Easter

With Easter looming large on the horizon my one aim is to decamp and head for the hills. With yet another hike in rail fares there was no way I could afford train travel. To my annoyance and surprise even coach fares have substantially risen. My coach ticket has cost me an extra four pounds in comparison to the same journey I did earlier in the year.
For convenience it will be the Cairngorms once more. My aim is to avoid the main routes and head in to some of the more obscure corries and explore some of the hidden gems of the Cairngorm area. April in those regions can still be in the grip of winter. Looking at the current mountain weather information, there is still snow high up with snow showers possible. Over the easter week thing are looking unsettled so I shall just have to play it by ear. My light ice axe will be taken, even if it looks daft carrying it. Also, rather than take full crampons, my little used Katoolas will be in the rucksack.
On a slightly different note, I have bookmarked an interesting website. Trail Testers, http://www.trailtesters.co.uk/. They actually have nothing to do with with trail magazine. They are a small, independant group of people who trial gear and film it in action, as it where, which is then posted out on U tube. From the information I have picked up they will be going live on the 20th of April. Currently I have heard they have been trialling the new SATMAP gps system, the New Zealand based Aarn Natural Balance pack, the spot system and several other goodies. One of the North Face tents is also featured. Http://www.trailtesters.co.uk/tnffortess23.htms. Outdoor Magic mentioned the Aarn pack a while back and then everything went silent. It is an intersting concept and I shall be watching with interest. It makes a change for a small independant group to be gear testing so all you gear freaks out there you have yet another slant on all those shiny goodies that we regularly drool over.

Questions and answers

Over the last week I was in the depths of Wales.There are a few folk I know in various parts of Wales, these people though wish to remain anonymous and in respect of their privacy I remain vague as to where I actually was and with some details. It was a chance to pick up again on some of my old gardening skills, doing a spot of digging, weeding and helping set up a poly tunnel. If I am to do more of the same I really must invest in gardening gloves, having broken three finger nails. It was a welcome change to be out in the country once again. Lambing time was in full swing, the cry of young lambs echoing across the fields. Trees where in bud, as where the daffodils. Birds clustered around bird feeders, feeding hungrily building up strength before starting rearing their young. Early bumble bees where out and about too.

It was a pleasure too to be allowed to feed the horses and livestock. A heavily pregnant mare having a mad canter across the field, hooves drumming, tail and head high, just for the joy of it, spring fever.

We went for walks around the local area enjoying some unusually warm spring weather. over the week I was staying in a caravan and sharing delicious meals in the main house. In my attempts to move from the London area, caravans have been one alternative I have considered. At least now I have some idea of the size I would require. Insulating and providing heating could pose problems; although with heating a wood burning stove could be the answer there. The cost of actually siting a caravan could prove expensive. Electricity is not a worry, enough could be provided from a small wind turbine. As someone who uses the net quite frequently I could foresee problems in that direction. yes, I know there are wi fi connections and the like but they are not available in all areas; satellite hook ups are prohibitively expensive and beyond my price range. it has been surprising how difficult it is to actually rent a cheap property in rural areas. Predominately though I have been focusing on Scotland.

We managed to get out and head up to the Berwyns and have a walk up and around the Pistyll Rhaeadr falls. Good weather had brought scores of people out for the day and the footpaths where busy. The weather through the week had been very good and it was not until Monday that it changed to colder, wet and blustery conditions.

A few days of not a lot

snow bank, Lairig ghru

heading in to the Lairig Ghru

Snow banks Cairngorms

Heading up toward the Lairig Ghru wild camp Cairngorm

Landslip, Cairngorms

looking up the lairig path cairngorms

Loch an Eilein

Cairngorms

looking down at Gleann Enich, Cairngorms

Tuesday 16th Feb. Camped. OS map LR36 GR 883o55

Did the night run up on the coach last night. Normally I at least manage to doze for an hour or so. This time around though I was awake the whole night. Fortunately we made good time and arrived Aviemore just about on time, at 11am; twelve hours of travelling. Leg muscles had almost totally locked up and I was stiff and aching. Wanting a quick bite before setting out I looked at the chippies. Disaster, both where closed; the coffee shops looked busy, predominantly with folks in ski clothing and funny boots. Thus grabbed a few nibbles, a pretty abysmal meat pie and a sandwich for lunch tomorrow and fled. Headed over to Loch an Eilein and then around to pick up the path that heads south by Loch Gamhna. Started looking for a place to camp close to Inshriach bothy; one of the very few bothies in the Cairngorm region. The problem I had was that I wanted to camp out of sight of the main paths. For the best part of an hour I cast about looking for a spot before finally setting up camp out of sight of the bothy but still closer than I wished for. The main difficulty was that a thaw had set in and everything was running with melt water.The recent snow had taken its toll on the trees, especially the pines; many had broken limbs from the sheer weight of heavy snowfall. This evening is very mild, which does not bode well for tomorrow.

Wednesday. Camped as previous evening.

Took the small path that follows the Allt Corrie Fallais up through the forestry and then slanted off toward Creag Follais. The going was tiring with a combination of wet snow and bog. Swinging roughly south east I picked my way over to Clach Choutsaich. The idea had been to follow the ridge line directly up to Sgor Gaoith. Deep wet snow banks that had the consistency of porridge defeated me. It was tedious and hard constantly breaking through rotten snow. My feet where wet and cold from being submersed in deep bog. Finally conceding defeat I abruptly about turned down the ridge and walked over to the Argyle Stone and on to Creag Dhubh. Picking a meandering route to weave around snow patches my way led down to pick up the right hand path that leads back down the Coirre Follais. This path traverses a very steep section of hillside and unfortunately sections of it where snow covered with melt water running in channels beneath. It made for some precarious maneuvering to teeter around or across these banks. It felt rather unhealthy in one or two spots. As I got lower and as soon as I was able to, I crossed the burn to the other bank and scrambled up on to the broad shoulder of the hill and eventually regained the path lower down.
Thursday. camped OS map LR36 GR949059

A very easy day, just a stroll over to where I am now camped. Packed up in a leisurely fashion this morning and retraced my footsteps back along to Loch an Eilein and then picked up the trail that leads around to the Cairngorm club footbridge and then over to the path that climbs above the Allt Druich. A pleasant, steady and easy ascent up the path until finally I came out of the tree line. Once more there where problems finding places to pitch and I came a little higher than intended. Most of the ground is all humps and bumps and areas of dense sphagnum moss. Found a spot just about big enough to squeeze the tent on to; probably more exposed than is advisable for winter. Opposite, where the burn runs down from Lochan Odhar a great section of hillside has very recently slid down the hill in a massive landslip. The scar is is fresh and the corry bottom is littered in a mass of rock. Temperature is down tonight and the wind has swung to north west. Hopefully this is the cold spell forecast early this week.

Friday, camped at same location as previous evening.

A frustrating and disappointing day. A great rumble and crash in the night as the landslip shed yet more debris. Nature rearranging the scenery a bit. Woke this morning to find that the wind had swung back and was now blowing from a southerly direction; that was not previously forecast.. Followed the Lairig Ghru path up with rain and sleet drifting down the glen. Higher up where previous traffic had compressed the snow banks the surface was slick and greasy in places. Turned off to head up on to the the shoulder of the hill that marks the ascent upward toward Braeriach. Spoke to a guy who was coming up behind me and he was non too happy with conditions either. It was a case of plod, plod, plod, slip, slither, kick boots in, lurch and fall forward, mutter, mutter as the snow crust gave way yet again. Stopped and undid the ice axe slipping it down the side of the rucksack for easy access. Mainly as a precaution, there was no real call for it. Visibility was not too bad but with water sluicing over soft snow, I was finding it difficult; in the end I reluctantly wimped out. Turning back I swung around and headed up further up the Lairig. My idea was to try and get in to the Pools of Dee. Soon I was floundering in soft snow drifts. The brooding splendour and grandeur of the high, rocky crags was awesome, especially as they closed in. Avalanche debris made things even more difficult. When I sank in up to my waist for a second time I just got the giggles. There was something so surreal and ridiculous about the whole situation as struggled my way out; mad, totally mad. Yet again I chickened out and turned back when I found myself lurching over buried boulders; leg breaking territory. Steady rain and a rising wind accompanied me back to the tent; by now it had swung back to the west. The problem now was that the tent was facing in to the wind; this meant lighting the stove would be a problem. There was no option but to swing the tent completely around. Just as well that I did, later the wind was gusting strongly but the tent sits more snuggly with its back end to it; also, I can nip out for the loo in more comfort.

Saturday. Aviemore bunkhouse.By the this morning a full gale was blowing; later I learned that the ski runs, funicular railway and everything where closed due to weather conditions. The tent shifted and shuddered as gust after gust drove relentlessly in to the tent rear. Fortunately I had weighted the pegs down with heavy rocks. A great roaring rumble, like a goods train on the move as the gale blew unhindered across the high tops; awesome. Dawdled for a while but eventually packing up everything in the tent and then dropping the tent itself at the last minute, rapidly bundling it in to the rucksack. A gentle stroll back the way I had walked in and then detoured back around the far side of Loch an Eilein just to put an extra mile or two in. Everyone and their great granny seemed to be out doing the forestry walk. This meant a few startled looks from folks just out for a gentle stroll; seeing me with a full sack and probably looking scruffy and a tad dishevelled. People walking in spotless clothing; anoraks that would not go amiss strolling down Oxford Street. Couples strolling hand in hand, excited toddlers and young kids. Women in makeup and reeking of perfume. Maybe I ought to apologise to my fellow women, however, such artificial scents, even after just a few days on the hill, really hit me between the eyes. My senses seem to attune to natural smells, sounds and movements and this type of smell is a jolt to my senses. It was amazing too to see people in heavy duty boots, including such four season types as a pair of Scarpa manta's. Four gps systems and a hand held sat.nav. system added to the oddities of the day. With time in hand I found a convenient bench and sat and watched the world go by. Mountain bikers by the dozen, families and dog walkers. As I sat quietly musing a little lad all of six or seven, came stomping up the path with his mum in tow. On seeing me, he paused and turned to his mum. "Mummy, what are those funny things on that lady's bag?" Mum sighed with resignation. "I don't know dear!" Not to be thwarted the little boy made a beeline for me, ignoring his mother's instructions to 'not go bothering the lady' Standing four square in front of me, he posed the question. "Please miss, what are those things for?"trying to put it in to a simple context, I explained about the ice axe and crampons. Looking at me in astonishment, he piped up. "Do you like playing in the snow?" When I confirmed that was the case he gave a great beaming grin. This was something new to him, a grownup who actually went out and played in the snow. Dragged off by his aspirated mum, he was still chattering away. "Wow mummy, a lady who likes playing in the snow and has special toys to play with in the snow too!"
Checked in to the bunk house in Aviemore. In retrospect it was a bad mistake; the small kitchen had to serve as a common room and got vastly overcrowded. Worse still, it was mixed dorms and the final straw was the late night revellers screaming and shouting in the kitchen at well past midnight. To make things even worse,I looked in to the rather up market looking pub next door. The thought had crossed my mind that it would be nice to have a special treat of a cooked meal. The sight of white linen table cloths, candles and silver cutlery was enough to see me getting out of there fast. Nipped up to the local chippy, it was just another factor of things going badly wrong. The fish, when it was eventually found under layers of vulcanised batter, had obviously died of a very old age many years ago; the chips were barely warm and had the consistency of recycled cardboard. The Sunday was spent trying to make a cup of coffee last as long as possible in a coffee shop and then sitting curled up in a bus shelter for several hours with a book. In hindsight I ought to have camped and spent another day on the hill.

All in all, not a bad few days away, just a tad frustrating at times and a mental note made to avoid Aviemore as much as possible in the future. Ok to pass through, not so good to spend any length of time there.

Took a liquid fuel stove mainly because I was hoping for low temperatures; the early weather forecast had been for a return to cold conditions in the latter part of the week. It was unfortunate that the forecast was wrong. The MSR Simmerlite is a smaller version of the whisperlite. It is one of the lightest liquid fuel stoves available. A downside is that it is not multi fuel. Also it is not available in the Uk. Mine was purchased via a retailer from Europe. Liquid fuel has its place in certain conditions, priming and using demands more care and attention though. Gas is a much simpler option and with proper care, can be used in the tent.

Dilemma

Looking at the latest copy of TGO I noticed that a small publishing company were seeking submissions of literary non fiction. In particular they required work relating to the relationship between people and the wild places of Britain. Looked at the article, considered it, placed it to one side and thought some more about it. In all honesty I thought it was a bit pretentious, me, being an author? However, it kept niggling away in the back of my mind and so finally I began work. My spell check and I exchanged many cross words, it does not recognise Gaelic, or at least anglicised, Gaelic, place names. It took some coaxing for it to include such words as bothy and lochan in to its dictionary. Maps flew in all directions as I cherry picked pieces from my blogs and from notes. Correct spelling of place names is essential, thus much time cross checking on various maps. After a few days of typing and polishing up my work, the required manuscript of just over seven thousand words was submitted last night. An e mail this morning has confirmed the work has been received. Now I have to wait until April before I receive any further news.
My other dilemma is my attempts at getting away for another trip. Currently snow conditions in Scotland are excellent.However, my first choice was a bit of a logistical nightmare. My second choice became a no go after that wonderful Scottish source of information aka Duncan, informed the way out of Aberdeen toward Braemar was almost impassible. The third choice was Aviemore; not my favourite area, however it was easier for access. My main problem after that was the thought of the twelve hour coach journey each way. I baulked at the idea of it. The journey itself is bad enough, on a more personal level, being cramped in next a total stranger is an ordeal for me.Tentatively I looked at the night sleeper. Feasible and with the added bonus of arriving in Aviemore not long after 7 am. The cost was scary at £124, it would blow my budget to smithereens. Despite that it looked the better option. That was until I studied the journey information a tad closer. All they where offering was a reclining seat, not even a bunk for the night. In desperation I am now going to check out flights. This poses new problems, in the form of stoves. Airlines have strict policies over them. All this makes me one desperate bunny, all that lovely weather out there and I am confined in london.

Lots of Snow.

It snowed most of last night here in London and is still snowing now. Fantasmagorical. The one problem is that I am stuck here in London. Currently public transport is at a standstill. Few roads gritted, no pavements gritted, at least in my area. This despite the fact that the met office have been warning of heavy snow conditions since last week. Have been ill, (again) and am itching just to get out and stretch my legs. The doctor is arranging for me to see an ologist of some sort. Hopefully, if public transport is running? I may be able to nip down to the New Forest for at least an overnight stay. For just one night I shall take the minimum and bivi. Hopefully the snow may linger for a few days yet? John, please keep me posted.

Mud and flood

Flooded New Forest track

New Forest camp

Having new toys to play with and suffering from a dose of itchy feet I headed off to the New Forest for a couple of days. My plan was to travel down on the Monday morning and return Wednesday afternoon. After some time spent rootling around the net I found that I could travel down by train for around five pounds more than if I went by coach. It meant a single ticket each way. No problem. A coach run would have meant changing at Southampton and travelling on by local transport. The train would take me direct to Brockenhurst. An added bonus was that I would gain some three hours of time. Monday morning was stressful. A problem on the tube meant that the buses where all full. Standing at the bus stop watching bus after bus go past totally full meant my stress levels where hitting the red line. A normal bus journey of fifteen minutes maximum took an hour. A frantic dash on to the platform just as the train was about to leave. Fortunately the conductor saw me and I piled in through his door just as the train got under way. Close, too close for comfort. Was in Brockenhurst by late morning. Originally I had been planning on nipping down through the village and having a cup of coffee on the way. Instead I headed straight out. From the station I made my way down Mill Lane. Ominously it was flooded in places. A couple of times I had to scramble up the bank as traffic inched their way through pushing bow waves of water before them. A van driver apologised as water lapped over my boots. Crossing the road I found the wood partially flooded. The path I was following was muddy, very. Coming around by Perrywood Ivy enclosure it was a matter of keeping to the main gravelled tracks leading through New Copse and Frame Heath enclosures and on to Rowbarrow. Halfpenny Green was practically impassible. A chap on a mountain bike tried it and went in deep. Poor chap, he almost fell off his bike. As it was he had to get off and with water swirling around his knees he pushed his bike back to slightly less flooded ground. That decided me. A quick check of the map and I headed over to Woodfidley. Once again I hit floods and had to do some tricky manoeuvring to get through them. Time was getting on and I stopped in Denny Lodge enclosure. This time around I was trying out a new system. For many long years I have been a ground dweller. Suddenly I had the mad idea of trying out tree dwelling. Thanks to some generous help from one of the bushcraft community, (P. I am most grateful.) I had acquired a hammock and after a bit of financial juggling also managed a tarp. It takes time to pick up on new skills and setting up camp on the Monday evening was quite an experience. The tarp is some nine foot square and just getting that up, faffing around with lengths of cord and so on was an experience on its own. The hammock was to prove a little more difficult. By the time I finished it was almost totally dark. Quickly I got the stove burning. Damp wood meant a tad smoky fire to start with but it was soon blazing away. There had been a few showers during the day but nothing much. Supper over, it was time to experiment with the hammock. When I had first, gingerly sat on it, I was unceremoniously pitched on to the ground. After that I was more careful on how I sat down. For insulation I slipped my coat, waterproof trousers and sit mat in to the sleeve provided in the base of the hammock. Getting in to the hammock was not that difficult. Initially it swayed a bit and I reached out with one hand pressing down on the rucksack to steady things up. The problems occurred when I attempted to shimmy in to the sleeping bag. The hammock quivered like an over excited jelly. A short, rapid sort of swinging movement. Something I had never considered was motion sickness. However, I felt very nauseous, queasy, quite a nasty experience. Having to get up during the night for the loo was a repeat performance. Thinking it over my solution would be to get a sleeping bag with a full length zip. The up side of things was that once I had settled down it was comfortable and cozy. A dog fox barked close by, owls hooted back and forward, the forest night shift coming on duty. The only discordant note was the train horn sounding on the railway close by.Tuesday morning I headed back down and over the railway by railway cottages and then over to Rans wood and Furzey Lodge. From there down to Beaulieu. Fortunately there was a few footpaths that where not marked on the map. It saved a bit of road walking. Treated myself to a coffee and baked potato and studied the map. It would have been nice to continue on down to Bucklers Hard. However, to head back from there would have involved to much road walking and also it probably would have meant a long day. In the end I headed up to Hill Top and by dint of some muddy tracks and careful map reading I came around by Hartford House and then through the woods to North Gate. A bit of road walking brought me down to Wood Lane, a track. A four four was coming out of the gate and the driver waved me through and climbed out of his vehicle and locked the gate after me. Thinking no more of it I ambled on my way. Part way up the lane though I found there had been recent logging operations. Oh my, mud! The track was churned in to a quagmire. Thick, glutinous, cloying, clinging clay. It was a total morass. Briefly I tried walking through the wood, more mud, and water logged. It was truly a land of mud and flood. Yikes, by the time I got through to Furzey Lodge I was slathered well and truly in muck. It was as I was coming through the gate at the lodge that I saw a notice on the gate. Briefly it stated that the lane was private and there was no public access. Ah well, no harm done. Briefly I followed the track I had come down in the morning. At Moon Hill though I headed on through Frame wood and down to Rowbarrow where I set up camp for the night. Setting up camp was easier the second time around. This time I also cut a stick and rammed it in to the ground so that I could grab it and use it as a stabilizer if the motion got too much. Settling down for the night, I was just dozing off, when a high pitched cry momentarily startled me. Trying a slightly different configuration with the tarp I had strung it with the back down fairly low and the front raised. another cry, a sharp high pitched whistling bark is maybe the best way to describe it, almost a scream. A muntjac deer and very close as well. Suddenly I realised, he was actually standing at the front edge of the tarp staring at me. Oh my, for such a tiny deer, much the same size as a large dog, he was extremely vocal. Unusual for a muntjac, they are normally shy retiring and solitary creatures. Mind, they can be very territorial. Maybe he was uncertain as to what I was, or was just establishing his territorial rights but he barked at me again and stamped his foot. Hardly breathing, I lay still, watching him, his small frame clearly silhouetted against the clear night sky. Finally he moved away giving a few more of those high pitched cries. It is easy to see how stories of haunted woods can come about. It is moments like that that makes things worth while. A privilege. By morning there had been a light frost, everything calm and still. With time in hand, it was only about four miles directly back to Brockenhurst and my train was not until 14 45, I took a more circuitous route. Firstly back through Frame Heath enclosure and then up to Stubby Copse enclosure. Fine moderate walking. Forestry work in Parkhill enclosure saw me having to deviate a few times. If nothing else it was handy to help brush up on map reading skills. Ramnor and Pignal Inclosures came and went. The buzz of a chain saw echoing through the trees. Unfortunately there was little in the way of wild life to be seen. The only signs I had seen where a few fresh deer tracks and their droppings. Finally I exited the forest at Standing Hat and headed over to Brockenhurst. My first priority was to nip in the public loo and change out of my mud covered trousers and boots. People had already given me few second glances as I entered the village. Being so self conscious and knowing that I probably looked as wild and disheveled as I felt meant that I was eager to get out of my filthy gear. Mind, my rucksack also had its share of mud on it too. A cup of coffee and a leisurely stroll up through the village and around to the railway station. Overall a pleasant couple of days out. Checking out a few ideas on the net in regard to sleeping bags. One had been to upgrade my summer bag by having a baffle fitted and a full length zip. The quotes I got where for well over a hundred pounds. Quilts where something else that crossed my mind. Some people, rather than use sleeping bags use specially adapted quilts. This struck me as a viable option until I started looking at prices. Two to three hundred pounds plus. Army surplus sleeping bags? Big, bulky, heavy and only with short zips. Finally I returned to looking at sleeping bags. Bearing in mind that I was considering more in the way of winter usage. There is one bag that really fits the bill. An Alpkit. Their price is good at a hundred pounds. The problem now is, how on earth do I raise that sort of cash? At present I have a 60 ltr Osprey rucksack up for sale at twenty pounds. No interest as of yet. Does anyone out there want any odd jobs done? My proposed Scottish trip next week is on hold until February. These will be lean times.

Wales

New years eve saw me heading across country to North Wales. Once again it was a meet up with a small group of people. This time I had even managed a lift. The idea was for a few of us to meet at the Minnffordd car park and head up the path to see the new year in by Llyn Cau. Five of us met at the car park at around seven in the evening. It was cold and little time was wasted in shouldering rucksacks and putting on head torches. The initial start up the path up to the Llyn was steep and then settled down to a steady plod. As we cleared the tree line the headlights of cars stabbed the darkness in the valley bottom far below. Pausing for breath I briefly wondered if anyone saw the beam of our head torches as we contoured the hillside. It would have been fun to walk in darkness, however, care was needed, water ice lay thick on parts of the path. The sky was clear with myriads of stars shining brightly. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief when we finally arrived. Tents went up swiftly on an area of fairly flat ground right next to the llyn. With the ground frozen tent pegs where a tad difficult to place. Down jackets where the order of the evening. Also, I had been requested to bring one of the wood burning stoves. There is something magical about sitting under a clear star lit moonlit sky, warmed by the flame of a real fire. At midnight Auld lang syne was duly sung, voices echoing around the rocky cym. Shortly after folk headed for bed. It was bliss to snuggle deep in to the warm cocoon of my sleeping bag. Thursday morning was a chilly start with a digital temperature read out of minus twelve. The Llyn had a layer of ice on its surface. Later there was mention of the temperature dropping even further. The plan was to leave the tents where they where and head up to Cadair Idris and then collect them on the way back. The morning was still and calm and as we progressed up through a break in the rocky crags to the ridge above the Llyn We broke out of the drifting mist and cloud cover to a wonderful cloud inversion. The scenery was awesome. Unfortunately my camera refused to work due to the cold conditions. We had a brief break on Craig Cym Amarch. Despite my water bottle being in the rucksack the water had semi frozen. Several groups of people all had the same idea of heading up to the summit of Cadair Idris. The views were spectacular. However, time was pressing. We had to return to Llyn Cau to pick up the tents and time was pressing. Heading down I began to develop a severe headache, something I am prone to. probably a combination of the flue I had the previous week and a touch of dehydration. All of us had problems with water freezing. Back at the tents I managed to thaw a little water and took some medication. Taking the tents down was interesting, they where well frozen. However, as we headed down towards the car park, I began to feel progressively worse.. Several times I had to stop and have a break. Possibly at one point I passed out. The others came back to see where I was and found me weaving slowly towards the car park. My original intention had been to get dropped off on the way across to Llanberis where the others where heading for. There was little option though but to join them at the climbing hut. Despite managing to down fluids I was still violently sick on the way. A couple mugs of tea and a seat by a hot coal fire saw me partially recovered. On the Friday I decided to rest and just potter, taking a walk from the climbers hut at Deiniolen. headed across toward Dinorwig and around to Llanberis. Picked up a few supplies I had been asked to get, had a mug of tea and a bite to eat in Pete's Eats. Deciding the seven miles or so that I had walked was enough, I opted for the lazy option of catching a local bus back toward the village. On the Saturday a few people had decided to go for the north ridge of Tryfan. a classified rock scramble and quite a strenuous one too. Feeling better, I thought I would give it a go. A good breakfast and copious amounts of tea seemed to be the order of the day. From the A5 by Llyn Ogwen The north face of Tryfan looks intimidating. There is no easy, warm up start. From the road it a case of heading straight up. The cold had us moving swiftly up the flight of large steps that lead to the first section of ascent. Breath rasping in the cold air, lungs heaving, limbs protesting at this assault. There is no one direct route up the ridge. It is a case of picking the best line and following it. often it was a case of directissimo.. Hands and feet working in unison. The route is a classified grade one scramble, in places though it is rated as grade two, depending on which way one goes. In all probability we did some of the grade two bits. An hour passes, two, three, time is of no concern at the moment. Arms reach high, hands searching for holds, bare fingers curl over a lovely jug handle of rock, knee raises high, toe of boot placed delicately on a nobble of rock, a heave and a pull, other foot searches for a purchase, pause, eyes searching for the next hold and the movement is repeated. A slow but steady rhythm leads ever on upwards. Picking a way up a steep rock chimney, glancing back down and wishing I had not. There is no actual ground, just a void. The exposure can be daunting. As we gain height so the rocks become even colder. My fingers grow cold but I am reluctant to put on my gloves, preferring to actually feel the rock beneath bare fingers. In that way I can feel the hand holds. The others where somewhere ahead of me but I was content to pick my own way up. A last steep piece up a narrow rock chimney and I was on North top. Some delicate shuffling over ice covered boulders to Far South top. A low, pale wintry sun in my eyes made things a little tricky. We had started late and now time was pressing, we wanted to be down before dark. After a short break we descended easy slopes to the Heather Terrace. A broad curving ledge that descends the side of the hill. Care had to be taken, in places the path was covered in thick layers of water ice. Crampons would have been no good, it would necessitate putting them on, cross the ice, stop remove them and continue to the next patch and repeat the process. Instead it just meant some delicate maneuvering to shuffle around them. Finally the valley floor was reached just as darkness fell. A weary walk back to the cars in the cold evening air and back to the hut for a welcome hot shower, a meal and loads of fluids. The others where indulging in mulled wine and and various other such beverages, being teetotal I stayed on soft drinks. Sunday morning and temperatures where still way down. Unfortunately we where heading back. It was tempting to fore go my lift and stay for another few days. Conditions where excellent, cold and clear, rivers and lakes totally frozen. The landscape white and pristine in the grip of the winter freeze. However, the sheer cost of coming back on public transport was far too expensive. it was a pity to have to leave.
Kit wise, I was using my heaviest rucksack, a macpac and in the event of things I was glad I did. It stands up to abuse well. Stove was an msr simmerlite, lighter than the whisperlite, a half litre fuel bottle. it proved beneficial, a few folk where struggling with gas and I brewed for them as well.My heavier valandre sleeping bag and boseman light cover. prolite three quarter sleeping mat. it is not best suited for cold conditions and I used newspaper underneath it. A Montane down jacket, a Patagonia thermal vest, Mountain equipment soft shell and a Montane waterproof. Paramo cascada trousers, also carried a berghaus soft shell pullover. Two pairs of gloves, two wooly hats, spare socks and one change of clothing, wash kit, first aid kit etc. Camp crampons, Black diamond raven ice axe. Also carried up to the Lnyn a wood burning stove as was requested, plus fire lighting equipment. Dried food for three days, packet soups, porridge, nibbles, snacks etc, camera and spare batteries. Petzle myo head torch and an e light as back up. Maps, compass, whistle etc. Pocket knife, opinel. Tent was a Golite shangri la 2 with a shangri la 1 floor, trek mate carbon trek poles also where used to support tent.

descending heather terrace ,

Tryfan

From top of Tryfan

View from Tryfan. The Llyn below is frozen