of rain and fog

Lately, I have been craving an overnight solo hike. No soul searching jazz, really… I simply wanted to be outdoors and alone. Here’s my retrospective justification: Living alone in the comfort of a city gets quite claustrophobic, and one easily succumbs to a lazy routine. Shaving off the excess comfort and confronting the elements for a couple days, I hoped, would help shake off the laziness a bit.

So, I decided to do this over the upcoming 3-day weekend. I had my eyes set on the Peak District, but learned that wild camping is not encouraged (meaning: the ban is actually enforced) in the vicinity. Also, Baran & Deniz (bro & wife) were going on a hiking trip in Wales and offered me a convenient ride. After reading trip reports and studying 1/25K map, I chose a 32km route (see map) that included some of the major peaks, avoided the tourist crowd on Snowdon and still provided good views of the region as well as suitable camping spots. My plan was to start from Capel Curig, traverse the Glyders to Y Garn, camp at Llyn Clyd, descend down to Ogwen Valley, climb up and over Carneddau, camp at Cwm Llugwy and back to Capel Curig.

[A crash course in Welsh: llyn = lake, cwm = cirque, dyffryn = valley]

We left London early Saturday morning, and after a couple hours of pleasant drive we reached the Welsh land. While I was traversing the peaks, B&D were going to sample the lowland day hikes of this idyllic country. We did our food shopping at a charming village, Betws-y-Coed, which amusingly had an outdoor shop at every other corner. Resisting the temptation to spend the whole day outdoor-shop-hopping, we drove to Capel Curig, the start/end point of my route. We scheduled our rendezvous here for Monday 10am, and they drove off leaving me under an insidious drizzle.

My last backpacking trip was four years ago in the Appalachians, and it took me awhile to get back in the rhythm. The 15kg pack was making its presence felt dearly, and I kept stopping every 20 meters. Take the raincoat off, take the camera out, put the rain pants on, check the map, put the rain coat on, put the camera back, check the map again… I was glad that B&D were not watching me as they already looked a bit unsure if I would make it to our rendezvous.

The first climb from Capel Curig to Foel Goch was probably the hardest section due to my cold start. But a heavy rain lasting about 20 minutes refreshed me enough to maintain a brisk pace. I always found walking or running in the elements much easier; one tends to listen less to the whining body in the lack of luxury.

Despite the intermittent rain, the next one hour turned out to be my only chance for getting decent shots of the southerly views. Some cool dude (who also twisted my arm to write this travelogue) once tipped me off about the soft box effect of the clouds. Well, my appreciation of the soft box lasted till I started eating it, which is visibly encroaching in the next couple photos.

[click on some of the panos to view them larger]

And, meet the Welsh wildlife, the sheep… Driving across Wales, one cannot help but wonder if sheep are intentionally placed as a final artistic touch to the already stunning landscape. Yet, being so used to the diminutive size of the Soay sheep, seeing these huge guys up close was somewhat eerie.

As I climbed Foel Goch, the final southerly view of the Dyffryn Mymbyr was slowly closing the curtains.

Right around Llyn Gaseg-fraith, I could almost touch the cloud. I still had another 300m to climb and find my way around the summits of Glyder Fach and Glyder Fahr in that fog.

From this point on, I was continuously in the fog. Close to the summit of Glyder Fach the path disappeared in a talus of big rocks. I tried to eyeball my location on the map and draw a line parallel to the ridge between the two summits. Slowly ascending along this line, I was hoping to cross either the path or reach the ridge. Well, keeping my direction proved a bit trickier when negotiating this big carpet of rock and boulders. Soon, I got lost. This was all fun though; I didn’t care much. I quite enjoyed tackling the boulders one after another. Like they say: “You are lost, only if you care”. Also, the occasional sheep bleating in the fog made it difficult to take the situation seriously. The whole thing was more like a Monty Python scene.

At one point, I found a path and started to follow it, blithely enjoying the gentle down slope. I came across two hikers and learned that I was on the wrong track, so I joined them heading back up. Once we were on the ridge, the path got much easier to follow, thanks to the cairns. The two hikers each picked up a rock and gently balanced these on the closest cairn that led us to the path. I asked:

– Is this a tradition?

– It’s for good luck.

I couldn’t help appreciate the utility of this humble ritual, particularly with the void of the northern edge only a couple meters away. And, I paid my own tribute…

These cairns have been stacked up by hikers for so long that some of them actually appear on the 1/25K map.

The rest of the climb was basically a blind walk following one cairn after another. The infamous view of Snowdon was of course nowhere to be found. Nonetheless, this didn’t bother me. Yes, brilliant vistas would have been great, but trying to find my way in this dense fog definitely had its own charm. I was quite amused and excited about this misty fairytale ambience.

During one of the showers, I had my lunch in the refuge of a rock shelter.

On the east slope of Glyder Fahr, I succumbed and used my GPS to pinpoint the trail descending down to Llyn Y Cwn. After decsending 250m on a steep scree slope in thick fog, I could hear the water but couldn’t see the lake, nor even my nose for that matter. Then, there was this idyllic moment when the easterly winds coming from the Irish Sea swept the fog away and gave me a glimpse of the lake.

This looked like a perfect camping spot, but it was a bit too early to end the day’s hike. It would have jeopardized my plan for the next day, so I resisted the temptation to stay. Nonetheless, I decided to rest a bit before the final climb of the day, Y Garn.

This ridge between Glyder Fawr and Y Garn was open to the easterly winds, so the clouds were genty moving over the ridge. After all, it might have been quite an exposed night if I had stayed here.

After a short rest, I embarked on the last climb of the day, another 200 meters up Y Garn… Thanks to the heavy wind, I had the first clear view of the Ogwen valley.

Down below, I could see Llyn Ogwen in the distance, Pen yr Ole Wen across, which I was going to climb the next day, Llyn Idwal about 500m below and my intended camping spot, Llyn Clyd, the closest lake in this photo. I set my eyes on that small peninsula for my first camp.

Close to the top of Y Garn, I was once again engulfed in thick fog and missed the start of the path down to Cwm Clyd. Instead, I went down the wrong side. Climbing all the way back up and finding the path was a bit of a hassle. By the time I got to my camping spot, I was quite sweaty. Braving the cold weather and the freezing water, I hurried and took a VERY quick dip in Llyn Clyd (DISCLAIMER: the video is masterfully edited – safe for kids and grandmas)

The weather was kind enough to spare me one calm and rainless hour so I could setup my tent and get things organized for cooking. It was getting quite windy and cold though.

I absolutely loved this spot, and I was quite pleased to see that my new tent had been holding up well to the slowly increasing winds. In general, I felt content about this solo hike idea so far.

Although the Cwm Clyd was not exposed to the easterly winds from the Irish Sea, the wind had shifted direction and the cirque started to act as a funnel, creating a wind vortex right on top of my tent. So, the rest of the night was a bit exciting. The tent didn’t give way to the wind or rain, but the rear end collapsed in and out all night long. Despite often waking up to a face full of tent, this was still quite amusing. It felt as if pandas were jumping on my tent.

I woke up to heavy rain that continued about an hour. The rest of the morning was quite calm, maybe a bit too calm… and the fog was there again.

I started to question if I wanted to climb up Pen yr Ole Wen in this fog or spend another day of blind walking on the ridges of Carneddau without seeing much else. I decided to walk down to Ogwen and take it from there. If I didn’t feel like it, I would hitchhike to Bala to meet B&D. Nonetheless, I enjoyed the calm morning fog and had a pleasant stroll around the lake, sipping my tea.

If this was going to be my last day, then I better make the most of it. So I ignored the winding path down to Llyn Idwal and instead took the creek down. Descending 200m on this creek was quite an adventure as it got quite steep and tricky in places. Once I reached the lake, the clouds cleared and bestowed a northern view of the mountains I had climbed the day before.

I caught a second wind.

After spending minimal time in Ogwen, disposing of my garbage and having a quick coffee, I went straight up the ridge of Pen yr Ole Wen. This was the steepest climb of the whole trip. In less then 1.5km, I climbed about 700m. Most of this climb was off-the-path, scrambling up loose rock and, at one point, proper vertical. I enjoyed this climb so much that it may well be the best part of the whole hike. Parts were risky, particularly with the backpack. Yet, I was quite focused and tackled one problem after another at a good pace. Looking back, I realize that it would have been a different story if I had company. Worrying about others and trying to monitor their mood would have kept me from focusing on the rock in front. But, this time it just flowed smoothly.

Every time I stopped for a rest, I had an amazing view of the Glyders and Llyn Ogwen.

Along the way up, a lone hiker followed me from about 30m below – the little orange dot in the above picture. Having someone behind gave me confidence, and I was less hesitant attacking some of the tricky bits. He caught up close to the top, and we met in person. A very nice guy, Dominic, a Welsh lawyer from London. He was on a day hike over the Carneddau, cunningly dodging a family shopping trip for a hospital bag. We ended up hiking the Carneddau together and chatting along the way – as much as the wind permitted – about mountaineering in UK, caving in Turkey, and our lives in general. Although I cherished the solo nature of my hike, I very much enjoyed the company. I guess, out there, social masks are stripped away and such encounters turn out quite sincere and unforced.

The strong easterly winds dominated the rest of the hike, worsening as we advanced on the north-south ridges. At certain points, it was difficult to stand up still. Walking on this ridge, I was constantly leaning into the wind.

The wind nicely cleared the fog away and allowed some impressive views on both sides. The westward view of the Irish Sea…

and the eastward view of Cwm Llugwy. I was very glad not to have quitted the trip halfway in Ogwen.

I had already lost my camera’s rain cover to the wind earlier. Dominic kindly chased down and saved the small waterproof bag that I used as a backup cover.

Climbing to the top of Carnedd Llewelyn, we were for the last time back in the fog and heavy wind. Here, I seriously appreciated the refuge of a stone shelter. Actually, one thing that I came to appreciate more on this trip is the concept of ‘shelter’. Sitting out the rain in that crag on Glyder Fawr the day before, eating my apple, I had contemplated that the Turkish word for shelter, ‘Kuytu’, would be a beautiful name for a girl.

Soon after descending down from the summit, we left the fog and caught a nice view of Conwy to the north and Cwm Llugwy to the south.

Soon, my second night’s camping spot came into view: that little peninsula on the other side of Llyn Llugwy.

We walked down to the lake and shared my whisky flask in celebration of this nice hike. Solo camping is quite difficult to prepare for as one cannot share the weight of essentials like the tent, water filter, stove, cookware, food, etc. So shaving off any luxury weight is crucial. Yet, that metal flask was really worth every gram.

After Dominic left, I pitched my tent, but this time under the refuge of a big boulder. Getting wiser by the day..

I checked the lake out, but it was too late to dip in. One has to jump in right away while still sweaty. So, happily trading the pleasure of the cold water to that of the whisky, I went for a short stroll. There was an unpleasant pain on my left knee. More than the climbs, the descents seemed to have taken a toll on my joints. I slowly climbed up a ridge and watched the sunset caressing the ridges of the Glyders in the background and Tyfan in the foreground, the 15th 3000+ peak of Snowdonia, and a very recent one at that…

As I walked back to my tent, the wind picked up and it quickly got very chilly. I filtered water from the lake and prepared a delicious dinner; actually exactly the same dinner as last night but this time much more enjoyable in the refuge of my big boulder. Here’s my recipe, tested and perfected over the years: cut onion, potato, sucuk and garlic in whatever sizes that please you… fry them up using a bit of oil… add some ground cumin, oregano, salt and pepper… add water and a half packet of tomato soup powder… when all boiling, crumble half a noodle pack into the mix, and voila! I strongly suggest not to try it at home though. It won’t taste the same.

After the dinner, I made tea in the vestibule of my tent and while sipping it, wrote down my notes of the day. Soon after, I was fast asleep. For some reason, this is always the case. I can hardly sleep the first nights, but for the rest even a boulder rolling over my tent couldn’t wake me up.

I was really pleased that both camp locations fit perfectly to my 32km hike, dividing the two days into two easy 12.5km bits. This left me with another 7km to walk to our rendezvous with B&D.

I woke up to stunning weather, spotless blue skies, bright sun and nice chill temperature. As a bonus, the first 2km of my final stretch had a perfect view of my whole hike. Starting from the left Foel Goch, Glyders, Y Garn, and Carneddau…

Despite the pain in my knee, I loved this last stretch. After the amazing but tiring two days, I was looking forward to spending the rest of the day with B&D and getting spoiled rotten.

One thing I find interesting is, when I look back at these videos, at first they didn’t seem to reflect my inner psychology as I recall it. All throughout the trip, I had this constant excitement and contentment of being out there in the elements. Yet, in the videos, I move around like a squirrel minding its daily business. There is not much spiritual take home message from this trip. Yet, if I can reconcile these two observations in my head, that feeling of contentment and the simplicity of the act, I might be onto something…

Comparing this video to the first photo, one can see the effect of two days of rain and wind on my face and of 2000m climb up/down on my limp.

The rest of the day was very domestic and pleasant.. and more pleasant after I was forced out of the car to wash my stinky feet in a roadside creek. We had a beautiful crisscross drive through the amazing countryside, going all the way down to the sea and coming back again through different winding roads of the mountain range. At every single turn, another amazing vista greeted us. Just take this annoyingly beautiful small lake for example. :[

* I owe this fantastic route to Nigel Gray blogging on his re-kindled passion for the mountains after fighting off cancer. Here’s the route map and the altitude profile. If anyone is interested in the Google Earth route file, let me know.