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prolonged icy spell of weather and tantalising glimpses of the snowy summits
of the Carneddau from my studio drew me to the mountains in the second weekend
in January 2010. I burrowed into the wardrobe in the spare room searching
for my crampons and ice axe, realising that I hadn’t used them for
years, and that they were looking decidedly out of date. On top of that
my ice axe had been shortened years ago to fit inside my rucksack for an
expedition in the Pyrenees when it was only going to be occasionally used;
it looked faintly ridiculous now. Still, there was no time to shop and the
urge to expend some energy and see snowy sights was strong. The snow cover
was right to sea level, so once up in the Ogwen valley it was deep and frozen
from that start of the walk. Idwal lake was almost invisible because of
drifts of snow across the ice. I took the westward ridge of Y Garn’s
‘armchair’, rising steadily through the white world, getting
used to the whiteness filling my vision. It was strange to be walking without
Doris, but I decided that the conditions were too extreme, after her frozen
fur on the Offa’s Dyke walk the week before. I entered low cloud that
stubbornly clung to the summits at about 2500 feet, and the temperature
dropped dramatically. The final stretch of the ridge was exposed to a sharp
wind and the wind chill was impressive enough to make me turn back; I didn’t
fancy spending a hour in such cold with no compensating views. I dropped
back out of the cloud and found a windless place on the ridge to munch my
sandwiches and contemplate the day, the view, and life; as one does at such
moments in these places. No sooner had I opened my pack than the cloud lifted
temporarily and I realised that I had been much closer to the summit than
I’d realised. I set off again up the ridge and once again became enveloped
in cloud; I met a few intrepid fellow walkers and climbers on the summit
cairn, where I sipped my green tea hoping the sun would shine, and then
ventured down towards the Glyders. I tried jogging down, which must have
looked comical in crampons. The drifts were deep and the paths invisible
at the lake above the Devil's Kitchen, but I knew it well enough without
having to take bearings and was soon descending rapidly towards Idwal around
the steep cliffs, which were spectacularly encrusted in ice - and ice climbers.
I found to my surprise that it was quicker and easier descending in the
deep snow than it normally is over the slippery stone steps that lay buried
beneath. I paused to watch from the snowy galleries the spectacle of the
ice climbers who were out in force. Returning around the sheltered Idwal
was pleasant and populous, and in my fatigued mind I planned shopping expeditions
for new winter gear, which I shall probably never make; no doubt the next
cold winter will find me hunting the same old wardrobe for the same old
kit, and enjoying the surprise of the Brueghel winter landscape in the same
old way. Return to Home Page |
