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NMC Charity Event

41 Snowdonian 2500 footers

September 2003 in aid of Mary Ann Evans Hospice

THE CARNEDDAU 20TH SEPTEMEBER 2003

This is the story for two walkers taking part in this sponsored walk; David and Steve (me).

As we wanted a bit of a challenge, we were keen to take on the whole of the Carneddau; not in three walks, as had been suggested when the initial plans were made, but in one foul swoop. And that is what we set out to do.

At five-fifty, an unearthly time in the morning (Yes, you heard it here first... Steve got up in the morning!), David and I were not seen heading away from the A5 towards our first summit. It was dark and we used the map and torches to try and locate the paths that would take us up to Pen Llithrig y Wrach. After a nights rain, neither of us had slept that well and I must admit, I was regretting that third pint of Bass in the pub the previous evening. The long haul upwards had me chasing after David, wondering whether he would walk at that pace all day, towing me behind. David reached the summit cairn a few minutes before me, I caught him up and we stopped for something to eat before descending and re-ascending towards our next objective; it was seven-twenty, now light enough to see Pen yr Helgi Du and to have a good view down to the reservoir. At eight-eleven we stood on our second peak.

David was still too fit for my liking, my time lag was reducing but I could only get in front of him on the down hill bits; it was going to be one of those days! Moving on towards Carnedd Llewelyn, peak number three , over the grade 1 scramble of Bwlch Eryl Farchog; nice and quickly downwards and that long plod up to the summit of the highest the Carneddau has to offer. I was actually starting to feel a bit fitter; David and I arrived at the same time and it didn't seem too punishing a climb any more; second had arrived. We were sat in the shelter ring at nine-fifteen and opening our sandwiches, happy that the next few hills would be the easier ones.

It's a long descent from Llewelyn down a rock strewn slope,  as slippery as a slippy thing. Fortunately the re-ascent to Foel Grach is slight; we went straight over the top and down the other side to stand in front of the shelter for a while, eat a mars bar then get moving into the mizzle that prevented us from knowing whether to keep our coats on or off; It was nine- fifty-five. Estimating the next hill to be half an hour away we were pleased to climb the summit rocks of Garnedd Uchaf at ten-twenty; at last I can say that I wasn't lagging behind anymore. Onwards to Foel Fras, a journey that took the best part of ten minutes and we were blazing through them. Peak number six, the last peak in a Welsh 3000 challenge, but we weren't half way yet!

I remember well the last time I  walked up the side of Drum; It was relentless, an horrific descent down wet grass that seemed never to end, steeper at the bottom than at the top, and then a long hike for tired bodies up the flank of the hill towards the summit. That time, we didn't have to actually touch the summit cairn; this time we would. Electing to leave our rucksacks behind a rock for retrieval on the way back that way (We had no choice but to partly climb Foel Fras again), we set off after a long swig of liquid, unburdened at last for a few fleet moments. Cloud was tipping over the col as we dropped in height and we hoped we would find our rucksacks again. It didn't take us too long to reach the top of Drum, half way at last and still only eleven-sixteen. Back at the hiding place rocks we sat and ate some food before continuing onto Llwytmor.

Llwytmor was hard, very hard. Cross country walking, trying not to lose height and attempting to gain a little to the col that separates Llwytmore from Foel Fras. There is no easy way and it's a rarely trodden route. For a while I felt good, strong; but that all changed as we started to ascend; my legs turned to jelly, all strength faded and I was struggling to make twenty steps between breathers. David strode ahead, I indicated that I would meet him at the top by shouting after him. On the summit, all I could see was David's rucksack, he'd gone to investigate a second top that might actually have been the proper summit; fortunately it wasn't. David returned and I realised why I felt so lifeless; I had achieved four hills on one mars bar and that had definitely been used up energy wise. We decided that we would do well to keep on top of the food intake, taking in nourishment on every summit so as the energy it provided might be available for each subsequent ascent.

Hill number nine, Bera Mawr, was miles away. A long traverse of Cwm yr Afon Goch led us to a water supply half way round, one that I had been relying upon having only carried two litres of home made isotonic drink. I drained what I had left of the orange down my throat and filled up my bottle as high up the hill as I could go. At one-forty-six we managed to climb upon the rock summit of Mawr; twenty-four minutes later we were atop Bera Bach.

In thick cloud we started the really long walk back to Foel Grach and the summit shelter. It seemed a lot further now that our view of anything tangible had melted away. We were slowing down definitely, fantasising about drink (cold cider) and food, but still we trudged on. At the shelter we stopped and entered to get out of the strong westerly wind that carried and spat rain. After a few minutes, sat in the doorway of the hut, we moved on, around the summit cairn of Foel Grach a little to far. For a while we had lost the path, realising quite quickly, I took a compass bearing of a course that would intersect the track and we headed across country again. It wasn't too long before we were back on the path, heading once again towards Carnedd Llewelyn. This time we would skirt the summit to the right and at a certain point we would head down to the col leading up to Yr Elen. We had to be precise here, we were walking in cloud and we didn't want to drop down too early for fear of ending up on very steep ground; we also didn't want to miss the col and have to retrace our steps. I thought I recognised a feature of the Carnedd at one point but we continued for about thirty metres more looking for a crossing path, we never found it so we stopped. Deciding that, with nothing to take a bearing off, being tired and probably a little punchy, I switched on the GPS and waited for a reading. It affirmed my suspicion that we had crossed the path we wanted, so we backed up a little and headed down towards the col, eventually stumbling directly onto the path.

Part the way up Yr Elen David stopped, he needed food, his energy level had subsided big time. We stayed on the path and waited for a few minutes while he tried to eat; struggled to eat would be a better description; he was having problems digesting his food and I think he realised that although he would do this hill and two more, necessary to get off the mountains, he didn't relish the idea of doing Foel Meirch, the hill that has a thousand foot drop then climb, and a hill that it just seems so ridiculous that it is indeed over 2500 feet. We ascended Yr Elen together, touching both edge tops for good measure. On the way down, back to the col, it was decided that one of us had to do the outlier, we couldn't fail on just that one peak; there was only one man for the job; me! David would slow his pace towards Carnedd Dafydd and I would try and race ahead. If he stopped in the summit ring shelter for a while before heading off towards Pen yr Ole Wen, I would hopefully not be too far behind.

Halfway up Carnedd Dafydd I stopped to eat my one remaining samosa, hopeful that the energy would release in time for a quick descent to Foel Meirch. All I had left to eat was a bar of 70% cocoa chocolate, bloody disgusting to taste but instant energy surges albeit for a limited time, it would get me back up the hill I thought. At six-ten I summited Dafydd, David at six-twenty; I didn't stop, I  raced down through the rock band towards Foel Meirch, I felt quite good and even better that I realised the dangerous ground and did all I could to make my descent safe and sure. David stayed on the Dafydd summit for ten minutes before heading off slowly towards Pen yr Ole Wen. I attained my target and opened the chocolate then setting my compass I headed towards the last hill, hill number fourteen. There was a nice recognisable dip in the ridge that I could aim for so I could put the compass away but it was a cross country slog and a half. Another piece of choccy passed my lips and I concentrated on keeping it against the roof of my mouth in hope that the energy release would be quicker. David reached the last hill at seven o'clock and I got there twenty minutes later, spurred on over those last few metres by a sunset in the west and a double rainbow in the east, perfect in every way, it was like a chequered flag.

Some chocolate each then the long, steep descent to the A5; the quickest way possible. We had ummed and arred over this route but in the end it was the only option, it's steep, dangerous, and there are scramble sections, but it is the fastest way; we would take our time, rest often and try to keep left of the steeper parts. Darkness came quickly and we weren't even a quarter of the way; with headlamps on we threaded our way onwards; more chocolate, a break where I managed a cigarette, a dampened cigarette. At a certain point I recognised a rock structure we passed on the right, I told David that we had now passed the hardest part of the descent, the vertical part, without even finding it to try and avoid. It spurred us on, another rest and we were getting towards the lights on the A5, eventually we could hear the waterfall race at the bottom and we headed for it knowing that the exit onto the road is right next to it. One final bit of route adjustment, we had to skirt rightwards on steep rock to attain the path and then it was all over. The stars were out in their billions, the hill behind us just a shadow of foreboding, Julie and Louise were waiting in the car park, an isotonic drink each, a cigarette and then on to the pub, chauffeured the way we should be.

No food, It was nine-thirty when we got to the car, one pint only and a packet of crisps; back at the campsite a tot of Jura and a natter with a few of the others who were walking that day, then off to bed; glad to be done:

Steve Ward

CADAIR IDRIS AND THE ARANS 19^th-20^th September 2003

As part of the sponsored weekend Colin and Andrew were allocated Cadair and the Arans with the plan of bagging them on Friday and Saturday and driving up to meet the rest of the team at Capel Curig on Saturday evening.

 Friday morning at Minfford was miserable.  The car park was closed as workmen were digging things up and it was raining.  Luckily the campsite down the road allowed us to park, for a fee, so we kitted up and set off into the drizzle.  Higher up we entered the mist but eventually reached our first target of Craig Cwm Amarch after a couple of hours.

Descending to the col we then contoured Cadair on the left and headed for Cwfrwy.  With mist and steady rain this was no place to linger so it was off to Cadair summit and the shelter.  We settled in with two sheep in the far corner seemingly not too worried about our presence and unusually not after our grub.  Back outside in the mist and rain we eventually located the cliffs and followed the rim to our final top of the day Mynydd Moel where yippee it stopped raining for the first time.

Taking a compass bearing we descended grass slopes locating the path lower down and coming out of the mist to get the first views for some hours.  As we approached the car it began to rain so we got wet all over again.

 The next day we set off for Cwm Cywarch where it was fine and clear with high cloud.  Ascending the path on the south side of Hengwm we then contoured Drysgol to the lake of Creiglyn Dyfi where it began to cloud over.  Ascending to the first top of Erwy Ddafad-ddu we were well in the mist and it was drizzling as well. 

Aran Benllyn was out on a limb so we headed off to gather it in.  There was no particular reason to linger on the summit so we returned along the ridge and set off for Aran Fawddwy where things certainly hadn’t improved.  It was wet, breezy and misty so we moved on purposefully for Glasgwm.

At the head of Cwm Cywarch the mist had cleared and we could see the 200 metre ascent in front of us.  At the top of Glasgwm there were good views over to Cadair and to the Rhinogs through broken cloud, but as time was getting on we descended to find the zigzag path to the car far below.  We reached the car at 6.45pm damp and sticky.  Well at least I was - Andrew may prefer to speak for himself.

 On the drive to Capel it rained heavily and we began to wonder about the fun we would have pitching the tent.  After a meal en route we found the others in the pub and even the tent went up easily enough as it had stopped raining.  In the morning we lazed about as all the mountains had been achieved, or were about to be.  Definitely the time for Andrew to get the Kelly Kettle out and amaze all who have not seen this wonder before.  The highlight to any camping weekend.

Colin Green

PENROS ISAF BOTHY 19^th-20^th September 2003

 As our contribution towards the sponsored weekend climbing the mountains of Snowdonia over 2,500ft, Colin and Andrew were allocated Cadair Idris and the Arans.  Accommodation for the night was to be Penros Isaf bothy which is in the forest to the north of Dolgellau.  Having never been there before, we were not quite sure what to expect, or the best way to access the bothy through the forest.  The Forestry Commission recommended Ganllwyd as the starting point, but time was getting on and the last thing we wanted was to be floundering through the forest in the dark.  Consequently we parked at the nearest point of access we could locate on a minor road with only about a 15 minute walk in.

 So, we sallied forth in the rain protecting our dry wood kindling to the best of our ability and made our way in the general direction of Penros.  As we approached, the building was dark, but there was smoke coming from the chimney so there was a resident.  Entering the bothy a bearded bloke appeared through the gloom as we dumped our stuff all over his patch and cleared part of the table for our food. 

 The fire in the stove was an encouraging sign as was the state of the bothy with its stone floor and three upstairs rooms.

Making an effort to be sociable I said, “I’m Colin and this is Andrew.”

“My name is Simon,” he replied, “but everybody calls me Axe.”

Right, I thought, we’re going to spend the night in a forest bothy with a bloke called Axe. 

I think we both did well to avoid a long pause here and we chatted as we set about lighting some candles which Axe said he never used.

“I’ve been here for three and a half weeks,” Axe said.  He certainly looked like he had too.

Settling in, we dumped our wood near the fire, which Axe was pleased to see, dried off, changed and put our stuff in the room above.  The next task was to generate a bit more heat out of the fire and get a brew followed by some food.  After we had plied Axe with some coffee he began to chat and his tale began to emerge.

 Now not that I’m one to gossip…...but when you’re married to a Londoner and have a daughter used to city life, taking them to Penros Isaf bothy in a broken down car in the night, and driving the forest roads without lights, may not be the best way to show the ladies a good time.  Apparently, on seeing their home for the night the ladies both screamed and needed to be carried to the threshold for fear of getting muddy feet or something.  Hence we might now understand the reason why a man might be living here semi-regularly, chilling out.

 I learned a thing or two about official and unofficial bothies from Axe and was left in no doubt that the information gleaned was gained from numerous overnight stays.  Penros was probably a favourite because of the plentiful supply of fuel in the forest, the earth loo less than 100 metres away and Axe’s water supply up the hill.  Personally I resisted using his water but Andrew appeared to survive the experience.

 When it was time to turn in, Axe took up his usual spot in front of the fire protected from the stone floor by layers of newspaper, while myself and Andrew used the wooden floor of the upstairs bedroom.  The combined affect of Axe’s ghost story and spending the night in a remote spot with a bloke called Axe, meant that a chair was propped up against our bedroom door.  All unnecessary, as we clearly lived to tell the tale.  And in the morning when we emerged at 7am that man Axe had the fire going too.

 We then heard the tale about his motorbike in the in the back shed with the flat tyre.  Needless to say Andrew had the means to pump it up back at the car which would save Axe the seven mile walk to Dolgellau with a wheel on his back.  Sadly it didn’t pump up but we did take him to town so he could get it done.  However, he would have to walk all the way back-uphill.

 After we left him we discovered that we had both been intrigued as to how he had come to be known as Axe, but neither of us had quite plucked up the courage to ask, perhaps for fear of the answer.  I was also a tad surprised when Andrew donated his axe to Axe.  So if you find yourself at Penros Isaf bothy be aware that Axe really does have – an axe!