Wednesday 22 September

Moel Siabod café

We woke in the wild, quiet, slightly damp Dyffryn Mymbyr valley and made the excellent decision to get breakfast down the road at the Moel Siabod café. Ryan had been before but for me it was love at first sight, once we were past the tinny, slightly naff-looking red and green exterior: inside, half the walls were wood panelled and the other half were painted bright yellow, and from all of them hung canvases and frames displaying incredible mountain photography. A huge pile of mountaineering magazines sat invitingly in one corner, stories of epic local feats adorned noticeboards and two counter-mounted maps of Snowdonia took up a considerable amount of space among the homely pine tables.

We ordered breakfast, found a small gallery full of more stunning photos tucked in a side room, picked up a couple of magazines and sat down in a corner by the window under a framed jacket signed by Leo Houlding. At risk of stereotyping I noted that many of the people in there had “the climber look”, usually characterised by bright down jackets and slightly wayward hair (myself very much included). Our breakfast arrived, I stopped gawping around the room, and we ate. The food was lovely and very generous: Ryan’s full English and my smoked salmon and scrambled eggs set us up for the day’s hiking, and we left for the Glyders.

The hike begins

After a 10 minute drive up the A5, we parked in the free car park below Tryfan and opposite Llyn Ogwen, waited a few minutes in the hope that the rain would subside, and packed bags for our hike. Having trad climbed up Tryfan a few days before, we decided to approach Bristly Ridge and the Glyders from Ogwen Cottage (the common approach is from Tryfan), which would enable us to enjoy a picturesque walk-in along a quieter path.

I wouldn’t go so far as to say it was grim when we set off late morning, but it was decidedly grey and damp. We walked along the road to Ogwen Cottage, which was busy with school groups and ramblers, and joined the popular path towards Llyn Idwal. After 200m we branched off left onto a quiet, rocky path and walked for about 1km, a pleasant tramp across grassy heathland which inclined gradually at first, then quite steeply. To our relief, the weather brightened up as we walked.

Undulating slopes rose high in front of us and the vast ridges of Pen yr Ole Wen and Mynydd Perfedd hid their tops in low cloud behind, separated by the V-shaped Nant Ffrancon valley. Llyn Ogwen stretched along the base of Pen yr Ole Wen, and its black, glassy water matched that of Llyn Bochlwyd, the attractive, wild tarn* that we came to after a fairly strenuous climb.

We fall out, and make up

We went slightly wrong here, executing the schoolboy mistake of subconsciously following a couple of hikers we’d caught up with. We realised quite quickly that they’d taken the left fork but we wanted the right one, so we retraced our steps over boggy ground and walked in the right general direction, the path having disappeared in the muddiness. We climbed above Llyn Bochlwyd while arguing about something silly – I think Ryan complained that I always take over, while I complained that if I didn’t we’d never get anywhere – then went slightly wrong again, then righted ourselves again, then traversed a boulderfield, then made up at the base of Bristly Ridge.

It’s a good thing we did, because the Bristly Ridge scramble was something special and getting over our silliness meant that we became willing to take pictures of each other. The route wasn’t clear from the stone wall that runs between Tryfan and Glyder Fach, so – keen to avoid the “normal” path and make sure we found the scrambling route – we kept west of the wall and headed up towards the vertical rock.

Bristly Ridge

Once past the loose boulders, the real climbing started. Bristly Ridge is a grade 1 scramble situated on the north face of Glyder Fach which has good, solid holds but some exposed sections. Most of the climbing involved scrambling up gullies and around slabby corners, and we found it quite exciting – steep, exposed and probably quite scary to anyone not used to climbing, but technically easy and excellent fun. We paused mid-climb to watch a couple of jets whoosh low through the Ogwen and Nant Ffrancon valleys like bullets, filling the air with a thunderous roar – no wonder the rocks were so full of cracks. The sky had turned blue, scattered with fluffy clouds, and the sun illuminated the olive green, rock-strewn landscape, accentuating the wild beauty of the rugged mountains all around.

The Glyders

Eventually we emerged onto the Glyder plateau and, finding that we no longer needed our hands, walked along the wide, boulder-strewn ridge towards the summit of Glyder Fach (994m). I’m not sure exactly where that is as there’s nothing to mark it, but looking at a map we must have reached it after about 200m. We found the famous cantilever stone, took the obligatory (cheesy) photos on top and carried on along the grey ridge.

Glyders Fach and Fawr are the two highest peaks in the Glyderau mountain range. They run east-west and once at Glyder Fach, the “path” (there isn’t really one, it’s just a case of heading in the right direction across the scree and boulders) to Glyder Fawr is rocky, loose and relatively flat.  I walked this wide, distinctive ridge one blizzardy, dark January day a few years ago and it was a totally different place – colourless, desolate and hostile. This time the weather allowed us to see for miles over the breathtaking grey-green landscape, appearing in windows between low, drifting clouds, and we could appreciate the strange, jagged, Mordor-esque formations of dark grey rock protruding along the ridge at odd angles from the ground. The best example was Castell y Gwynt, a monstrous alien structure made of many thin, vertical slabs that rose high above the ground in a huge, spiky dragon’s scale shape, as if the rock had been forcibly rejected by the Earth.

We reached Glyder Fawr after about a mile of this and continued west – not entirely intentionally, and to the bemusement of some hardy sheep – to admire the spectacular view of the Llanberis Pass from the Esgair Felen spur. From there, we headed back towards the vague path that drops steeply down the scree field to Llyn y Cwn, a small tarn, half walked, half slipped down, and once near the black water, took the level path that heads north east towards the Devil’s Kitchen.

Cwm Idwal & Devil’s Kitchen

We crossed a drystone wall and paused to admire Llyn Idwal below us, framed perfectly by the steep sides of Y Garn and the Y Gribin ridge and backed by cloud-topped Pen yr Ole Wen. We descended down the steep, twisty rock steps that took us into the belly of Cwm Idwal with the ominous-looking Devil’s Kitchen on our left, stopping to chat to a couple of small groups on our way, all the while taking in the enormity of this incredible hanging valley**.

The Devil’s Kitchen is a large, dark crack in the rock overlooking Llyn Idwal that separates the two hulking masses of Glyder Fawr and Y Garn. A waterfall flows from the crack and steam often rises out of it, which – according to legend – indicates that the Devil is cooking; that is, while he’s not busy beckoning weary travellers in, never to be seen again. He must have been otherwise occupied when we were there, because the black gap was menacingly still and steamless, as if its inhabitant was lying in wait for such an unsuspecting weary traveller.

After a considerable descent, we took the path on the west side of Llyn Idwal and walked along the mysterious, gently rippling water’s edge, feel very small in the huge, bowl-like cwm. The lake is named after Prince Idwal Foel, a grandson of an ancient Welsh King, who – according to another legend – drowned in the lake. As a result of this tragedy, birds will never fly over the water. This is a shame, given the cwm’s status as a National Nature Reserve.

We walked along the stony beach at the head of the lake, crossed a bridge and headed back along the well-trodden path to Ogwen Cottage. Being only slightly less busy than earlier, we didn’t hang around before shooting back along the A5 to the van.

Evening – Plas y Brenin & Gallt y Glyn

We got back about 5.30pm, sorted our stuff and considered our options for dinner. Being the last night we decided to eat out, so we drove back along the Ogwen valley, into the Dyffryn Mymbyr valley and stopped at Plas y Brenin, the National Outdoor Centre. We had a drink at the cosy bar overlooking Llynnau Mymbyr lake, jealous of the several large groups who’d clearly been doing some kind of outdoor training or activity and were more than likely working or staying there. Feeling a little out of place we decided to try a pub in Llanberis, hoping for somewhere with good food and a bit of a buzz, so we drove along the Dyffryn Mymbyr valley and down the Llanberis pass into the town. We had a drink in The Heights but didn’t fancy anything on the menu, so we took heed of our Rockfax climbing guide, which informed us that the nearby Gallt y Glyn pub held “climber’s night” on Wednesdays.

The pub was a cosy hostel/hotel on the edge of the town near Llyn Padarn. On arrival we were disappointed to find that covid restrictions prevented any kind of socialising with other climbers, but we liked the homely atmosphere and were delighted with our food.  For £8 each (plus toppings, which weren’t expensive) I had a custom pizza (prawn, olive, sausage, basil and jalapenos) and a glass of wine, and Ryan had a custom burger with salad and a beer. It was really delicious – up there with the best pizzas I’ve eaten.

Full of lovely food and in good spirits despite our impending last day of holiday, we drove back up the dark Llanberis Pass and parked on a roadside pull-in near Plas y Brenin. We went back in for another drink and sat on a cosy corner sofa, chuckling at a 1950s mountaineering handbook taken from the large bookcase behind us that was full of mountain-themed treasures. The bar was buzzing and very cosy, and when we went along a corridor to find the loos we were distracted by the multitude of fascinating old climbing photos on the walls. It was a large building with a lot going on – reception area, accommodation, training rooms, bar etc – and we decided that we’d love to come back and do some of the training courses.

After a couple of drinks we walked back to the van, slipped into the bed we’d made up earlier in anticipation of the couple of drinks, and slept soundly.

*Tarn – a small mountain lake formed by a glacier, usually surrounded by steep slopes

**Hanging valley – an elevated valley formed by a glacier with a steep slope joined onto the side of a main, deeper valley

(turns out geography is cool after all)