Words by Vess and Matt Neale - Stunning Photos by Vess, Anthony and Drew Moore and Mike Allen. Back to main Digression
Vess's Ramblings
It was Matt's idea, mountain bike up to the summit of Snowdon, camp overnight, and ride back down in the morning. It sounds like an idea devised one night in the Tufty. I certainly think we must have agreed to it while in the Tufty!
There's a voluntary code that mountain bikers keep off Snowdon's bridleways during the busy hours (which is why Matt devised the overnight plan), so we left Llanberis (near enough sea-level) at some time after 5:30pm on Saturday 7th June. The first bit was ok, nice tarmac road past the mountain railway station, past some houses, into a lane, then down into the lowest gear possible to pedal for a short while upwards, before getting off to push. Normally this wouldn't be too bad, but we were weighed down with tents, sleeping bags etc.
Then it was onwards and upwards, occasionally pedalling where the track wasn't too steep and rocky, which actually wasn't that much. There were loads of people coming the other way, many sporting numbers as part of some hill climbing challenge, some kitted up with all the latest gear, others in shorts and trainers.
Halfway up we met a bunch of unicyclists coming down. They weren't doing a lot of unicycling on the steep rocky path and one of them had had to stop after twisting his ankle (and you thought we were daft!).
Undaunted, but getting very sweaty (I looked like I'd wet myself), we headed on upwards, crossing the railway line by Clogwyn Station where we stopped to look at the views over Llanberis pass. The midges quickly found us so we quickly moved on. Just above here Matt and Pete took to the railway line while the rest of us scrambled up the extremely steep and loose path. At least we were rewarded with a short bit of slight downhill to meet up again with the railway where the Llanberis path we were on meets the Pyg Track from Pen-y-pass. From here the end was clearly in sight, so the final climb wasn't too much of a struggle.
The last bit of cloud lifted as we reached the summit (1085m). The views all around were outstanding.
We found a flattish place to camp just below the station and set up for the night. It had taken about 2.5 - 3 hours to get up so we still had plenty of light to set up tents, cook a 3 course meal (not joking) and relax while the sun set over the Irish Sea.
Note1: Most people adjust to a change in pressure with altitude by ear-popping. Not West Glos. West Glos. members release pressure at the other end which resulted in a positive chorus of Parps! Toots! and Thrrrruppps! which echoed well into the night.
Note2: We were very near the path which remained fairly busy with walkers all through the night. I dread to think what the passing ramblers made of the midnight farts, burps and snores emanating from our camp (not that I really care!).
Dawn broke early, (Missed an opportunity there for a wind joke Vess - you're slipping! ed.) and by 6am we were all up looking at the views again. In fact, we packed up and then spent the next half hour just sitting on the edge marvelling at the spectacle before us.
Matt had decided on a different route down, down the Snowdon Ranger path. Much of this was rideable until we got to the steep bit which zig-zags down to Bwlth Cwm Brwynog which was even a bit tricky to walk down in places. At least our rucksacks were lighter now without the food and very little fluids left. From Bwlth Cwm Brwynog we managed to pedal a significant distance, even getting onto the middle ring! But only as far as the right turn to push again up to Bwlch Maesgwm. At least from there it was smoothish fast downhill all the way back to Llanberis. Down here I collected a puncture when crossing one of the drainage slots. Followed by Andrew with a second puncture a hundred yards later. Even so we managed to get back to the vehicles by 10am before the traffic warden turned up!
Breakfast was in Capel Curig, followed by a tour of the outdoor shops, then it was on to Penmachno for a 20km lap of the forest track there. Not as technical as Glyncorrwg but still an excellent ride round with a good mix of uphills on fireroads and singetracks. There's not much on the internet about this as there's no visitor centre or cafe, or even a very big car park, but there is some info on The Penmachno Trail.
Many thanks to organiser Matt and driver Drew, and Pete, Ant and Mike for their excellent company on very memorable weekend's riding.
Matt's Snowdon Ramblings
(You may spot that I haven't edited this following text yet. Perhaps you would all like to print it off and ring the mistakes adding appropriate comments and giving your own marks for effort. The most school masterly submission will win a prize! ed.)
Over the weekend of the 7th and 8th of June ,half a dozen club members who are also part of that elite little band known as " the digressionists" ventured into the wilds of North Wales for some sun and high altitude cycling. It started as an idea by Stationary Mike. Something to celebrate his passing .. his 40th birthday that is. Early on Pete has said that it would never happen so if only to prove him wrong it did. The birthday boy came up with a few options for routes, Droopy looked on the web a lot and I made a lot of noise about previous experience. Various people helped the shareholders of Ebay make another million by stocking up on sleeping bags and tentage whilst I rummaged in the shed and brought out kit that was acquired in a more adventurous period of my life. 4 quid on Ebay special gas stove that weighs 90 grams was the total of my outlay on gear. The Moore boys acquired gear of such lightness that it was in danger of floating away, Mike bought a caravan for his bike and Vess didn't say what he was up to so no one cared.
Much burning of the midnight email system was done comparing weights of rucksack, not that it mattered when extra cans of beer were added anyway.
Mike and Anth headed north on Friday, abandoning their hard working staff , or proving that they were superfluous, and took the family to a super flash Travelodge near a derelict castle. The rest of us piled into Droopys Jag for 3 ½ uncomfortable hours to meet the families in Llanberis. Several texts on the way told us that they had had 9 pints for lunch and were ready to go. 5pm the "opening time" of Snowdon for cyclists saw us all fussing around our gear as fantastic weather had us changing priorities of clothing. Eventually we set off to a rousing yet emotional farewell from Ruth and Mand obviously feared that they would never see their beloveds again.
The party was in fine spirits as we bowled up the road, passing the mini railway station in a superior manner. That didn't last long as the tarmac started to steepen. It puzzles me how they lay it. Surely it must run to the bottom at that gradient before it sets.
I was the first to put my feet to the floor rather than pedals. Mike and Anth hung on the longest as the apparently have the most testosterone. I had cleverly been preparing for this, developing a knackered, knee and the lack of fitness only gained by 2 months on my backside. I had an excuse for walking. The rest of them were just wimps. All to soon the tarmac turned to gravel ten boulders and the talk turned back to club matters. This would make a lovely Wyegate section, 4 miles long continuous subs and compulsory inspection!
It's best to gloss over the next hour or two. We all went at our own pace, resting/ breaking wind as we felt necessary and those with cameras taking far too long over a picture. Many of the walkers made increasingly unfunny comments about our sanity whilst we made as many witty and charming observations about the effects of warm sun on the dress sense of athletic female hill walkers.
Some way up is what serves as a cafι, known as the half way house. It offered many goodies including ices, drinks, snacks but no dogs. Well that what the sign said.
This building has an interesting history. Early climbs on the nearby crag, Clogwyn dur Arddu, by Joe Brown include one called Vember after the daughter of the building at the time. More research by the reader will enlighten them to the reason behind this name. Mike had lashed out on fizzy pop all round. Vess decided that as he had beaten the world sweaty shirt record he would let his body breathe for a while and took the soggy mess off. Here it became evident that he is of an age where he needs those nether garments advertised on telly by late middle aged women with tight trousers and a bladder problem. His protest that this was sweat went unheeded as our version was better.
Progress was made until we met 4 cyclists with less brain than us. Less wheels as well. Uni cycles FGS! All Drew has one in his garage we all wondered why he had taken the soft way out and brought the mountain bike. I think his ability to do 2 pedal strokes only was the reason.
A little further on we came across some lovely scenic steps. Half mile of the evil *******s. The mini digger that was making them took the brunt of our poor vocabulary. On we plodded. Soon flat ground was in site, a railway bridge and a view in to the Llanberis pass. Brilliant. What wasn't so good was the midges. A scenic and flat view point was rapidly abandoned to them. At this point Pete and I took to the railway, preferring a steady and consistently rough track and gradient to the footpath which had huge boulders, overhangs, landslides and many other natural hazards according to those who went that way. A slight down hill also existed to gratify them. Reuniting at the finger stone where the PyG track comes up from 'tother side, we made the effort and actually rode some of the remaining Ό mile to the summit building site.
The summit is a big lump of concrete and stone with in situ walkers. We got there some where around 8, give or take a bit. Those who hadn't been there before expressed their amazement of the views etc whilst those of us who had, alternated between a superior casualness and stories of "real weather". We lurked about for a bit, opened a few celebratory cans and sent Drew off to inspect some unlikely camping spot on overhanging grass whilst the rest of us agreed on a better spot. One the sleeping venue was identified there was a slightly undignified scramble by those with some camping experience for the next best thing to a flat area for individual tents. Anth lost.
Vess erected something that would have fitted in the Arabian Nights stories, me and Pete being of tougher stuff shoved sleeping bags into bivi bags and the other 3 erected nylon coffins. Well Mike and Drew P. did. Anth had a fight with his, wondered where the book of words and pictures was and snivelled a bit, something that he did a lot of later.
Temporary housing erected dining was next to interest us. Vess inhaled a pasty or two and settled down with a box of wine. I won't comment on the origins or its quality in order not to offend another club member but I will say that a certain ex sidecar driving, transient, Kenny Rogers look a like has no taste buds left if he drinks the stuff. The % was great though.
Pet announced that his carefully planned lightweight rucksack had no allowance for a pan although he did have a stove. That was 1 better than Anth who didn't know what one was and had to borrow Mikes. Food was variable. Mike and Anth had gone down the boil in the bag camping meal, stew of some sorts followed by spotted dick. Coincidentally Drew had a whopping great salami that he proudly displayed. Why he was carrying it in his trouser flies I don't know. Mike, who knows about these things, started talking about Barry White. ?????? Pete had gone all lentils and bean shoots and borrowed my foil take away dish and came up with something that the potions master of Hogwarts would have recognised. I prefer quantity over quality so noodles soaking in a plastic bag plus lumps of frankfurter did for me. Needless to say no of these meals reduced that flatulence that was by now prevalent and Petes announcement of recent squitters didn't bode well. After dinner the wine came out. A bottle a piece seemed about right although it had all been decanted into something less fragile. By now the light was starting to go although even with a tiny crescent of a moon it was light enough all night to wander about without a torch. Magic.
Time for bed said Vess. Pete had been moaning about too little clothing all evening. His flouro green gloves looked as if he had mugged a lollipop lady and were attracting moths so he was not going to lose his hands in the night. Me and old green fingers tucked ourselves into our bivi bags and drifted off to a sound and peaceful sleep. Well I did. Vess disappeared off to meet Scheherazade and the remainder snuggled into their high tec kit. Drew's sleeping bag is called a Micron 600. That's how thick it is. Made by the London Rubber company I reckon. Mike and Anth have identical pits made of old school anoraks but the former had added a liner and had brought an airbed with him. Anth had cut his karrimat down to something Ruth can use behind the front door.
As mentioned it didn't really get dark. All through the night walkers passed by, touched the top and disappeared. Must have been something on I suppose. 1 or 2 were a trifle disconcerted when their conversations were interrupted from our tents. From my point of view the night passed peacefully. I was actually too warm for much of the time having brought my old down sleeping bag at a very small weight penalty and a tatty old duvet jacket that provide a great warmth to weight ratio at the expense of sartorial elegance. Apart from an excessive amount of flatulence all was still.
I rolled over at 6am to brilliant blue skies and valley full of mist. The hills were like islands. This everyone had to see so they had to be woken. It turns out that Anth didn't need waking as he hadn't been to sleep. His sleeping arrangements had not been up to scratch and for some reason the temperature inside his tent must have been 10 degrees lower than in every else's. You only had to look at him. Mr Grumpy had nothing on him. He had even crawled into his plastic survival bag to try and get warm and that was wearing his waterproof as well. That made him wet as well as cold. Apparently a 3 foot long sleeping mat didn't work. Of course no one mentioned their comfortable night!
Breakfast was varied. Most of us went for a few munchy bars and a hot drink. The plan was to have a proper feed in Llanberis. Despite being up at 6 it was about 8 before we left the top, the views were just too nice and Anth needed to defrost. Pete went for a wander so it was only right and proper that some one added a little souvenir to his rucksack. The stone can't have been any bigger than a brick. The way of the hill was down the Snowdon Ranger path. To start with it was rideable but stony. Fairly soon it passed close to the top of Cloggy, the cliff of legends and Vember. I fancied a nose over the top but funnily the rest of the bunch seemed disinterested in sitting on the edge of a 500 foot drop. The path got steeper and rougher. We were all reduced to walking at several points and at one stage Mike's caravan jack-knifed. The scope for damage was great. In quite a few places the penalty for going over the bars was a tumble to the bottom of the hill half a mile and many hundreds of feet later. The transition to horizontal was sudden and strange. Now the track was flat, windy and smooth soil. Time to pedal again for the first time since leaving tarmac yesterday. Our route went down this path for a while and then we had to find an elusive track which went over the Telegraph pass. Its appearance wasn't welcomed. It was smooth grass at what seemed like 60 degrees. At this point we realised that we had 45 minutes to reach the cars before we were on borrowed time with the parking. Push time again for all of us. I bet Pete welcomed that stone.
When the high point was reached all changed. A gravel single track plummeted to the valley. Every 100 yards a piece of slate at 45 degrees served to divert the water. Fun and games these as they had to be hit at right angles. As familiarity led to contempt, speeds increased. Brilliant. This track was very much like one of those manicured paths that frequent Welsh cycle centres. The only thing preventing wrap speed was those water bars. Sensibly we spread out to avoid a 1 person wipe out becoming a mass pile up. Half way down I came around a corner to see Vess with his bike upside down and a tube in his hands. This was surprisingly the first puncture of the trip. Amazing bearing in mind the riding we had been doing. Sorted we were on our way. Pete had sneaked ahead now and whilst trying to pass him whilst he was fussing around a water slot I came the nearest to going over the bars that I had for a long time. Managed to back the front brake off and roll out of it thank goodness. I reached what could roughly be called tarmac first and was happily reminiscing about the days when I used to fish near here when Anth arrived. Droopy had punctured and Anth had come ahead with both sets of car keys. Hot rough tarmac was the surface now. Steep lanes, through fields and past 45 degree campers. In to the back streets of Llanberis, which are very much like the front streets but without the tourists. The considerate council had even supplied a set of table top jumps in the form of traffic calming lumps. The old ladies off to chapel were well impressed. The pair of us reached the vehicles at 9.44 and a bit. Just in time to move if we had to, which we didn't. Gradually the others rolled in to the only bad bit of the trip. Pete's Eats was solid. Breakfast was deferred until Capel Curig.
The rest of the day will hold interest to only the most bored of cyclist so I shall cut it very short and leave the details to the reader's imagination. So Anth shops for inner bag, totty in tight vest in shop, much time wasted, Droopy has puncture before we start at Penmachno cycle trail. Hot open hills up, I'm unfit, brilliant rocky trails down, Anth punctures, Mike falls off, Anth has only 3 cans of beer, I'm last in, ******, sweaty shorts off, lovely pint in local pub, off home, Drew has problems with paying for a leak, Pete shows us what happens when you eat your first fried egg for a year with a dodgy gut, sulphur!! Home. Tired. Sunday roast, bath, beer, bed.