‘Snowdon Walk this Sunday…Would you like to join us?’ said a line in Claudia’s Facebook post on our running club page.
My first thought was: that would be great, I’ve never been up Snowdon before, followed swiftly by: no I really can’t, I’ve put a long run down for that day.
This was on the Friday, and for a few hours I put the message at the back of my mind. This week was number one (or sixteen?) of my sixteen-week marathon countdown, and I was determined to be more consistent with my training and couldn’t get too side-tracked. At the very least, I thought, I need to follow through on what was laid down in the week ahead, and I had laid down a long run for the Sunday.
Somehow the message in the post fell out of my mouth in a conversation with Anne.
‘That sounds brilliant. You’re getting a lift there, you’re going with someone who knows what they’re doing, the weather is looking dry. What’s the problem?’
‘Hmm, I guess it would add to my training. And it’s just week one. And I’ve never been up Snowdon before,’ I said.
‘Well, in that case, you have to do it.’
Anne dropped me off at the club in Heswall at eight on Sunday morning, after suggesting that cheese in my lunch-time wraps would survive better than fish fingers if the weather was warm, and soon after a white Toyota pulled up at the curb. Jayne, also from the club was coming along too, which was lovely, but then I wondered if I’d be able to keep up as both she and Claudia are terrific runners. I’m not a particularly fast walker either.
The drive from the Wirral to Llanberis at the foot of Snowdon is nearly two hours, but that seemed to go quickly as we chatted away. Jayne about her upcoming trip along the Camino de Santiago and Claudia about her imminent move to Greece. It was a bit of a shock; I hadn’t realised that she was moving away. But it was yet another reason why I was glad to have said yes to the invite. A small carpe diem moment because you never know when you are next going to get the chance to spend quality time with friends.
The website said that the carparks in Llanberis were big, but the first one, at the foot of the walk was already full as we got in at 9:50, and the second one, opposite the train station was filling up quickly too. Were all these people walking up the mountain? As we crossed to road to the loos, we watched several highly expensive looking cycles whizz by.
‘Ooh, perhaps it’s the Slateman Triathlon,’ piped up Jayne.
I had never heard of it but apparently, the Slateman Triathlon and Duathlon is a famous annual event held here each year, which hopefully explained the number of cars about. Unfortunately, there were also plenty of people coming up the Llanberis path with us. There was a steady stream of folk going up and down, and seemingly from all walks of life. From the few hardcore fell runners, and then those with poles and suitable hiking boots, all the way to people with kids and dogs, some of which (including both kids and dogs here) seemed to have very small legs. Maybe there are future Jasmine Parises among them or maybe they will hate their parents forever.
It’s a clearly marked and generally wide path up. so there were very few moments where we had to stop to let other people go, and when we remembered to look sideways at the great expanse, we could feel the blessed emptiness of the landscape. It didn’t matter that we human ants ran, walked or crawled up this path en masse so long as we generally left that mountainous terrain well alone, and if we could do it without dropping litter that would be even better. Claudia had thoughtfully brought up a couple of carrier bags, and we picked up empty cups, bottles, sweet wrappers along the way up. It actually wasn’t too bad – possibly because there were other litter pickers out too, but I just wish people would be more considerate.
To be fair, it was impressive and heartening to see such a variety of people walking up and down, as it is quite a strenuous hike with some good steep chunks along the four and a half mile stretch to reach the top. We would be coming back down the same way, and I was worried by that more than the going up, and that was hard enough. Despite neither Claudia nor Jayne hurrying in any way, I asked for several stops so that I could have a little sit down, as it was puffing me out. The sun was out, not glaring at us, but it was generally warming up. The extra layers I’d stuffed into my hydration vest remained in the vest, along with the hat and gloves. My jacket was around my waist and when I took my vest off to dig out my cheese wrap, my back was soaking.
As we got just under four miles into the climb, we asked some guys who were on their way down how it looked at the top. Several of them were shirtless, and I hoped that they’d at least rubbed a little lubricant around their rucksack straps as, if the sun wasn’t going to get them, the chafing almost definitely was.
‘It’s fine,’ one said.
‘Warmer as you go up, and a bit busy. Just watch out for the midges.’
Midges? We looked at each other a little wide eyed. None of us had brought along or sprayed beforehand, any midge repellent, and I started scratching my arms in anticipation.
A ‘bit busy’ was an understatement. The Llanberis path to the top of Wales’s highest mountain is probably popular because it’s the ‘easiest’ one. There are other paths and climbs however, and on top of that, there is the train, that chugs up and down, occasionally parallel to our path, taking people from the town up to just below the summit, so on a day like this, a warm, clear Sunday, the final two hundred metres to the trig point at the top took an extra half an hour of, generally polite, queuing.
We queued amongst the midges, which swarmed and darted around and on us so much that I had to get past the panic of being eaten and just resign myself to being the focal point of their blood lust. I had a buff, that I’d earlier taken off because it was too warm. Now I pulled it on and over my nose and ears, just to reduce the number of lumps I’d have over my face, while up ahead the selfies were taken and the line slowly shuffled forward.
I am so glad I’d taken Claudia up on her offer. To stand at the highest point in England and Wales and look out on a vast, rugged and surprisingly verdant vista is humbling. The surrounding hills looked like sleeping giants clothed in green and grey. A knee jutting out here, a shoulder there. It was magnificent. I could honestly say that I was no longer a Snowdon virgin. We soaked in our minute at the top before stepping down and letting the next people get up.
We ate our second round of snacks on the steps outside the café next to the train stop. The midges seemed to have lessened here but the seagulls circled overhead, waiting to pounce on dropped crumbs. A man came past us with a pizza box, munching on a slice as he found himself a perch on the step further along. The café evidently offered more than coffee and cake. Two gulls swooped down on reconnaissance missions, but perhaps the topping was not what they fancied, because they then left him alone.
Having rested a while, we decided to retrace our steps back down the mountain. We had gone less than a mile before Claudia spotted her friend Lina coming up. This was the woman with whom Claudia was originally going to do the walk but having got a bit mixed up about where they were supposed to meet and then Lina getting stuck behind triathlon traffic, she’d told us to carry on, and we would all meet at the bottom. The reason for their walk in the first place, if a reason was needed, was to practise for a twenty-two mile walk from Ambleside later in the year. Lina had been to the top before on more than one occasion, so she was completely fine about turning around again from where we met. Despite her lateness, she’d still done most of the climb, so it was worthwhile enough for her.
Thinking back to the shirtless men before, I remembered, too late, that I had not put Vaseline on my feet this morning. As my big toes got steadily hot from the friction of the downhill push, I asked for a little pause, just to give them a moment to cool down a bit. Luckily, Lina had a little travel tub in her rucksack and offered it to me. It was gratefully accepted and I took off my shoes and socks to apply the dollops liberally. It was better than before, but the skin was still sensitive.
Jayne swears by lambswool. Having done her research on natural blister prevention methods for their walks along the Camino Way, Jayne had found that wrapping the dodgy toes up in medical grade lambswool worked to reduce the rubbing. There were several tufts along the fences as we went down. It was tempting to stop and have a go, as my toes were getting hot again. I didn’t in the end, and today, as I went for a small recovery run, I was pleased that my toes were feeling okay.
My calves on the other hand feel thoroughly bruised and battered and my quads are mildly complaining. It was all so worth it though because it turned out to be such a wonderful day, with the added bonus of giving me a great workout.
I did manage to get a long run in, if you include a parkrun sandwich with a tea break in the middle. Squeezed in on Saturday so I could do this walk on Sunday. Both will hopefully have given me some kind of strength that will accumulate, and happily, aside from the battered calves, I don’t feel too tired and that’s a good sign.
The aim over the coming weeks is to keep my weekly mileage up, thirty miles or more a week for the first month. To get two weight sessions in, and to get one interval session and one long run in. Easy peasy. I’ve managed it for one week, so I’ve only got another twelve or thirteen weeks (f you take off the taper) to go. How hard can it be?
One motivation to keep it up has been that I managed that climb, with a few rests here and there, quite comfortably. It took us just over six hours in total with about five hours of moving time. I know I would have struggled with it more, even a few months ago, so hopefully I will keep that in the back of my mind as I plough forward, and perhaps buy some lambswool for the longer runs.
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