Walking in Wales

This had to have been one of the most random weekends I've ever had. On Thursday night, I found myself in a cabin in the distant countryside of north Wales with 22 people I had never met before. Long story.

But the good news is that I was in a hotspot for walking. Ok, vocabulary lesson: "walking" in England means "hiking" - something much more vigorous than going around the corner for a cup of coffee. Took me a while to learn that one. Also, "pudding" refers to any kind of dessert, so don't say you don't care for pudding and then be surprised when you don't get served ice cream or cakes, etc. for the rest of the weekend. Hypothetically, of course.

Anyway, the Snowdonia region of Wales is known for its great crags and rocky cliffs and exposed peaks. I had always been skeptical of a 3000 foot "mountain," but at least now I can see it's not a huge stretch. You'll never have a multiple day ascent here, but it's a great place to practice climbing, scrambling, etc. On Friday, we went up Tryfan, a rocky peak that challenged our 19-person group with slippery precipices and challenging scrambles. Fortunately, hand holds on this type of weathered, chunky rock were abundant, making it more fun than dangerous.

After Tryfan, the plan was to continue up to a higher peak, then traverse across a ridge and come down to where we had parked the cars. It stared to get late, but our leader assured us he knew what he was doing. Around 4, a dense fog came over the peak, and we were still at the top. Visibility started to go soon thereafter, and we had hardly started the descent. When it finally became apparent that daylight was becoming an issue, we headed down as soon as possible, hoping to get down off of the cliffs before it became dark and overly dangerous. It was nearly dark by 5:30, but we had made it down the most challenging part. There was a lake in the distance, which supposedly was the location of a path that would lead us to the parking lot. Tramped through about a mile of bogs to the edge of the lake: no path. Went around the lake trying to find the path in the dark: no path. At last we just went downward, and were lucky to spot two lonely headlights tracing out a road. Upon consulting the map, we found that we had gone down the wrong side of the mountain. We weren't just a little bit to the west, or a few hundred meters down the road, we were on the opposite side of the entire mountain! Fortunately, there was a hotel nearby, and we used their phone to get some friends to come pick us up.

One of the most surprising thing to me was how cheerfully everyone accepted what was going on. The prevailing attitude was one of adventure, as if everything going to plan would have been a bit of a disappointment. It was unusual to find myself as the most bothered by the debacle we had just experience. I'm up for an adventure as much as anyone, but the danger we had experienced, of twisting or breaking limbs, of being stuck in the cold Welsh wilderness overnight, etc., was completely avoidable. I'd prefer to find my challenges to come through new physical obstacles or unavoidable difficulties, not mere carelessness. Well, at least we made it out, and the good part of arriving back late in the day is that dinner was already made :)