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An^^Ascent^^to^remember..
Whenever I read about trekking or climbing or any adventure, as they mention
things like adrenaline rushing through the veins, etc., my mind disobediently transports me to the memories of our worst adventure. May it cannot be
more insane, as any higher degree of it would have claimed our bodies, or may
be some parts of them, or may be no one would have known what had happened to
us. It was night around 10 pm in the dining room of a Welsh hostel called Lawrence house in Tremadog which was the birth
place of Lawrence of Arabia, a legendary British soldier. Dining room was
illuminated with bright lights and some rock music was playing in the
background in low volume. The room had felt warm enough and somewhat filled
with aroma of cooked meat. That was a barbeque night and the four of us were
least interested in anything but for stuffing in something as we longed for an
undisturbed sleep till anything could wake us up.
We had reached this hostel in a harbor
town called Porthamadog the previous day to do the long
awaited visit to Wales. It was May and summer always was an
advantage as we could easily do double the places than that of winter. Wales is
studded with plenty of beautiful places – Chester, Barmouth, Cardiff (the
capital), Conwy, Swansea, HolyHead etc. For some reason which I don’t remember,
we got prompted to visit the north-west part of Wales which has the Snowdonia National Park along with other interesting places.
Our hostel was a small cosy place on the church road with an orchid behind it,
which would lead to some walks and was looked after by a middle-aged hospitable
couple – Carl and Anna. They themselves seemed to have
traveled a lot, as one could see several small wood-framed photographs of their
visits to various places in US and Europe, hanging all around the reception,
stairways and the dining hall, which could engage the guests for a long time.
What had grabbed my interest the most were the photos of Mount Snowdon taken from miles afar in its
different faces of it in different seasons, seen like a fair lady covered with
snow once and sometimes like the face of a mysterious man with long
brown hair locks.
At Snowdon Train Station in Llanberis
We did not have any planned schedule in mind
except for few places I had read about ( and also imagined visiting them ), one
of which being the Criccieth Castle, the fortified walls of which were
constantly hit by the strong and roaring blue sea waves of the Cardigan bay.
Most of the castles in Wales – Conwy, Caernarfon, Criccieth, Harlech, etc. were
built on sea shores, one of the obvious reasons being they were easier to
reach. During our breakfast the next morning, we had looked at a black board
standing in the reception displaying the weather forecast for the day. It was
not uncommon even in summer, to discuss the weather every morning when one goes
out to visit places in UK. But it was probably more important there given the
fact that most of the visitors in Porthamadog would not go back without
visiting the Snowdonia National Park and the Snowdon mountain, the closest to
the English and Welsh skies. We had not paid much attention to the content on
the board, but had heard Carl citing it would be a cloudy day. After few hours
we were snaking through the long roads winding up the hills and down the
plateaus with rain water streams alongside and mountains seen afar every now
and then leaving us guessing that could be
the Snowdon every
time we had seen one. It was a typical Welsh countryside scene with sign-boards
that indicated the walks into the national park and endless greenery with white
spots here and there, which actually was a diminished frame of lambs grazing in
herds, forming circles and rows.
Lamb scene in
Wales
At a place called
Pen-Y-Fin we had taken the road towards the base of Snowdon mountain from where
the trekkers commence to the top, which is about 1085 msl. We had seen some
enthusiasts at various distances on the path moving up and that had looked
doable. But given that it was drizzling, there surely was a more decent way of
doing it – taking a train to the top of the mountain aka The Snowdon Mountain Train which is the first
Funicular train in UK. It starts from Llanberis which was few miles away. En
route to Llanberis, it had started raining more and we had thought it was a
good decision to go up the mountain by train. Llanberis is a small town and it
became important because of its Copper ores and also has an old castle, a big
lake and a lake railway nearby. And having the Snowdon Mountain Train starting
from here, it is thronged by tourists from all over. But we were told that the
train was not operating that day because of bad weather…., may be the rain. But
we were obliged with a short movie on more than hundred years old Snowdon
Mountain Train, in a small theater with few other fellow watchers. We had
munched on some cookies, had some hot coffee and explored a walk behind the
train station that actually would lead to the mountain top. After few hours, we
were left with nothing else to do there and we found ourselves back at Snowdon
base (Pen-Y-Pass) by afternoon.
Llanberis
Lake Railway
A view of Snowdon
I am not sure if I
was convinced completely to climb Snowdon when we were about to reach the base
from Llanberis. But what would have inspired was the other trekkers, the
imagined scenic beauty to and along the way to the summit and a strong
lets-experience-it feeling. At the base, we had contemplated the act to check
each other’s energy levels with no idea that would turn our day to be
nerve-wrecking. We had gathered that there are five or six routes in total, one
being Llanberis Path which we had seen as starting behind the train station at
Llanberis. From the base point, we had two choices – first, the Pyg Track,
which was supposed to take lesser time i.e., around 2.5 hours but
steeper-yet-possible and second, the Miner’s Pass, longer and usually taken as
the return route. Also, we had seen some peers marching up from the base by Pyg
Track. Most of them were seen with proper mountain gear which I only remembered
seeing from the pictures of the likes of Tenzing Norgay with hand spikes,
eye-glasses, jacket and footwear that suits the purpose of the hour. But that
was not taken with any seriousness and we were all ready for the task with our
normal jackets and sports shoes on. The beginning fifteen min was rock-cut
steps of around 10 feet width with constant rise of elevation. After
half-an-hour the altitude was high enough that the road by which we drove from
Llanberis to the base and the Llanberis lake started to appear and were
becoming more and more tiny as we moved up, while the reception at the base
point had gradually disappeared. The path had lead us along a rocky wall on one
side of it and uneven land or sometimes nothing on the other side. The trekkers
who were climbing down in this path were constantly greeting us while gasping
the hell out of their bodies.
The road to Llanberis as
seen when we had started from the base at Pen-Y-Pass
As it had appeared after some more progress, a view of Llanberis lake
Pyg
Track
After an hour of
ascent, we realized that winds have turned strong and were coming in every
direction which made it difficult even to figure out which side to balance the
body or align the hands to stay upright on the track. My jacket which was
zipped up from my waist till the last nanometer at the neck was far from being
any good to restrict the wind and suddenly got bloated with a horrific noise.
Though it had appeared like I was carrying a huge sack of water or sand around
me it was the wind which was commanding my movements. I realized the wind can
prove unforgiving and found a reason to laugh on remembering our superlatively
absurd idea sometime ago, to carry the umbrellas to escape the drizzle but were
luckily warned by some people at the base against that, because of the winds.
By then, we had found very less companions climbing along in our direction. An
elderly man climbing down exclaimed that it could take two-and-half hours more
to reach the summit and the reason the mountain train had got canceled that day
was strong winds and not rain. By then the drinking water we had carried with
us was emptied till the last drop and we were left with nothing to help our
exhausted bodies. As we had continued, sight of Llyn Teyrn, a lake with a
narrow path passing in between had greeted us. We had thought that the narrow
path was the Miner’s Pass, the return route, and that could be an indication
that we were nearing the summit. As it demanded more sincerity and caution, we
had to bend down and crawl while holding the rocks on the track sometimes and
other times just wait for the wind to pause in order to take the expedition few
meters forward. My worst fears had shown up when it had started pouring again
and made the rocks slippery. Where I needed to climb, I had to pull in
confidence, count it on the rocks that were supporting my weight and my shoes
to not give up on me. The situation was such, even a slight injury that could
make any of us to limp would put all of us in a hopeless situation. That day,
Snowdon was literally a no man’s land where there were no telephone signals,
almost nobody around, no food, no transport and in few hours it was about to
get dark. It was a fight of mind over the body to do its job or there was only
a little chance.
After two hours, with no idea still how far…
A view of Miner’s Pass from Pyg Track
After a slippery
climb onto a small cliff, we had reached a flat area of about 15 meters in
length where one of us had declared that he could not move anymore and he
preferred to cling there around till we reach the summit and go back to him.
There was no path further except for some traces of a way that possibly was the
right direction to the final point. We could see the summit, the top most point
of England and Wales just about twenty meters away with two sharp tips, like
that of the Golden Gate bridge, but with
one tip much closer to and little higher than the other. The place was covered
with fog and mist and we got to deal with that too, along with the wind. We had
to sit down and move slowly holding the rocks. Few meters beyond there was
nothing to hold and it was a plane, wet surface and had appeared to be
deceptively slippery. Even that could not be clearly seen anymore with fog
coming in our line of vision continually, clearing and reforming at quick
intervals. That was probably the last warning we were given before taking any
step forward. In the slapping noise of wind each of us yelled to others that we
should consider ending it there, somewhat in a voice that expected no
disagreement. And others had calmly acknowledged it, looking at each other in a
sense of acceptance. After all, would those twenty meters matter ? At that
moment we still did not have any idea how we would climb down to the base. We
had slowly moved back to the flat area to join back our friend where a tall
rock was positioned, on which we had banked our bodies, literally, took a photo
that speaks a moment of achievement, pride, adventure, thankfulness and though
we did not say it out then, there were also some lessons. I shall not ignore the detail of anything
that is new …
View
of the summit -the highest point in England and Wales,
as it
had appeared when we were around 15 min away
or
may be eternally away
The
point where we had called it quits
Snowdon
in a pleasant mood
As if the final
test was over, weather had dramatically started showing its good side when we
had started back; rainy to sunny, windy to breezy and noisy to pleasant.
Through the Miner’s Pass and walking by the two lakes it was a quicker and
easier return to the base. Not everyone would have had the same experience as
we had at Snowdon. We could not stop being thankful to everything that had
attributed to our safe return. And for sure, lets-experience-it feeling at
Snowdon would remain an ever-lasting memory for me with a baggage of lessons to
remember. Wiki-ing later had revealed some facts on Snowdon – steep cliffs here
had significance in the history of UK rock climbing since 1798 when the first
climb was recorded. And Sir Edmund Hillary had trained himself here for his
climb to the Mt. Everest !
We drove back to
the hostel and at around 10 pm, and while we were eating in hurry to push for
rest, Carl had told us that he had waited for us and has thought that we might
not return that night. I had looked at the black board in the reception which
appeared to have made a teasing face at me. I had called a dear friend the next
morning from the hostel and had narrated him of our experience, which had ended
short by twenty meters to the summit. That ironical thought had come to my mind again, would those twenty
meters matter ? I think the answer is both Yes and No. If we had done that
extra bit we would have been at that two feet-by-two feet area where many great
climbers would have stood, which in other words, we would have achieved what we
had in mind when we had started out. At the same time, we were not prepared for
an expedition and taken that the train itself was not operating on that
grueling-turned-fortunate day because of winds, we as humans could reach so
far, which was incredible. Well, why do people climb mountains in the first
place ? To sense an achievement ? I think its more important to invade the
mountains within us…, the mountains of obstacles in our path to live out our
aspirations. Another lesson. Don’t you agree ?
An article
published in BBC about dangers on Snowdon http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/uk_news/wales/north_west/7290635.stm
