An easy morning — the train wasn’t until midday, so I took my time, had a nice breakfast at a café, and then caught a train to Bangor. It first went east to Shrewsbury, where I had to change trains. This second train had issues and terminated early at Chester Station, where four carriages’ worth of people had to squeeze into two for the remainder of the journey. Unfortunately, I was stuck standing for the two-hour ride to Bangor.
There was a bit of stress because I needed to catch the last bus into the mountains and to my accommodation and the delay could have been disastrous. Thankfully, it all worked out, and I made it to the town of Llanberis. The accommodation, however, was probably the worst I’ve stayed at. It was the only affordable option in the area, a bunkhouse where the dorm I was in stank of damp and mould, with no sheets, towels, or blankets provided. I ended up using my travel tarp as a bed sheet and slept in my sleeping bag and used my jacket as a pillow. At least I had the room to myself the first two nights.
I had two full days to use and was torn between two hikes, knowing my knees would probably only handle one mountain. I ended up choosing the popular Mt Snowdon — the highest peak in Wales. My other option was a more difficult route covering three lesser peaks, which was very tempting, but Mt Snowdon felt like the more iconic feather in the cap.
The next morning, I packed a reasonably heavy backpack since there was no secure storage at the bunkhouse and carried all my valuables. I picked up a sandwich for lunch and headed off to the trail. That’s when I discovered a train goes all the way to the top of Mt Snowdon! It was bloody expensive too and not the kind of challenge I was after anyway. I climbed up some steep paths to reach the main trail, which was a bit more gradual. Compared to Ben Nevis, it was a relatively easy route. About two hours in, I was suddenly in the clouds, and the trail steepened again as I neared the summit.
It was fairly crowded at the top, thanks to the hike’s popularity and the trainloads of visitors. I ended up queueing just to touch the summit cairn. I chilled there for about half an hour, had lunch, and started dreading the descent. Downhill walking aggravates my iliotibial band syndrome. Luckily, I made it about halfway down before the aches kicked in. The final steep decline really did me in, I ended up walking backwards down the hill to ease the pain.
Back at the bunkhouse, I settled in with a few beers before dinner. After eating, I went for a short stroll to stretch my legs and walk off the meal. I wandered along the lake and stumbled across a castle and some ruins — a very cool thing to just appear out of nowhere. I explored for a bit before heading back and calling it a night.
The next day was a wet one, so even if my legs had been up for it, there was no way I would’ve attempted a tough three-peak hike. Instead, I caught a bus through the mountain passes, which was scary enough. The drivers are incredibly skilled, but they tear around those narrow roads, even on the double-decker I was on.
I got off at a town called Capel Curig and grabbed a coffee and some Welsh rarebit, a local cheesy toast dish. It was tasty but very rich. I went for a short walk, though the light rain kept me from going too far. Then I caught the same bus back through the passes and made it in time for dinner, a few beers, and a darts tournament on the telly.
The dorm was no longer empty, two new gents had moved in. One of them was attempting a world record the next day: climbing Mt Snowdon ten times in one day. Madman. The other was his support crew. They planned to be up around 4am, which didn’t bother me too much as I figured I’d sleep through anything. That was wishful thinking, both of them snored so loudly that even earplugs were useless. I probably managed about two hours of broken sleep. Once they left in the early morning I still couldn’t get back to sleep.
Thankfully, the next day was an easy one. Just a bus back to Bangor, then another crowded train to Chester, and finally a ride down to Cardiff, where I’d be spending the next leg of the trip. It was so tired, but thankfully had my own comfy room for the next few nights.
Well, that’s two mountains in UK done. That leaves Scafell Pike in England… not sure if I’ll get around to it, but it would be nice.
