My head is a whirlwind at the moment, we are writing the end of year report at Cemlyn, I am busy organising ‘Anglesey Marine Week 2012 Wythnos Morol Mon’ and I am trying to sort out my future employment. Sometimes, we just need a break don’t we?! In order to get away from it all, I thought dangling from a steep rock face would do it.
For all you non-climbers (such as myself) out there, I’d like to go through so climbing terminology with you. Climbs are graded; according to their technical difficulty and how protected they are (as in how many places you can attach yourself to the rock with a big sigh of relief!). I get the impression that anyone who climbs looks straight to the grades that I am not even going to mention…beneath those, however you have climbs rated moderate, difficult ‘diff’ and very difficult ‘v.diff’. A note on this terminology: these descriptions were coined by the pioneers of modern-day climbing way back when and refer to the severity of the climb as it would have been at the turn of the last century (without today’s knowledge and fancy gadgetry). However, it doesn’t take a genius to work out that ‘diff’ means this climb is going to be difficult, shortening the word isn’t going to fool me! If people who were bona-fide climbers back in the day thought it was difficult then I won’t be so bold as to think that a novice like me can waltz up there (no matter what you climber types tell me!).
Yesterday’s adventure took me, in very capable hands, to Glyder Fawr in the Snowdonia National Park looking over the stunning Llyn Idwal and Ogwen Valley. We were going to climb a route called the Cneifion Arete. According to the guide books, this is a ‘moderate’ climb or a top-grade scramble (i.e. the full ropes and harness set up is not needed). It was around a 45 minute walk from the already high up Ogwen Cottage to the foot of the “scramble” and from here the arete (a thin ridge of rock) headed vertically away from me to a jagged ridge curving left high above my head (140m above my head to be precise). The nature of the climb meant that I would use all my might to meet my guide at a belay point (a place of anchorage) and he would toddle off ahead on the next pitch like he was hopping over a style in a grassy meadow! It was at these points where the pleasure of the experience was most intense. Firstly, I made it. One hurdle down. Secondly, a rest for my weak arms and legs. Thirdly, a Raven calling (below me!) swirling around in the air; king of the mountains. Finally, the excitement of my next part of the challenge as the “safe” call beckoned me upwards.
I look quite happy in the photo… If you had a true series of events unfolding in pictures before you, it would be something quite different. I noticed that I bite my bottom lip a lot, as if that is somehow going to magically propel me upwards and I make some great tennis-playing noises as I commit to grab a hold above me.
After all the playful moaning about what an ordeal I was having, for the most part I felt a fantastic sense of achievement and was able to admire a staggering view from an aspect I would not normally have been able to visit.
Oh and my biggest inspiration to reach the top…dinner! It’s amazing how hungry you get clinging to the side of a rock!