Here’s the video from the trip. I’ve been thinking about why it meant so much to me to sleep on top of Snowdon. It’s not the wilderness experience I’ve had on a lot of my trips, there’s a dirty great café and it’s not like I got a decent view. It’s not even that it was the first big mountain I climbed when I got back into backpacking. I think it’s partly to do with the whole horseshoe- it’s the grandeur of the lakes with Snowdon at the head. It’s the shape of Snowdon and the reputation of the approaches like Crib Goch. It’s walking up it on a summer’s day and hearing families discussing previous trips and the possibility of returning when their children are older. It’s the sense of human history there-from the ruins on the Watkins route through to the train filled with lobster skinned tourists who won’t even make it up to the true summit from the station. It’s walking out of the rain and mist and steaming with a Guinness amongst the orange cagoule atmosphere of the old café and it’s the Overlook hotel feel of the new café in the snow. It’s a fine British institution, a cathedral of the natural world, a reminder of my childhood buying leather bookmarks and giant pencils on day trips. The people don’t distract from the sheer scale of this hill as long as I don’t let them and you only have to walk twenty minutes to be free of the hordes. There are plenty of hills to visit to be antisocial and this summer, when I bring my family on their first trip guess where I’ll bring them? Snowdon will blow Steph’s socks off- it’s deeply impressive, but it’s accessible too. It’s no good if the hardship outweighs the pleasure, and there is a lot of pleasure to be had here.
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