Adam invited me to attend the GMC hut meet in Snowdonia on the first weekend of February. Eager to get my axes stuck into some Welsh ice, I not only agreed, but decided to head up a couple of days early to get some solo time out and clear my head. So on the Tuesday evening, I packed the car and went to bed early. And on Tuesday night, I had an insomnia attack and managed not to sleep for a moment. Annoyed but feeling the sooner I got started the better, I rose early, had a fry up and a strong coffee (I'm usually a tea drinker) and went to start the car. At this point I realised that one of the headlights was gone and on closer inspection that it was on the side that's almost impossible to access. After more than an hour of fiddling about with cold fingers, I had the light replaced and was on my way.
The journey was extremely unpleasant, but I was at least able to remain sharp and alert throughout. I stopped early to imbibe some Valentino Rossi inspired liquid energy, and then at regular intervals after that to pee and drink more. Inevitably I also suffered through the Birmingham rush hour traffic and so by the time I reached the Idwal Cottage car park, my journey had lasted 2 hours longer than normal and I was already exhausted.
At this point most sensible people might have decided to take it easy, go for a gentle walk and call it a day. So instead, I geared up and headed up the path towards Cwm Idwal. Instead of the long sweaty slog into Cwm Cneifion, I decided to follow an easy snow gully up the left hand side of Idwal Slabs. Unfortunately this was wildly out of condition, with soft snow sitting on top of loose turf. It was a welcome relief to finally reach the familiar arena of Cwm Cneifion (The Nameless Cwm).
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| Clogwyn Ddu (The Black Cliff). Climbers can just be seen starting up Hidden Gully. |
My goal for the day was Hidden Gully, a well-trodden grade II winter climb. Having soloed the slightly easier Tower Gully a couple of weeks beforehand, I didn't think this would be a massive step up in difficulty. I sent a text to my father, informing him of my plans and check-in time, then checked out my line of ascent. A line of deep footprints led invitingly upwards, entering a deep cleft between high walls. Feeling heartened, I started upwards, and indeed the start was no more difficult than climbing a ladder. The first thing that struck me was the intense cold. The walls and floor were coated in thick rime ice, and all the wind from the valley funneled up through the gully to cut through me like knives. Within no time at all, my fingers had lost all feeling.
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| Looking into the jaws of some icy hell: Hidden Gully. |
Moving further up, the difficulties started. I came across a slab of rock which appeared to be covered in rime, but no more secure ice. My crampons skittered off it, while my axes also refused to find any solid ice above the slab. My calves were beginning to complain from the strain they were taking. Nervously I looked behind me to consider a downclimb. The first thing I noticed was that a downclimb didn't look particularly appealing, and a slip here would be a very bad idea. The second thing I noticed was another solo climber starting up behind me, preceded by a cheerful looking husky. By way of greeting, I shouted a vague comment about the cold, by which I meant that I was in fact rather scared. But taking heart from the fact that a dog could climb this route, I steeled myself an lunged upwards. After a couple of rather inelegant moves, I was above the slab and hacking my way up to the summit.
In mist, the shattered and twisted rock formations that adorn the Glyder Plateau make it a creepy place to be. Iced up, the effect is especially chilling. Attempting to stagger behind one of these to escape the wind, I found myself almost unable to walk with the cramp that had set in. I reached down to touch my toes and to my dismay, this only tightened the cramp further. Meanwhile my fingers were beginning to thaw, resulting in the worst hot aches I'd ever felt. Wracked with pain, I yelled my frustration into the wind.
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| Kira the husky, my new best friend. |
At that moment, the husky dog from earlier chose to reappear. Popping up over the lip of the cliff, she bounded towards me with the enthusiasm of a child at Disneyland. Crouching down to say hello turned out to be the cure for my cramping legs and the dog, a young female named Kira, gave me a wet slobbery kiss by way of greeting before burying her nose in my pack to try and sniff out my lunch. Now pain-free and feeling suitably re-motivated, I fired off another quick text to my father to update him and set off on an unhurried descent, enjoying the views whenever the clouds shifted enough to allow a peek at the scenery.
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| Shapes in the mist: the weird rock formations on the Glyder Plateau. |
About half way down the Devil's Kitchen path, I became aware of my phone ringing in my pocket. I just missed the call from my father, and noticed that the previous message had failed to send and my check-in time had come and gone. I rang him back just in time to stop him phoning the police to report a missing person!
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| Only my shadow for company. The joys of solo climbing... |
