Snowdon

 As we drove past the turn-off for Runcorn, we were driving into unknown territory. I'd been to south Wales, and even to Mid Wales in the past, but North Wales was a mystery. 

The A55 was forgiving, and having spent 2 hours on the M6, we arrived on Friday Evening at Colwyn Bay Travelodge. The town was deserted. It should have been jumping. I always remember a cheesy BBC programme on Saturday night called 'Seaside Special'. It had 5 or 6 acts on it and was presented from various resorts, of which Colwyn Bay was one. Les Dennis, Ken Dodd and all those tattyfellarious dancers from the dancing troops that were the staple of that decade. I read now that Colwyn is one of the most deprived areas in Wales. Certainly, the large supermarkets have sucked the living daylights out of the heart of the place. Anyway, I digress. We, being me and speedy joe, had an expensive pint in the Station and then were tucked up by eleven. I heard a few shouts from the late night revellers in my sleep, but we were up and out by 8am the next morning and arrived at Llanberris half an hour later as the sun was creeping up and the sky promising a clear blue day. We parked up beside the lake and were plodding up the high street 10 minutes later armed with bum bags and Speedcross shoes. The track up from Llanberis to Snowdon was heaving. Several charity groups were walking it and after the initial stage on tarmac which is super steep, we began threading our way up the Mountain. It levelled out a bit and the path reminded me a little of Ben Lomond. 

There sure were alot of folk trudging up to reach the giddy heights at the top. We got up to the top in around 1:15. The views were terrific. There was an orderly queue of around 30 waiting to get their photo taken at the trig point. I guess for some, this might be the highspot of their walking careers. We took a couple of staged snaps at the edge, but standing around waiting for a trig point foto was not an attractive option and we were soon horsing it down the hill, weaving in and out and around the masses. This included a lad in a wheelchair who was out of his chair and attempting to crawl up the Mountain. Respect. Halfway down I stopped, cupping my hands-solo to take a drink of the water from a trickle of water which was all that was on offer from this behemoth during this dry summer.  Ah, Welsh Water! 

We were up and backdown in under 2 hours, which was tidy and left us time for a dip in the nearby lake and then, after drying off, a slow cheese on toast and some potato and chorizo hash affair at the local cafe (30 minute wait). We then picked up a slow coffee takeaway at another cafe (12 minute wait) while the girl served everyone else. Was it something I said, was it something I was wearing? Is it because I'm Scottish? I shouldn't sound ungrateful.

All in all not a bad wee jaunt and we elected not to drive back via Shipley for the Baildon carnival fell race which I'd considered picking up on the way back. Speedy was up for it, but not moi. The spirit is willing but the flesh is weak. Driving back past Colwyn Bay, the huge sandy beach was empty. I wondered 'just where are all the people?' 'Probably walking up Snowdon' I mused.