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MOUNTAIN CHALLENGE 2009 - THE STORY

In September Simon set out to climb the three second highest peaks in mainland Britain in 36 hours to raise over £3,000 for the St Mary’s Restoration Project. Gary Butcher and Carina Harris provided the back-up team.

The light on my watch showed 5.48am. As I climbed down from the ladder stile I heard Gary’s car pull away as I set off up the land rover track towards the shoulders of Carnedd Llewellyn. My eyes adjusted quickly to the darkness of the Ogwen Valley as it fell away behind me up the steep path. I felt a huge sense of relief to be on the move at last. The last three days had been an anxious jumble of food to be bought, kit to be packed, itineries to be squeezed, safety drills to be confirmed, and worst of all, constant fears that the narrow weather window would close again and make the challenge impossible.

The end of the night was quiet and still, and above all, dry. Sweat prickled on my back as the path steepened. Surprised flocks of sheep scattered out of the way as my boots thumped on the hard surface. Every few minutes I looked up at the sky as dawn grew nearer and light crept back in. Over to my left the unmistakable hedgehog spine of Tryfan emerged from the gloom, its top wreathed in cloud, while ahead of me the rocky top of Craig Yr Ysfa became more and more distinct. Bang on 6.30am I reached the Ffynnion Llugwy reservoir and paused for a swig of tea before I exchanged track for mountain. Behind me a grey curtain was moving up the valley and moments later the shower was falling on the reservoir and on me. I stuffed my flask back into the rucksack and dragged on my overtrousers, but within a few minutes the rain had passed and I was taking them off again to avoid overheating on the ascent.

A rough path contoured high above the edge of the lake then zig-zagged steeply and loosely up the craggy hillside. I gained height quickly and before long reached the narrow undulating ridge which would lead me onto Carnedd Llewellyn, hidden in ominous dark clouds to my left. As I stepped onto the crest, North Wales appeared before me all the way to the Conwy coast. I paused to take in the view and also to look down and along the cliff beneath me, the home to some of Wales’ finest rock climbing. The unmistakable Alpine ridge of Amphitheatre Buttress came into view, easy climbing but with huge exposure - a challenge for another day. Somewhere near my feet would be the exit of Great Gully, a soggy, slippery classic for climbers who fancy the dirt and discomfort of caving without going underground.

I had confidently told Gary and Carina that all three mountains were simply challenging walks without any actual climbing, but only a short way along the ridge I found my way barred by four or five metres of easy angled rock slab rendered uniformly slippery by the overnight rain. The problem was quickly dispatched but I made a mental note to be careful on my way back. Soon the ridge was widening and steepening and before long I was into the cloud and exchanging grass for scree on the final pull up to Carnedd Llewellyn. The wind began to pick up, chilling my hands, and droplets of moisture formed on my jacket and dripped from my hood. The breeze grew stronger as I neared the top and a cairn came into sight, but I was not going to be deceived by that. Carnedd Llewellyn was where I was taught the skills for winter mountaineering and even without the covering of snow I knew this pile of stones was too small to be the real top. I paused for a moment to take a compass bearing back the way I had come, remembering how easy it is to become disorientated on an open summit in poor visibility. That done I walked the short remaining distance onward and upward to reach the true top at 1,064 metres above sea level - one down, two to go, and it was only 7.52am!

A mountaineering friend of mine has frequently observed that often the only difference between summer and winter hillwalking is that you don’t wear insulated trousers in summer. It was definitely one of those days. My camera refused to work until I had warmed it up inside my jacket and after a few snaps with chilly fingers I grabbed my sack and headed down. I wanted to crack on, knowing we had the uncertainties of the drive up the M6 ahead, so any time I saved now would be insurance for later. I also wanted to beat my personal best and knock off a 3,000 foot peak in under four hours. I couldn’t resist lingering for a couple of minutes back above Craig Yr Ysfa, just enjoying having this wild place to myself so early in the day before other walkers had even set off. In what seemed like no time at all I was back by the lake and onto the track, alternately walking and jogging as I lost height. Gary and Carina had wisely elected to get some sleep while they could. Their eyes snapped open as I tapped on the windscreen and smiled - three hours and thirty-six minutes after setting out.

Part Two coming soon.......