Conquering Snowdon

 

2014

“Got everything?” I asked Danny. I had been looking forward to this trip ever since my old Post Office buddy had sorted it and informed me whilst I was walking over that bridge in Teignmouth a month or so back. Taking my car, I picked him up and he came out of his house with four bags, plus a bag full of food. “Marie has packed us a load of sandwiches, biscuits, chocolate bars and a flask of coffee” Dan said. We were only going for two nights but this didn't really surprise me. Danny likes to be organised! Or to be more precise, Marie likes Dan to be organised! I’d sussed that out after we'd been on a couple of bike rides earlier in the summer. Puncture outfit, rain mac, bottles of water, sweets, pump, an ordnance survey map! We were only going to Stanion three miles away. And I have to say, we had one of our famous arguments, over which way to go whilst studying the said map over a pint in the Green Dragon at Brigstock. We ended up carrying our bikes over a ploughed field! Anyway, much to Danny’s surprise, or he would say, not, all I've got for the trip to North Wales is a couple of bottles of Lucozade and a change of clothes. Travel light that's me.

Danny is one of those blokes you often find yourself shaking your head at. We’d set off and half an hour later as we are belting along the A14 he exclaims; “Oh no! I've forgotten my shoes!”
Unbelievable. “Well it's too late to turn back now”, he tells me he's got a pair of sandals and a pair of trainers - and 'they'll have to do'. Too true.

Thing is, ever since we planned this trip to climb up Mount Snowdon he's been advising and warning me; “You've got to get yourself a proper pair of walking boots”. Which I did. Mind you this is normal for Dan. Having known him for so long, worked with him for years at the Post Office and been drinking buddies for years, I'm well aware of his idiosyncrasies. The guy cracks me up.

With all day to get to Llanberis which is the town at the bottom of Snowdon we took our time, had a short stop at a roadside cafe on the M54 where we had our picnic and then rolled into Llangollen for a longer break and to take the opportunity to explore this idyllic town just over the border from England. I called in here once a few years ago and was telling Dan what I remembered about it, the river, steam railway, beautiful little place and saying that it would be a good place for him and Marie to visit. He agreed. They like traipsing around the countryside and walking over hills and discovering new towns.

The River Dee flows right through Llangollen and this stretch is perfect for rafting, rocks and rapids making it a terrific course for enthusiasts. As luck would have it, we were having a pint overlooking the river from a pub balcony when two rafts came bobbling down. First one with about eight people on board made light work of it, weaving through with great style. The second raft was having problems, became stuck on some rocks just up stream. “This looks interesting” I said to Dan.

They managed to free themselves and then lo and behold, became wedged between two big boulders right below us as we stood over them enjoying our beer. They struggled to get free and then next second, they were off again and the raft tipped right over, dumping all the occupants into the fast flowing river. Before we could do or say anything, the rafters bobbed up from under the water and were swept along in the current right under the road bridge and away. Amazing. Great fun! We really thought they were up the creek for a moment! It did look a scary moment though and I have to admit, there was no way I was going to dive in to help. Can’t bloody swim anyway so I wouldn't have been much cop.

After the excitement and drama we set off for our next pit stop which was Betsy Co-ed, just a short distance from our destination. My cellphone had gone tits up, the screen was blank and I couldn't open the damn thing. Taking the opportunity for another coffee out of Dan's flask, another cheese roll and a biscuit I asked the girls at the reception desk of the hotel we had parked in, if they had the wit to open up a mobile phone. It was subsequently passed around the boys in the kitchen and then with the help of a knife we managed to prise the thing open so I could re-set my sim card. What a performance though.

We finally arrived at the Glyn Afon Hotel in Llanberis just before tea time, sorted our rooms out and then went for something to eat and a pint and to discuss the plan for the next day’s adventure on climbing up this mountain that was dominating the skyline. And the more I looked at it, the more I thought, Jesus, bollocks to this! These thoughts weren't helped by a number of people casting doubt over our intentions. Nobody appeared to believe we could make it to the top and back again! Ye of little faith I thought whilst thinking they could be right!

Now I'm not one of these people that think 'right, I'll bloody show you'. Couldn't give a toss what people think actually. Doubts had been sewn and I was trying to figure an alternative way of dealing with this!
Get the train up! Yes, that would be easier and settle for walking down. Trouble was, we couldn't be sure of getting a ticket for the train. We would have to wait and see.

We then went in search of a pub or hotel to see if we could find one with Sky Sports; we were hoping they might have the England v Uruguay World Cup match on. The Royal Victoria Hotel looked a very grand place, was busy, there was a television on the wall, but no football match. Weighing things up, Danny took the bull by the horns and to the astonishment of the locals surrounding the bar, asked the barman loudly; “Excuse me, you not putting the England game on?” The response was probably expected up here in North Wales!

“What? England?” Many stopped drinking and looked at the two of us. The barman then made Dan’s jaw drop; “Get out! your barred!”
Well I could see the twinkle in his eye, he was only taking the piss. Danny looked at me in disbelief. “You must know what the Welsh are like Dan” I said, trying not to laugh. He wouldn’t forget it.

The television station was duly switched on and we sat down in front of the television to enjoy the match best we could. The only ones in there that wanted England to win!

Next door a Welsh choir was rehearsing which was distracting, good as they were. But to our dismay, during a break in their warbling, most of the choir came through to the bar, carrying their beer with them. The door was right by where we were sitting watching the football.

They saw us sitting there, eyes glued to the match, glanced up at the television, saw that Uruguay were beating England, and promptly all started laughing and smiling like Cheshire Cats!
Danny looked at them dumbfounded; “Twisted bloody lot the Welsh, what’s the matter with them?” he moaned. I loved it. Funny as hell I thought! 

After the game, which England lost 2-1 to the delight of our hosts, we retreated to our own hotel for a more peaceful drink. A quiet Guest House on the road out of Llanberris, the Glyn Afon was ideally situated for sightseeing and very comfortable. Danny had picked a good one, and surprisingly, the people here were very nice, even if they did appear to ignore us and talk in Welsh. Danny thought they were ignorant. I told him that as far as I was aware, everyone up here in North Wales talked in their native tongue, particularly around these parts. He was having none of it. “They hear us speaking in English and deliberately communicate in Welsh so we don’t have a clue what they are saying. They’re probably talking about us!”

Didn’t bother me in the slightest but Dan was wound up about it!

One thing that was pleasant was the congeniality of the two young barmaids. Polite, efficient, friendly, everything that the barmaid in our local, The Rock, back home in Corby wasn’t! I’ll spare her name but she was slow, unattractive, disinterested, bottom line, she was a waste of space! Thankfully the Landlord, Big Gordon realised this too and soon jettisoned her! Well, to be served by two young attractive women who really enjoy their work, talk to you in English, laugh at Danny’s jokes...the contrast couldn’t have been any more different!

We made an early start to tackle Snowdon, still unsure whether to walk up the mountain and get the train back or the other way round. I had a great view of Snowdon from my room and the more I looked at it the more doubtful I felt about achieving our goal! 

Discussing this as we set off we had only gone around fifty yards before we started moaning. A road we were crossing suddenly assumed rush hour proportions! Four, five, six cars..seven...“Christ Almighty! were these cars waiting for us to come out of the hotel? Where the hell have they come from!” It was only a small village yet suddenly it looked like it was on a major thoroughfare through the heart of Wales! Must have stood there for over five minutes.

“You couldn’t make it up!” I said to Dan. He agreed.
To be honest, as soon as we realised we’d only just left our hotel and we were moaning like hell, we both started laughing!

We made our way to the station at the base of the mountain, the train was warming up to make the ascent and we looked at each other and said “bollocks to it”. The ticket cost £27 which seemed a bit much but as the train took an hour to to get to the top of Snowdon it did appear to be the right option, £27 or not. Surprising too. A single coach, single track. At times I wondered if it was going to make it as it groaned away. This was the best way to discover Snowdon I figured! Great scenery, breathtaking. Had to be the best option and surely easier to walk down rather than up and there was no way I could have managed doing both. We were lucky that it was a lovely warm day as well, heaven knows what it must be like if the weather was grim.

The train eventually arrived at the summit, and we were pleasantly surprised to find a cafe and a shop here as well. We both bought a couple of souvenirs, a mug, postcard, cup of coffee, had a photo taken. There was still a short way to go and it looked a bit hairy, having to climb around twenty steps on the side of the mountain to get to the pinnacle. You don’t realise how high you are till you reach this point. The valleys below seemed miles away. We asked a girl who appeared from nowhere to take a couple of photos of us having a breather. Felt real good.

The walk back down was harder than expected, a good five and half mile trek. If we were feeling the heat we were to be constantly amazed by hikers coming the other way. Younger than us Ok but to be carrying a baby on their back? Older people marching up the mountain past us? They must be on steroids was all we could conclude! Even someone striding past walking their dog! There was me and Dan stumbling down, having to sit and rest our legs, have a swig of water. We were knackered!
It was fun though following the train track as best we could. At least by doing that we knew we were going in the right direction! Three hours it took us!

The weather was kind all the same, too hot to be truthful and we took regular pitstops. One at an enterprising cafe around half way up which again, was somewhat surprising. I mean how do they get their wares up here? Obviously by the train I assumed. There wasn't much on offer, you couldn’t get steak and chips for instance, or a chicken curry. A ham sandwich was arguably the best snack along with a Mars Bar. Plus a cup of tea which was welcome.

A rest at the hotel to recuperate was required after our trek before going out to celebrate our achievement. This last night was also spent admiring the landscape of Llanberis. Really is a lovely little place with lakes and mountains all around.

Heading back home next day it was agreed that while we were in North Wales we might as well go and take in the village with the longest name in Great Britain, if not the world,Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch. There’s a knack in learning how to say this and I’ve tried a couple of times but its too much of a tongue twister for me!

Situated on the Menai Straits, Anglesey it was only a twenty minute drive or thereabouts from Llanberis. Most definitely a tourist attraction and if for no other reason it’s well worth a visit just to have your photograph taken alongside the ridiculously long name. That accomplished we headed for home through the Welsh countryside and back to Corby, sidetracking briefly for a beer somewhere near Telford. Memorable also for Dan buying a crap CD by an apparently local country and western singer off a market stall. Which he insisted on playing in the car. Bloody rubbish it was, and Dan did admit ‘it a waste of a fiver!’