The plan was to climb four of Snowdonia's peaks in a day. We managed two, the weather turned on us while at the top of Pen yr Ole Wen, and we had to cut the climb short for safety reasons.
For those who are unfamiliar with Snowdonia, Pen Yr Ole Wen is deemed to be the hardest climb in the range and looks like this:
We also managed Carnedd Dafydd, which looks like this:
Except with less snow, and more fog, and by this time a generally worried looking boyfriend.
Ok - so them's the facts.
How was it - it was hard, it was probably the hardest thing I have ever done.
For those who are not aware - I am scared of heights, yes this makes climbing mountains a daft thing to do.
At about 2,500 ft I was probably the most scared I have ever been, as we had got into scrambling territory. I have frozen on heights before, but never managed to get as far as 'flight' response. Somehow I had managed to get head round the idea it would stop feeling so high when I got to the top and just kept going. It is weird now sitting in my room to get my head around how scared I truly was.
The spider in the bathroom this morning never stood a chance...
Then things turned bad, we were up a mountain, in the rain and fog with visibility under 10 ft (yes it had been sunny 15 minutes previously - welcome to Snowdonia, again for the benefit of those unfamiliar with my green and pleasant land, these mountains kill people, not because the conditions get as bad as other places, but they change and change fast). It was windy enough that Steve was walking with me holding onto me so he could act as an anchor and a windbreak.
And it was silent, when the wind dropped on occasions there was no sound just fog, and then some sheep to break the silence. It was incredibly eerie.
Finally we made it back down through the cloud into some good old fashioned drizzle. By this stage we were down back to heather and grass so life was generally easier. After making it about 2/3 of the way down Steve suggested going ahead to get the car, which was about a mile from where we were going to meet the road at this stage. My knees were becoming a problem so I was making slow progress and saving me a mile's walk was a good plan.
I have never spent much time in the wilderness, much less alone in it.
Ok I wasn't in the middle of the Australian outback or anything, there was someone coming for me. But for about an hour it was just me and my gammy legs, getting me off the mountain (Steve heard at the mountain centre while getting the car that while we had been climbing, mountain rescue had been called out for two other parties).
It was scary, and it was miserable, at one point I fell (albeit gently as I had seen it coming) and just sat there for a minute. I think that was the closest I have ever come to a 'Fightclub' type experience, whatever I had achieved or gained up in terms of society was pretty pointless. I could get up and walk, or I could sit with my foot in a stream till I got carried off.
This probably doesn't sound like much to a lot of people, and all I can really say that it was to me. And although large chunks of it weren't fun, I'm glad I did it.. I learned quite a lot about myself, about my boyfriend (he's a good egg) and maybe a bit about the mountains.
Sometime (Crown allowing) in the spring we hope to complete the climb, which will include Snowdon itself (which has a nice tarmac path up it). I hope that those who've sponsored me don't feel too let down, and that maybe the above might encourage others to perhaps spare a little for Asylum Justice.
