shelter of the car.

I’ve always liked this location but I find it hard to make anything of it photographically. It really does benefit from unusual weather conditions; we’ve been here a number of times when there has been thick snow on the ground, and the lighting conditions make a huge difference. I’m looking forward to getting back there again.

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Return of the sheep

A crisp and clear morning, the last day of the festive holiday and a hound that knows what he wants. All these meant only one thing; a morning on the hills.

This time last year (expect more of that phrase in the coming weeks) I was into the last phase of training for my trek. One of my favourite routes was up and over Moel Feity before dropping down to the source of the River Tawe. From there, I would climb back up to Llyn y Fan Fawr and on to Fan Brecheiniog. This morning I decided to take the same route, although we would stop short of Fan Brecheiniog itself.

We set off from the car and immediately, my boots were soaked. Yesterday’s rain was still lying on the ground in great puddles, small streams and marsh. We splashed our way around and up the side of Moel Feity, spiralling along sheep paths in the cold wind until we reached the flat top. The wind blew even stronger and colder but it was great to be on a familiar hilltop again.

We crossed westward to the memorial to the crashed US Navy Liberator and spent a few moments tidying up before heading on towards Llyn y Fan Fawr. The top of Moel Feity has a number of tracks, some made by quad bikes, some made by sheep. But we decided to make out own to avoid the worst of the water. But it was an impossible task, so eventually I just accepted that I’d get wet. Rufus loves the water anyway and it never bothers him. He criss crossed my path, checking out the scents and aromas.

We dropped off the hill and down to the young River Tawe, which was flowing healthily this morning. Then it was another climb up to the lake through even more boggy ground until we crested a small mound to find the clear blue water ahead. Rufus was off like a shot and headed straight to the spot we used to stop and rest at during the training last year. The lake was full after the rain and it was only just possible to sit on the rocks.

Little waves covered the surface of the water and as eddy’s of wind spun off the steep side of Fan Brecheiniog, they created moving patterns on the surface of the water. The sun shone on the lake and high above us I could hear the echo of two walkers shouting to each other as they traversed the ridge to Fan Foel.

We spent a short time taking in the view and enjoying the solitude before reluctantly leaving for the dry comfort of the car.

The route down was easier, but wetter, if that was possible. Every tuft of grass seemed to conceal a small pool. As we passed through patches of reeds, I could only tell where Rufus was by the splash of this paws in the water. We crossed the Tawe a little further down the hill and although it was only 18 inches or so wide, it was deep and flowing fast even here. On the opposite bank there were several paths visible in the distance on the side of Moel Fiety. I knew from experience that each contoured around the hill at different heights. But which one to take?

Ultimately, it wouldn’t matter as they all led to the general vicinity of the car. Of course, I picked the only one that faded out after a hundred yards and turned into a marsh. The last mile was splashed and squelched, although Rufus seemed to avoid the worst of it.

We popped over a small ridge to find several wild horses sheltering from the wind. Both Rufus, I and the horses were surprised and for a few moments  we stood and stared at each other. The horses remained calm, Rufus came back to me to see what I wanted him to do and we walked past them with little disturbance.

With the car in sight, we came across a small flock of sheep. Their winter coats made them look much larger than normal and they all looked up as one to see what we were. I put Rufus on the lead and we slowly walked past. When I turned to look at them again, they were all following us. It was an odd thing to see as sheep usually head in the opposite direction to us. But for about a minute, they were content to tag along, almost within touching distance. At any moment, I expected a lunge from them as they sought to steal Rufus’ treats.

But we managed to escape their evil clutches, and got to the car in one piece.

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