I re-read the following report recently. It is my report
from climbing Snowdon via the Watkin Path. In the warmth of
my house, it shocked me again to read how cold and tired I
was then. I don't recall posting it here, yet I hope one or
two might be interested.
I wrote the report on the evening of the walk in Llanberis
YH. When I decided to publish it here, I added a few
sentances to make it more interesting to people who don't
know me, but the raw emotion and thoughts running through
the report are all original from the time. Funny, but my
memory has me enjoying the trip a lot more than would be
expected from reading this report.
Have fun, Paul
Route: climb Snowdon via Watkin Path Area: Snowdonia.
Length: 8.6 km Time: 3:30 hrs Date: 21/07/03 09:30 Naismith
Says: 3:55 hrs Height gained: 1300m (90m to 1085m to 1065m)
Start: Bryn Gwynant YH (SH641513) Finish: Snowdon Railway
Station (SH609543) Participants: Me Format: Solo. Weather:
Mixture of wind, rain and mist. Ground: mostly hard / rocky
paths with serious scrambling last half km
Route / notes:
This was to be my special day. Up Snowdon via the hardest
path - the Watkin path. It started in sunshine as I left the
Youth Hostel then descended into pouring rain within five
minutes. A warning for the day if ever there was one.
I found the start of the Watkin path and started heading up
the rough and rocky path. The rain eventually stopped, but
only for the wind to pick up. It was quite chilly climbing
up the path.
At about 700m I got into the mist hanging over Snowdon. The
path was still easy to follow, so I carried on in good
humour, although doing my asthmatic rhino impersonation due
to a general lack of fitness on my part. I have a problem
slowing down on the hills. I’m not sure if it is old
memories of fitter times waking up or just dumb stupidity
on my part.
From Bwlch Ciliau I turned right. Which is not the best way
to get to Snowdon, but I decided to head east to pick up the
Y Lliwedd summits and then retrace my steps to get up
Snowdon. On balance, this was maybe not a good idea as the
mist meant that I could not see much and just got a tick in
the box for climbing the Y Lliwedd summits. Still, tired,
but confident, I left Bwlch Ciliau again, this time heading
to Snowdon.
The path (a well improved and easy to follow stone path)
ended about 500m short of the Snowdon summit. Visibility was
down to about 10m, but I was still confident and followed
what looked like the best route. There was a cairn to
indicate I was on the right track. I nice big, wide obvious
cairn. Then another and a third. Then the cairns disappeared
and the route was now scrambling. Not fun with a 20kg / 75
litre pack on.
I was only 300m from Snowdon, so I kept trying to aim just
south of the peak to pick up the correct route again.
However, the wind was blowing, visibility was a joke and I
had to worry about getting blown off the hill. In fact, I
could not stand up straight due to a mixture of the steep
hill and wind. I decided to abandon hope of finding the
right route and just climbed the last 300m (about 150m
vertically) up to the summit.
My God, the wind can blow. The rhino had died, now I was
reduced to climbing hand over hand and resting every ten
metres. My heart was pounding like crazy. I was still calm
enough to realise this and took my pulse rate. A steady 120
beats per minute. About as high as my pulse ever goes. Calm.
Must find the void.
Onwards and upwards. Can I go back? Nope, it looks too hard
to climb down in this gale. This was not the last time I
was to review this option, but each time the decision was
the same: Going down looked too damn dangerous. How far
left? 200m.
Rest again. Am I going to make it? I really don’t fancy
dying here. Perhaps I should have realised my limits. Nope,
that’s not my way. Onwards. 150m to go.
My fingers are now so cold they no longer feel it. There
are a number of cuts and grazes all over my hands I notice
as I am resting flat on my back again. Surprisingly, I
feel really calm. This is what I am made for. The more
dangerous the time, the calmer I am. I’ve not seen anyone
the whole way up.
Time to go on. Bugger, I can’t climb this bit. Either I
break down and cry or I find an alternative. Okay, where can
I climb? Five metres to the side, I find a little easier
place to haul myself up the next little bit. My arms and
legs are screaming about the abuse, so I have another little
lie down and munch on a chew bar. I bet the view would be
great if I could see more than about five metres in front of
me. The rain starts again. God doesn’t want me to do this.
Well, bugger him.
Hand over hand again. Careful not to tear my waterproofs as
I have to slither over a high rock. Damn walking pole gets
stuck (it’s tied to the back of my pack). Back down a bit,
sort out my kit and back up again. Another nice cut on my
left hand for my troubles. I notice that the cuts are
bleeding very little now, even the fresh ones. Just cold,
nothing serious. Mind is clear.
Whilst laying flat on my back again, I do a few mental sums
just to prove to myself that my brain is fine and I am not
suffering hypothermia. My breathing and pulse has slowed
right down, which is not a good sign. Also, 28 times 57 is
causing me problems. 1596. Got it. Check fingers. No white
patches. Okay, on we go, only 70m left.
I knew I was getting close when I looked back and saw a
building below me! Then a head peered over the summit and
nearly fell over upon seeing me climbing up. Eventually I
pulled myself over the summit and crashed out. Totally
shattered. I lay flat on my back for several minutes,
gradually becoming aware of people hovering over me.
Apparently, they thought I had had a heart attack. Nobody
else had been stupid enough to walk up. In fact doubt was
expressed that I had came up the route I had, despite the
man who saw me climbing up. Several armchair experts looked
down and said it was impossible. Not sure how they could say
that as they could only see 10m when the wind blew just
right and about 5m the rest of the time.
The only person I had seen was the man leaning over the
summit. However, now there were people everywhere. The train
has a lot to answer for. I was still shattered half an hour
after summiting though, so I took the train down to
Llanberis. The train was near full and too crowded for me to
relax and enjoy the 45 minute trip down. I avoided the café
like the plague though. This left a 1km walk to the YH,
where I had a very average Chicken Kiev before bed in a six
bed, two body room.
After uploading my GPS track of the walk, I can see that I
seriously wandered off course. I drifted far too far north
of the path and ended up heading due west to get to the
summit. This is not really a route to be recommended (to say
the least).
Oh, for the days when I would have been able to run up the
bloody hill. Mind you, you can do a lot of surprising things
when the greatest fear in your life is having your corporal
politely enquire as to whether you are wasting his time.
Maybe those years explain my deep aversion to faffing about.
But that’s getting too deep for this report.