A Challenging Mountain Yomp

There's nothing like a run in the hills. Fresh air, new trails and lost of beasties waiting to suck your blood. After a humongous breakfast, we set off on the 30 minute drive to Ogwen where our route started. Rosemary's dad, who helped with the plan had done it 40 years before and knew it implicitly...nearly 19km over five/six peaks over 3000ft of the Glyderaur to our pick-up-point near Bethesda.

Rosemary is glad Norris MacWhirter has passed away because he would chasing her to confirm her world record as person who can wee most in 24 hours. As soon as John had dropped us off, she scuttled off into the youth hostel for a pee. I considered buying a coffee in this opportune moment but thought better of it! Breakfast was still weighing heavily in me!

Crossing the road, we started the first ascent....which had been described to me as steep but I wasn't expecting a 90 minute scramble. Fortunately the bilberries calmed my nerves slightly on the scary bits. Although occasionally hyperventilating with terror, going down the way one had come was far worse.

Reaching the end of the steep bit was a relief, but we certainly weren't on paths suitable for my technical running abilities. We ascended a bit more quickly but then the mist rolled in and visibility became poor. Rosemary called me over, looking very confused. Her compass was pointing us back the way we had come. After reference to my GPS it was decided the compass has become polarised and was wrong.

I was becoming a little disheartened as there appeared to be no running sections, but rathe walking over boulders, some pebble like, and others much bigger. This terrain is my least preferred as a) my questionable motor skills result in me travelling at the speed of a snail on ketamine and b) I seem to fatigue quickly unless I'm moving at a relatively constant pace. Fortunately, Rosemary has learnt the signals of when silence to encouragement is preferred. Being on a ridge meant we had no options to cut short so I just had to get on with it. When the mist dissipated, the views were stunning and it helped to get a bit of sun to warm the cold bones....it wasn't all bad.

Wildlife was sparse apart from sheep but we saw one bird of prey, a massive crow (maybe a raven) and then some horse dung! Strange! However, when resting Rosemary spotted some ponies far below (according to her dad, they had lived in the mountains since the Iron Age). We could also see a wind farm out in the sea, with the turbines appearing to be floating in mid-air.

I started dreaming of a fried egg roll in the Bethesda biker cafe, a real challenge to reach before closing time. Rosemary also noticed that I had started to lose my footing quite regularly and my mood had become worse. I agreed to eat a banana and hey-presto I started to move at double the speed and my mood changed from "this is hell" to "oh....what jolly fun this is....let's sprint so I can have my fried egg roll". This also corresponded to us clearing the last peak and the long descent beginning. Terrain changed, with boulders giving way to soft peaty ground, the type I feel so at home on in the Peak. I was happy.

The best bit was the last 5km which was runnable. After being a ball and chain round Rosemary's ankle, I had to consciously keep looking behind so as not to drop her. Admittedly, she was carrying a heavier rucksack but it was still a massive change in the journey proceedings. She had her "proper effort" face on. Only 1km to go and I upped the pace a little, breathing hard, still having to concentrate on the rock strewn path. I saw a final hill in the distance, no.....it was Rosemary's dad having a dose on the grass, his tummy resplendent in the warm evening sunshine. I plonked myself on the grass beside him, slightly disconsolate that I had missed my fried egg roll but happy that we had made it to the end of a pretty challenging yomp in the mountains.