Snowdon: the last hurrah!
The fun began once I transferred to the Welsh rail system at Crewe. Announcements, station names, and signs were now in Welsh, which is a consonant-rich language, to say the least! One of the sayings that entered into the family lexicon during our honeymoon when I was last in Wales, is “dim o gwbl”. I came across the sign pictured, and immediately texted it to Rob in a fit of nostalgia. It doesn’t mean anything important, but when we first encountered it in 1992, there was no English translation. It’s nice to know that we translated correctly.
I had an excellent plan to travel one extra stop to the Isle of Anglesey so that I could set foot in a town I learned about (and learned to pronounce its name!) as a child. I made a short video of my attempt at pronounciation – I think I did a fair job, but you’ll have to ask me to hear that! The town, known as LLanfairPG for short, and Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch in full, holds the Guinness world record for the longest town name, and like most town names like Stratford-upon-Avon or Newark-on-Trent, the name refers to local geography (the rivers Avon and Trent in those examples). Well, LlanfairPG goes one step further. Check out the English translation on the photo. I’m a bit intrigued by the “fierce whirlpool” but did not see any evidence of such when I was traveling over the bridge and back.
Four trains and two buses later, including my nostalgic detour, I was in Llanberis, ready for a good dinner and my Snowdon summit the next day. Dinner was a splurge of roast lamb, roasted veg, a nice cab and Welsh cheese board for dessert. Mmmm.
Saturday’s weather looked promising, with clear skies in the forecast and temperatures somewhat below freezing at the top. There are many routes to the top, some quite tame and others very dangerous. I chose to climb up the Miners Track, a moderate route starting at the Pen-Y-Pas trailhead, and descend along the Llanberis Path, which roughly paralleled the Snowdon Mountain Railway (yes, there’s a train to the top, but what’s the fun in that??)
I took an early bus to the trailhead. Only two of us got on at the stop outside the BnB, and about 30 more embarked at the next stop at a large parking area. The trailhead was even busier with parking only by advance reservation. I saw about 80% of people heading up the Pyg Track, which is a steady climb to the stop. As few chose the Miners Track, I felt happy with my plan. The first couple of miles were flat and gently inclining, working up to and around beautiful glacial lakes called cirques. I could see the line of hikers up on the Pyg Track along the hillside above and was pleased with the relative solitude of my chosen path. Soon, however, began a steep climb and scramble to join with the upper track. From here, it climbed steadily until reaching the arête (ridge line).
When I hike, I have learned to identify my own signs of fatigue, learning from experience when it’s time to sit down for a rest and a bite to eat. The trigger is not that I begin to feel tired, it is recognizing that I am beginning to catch my toe and stumble as my legs tire. This can be very dangerous on steep rocky trails, so I am quick to heed the signs. Besides, what nicer view could I ask for while replacing some electrolytes?
Up to now winds were calm and skies were clear. Views were exceptional! As I climbed, clouds moved in and covered the summit. Upon cresting the ridge line conditions were very different. A steady cold wind and fog prompted nearly all walkers, me included, to stop and add a layer. There were a few holdouts in shorts and windbreakers and one rather large lad clad in only his shorts and boots climbing up in grim determination to reach the top. Quite the sight.
Here it was more crowded for the last push to the summit, and about 100 ft from the summit I came across a queue. Yes, the orderly English were willing to queue for an hour or more to touch the monument at the summit. I elected to skirt the top and took my final photo about 10 ft below the top rather than wait in the queue (but you can see the summit over my shoulder in the photo below). Purists may say I didn’t really summit Snowdon, but I’m ok with that.
I feel the walk down the Llanberis Path, even though touted as the easiest climb, was quite a difficult descent as there was a lot of loose roll-y rock and the track was steep enough that each step was a gamble with gravity. Still, I think climbing back down the Miners Track would have been treacherous with the steep grade and little to slow you down if you slipped, so Llanberis Path it was. Besides, it was fun to watch the train and see the town of Llanberis get closer and closer. I’ve developed a downhill running/walking technique over the years, and I put it to good use this day – here’s what I do: first I squat a bit, lowering my center of gravity, and I lean forward just a bit, and tighten my core. Next, I shorten my strides and keep both legs bent at all times. This reduces the pounding on the knees and actually increases pace when running downhill, but is pretty hard on the quads if kept up for long. It was about 2:30 hrs to the top, and about the same, perhaps a little more coming back down, and lo and behold, as I was approaching the town, I came across an ideally located pub. Of course, my legs needed the rest so I elected to stop for a pint of Snowdon Ale and some Welsh Cakes.
Now, I grew up eating Welsh Cakes and have cooked them a time or two myself. But I have never, EVER, encountered them served slathered in jam and cream. And not even clotted cream at that (insert mildly horrified expletive here). A Welsh Cake is a round, soft, fried pastry that can be described as a marriage between a pancake and a currant biscuit. The best way to eat Welsh Cakes is fried in butter, hot off the griddle, with a sprinkle of granulated sugar. Dare I say that I’m still of this opinion even after my Snowdon authentic Welsh Cake experience.
I finished the day with a tour of the Welsh slate museum - really interesting history and home of Britain’s largest water wheel. Many slate mines dot the landscape, and they are really obvious, at least the ones where the aspect of the hillside and the orientation of the slate “vein” as they called it (though it really was just bedding) permit surface mining. At the museum site, when it was part of an operating mine, all of the equipment in the workshop was powered via the water wheel which turned a central axle that ran through all of the buildings. To this, belts were attached which provided power to the various saws and other machines in the shop. Ingenious!
I followed the museum visit with a short walk to a castle ruin and more local food… a good curry tonight.
As this was to be my final hiking weekend of the semester, I reminisced a bit about the places I have been, including some statistics on miles walked/vertical gain. Interestingly, the Lake District hike at the end of March had so many ups and downs (remember those 10 Wainwrights?) that I climbed a record 477 stories that day. In comparison, Snowdon was less than half that at a mere 212 stories. It’s not that Snowdon’s summit was at a lower elevation, or that the relief was that much different, in fact, both hikes had roughly the same relief, it was simply the relentless and continuous climb up Snowdon that made the difference.
