Croeiso i Cymru - Climbing the Carneddau
There was wet weather forecast for Cumbria, so instead I cast my eyes south west & decided to tackle my first three peaks within the Snowdonia National Park.
It's almost an exactly two hour drive from home to the Ogwen Valley, following the north Wales coast road before turning off at Bangor and following the A5 past Bethesda & into the valley.
Driving through the valley, the rugged bare rock of the Welsh mountains caught my interest as my eyes sought to see the first peak I had planned to summit - Pen Yr Ole Wen. (Which I believe is pronounced Pen-Ear-Olly-When).
I had plotted my route up via the east ridge and had a couple of photo opportunities planned for the way up - mainly focusing on the view to the opposite side of the valley to the imposing sheer cliff's of Tryfan.
There was plenty of free roadside parking available - although it was 5pm on a Sunday evening, so all of the day-trippers had headed home by the time I arrived.
The path followed up, and in places over, the stream of Afon Lloer which in parts tumbled down over some impressive boulders and waterfalls.
It was cloudy, but there were breaks every so often with rays of sunshine beaming down onto the mountains. I kept looking back, at the view towards Tryfan waiting for the right light to illuminate its cliffs.
There was a section of the stream that had to be crossed, but where there was also still some heather in bloom, as well as yellow gorse.
I stopped to take a few photo's, experimenting with a slower shutter speed on the water.
After a short while, I continued on up the hillside where I reached a step-stile crossing a drystone wall.
It was a photograph of this very stile, looking back to Tryfan which inspired me to get outside & try and capture it for myself.
I got there just in time for a break in the clouds to appear & light up the western slopes of the mountain, so I'm quite glad with how my picture - at the start of the blog - turned out.
After indulging in far to many shots of the stile than is nessacery, I refocused my attention on the task at hand, and continued up the hillside before reaching the hollow of Cwm Lloer. This was a huge bowl carved into the mountains of Pen Yr Ole Wen & Carnedd Dafydd which towered above. At the bottom of the bowl was the small lake of Ffynnon Lloer (from my lakeland experience, I'm inclined to call it a tarn). It was slightly boggy around the shoreline, although there were outcrops of bear rock lined with heather. The sun had dropped below the high mountain skyline, so after a little explore I retraced my steps the the tarn's outflow and picked up the path up Pen Yr Ole Wen's east ridge.
There is no path marked on the Ordnance Survey map, but there was a clear route on the ground.
The path was lose rock (although the pieces not small or lose enough to be 'scree'), snaking up the ridge. There a couple of interesting sections which involved a short, swift scramble up bare rock before picking up the path again.
Leaving the rocky sections behind, the path levelled to cross a shoulder, before the final pull up to the summit. The path followed the escarpment running above Cwm Lloer, with the tarn now a good few hundred feet below.
It wasn't long before the final pull up the mountain was done, and the summit, and its seemingly collapsed cairn, was reached, just as the clock turned 7pm.
At 3,209 feet, Pen Yr Ole Wen is the same height as Scafell Pike - the highest mountain in England. Of course, we're not in England anymore, and the mountain is just one of 16 mountains in Wales known as the 'Welsh 3000's' - with all 16 peaks being above 3,000 foot in elevation. For endurance runners, there is a challenge to complete all these peaks in 24 hours - but I'm going to take my time and do them over a much longer period of time.
The summit was fairly flat, and I initially spotted a pitch for my tent right on the top. I dumped my rucksack & went for a short explore down the southern flank to see if I could find a better pitch with a view of Tryfan, and also slightly more sheltered from the wind that was picking up from the west.
I found a spot, and went about setting up my tent. I fired up my stove and got to cooking mash & meatballs for dinner.
At this time of year, the seasons are beginning to turn from summer into autumn. With the change comes the shorter nights and cooler temperatures, and sunset tonight was around 8pm. An increasing amount of cloud was blowing in from the west, and by 9pm darkness had fully descended. I retired into my tent for another can of beer and some chocolate treats. From my tent door I could see head torches making their way down Bristly Ridge - a scramble route between Tryfan & Glyder Fach. The wind picked up, gently rattling the tent, and by 10pm I was tucked into my sleeping bag with the patter of light rain hitting the tent.
I did wake a couple of times during the night due to particularly strong wind gusts (from outside - not the meatballs!), and I drifted in and out of sleep a few times. My alarm went off at just after 6am in anticipation of a sunrise, but peering out of my tent I saw only clag... oh well, another hour or so of sleep instead.
I woke again at 7:30am, peering out of the door, the cloud had mostly cleared from the tops, with just low patches flowing across the valley behind Tryfan. Time for a coffee...
After breakfast, I packed up my tent, and headed north. The path followed the ridge line high above the 'bowl' of Cwm Lloer, descending slightly to a small peak half way along - Carnedd Fach - before the climb upto Carnedd Dafydd. It would be another mile-stone crossed for this one - my first peak hiked above 1000 meters.
I kept an eye on my OS Maps app on my phone, watching my little red arrow, waiting for the point when I hit the 1000m contour. I needn't have worried, as there was a huge cairn at the side of the path more or less where the 1000m contour was reached.
The top of Carnedd Dafydd was up ahead, and the top was just touching the cloudbase, which kept lifting and falling over the summit every so often. I had my fingers crossed that when I got there it would have lifted.
Unfortunately the Welsh Weather Gods thought differently, and I arrived at a rather grey summit, and tapped the cairn. There was a large, curious dry-stone wall wind shelter, three large curves, sort of like a number 3 with a tail. Carnedd Dafydd - 3,425 ft.
Moving on from the summit, the path levelled, before descending out of the cloud and to the huge plateau of the Carneddau. This reminded me alot of Helvellyn in the Lake District. One side of the hill was a large grassy slope, with a flat plateau along the top, but the northern edge had a sheer drop of cliffs - known as Ysgolion Duon - or the 'Black Ladders'.
The overcast skies sure reinforced their name, and, like its name, it felt like a location straight out of The Lord of the Rings. Turn left for Mordor!
It was actually a pleasant walk along the grassy top of the ridge. The sun kept trying to break through before being swallowed by thick grey cloud, then breaking again to temptingly reveal a slither of blue sky.
There were a couple of rocky outcrops along the ridge - topped by raw, shattered rock. I headed over to explore, carefully making my way over 'ankle-breaking' boulders, and was greeted with an amazing valley view down to the town of Bethesda, and, in the distance, basking in sunshine, was the city of Bangor.
After passing the Black Ladders, the ridgeline began to narrow as it crossed Bwlch Cyfryw-drum. (Don't worry - I can't pronounce it either!) It was nothing as sheer as the narrow-ridges of Helvellyn - but from the ridge top path you could look down into neighbouring valleys on either side. To my right, I saw my first sight of the eventual way down, via the Ffynnon Llugwy Reservoir. That would be a while off yet, as I had one more mountain to climb.
The wind picked up as I crossed Bwlch Cyfryw-drum and the ridge narrowed, but the path continued on. On the otherside of the ridge, the ground widened as I reached the southern slope of Carnedd Llewellyn. I was at the full mercy of the wind now, so put my head down and plodded onwards and upwards.
Once again, the top was covered in thick cloud, and was being blasted by the wind - a combination which meant, although it wasn't raining, things were getting wet from the cloud vapour. I found the wind shelter and took some respite from the wind, putting the rain-cover on my rucksack, and putting on my waterproof jacket, and having a quick snack. Carnedd Llewellyn - 3,491 ft.
Whilst at the shelter, another walker arrived. We chatted, and I got the impression he was a retired school teacher, and he gave me an unprompted welsh language lesson ('F' is 'v', 'Ff' is 'f''), along with tales of walking in Wales & Ireland.
After a short while, it was time to move on. From the summit, I picked up the path down the eastern flank towards another ridge, but one that would lead me down to the reservoir. As I followed the path further, the pleasant wide ridge once again narrowed, and up ahead I could see the way to go - across the ridge of Bwlch Eryl Farchog. The path ran along the top of the ridge line, with sheer drops on either side. My OS Maps showed a path descending down either side of the ridge - but that looked nay-on impossible from my current location!
To get onto that ridgeline path, there was a slight scrambled down some rocks involved, but taking my time, it was relatively simple, and was a thrilling change from the last few hours of walking.
The ridge-line path itself was quite level, and there was an air of exposure on the crossing, with the sides of the ridge plunging into the valleys on either side.
Up ahead the path climbed up to Pen yr Helgi Du. I wasn't planning on climbing that peak today, and kept checking my OS Maps app, as well as keeping my eyes on the ground for the turn off to the right down to the reservoir.
Surprisingly I reached what looked like a crossroads on the path. The path to the reservoir seemed to disappear over the edge, but on following it it turned to follow the flank of the ridge, and zig-zagged down a gravel path. It was steep and rocky in places, but a steady descent and pretty soon I was at the bottom following the path to the reservoir.
A service road runs from the main A5 road upto the reservoir, so when the path reached the road, I turned and followed it to the waters-edge, where I stopped to survey the route I had just taken, and have some quick refreshments.
It was then time to make my way back. It was a simple stroll from here - just following the service road to it's junction with the A5. Descending the road, however, the view down the Ogwen valley began to open up, with splashes of light from the sun breaking through the clouds.
As I headed down the road, the view only seemed to improve. Moody dark clouds, splashes of sunlight, sneaky peeks of blue sky, and a view that reminded me of the famous view down Wasdale in the Lake District. This inspired me to slightly change from my direct route along the road back to the car.
Instead on reaching the A5, I turned left, following the road for a short distance before hopping over a stile onto a footpath marked on my map.
The footpath crossed some boggy ground, and after picking a route through, reached a T-junction for the bridleway, known as Nant y Benglog. Its quite disturbing to translate that from Welsh into English - as it means 'Stream of the Skull', for the beck that ran nearby!
However it came to get its name, it was a good flat path which passed through a farmhouse-cum-campsite and below the lower flanks of Tryfan, which towered overhead. From the pass, I thought I could see two people stood on top of the mountain - on zooming in, they were revealed to be two large stone plinths, fondly named the 'Adam and Eve' stones - but they would be on an adventure for another day.
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