Snowdonia National Park stretches over 50 miles from Conwy in the north, to Aberdyfi in the south — that’s almost half the “height” of Wales. East to west, the park is less extensive, and indeed can be more or less crossed in a couple of days at the popular northern end, which is exactly what I did this past weekend.

Making use of the Sherpa bus service that runs between Betws-y-Coed and Llanberis via Pen-y-Gwryd, it’s easy to put together a couple of linear walks that traverse both the Snowdon range and Moel Siabod, before descending the beautiful Afon Llugwy valley (passing the famous Swallow Falls on the way).

Day 1: Llanberis to Pen-y-Gwryd — 21 km (13 miles), 1600m (5250ft) ascent

Llanberis is at the foot of the standard “tourist route” up Snowdon, a popular, if unimaginative walk, from near sea level to the 1085 metre summit of the range. This is also the lower terminus of the Snowdon Mountain Railway, unique amongst the UK hills. It’s an often divisive feat of Victorian engineering that’s loved and loathed in equal measure, but our route to Pen-y-Gwryd (on the opposite side of the massif) avoids the railway for the most part.

The interactive Ordnance Survey map below shows the whole route. Day 1 is marked in blue, day 2 in purple.

Note that if you’re reading this post using an RSS reader (for example, Google Reader), the map may appear blank. In that case, you’ll need to read this post directly on the “A Wild Vista” website.

As you’ll see from the map, the route takes in the relatively untrodden summits to the west of Snowdon. Moel Eilio, Foel Fron, Foel Goch and Moel Cynghorion all offer pleasant walking on mostly grassy slopes. Although the ridges of these hills are fairly broad, steep vegetated cliffs add interest, along with a very prominent ancient landslide that is quite clearly visible from Moel Cynghorion’s summit ridge.

There’s a fair bit of up and down to deal with before you reach the Snowdon Ranger path, and then it’s a stiff pull up to Snowdon summit. If you’d been enjoying the peace and quiet of these outliers of Snowdon, the Snowdon Ranger and the summit pyramid may be a rude awakening. Nice to see so many folk out on the hills enjoying themselves though.

From Snowdon summit, retrace your steps to the point where the Snowdon Ranger, Llanberis, and Pyg Tracks meet (marked by a stone monolith), before dropping sharply east on the Pyg Track, and making your way over to Pen-y-Pass. From here, you’re back on the Llanberis – Betws-y-Coed bus route, so could catch a bus back to Llanberis or on to Betws-y-Coed. Alternatively, walk a mile down the A4086 road to the Pen-y-Gwryd Hotel (take care, as there’s no pavement on this busy section of winding road).

At Pen-y-Gwyrd, there’s a snug bar that’ll serve you a decent pint; make sure you check out the displays of kit and memorabilia from Hunt’s 1953 Everest expedition too — the one that succeeded in putting Tenzing and Hillary on the summit. The team trained for the expedition in the surrounding mountains, hence the association with Pen-y-Gwryd. Of course, you could also stay the night here before continuing your walk to Betws-y-Coed the following day.

Day 2: Pen-y-Gwryd to Betws-y-Coed — 18½ km (11½ miles), 800m (2600ft) ascent

Between Pen-y-Gwryd and Betws-y-Coed lies Moel Siabod. This 872 metre peak is often ignored in favour of the Snowdon, Glyderau and Carneddau ranges, which is a shame, as it’s an interesting mountain with plenty of interest to be found on its slopes. That said, the hill’s northern aspect is quite dull, and, unfortunately, that’s what’s on show to motorists passing through on the A4086 through Dyffryn Mymbyr.

From Pen-y-Gwryd, our route crosses more-or-less trackless ground, some of it quite marshy and tussocky, to reach the west ridge of Moel Siabod. The route to the summit is very easy, though not that interesting; only in the final 100 feet or so will you encounter rocky ground.

Moel Siabod’s separation from the surrounding ranges works in its favour when it comes to the view from the summit trig point. The higher ranges are laid out from southwest to north, and in other directions there are expansive views towards the tree-lined valley that enfolds Betws-y-Coed, and to more distant hills in the Moelwyns range, and Cadair Idris.

Leaving the top via the northeast ridge, there’s half-a-mile of mild scrambling and rock hopping to be had before you start to lose any significant height. All the while, Llyn y Foel glistens below in its sunny cwm.

Descending the northeast ridge of Moel Siabod

Eventually, you’ll reach the minor road that links the hamlet of Pont Cyfyng to the bridge on the A5 over the Afon Llugwy (adjacent to the “Ugly House” [Ty-Hyll]). Cross the bridge (taking care again, as there’s no pavement), and drop down to the river on a public footpath. From here to Betws-y-Coed, you can use a mixture of woodland paths that follow the river, and minor roads in the forest above. The Miner’s Bridge and Swallow Falls are highlights, but this whole section along the Llugwy is charming.

Forest by the Afon Llugwy

Himalayan Balsam (Impatiens glandulifera), by the Afon Llugwy

On arrival in Betws-y-Coed, you can catch a bus back to Pen-y-Gwryd, or on to Llanberis. Of course, Betws-y-Coed itself is full of accommodation options to suit all pockets, and also has a railway station, and bus services to larger towns.

If you enjoyed this post, take a look at “A touch of winter”, a description of a winter ascent of the Llanberis track up Snowdon.

[Special thanks go to Martin at “Postcard from Timperley” who corrected my earlier wild assertion that the pink flower pictured above was an orchid]

Useful links

• Snowdonia National Park, official web site (English / Welsh)
• Llanberis, tourist information
• “Sherpa” buses, information and timetables
• Snowdon Mountain Railway
• Pen-y-Gwryd Hotel
• Betws-y-Coed, tourist information

Now enjoying some sun, and a pleasant descent of Moel Siabod’s East ridge.

Looking down to Llyn y Foel.

Bit cloudy – sun trying to break through…

A pleasant bimble up the west ridge of Moel Siabod so far this Saturday morning.

Three months ago today, I was enjoying a weekend in Northern Snowdonia. Specifically, at Rowen Youth Hostel, which revels in a fantastically scenic location, perched on the steep western slopes of the Conwy Valley. The Carneddau range, comprising by far the largest contiguous area of high ground over 3000 feet south of Scotland, is on the doorstep.

The closest I’d come to this locality before was some eight years earlier, though under rather different circumstances. Back then, above Abergwyngregyn, perhaps five miles from the hostel as the crow flies, I’d sat shivering in a parked car with my walking companion, Chris, listening to the rain bouncing off the roof. For over an hour. At 04:30 in the morning. The only vaguely sane explanation for such behaviour is that we were on a mission to do the Welsh 3000s — a mission which never got off the ground due to the appalling weather from the get go.

As it happens, last October, the weekend at Rowen YHA didn’t get off to a brilliant start either. Having driven 214¾ of the 215 miles from Cambridge to Rowen without incident, the final ¼-mile to the hostel proved too much for the Pug. I’d have found it hard to believe that there was a surfaced road in the UK which was physically too steep to drive up for an average road car, but this proved to be the case. It’s more than a little disconcerting to find oneself gradually moving backwards downhill, whilst simultaneously stamping on the footbrake, and ratcheting up the handbrake to the max. I blame a combination of rain, wet leaves, and a gradient in excess of 1:3 on the inside of the hairpins.

Having inadvertently backed the car into a ditch while trying to reverse back down the hill in the dark, I abandoned it there for the night (this was going to need a tow, or at least the combined efforts of most of the other folk expected that weekend, to push it out), and walked the final 400 yards to the hostel. Everyone else had arrived within an hour, with at least one other car becoming stuck on the hill and having to execute a careful retreat. Still, nothing a couple of beers couldn’t help me forget about.

The following day, we all enjoyed a walk from the hostel, up over Drum and onto Foel-Fras. Though a little windy and dreich on the way up, the clouds cleared to give us some great views as we descended back to Rowen by the same route.

Back at the hostel, relaxing before we headed down the hill to the pub for the evening, I was fetching a bag of coal for the fire when the second sting-in-the-tail for the weekend caught me out. None too pleased at being disturbed from her hibernation among the coal sacks, a queen wasp stung me on the cuticle as I hefted a bag from the pile.

Queen wasp (from Flickr, user bramblejungle, CC-BY-NC-2 license)

I was too surprised to have the wherewithall to dispatch the creature and merely flicked it away. So, if you’re up at Rowen YHA during summer 2010, and are being bothered by a wasp nest, then I apologise in advance. It’s astonishing how such a little thing can inflict so much pain. After an initially eye-watering five-minute period where my finger felt as though it was being held in the fire that I’d been retrieving the coal for, it settled down somewhat. Imagine having your hand slammed in a door every few minutes for a couple of hours and you’ve got the idea. Beer didn’t help this time around.

There was one more unforeseen and unwelcome incident that weekend, when the hostel fire alarm malfunctioned at some ungodly hour on Sunday morning, and, having been silenced, proceeded to bleat about a fault until we eventually left on Sunday morning. At this point, the water had run out too. We’d been warned about this earlier in the week by the warden, and so had brought a fair amount of bottled water along. Talk about coals to Newcastle…

Overall though, this was a very enjoyable weekend, despite a few mishaps. The next time the travel instructions warn of an extremely steep hill that one may well be better parking at the bottom of, I might just do as they say…

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Having had what felt like endless weeks of unseasonably warm, excessively wet, and irritatingly windy weather here in the UK, I wasn’t expecting much from the last weekend of November in North Wales. With this corner of the UK not known for its propensity to deliver suitable holidaying weather, I was well up for (and would have been quite satisfied with) a couple of days sat in front of a roaring open fair, quaffing ale, and talking nonsense with my mates.

Preparing for the Llanberis Track, near Llyn Padarn.

As it happens I managed all of the above (well, minus the open fire — the two-bar variety just doesn’t cut it), and, quite unexpectedly, managed to fit two memorable days’ mountain walking in too. For the first time in months, I completely ignored the weather forecasts. My usual forays to the Mountain Weather Information Service and their excellent forecasts tailored to us hill folk, were absent. The drive up from Cambridge on the Friday evening — via Nottingham to pick up two friends — was trouble free. As always happens (no, really, this always happens), the skies stayed dry until just after we crossed the border into Wales, whereupon the rain started. Unbeknownst to my passengers and I, this same rain was falling as heavy snow on the mountains.

Waking the next morning (with a slight hangover — the Theakstons Old Peculiar hadn’t settled terribly well), the skies were leaden, and there was a biting wind blowing the plastic recycling boxes around in the courtyard. A hint of rain in the air too. Of late, I’ve been succumbing to the temptation of low-level bimbles and tea-shop bagging when faced with, if not exactly inclement, then decidedly unfriendly weather.

Not this time though. I had a plan. Snowdon via the Llanberis track.

I think the Llanberis track has an undeserved reputation as a monotonous, second-rate route up the mountain. It’s really not all that bad. Agreed, in direct comparison to the Snowdon Horseshoe, or a more accessible route like the Pyg or Rhyd Ddu tracks, the Llanberis Track doesn’t shine. With the first dump of heavy snow of the winter mantling the hill from 400m though, the Llanberis Track gains some teeth.

A good dump of snow makes things a lot quieter for a start. No trains, and a much reduced stream of potential summiteers gives one more room to breathe. Of course, the final section along the summit ridge (above the Pyg track) is the usual circus — I wonder how many days a year, on average, the summit of Snowdon sees no visitors at all? I’d bet it’s in single figures.

Chilly views from the summit building.

We got quite chilly on top, taking lunch on the summit station platform, in the lee of the new summit building (Hafod Eryri), but were lucky to have the clouds break up as we were there.

Heading back down one can appreciate this route much more. Sweeping views over Mynydd Mawr, the Nantlle Ridge, and out across Anglesey are complemented by more intimate views of the climbers’ mecca — Clogwyn Du’r Arddu — reflected perfectly in its attendant lake. Crib Goch and the Glyders put in an appearance as well.

Crib Goch and the Glyders, from near Snowdon summit.

Here, too, near Clogwyn station, is a notorious convex slope that, sadly, seems to dispatch ill-equipped and unobservant hillgoers over the cliffs of Clogwyn Coch all too frequently.

But the snow was far too soft for that to be a serious danger this time round. Good thing too given some of the attire in evidence among the multitudes…

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