Snowdonia, July 2023
This tale starts in a kitchen. Sam’s kitchen to be precise.
It’s a sunny Saturday morning in July and it’s time to leave. We’ve got a 3-hour journey ahead of us to reach Llanberis, the official start of this little expedition. Naturally, we’re not quite ready - I’m making provisions by raiding the cupboards, Sam hasn’t packed and Miles is no where to be seen. Mugs of tea and catch up chat is taking place and we haven’t decided who’s driving. Or where we’re meeting Worm - the 4th and final member of our little ensemble. Apart from that, preparations are on track.
Several hours later, we’re bombing up the A49. Supper destination TBC.
A little while later, we meet Worm in a tiny, out of the way little place called Rowan where we’ve bagged the last outdoor table at Ty Gwyn Hotel. This place is the definition of remote, and they’re speaking Welsh inside the pub. This we take in our stride as we send in our native Welsh speaker, Miles*, to order the drinks. If we didn’t have to eat, sleep and start our walk in the next 4 hours, this would be rather pleasant sat as we were in the evening sunshine in this tiny little Welsh village nestled in the hills - as it is, talk turns to tactics and planning. Better late than never, as they say.
We’re about to attempt to walk the 15 peaks of Snowdonia that top 3000 ft AKA the Welsh 3000s. It’s a 45-50k walk, involving 4,500m (ish) of ascent, and needs to be completed within 24 hours.
How hard can it be?
As we wait for food, relying on Miles to have successfully ordered something served with chips, we hatch a plan of where to leave the cars and provisions. Logistics are not simple. There are only two road crossings along the entire route and our support vehicle has dropped out as they “had better things to do”. However, food is eaten, beer is drunk and a plan is made. We head to the Youth Hostel at the top of the Llanberis pass for a very short night’s sleep.
*He’s not exactly a Welsh speaker but lives in Wales and so this more or less counts.
Bleary eyed at 2am...
The cause of just a little angst
At the start of the Crib Goch route
On Crib Goch. The fog hiding the drops.
As we arrive at the Llanberis pass, we can’t agree on the best way to arrive at the top of the hill whilst leaving the car at the bottom (it’s several kilometres and about 600m of ascent). Luckily Worm is keen for a little warm up and volunteers to drive down. We watch as, with the sun setting over the mountains, Worm runs back up the road.
As he arrives, we notice he’s wearing a pair of 5-toe Vibrams and when asked, assures us they’re perfectly suitable all-terrain footwear for a lengthy hike in the mountains. We try to convince him otherwise but he’s absolutely adamant. We shall soon see the wisdom of this plan.
We had talked a good game of getting an early night but as we set alarms for 2.15am, we are fast approaching midnight - the perfect time according to Worm to watch the Tour de France highlights.
At a little after 2am, and with about 5 minutes of sleep between us, we’re outside being buffeted by a strong wind. We can’t see anything, other than for the handful of head torches that are already on the climb up to Crib Goch - the first “peak” to climb and our route round to the top of Snowdon.
The path is initially easy to follow until we get close to the top, resulting in all 4 of us taking our own line towards the start of the ridge, not helped by the darkness and the occasional obstacle blocking the route (see photo). We reach the top sometime before 4am as the first light is starting to rise up on the horizon.
There had been a lot of chat about Crib Goch - a notorious ridge that runs for hundreds of metres with sheer drops on either side. Specifically, the wisdom of trying to do it in the dark. However, as we reached the start of the ridge, we were met by a thick blanket of fog obscuring the view. Occasionally the cloud would part revealing just a glimpse of the drops on either side - something that reduces some people to a crawl across this notorious ridge*.
It’s easier going than we’d expected and because we can’t see very much, we accidentally climb the Pinnacles - three lumps of rock that rise up from the ridge - about an hour earlier, we’d all agreed these were best avoided.
Safely down on the other side, with one peak in the bag, the fog starts to lift and for the first time we catch a glimpse of Snowdon.
*Another asterisk, another reference to Miles who had done his best to put me off doing this route, and the entire W3000s plan, on account of finding various YouTube videos of people crawling along the top of the ridge petrified by the sheer drops either side and crying like babies.
We shared the Crib Goch trail
Miles searching for a cafe at the top of Crib Goch
The Crib Goch ridge
Snowdon is busy, even at 6am, whilst covered in cloud and doing its best to blow everyone off the top of the mountain. Conditions are pretty miserable. We grab a snap but don’t linger. We have Nan Peris and breakfast to aim for. It’s gone 5am as the first bits of sunshine break through as we follow the railway line off the top, before turning right and descend down an incredibly steep side of the mountain. This wasn’t marked on the map - we thought the conventional wisdom of following actual paths would “take too long” so we half slide, half run down the side of the mountain, with Worm beautifully demonstrating a half slide, half run tumble with pirouette. Must have been those grippy Vibrams…
Thanks to us taking the scenic route, we lose 1,000m pretty quickly and find a well trodden path leading towards Nan Peris. We cross a stream over a narrow, old stone bridge, pass a gaggle of houses and find the car. We’ve arrived at checkpoint 1.
My erstwhile provision packing was about to pay dividends as banana and peanut butter bagels were retrieved from the cool box. I was especially grateful of my breakfast choice when I saw Miles unwrap a whole baked potato and pretend to enjoy it.
7am. Straight from the foil. No filling.
With a perimeter zone having been established around the public conveniences, we set off on a near 900m climb to reach peak #4 - Elidir Fawr. We were now taking on the Glydes, a separate mini-range within wider Snowdonia. We were approaching 6 hours on the trail and the first signs of tiredness and soreness were being felt. The first signs of doubt were also starting to creep in as the Vibrams - Worm was basically barefoot - were no match for the size of rocks and boulders that we were now climbing over.
The skies had cleared, the wind had dropped and the trails were quiet around Glyder Fawr and Glyder Fach. The views were incredible.
As we saw Tryfan for the first time, it dawned on us that we were only just approaching half way. I upped my bagel in-take.
Still smiling at this point
The mountain trail between the Glyders
Peak #5
Tryfan is a magical mountain and one of only two semi-technical climbs on the whole route. It was a lot of fun climbing up the massive bolders on the way to the summit and the signature photo between two rocks at the very top. It was also on the descent from Tryfan and the trail down towards our second check point that Worm moved from walking gingerly to full on impression of a cat-on-a-hot-tin-roof.
It was a weary bunch that arrived into the car park at Ogwen Falls several hours later than expected. We were surprised to see our usual support crew (Sam’s mum and dad) waiting for us having decided to take an impromptu 3 hour trip in case we needed supplies, or rescue.
And bloody good job it was too as we needed both.
Miles had decided 30k was more than enough and Worm’s feet were falling off.
Sam and I decided we’d better carry on for two key reasons. First, we probably wouldn’t do this again and so we might as well finish it. And second, I still had a bakery’s supply of flattened bagels to get through and I hadn’t hiked them up so many damn hills not to see them off.
We crossed the road, and were met by the wall that is the climb to Carnedd Fach, a near vertical climb of more than 500m. Progress was slow but incredibly scenic. The views over Llyn Ogwen and across to Tryfan were incredible, even if the wind was picking up and the skies were darkening quickly. Eventually we topped out, having only passed 2 others, both of whom looked more ready for a night out than the steep descent they were about to tackle. By the time we reached the plateau and bagged a few other peaks we couldn’t, and didn’t, see another living sole for several hours.
And then the storm rolled in.