Friday - Arriving

The party converged on the Forestry Commission campsite at Beddgelert on Friday afternoon and evening, with contingents coming from Hampshire, Liverpool and Birmingham. It's not the friendliest campsite, and is far from the cheapest, owing to their policy of charging (a lot) for each tent, even if it has just one person in it. Shan't stay there again.

Frans arrived from Liverpool just as Alice and I were scouting around for a good spot (having already got lost INSIDE the campsite - not a great omen!). We settled on a nice flat bit by the river, which gave the site a nice gentle gurgly sounddrop (or an infernal din as Pete later thought!). Tents pitched we walked into town for dinner and a beer or two in the pub, before walking back in the dark. Patrick's LandChallengerIIDiscoTankRover rolled into the campsite at about 2230, and we watched as Patrick, Pete and Roland struggled in the dark to put tents up, while we sipped coffee and whisky and offered encouragement!

Saturday - Moel Hebog

Up earlyish for a brew and then we got the big blue tent up. This, borrowed from Alice's Rangers Group, was a godsend in wet wild Wales. Two parties soon assembled. Patrick, Pete and Ro went off to climb in Llanberis Pass, while Alice, Frans and I got ourselves ready to climb Moel Hebog, which loomed over the campsite, presenting us its sheer cliff face, which we would bypass to the left. (Strangely the OS map shows a right of way that goes straight up the face! See discussion of OS v Harvey maps!) The weather was dry with occasional glimpses of blue sky, but it was very windy and the tops were still bathed in cloud as we set off down the road, through the workings for the soon to be re-opened railway and then onto the hill proper. On the way up we met a "Volunteer" Ranger, who was paid to wander the hills, looking out for problems and generally keeping an eye on things. I want that job! We also found a chunk of rock with large quartz crystals growing out of it, which is now sitting in my study where it glints in the morning sunlight. On the way up there was a delightful little grassy terrace, perched high above the valley and looking across at the Snowdon massif. Maybe I'll go and camp there some summer night!

After a stiff climb the slope eased and gave one of those "Wow!" moments as we looked over the ridge to the hills and sea beyond. From the ridge it is a short walk to the summit, where there was another Wow moment as the horizon opened and the sea was spread before us, sun glinting between a patchwork of cloud shadows, cloudbase just above our heads and the whole welsh coast disappearing into the distance. It was very windy at the top, and we soon retreated down the north ridge - a steep descent down to Bwlch Meillionen. An obvious break in the ridge, Bwlch Meillionen must be an ancient pass, trodden for hundreds or thousands of years by farmers, traders, workers and travelers. As we neared the bottom we stopped for a bite of lunch, and looked across at Moel yr Ogof, and tried to spy Owain Glyndwr's cave. We had thought about going up there to look for it, but decided to head on back to the campsite.

From the pass we descended through the xylomess of recently cut forest, noticing exceptionally tall Silver Birches, that must have grown amongst the dark pines, and stretched themselves to reach the sun, but were now left spindlynaked and unprotected from the elements. Some had already succumbed to the wild welsh winds and lay across the steep stream valley. Dropping further we passed the farm at Meillionen, where we were accosted by the owner, and expected a GOML* moment, but he turned out to be very friendly, and explained that the footpath had been re-routed, but we could get back on track by crossing to the far corner of the field. We were slightly intimidated by the hugehorned highland cattle standing between us and our destination, but we strode across (Frans and I pretending not to be frightened by these massive throwbacks to prehistory) ..... and they completely ignored us!

After dropping through the woods, and successfully climbing new fences that had been put up by the new railway track we dropped into the campsite for a well deserved brew.
 

Patrick and team arrived back shortly after us, after a successful gear shopping trip, shortly followed by Sophie, with Dave and Sim. We all settled into the big blue tent for an evening of chat, communal cooking and drinking. On numerous stoves we cooked up pasta and couscous, and mixed them with anything that came to hand, including Tuna and some rather slimy looking ham from a tin (which was nonetheless eaten up by the ravenous hordes. All this was washed down with beer and wine, and later whisky as we worked up a nice fug in the tent, ever accompanied by the sound of rain and wind outside. Sophie, Dave and Sim decided to stay the night in the big blue, despite the fact that Sophie, ever well prepared, hadn't got a sleeping bag! A spare was rapidly acquired and supplied and we all drifted off to our respective tents, and left them to the blue cathedral.

Sunday - Y Garn Ridge

Sunday dawned threatening and blustery, but improved as the coffee and bacon sandwich factory got into action in the big tent. Patrick opted to go off for a day on Tryfan with the Ninjas (as the impossibly youthful Sophie, Dave and Sim had been christened). The rest of us (Me, Alice, Frans, Roland (who'd had enough of climbing!) and Pete) went off to walk the ridge from Y Garn southward.

The walk took us up the valley, following the old railway, here now fitted with shiny (but not very straight!) new rails. Contouring along the edge of the valley we had fine views across to the Snowdon foothills. We soon found the path leading straight up the slopes of Y Garn. In all my trips up Snowdon, I had often looked across to the ridge to the West. While walking the Journey for the Wild in the summer I had realised that it was about time I actually went up there, and it was good to be finally climbing these hills that I had looked at so often over so many years.

After a steep ascent, which passed a very artistic cairn/rock sculpture, the slope eased and we made it to the windy summit. A brief pause for photos, and we set off south along the ridge finding a sheltered spot by a wall for lunch and a brew. The ridge from there is walkable, but rather a knife-edge. In deference to the strong and gusty wind, we opted for a traverse across a large area of boulder scree which was a fun challenge (well I thought it was - the swearing from the others may indicate contrary views!). Once across we gained a level path across the steep grassy slope, which led us to the col between Mynydd Drws Y Coed and Trum y Ddysgl, and so on to the long descent ridge down to Bwlch y Ddwy-elor. Here we turned right and followed the valley, pausing for an exploration of the old mine workings in Cwm Trwsgl, before turnng East again up over Bwlch Cwm Trwsgl, and the path down through the forest to the campsite.

Dusk was gathering as we arrived, and found a happy but rather frazzled Patrick, full of tales of being dragged up rocks and ridges by fast moving Ninjas! We decided we deserved a cooked supper, so after saying goodbye to Frans, who set off for home, we piled into my car and headed for the Goat in Beddgelert. After a slap up supper and a beer or two before returning to the campsite for a well deserved sleep.

Monday - Pete's!

Monday dawned drizzly and grey, and as we got the wet tents down we pondered what to do. The weather looked like climbing would be out of the question, and in true climber style, we opted for breakfast at Pete's! The drive round to Llanberis continued to be grey, but brightened as we dropped down the Pass. By the time we got to Pete's it was looking pretty good, and we realised that if we'd made an early start we could have managed to walk up something big! Alas, too late! So we decided to make an early break for home, said our goodbyes and drove out of the mountains for Birmingham and Hampshire.

Another great weekend. Great people, great walking and just great fun.

* GOML - "Git Orff Moi Laaand!!!" (Back)