A perilous climb up the Llanberis Track of Mount Snowdon

---

There are a variety of routes up Mount Snowdon but the more achievable of these is the Llanberis Path. Despite this we were still feeling anxious and concerned about heading into the unknown. The ascent begins on the High Street but quickly we were confronted by an incredibly steep hill. It was still a tarmac road at this early stage but the incline was severe. Our calf muscles were burning whilst every step became harder and harder. Surely it can't be like this all the way? Luckily it flattened out or we wouldn't have climbed 100m let alone 1100m.

The path was originally used as a pony and mule track. The poor asses were used to carry tourists up from Llanberis. To our right, as we steadily climbed, were stunning views across the Rushy Valley, named after the vegetation that coats the landscape. Its appearance was of such a scale that it looked unreal. It was impossible to judge any kind of distance or height as it was all too large to process. The valley was dotted with ruined farms, chapels and communities that were inhabited right up until the last century by the Penrhyn Family. As the rough track snaked around the peaks we were taking ever more frequent photo stops. An elderly couple passed us open-mouthed that they overtaken someone for the first time in their rambling lives. The scenes looking back down on Llanberis and the distant Tremadog Bay were too photogenic not to be taken advantage of.

The path led us alongside the unsightly scar that is Britain's highest rack railway, the Snowdon Mountain Railway. For 110 years the steam engine has been steadily shunting lazy passengers up to the peak. The grazing sheep that call this valley home shake their heads in disappointment as the engine chokes through their kitchen-diner. As the path winds around, we approached each horizon excited by the prospect of a new stunning panorama, but despite providing the views we desired, the pathway just continued endlessly as before. Slowly the jagged appearance of Clogwyn Goch became increasingly clear. To the left of Clogwyn Goch, shrouded in a veil of thick cloud was the Summit of Snowdon. Mysteriously hidden away, the peak was waiting before it would reveal itself. If we were to reach our destination we would have to penetrate that vaporous shield.

As we approached the turquoise Llyn Du Arddu, the grasses, gauzes and rushes surrendered to a more rocky appearance and the presence of snow on the ground became ever more dominant. The winds were biting through my hat and challenging my footing. We stopped at this point as more and more hikers seemed to be passing us going back down the mountain. We stopped to gather the low-down from Steve and his jogging partner. They had passed us earlier on the ascent running up in shorts and t-shirts! They explained that about another third of a mile up the path - at the rail bridge - the winds were howling and they felt it too dangerous to pass. It was no coincidence at this point the feeling between us changed. You could sense we were both a lot more nervous about what lay ahead of us. The path turned into more of a steep scramble up rocks which in turn developed into a trudging climb through the snow. Our footing became less assured and the skies more perilous. The pleasant walk had become more of a battle against the conditions and the products of mother nature. The rail bridge came into view and the feeling turned eerie. Together we passed under the bridge to be faced by 40mph winds and -20 degrees centigrade with wind chill. Our faces became numb and our breath stole away by the howling wind.

Here at Clogwyn Station 2600ft above sea level we had a decision to make. As yet no-one today had passed this point through fear of safety. The weather conditions were teetering on severe. The views down on Cwm Hetiau were staggering. At this point we were joined by a man, his dog and his wife. They appeared experienced hikers and equipped with a map it was accurately estimated that we were 75% of the way to the summit. There was no hesitation from them, they took a sharp right and carried on up the track. The track was difficult to make out and the drops either side were steep to say the least. The cloud cover was not improving and our spirits ebbing away. After much deliberating we first conceded then quickly changed tack. Let's continue until the decision is taken out of our hands.

At this point the Mountain Railway ceased to go any further as the snow had buried the track, we no longer even had the railway to reassure us we were on the correct path. We brushed aside the curtain of cloud and climbed, the visibility was falling. The party ahead were barely visible despite being only twenty meters in advance of us. The terrain was slippery, no longer snow but compacted ice. The going was slow. As we turned to see Clogwyn Station it was nothing but a distant haze and soon it vanished. Half of the leading party had stopped, only the chap continued. As a gust of wind came in, Lucy was swept off her feet and dumped unceremoniously on her back. We looked around us and the cloud had closed in. I started feeling the adrenalin pumping around my body, I kept looking up and then down the mountain. The summit still not in view and seemingly out of reach. My attention turned to the path leading back down the mountain. Even that was no longer visible. We could hang in here and wait for the cloud to abate. But would that ever happen? Would it get worse? Would we be able to navigate our way back down? Nothing seemed certain.

The decision was made for us when the track ahead became sheet ice. The track was impassable. Nobody would be going beyond this point today. We felt a feeling of euphoria that we had reached this point. Tinged with disappointment that we had not reached the summit, but none-the-less satisfied that we had done all we could.

We turned and began our descent. After we had passed the Clogwyn Station it seemed difficult to believe that a short while ago we were in such bleak and inhospitable conditions. Having got only a third of the way back down nature came knocking on the door. The passengers on the Mountain Railway certainly got a view they hadn't bargained upon.

Back in the 1950s a plumber come rock climber Joe Brown found a more innovative way of descending the mountain. He placed a rock on the central rack of the rail and slid down the track using his feet on the outer tracks for balance and breaking. We opted to walk!

We flaked out in Pete's Eats back in the village with tea, chips and chocolate cake, whilst we skimmed through the local press. It was a couple of articles on page three that grabbed my interest. No not that... The first article described how an experienced Turkish climber had slipped, dislocated her shoulder and injured her back. She had to be airlifted off the mountain a short distance up from Clogwyn Station. Almost in the same place as we had reached earlier today. The second was a horrific story of a climber that slipped and fell 400ft on the Friday just gone. This had occurred on the very walk we had planned for the next day - The Miners Track.

---