Over 3 months since the last outing, rum left safely at home and some extra legs at hand, myself and 5 others made the trek up the A5 to the wonderful bunkhouse at the foot of Tryfan. If you’ve never stayed at the Gwern Gof Uchaf campsite/bunkhouse then I would heartily recommend it, there is nothing quite so appreciated after a hard day in the hills as a comfortable bed and a kitchen in which someone else cooks.
We arrived, as is customary, in dribs and drabs on Friday evening, all having driven up from our various locations in England after work, myself and another being the first on the scene picked up the key, filled up the kettle and got dinner on. Some time later the gang all assembled, we formulated a plan for the following day, it looked something like this;
The plan was formed to ascend by means of the North Ridge, then move down from the summit to Bwlch-Tryfan then make an attempt on Glyder Fach via Bristly Ridge, to descend Y Gribin.
Objective No.1 – Tryfan.
In the words of my Grandfather, an old mountaineer and climber of some experience “Tryfan is a serious mountain Clive, I took your Grandmother there to teach her to glissade”. From which I think he meant a warning to be careful and a vague admission of some ill-intent towards my long suffering Grandmother.
The following morning we got out early(ish) this time, we were out the door for 8 O’Clock and more than a good way up the hill for 9. The trip up Tryfan was one I shall always remember, the way was relatively easy on reflection, although reasonably exposed at times it was highly enjoyable, and has firmly placed a number of climbs on my wish list, Milestone Butress being near the top.
After the usual photographic shenanigans a-top the Cannon, we made our way to the North Peak, after descending the small saddle between the North Peak and Adam & Eve at the summit, we delayed at the head of North Gully to take yet more pictures perched atop the large stone bridge that marks the end of the climb. Upon readying ourselves to leave though, the day took a turn for the interesting when we heard a number of forlorn cries for assistance from below, which turned out to be an unfortunate chap, who, upon leaving his party to assist an unwell ascensionist back to the safety of level ground had decided to use North Gully as a shortcut and had some slippery experiences in the snow and a banged head for the trouble. Sensibly he then decided to stay put and shout for help. Luckily, no more than 40 meters away was a party of idiots buggering about on a scary rock (us), with harnesses on and ropes attached, because we aren’t that silly. At which point I descended the slope with an extra harness and rope and we belayed the unfortunate fellow to the top, where the rest of his, to this point oblivious, party had begun to congregate. All in all, the photographic buggering about and impromptu rescue effort took about an hour, in which time the sky had cleared and the summit of Tryfan beckoned in the clear, warm afternoon light.
After some cheese sandwiches and a small rest, we began the descent into Bwlch-Tryfan and our journey onwards, from the sunny gloriousness of Tryfan, to the ominous and cloudy Bristly Ridge.
Sensible people would now turn around and go back. We however ploughed ahead sure and safe in our abilities to climb, route find and map read in heavy fog without compasses (thank you, magnetic Glyder Fach) and not die.
Objective No.2 – Glyder Fach
Encouraged by the worried looks of our fellow scramblers on Tryfan, we headed into the gloom, scrambling the snowy slopes of Bristly Ridge up to the more serious rock outcrops and crags. Over an hour of tentative route finding (essentially, choosing direction based on if it was ‘up’ or not), scrambling, climbing, swearing and quelling the ever increasing urges to panic, we made our way past a group of roped up, crampon wearing, ice-axe wielding, helmet wearing, proper mountaineers. With words of mutual encouragement and a look of what I am fairly certain was fear mixed with the concern you might see a person have for someone drunkenly starting a fight with a tiger, we climbed past them (after asking for directions of course), ropeless, axeless and spikeless, to the top ridge and along to the summit plateau of Glyder Fach.
Meeting some walkers who had elected for a slightly less mental route of ascent we decided to head over to the cantilever at the summit for some pictures, then head down. By this time we only had around 2 hours of daylight left so decided we should descend by the miners path, rather than Y Gribin, to get back before the onset of nightfall and yet more impromptu adventures.
Breaking the cloud into the view of the sunset shining onto the foothills of the Carneddau on the other side of the valley, lighting everything up as it did in a golden bath, is something I will always remember.
We trudged down the miners path back to the bunkhouse a happy bunch, some frustrating navigating at the summit behind us (we only walked in one circle after all, not loads) we reflected on the beauty of the land around us, how lucky we were to enjoy it without mishap, and looking forward to the Spaghetti we were going to cook as soon as we got back.
Nice one Clive, was a blinder!