A tough climb through the mist and murk to one of Wales’ highest peaks and back down again; the views would have been superb on a better day.

Date walked: 6th July 2019

Distance: about 6  miles – but my were we slow!

Maps used:  OL 23 – Cadair Idris and Llyn Tegid

Guide used: Cambrian Way by A.J.Drake (7th edition, 2016) , though a new guide has recently been published which is much better: Walking the Cambrian Way by George Todd and Richard Tyler (Cicerone Press)

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At 2,930 feet (just 23 feet higher than Pen-y-Fan)  Cadair Idris is the highest point that we have tackled so far on this epic journey.  We had been looking forward to it, though having found the last two days disconcertingly taxing, I was more anxious at the prospect of the climb than excited.  And the weather wasn’t helping.

The forecast was for it to be dull and misty with a fair chance of rain so we had little hope of having any splendid views for our troubles. And so it proved. By the way, I understand that at least one of my readers is getting a little bored by these write ups, to whom I say sod off , I shall try to do better, though today’s post may prove an insurmountable challenge.

Anyway, Paul and Neil having done the clever stuff with the cars, we parked up Neil’s jalopy in the small car park alongside the busy A487 and made our way slowly up the steep footpath that headed, apparently, into the clouds.

We did have a pleasant view back to the famous Tal-Llyn (at least famous to me, it being a feature that came up in my ‘O’ level geography about 50 years ago).

There is a route via the lake that is reported to be quite difficult; we thought our approach up the side of Mynydd Gwerngraig hard enough, Neil, head down, counting the steps he took between breathers.

But having got over that bit we were presented with a far more intimidating ascent.

We paused to debate whether we might take a gentler route but it wasn’t clear on the map or on the ground that it existed (though the guide, I noticed later, does suggest it as an alternative).  The vote was that we carried on, heading it seemed,  for a rock face in which no path was visible.

Well, there wasn’t  a path as such, though clearly others had been before us. The cliff required both hands and feet to get up, and even then the ground was unstable scree at times, so very difficult to keep ones grip. It was one might might describe as “hairy”  – to fall at this point would have been dangerous and painful- and it led to Paul having a rather powerful crisis of confidence.

Now at such times there are two choices: abandon the climb or find the courage to carry on. With Neil’s considerate and constant encouragement (and a little bit of hand-holding) to his great credit, Paul persevered and we were all quite relieved when the land levelled out for a while at the top of this challenging escarpment.

Thanks to Paul for this pic. Me bringing up the rear again.

We even had a view, and stopped for a while to have a snack and get over the trauma.

We’d reached about 2,200 feet at this point, so we might have thought that we had broken the back of the climb, but it didn’t really feel like it and we had just about reached the cloud line. Ahead, it looked like there was plenty more climbing to do.

For half a mile or so we gained little altitude…

Pauls pic again here

… but the murkiness increased considerably; what might have been a good view onto Llyn Arran becoming a peer into the mist.

There still quite a bit of climbing to do….

… though the interim peak of Mynydd Moel (2,831 feet) was reached with no particular sense of achievement. From Mynydd Moel it was just about a mile to the trig point of Cadair Idris.  We began to meet figures emerging through the mist, having clearly made the top and now making their way down.

There was even a runner escaping form the cloud-covered peak.

It felt like a long mile but eventually a concentration of silhouettes marked the summit.

Just below the summit there was a roofed shelter; Neil had a look and declared it to be populated by damp bodies so we forwent the communal rest…..

… picking our way over the slippery boulders to claim our collective selfie on Check Point 23.

After taking a few individual trophy pics in the now drizzly murk….

… we began the steep climb down, sadly with no view to be had to the lake of Llyn-y-Gadair below.

Another snap from Paul

Having come across no one taking the same route up as we had, it felt like we were on a highway on the way down, albeit a rather poorly maintained one. Despite the pointless exercise of climbing all that way to see nothing but a concrete pillar there were hoards of people, in pairs…

…..in groups….

… and one or two on bicycles.

At least we could see where were going now. Well, for a short while, at least. Turning sharply right we took what’s called the Pony Path off the side of the mountain, the cloud closing in again at times.

But visibility improved again as we neared the valley bottom.

There were still plenty of people heading up, several asking us what it was like at the top; we did our best to be positive “It will have cleared by the time you get there”.

I was very pleased when the stony path became grass-covered….

– it meant that we were nearly finished and we could contemplate a leisurely cup of tea and a cake at Dolgellau.

Just before reaching the little road  we passed a memorial plaque to one Will Ramsbotham, who had done the ascent in a fraction of the time that we had spent on the task, though tragically it had later cost him his life.

At the Ty Nant car park was a smart sign pointing the way up the hill….

… and a rather pretty one courtesy of the National Park Authority.

The car park was heaving now, several cars with youths and their supporters milling around who, having already climbed Snowdon that day,  were about to climb the mountain as part of the Welsh Three Peaks challenge.

Mad, just mad.  Next stop the Rhinogs: just as mad?