Climb Every Mountain (or at least the manageable ones)

It was my fortieth birthday on Sunday. The British electorate had a whip-round and got me a Conservative government without checking first if it's something I actually wanted. In actual fact I'd much rather have had a good kicking but there we go, that's what they got me and apparently it can't be returned, they lost the receipt. It has a product lifespan of five years so I'm going to have to put up with it now until I'm 45, when I'll be really old. These Conservative governments have a reputation for breaking what they're supposed to take care of, in this case, our society. For my 45th birthday I'll be a lot clearer about what I want. 

Llyn Cau

To take my mind off it, and to mark the passing of my thirties (one of my more turbulent decades), on the eve of my 40th I gathered a small group of friends and marched to the top of the most stunning peak in south Snowdonia, namely Cader Idris. OK, 'march' doesn't quite capture the reality of it as we were scaling the tough steep southern face. 'Slowly trudged' reflects the truth somewhat better. We slowly trudged to the top, through mind-bendingly beautiful vistas of loud tumbling streams in ferny gulleys, far-off thin waterfalls glistening on the sheer black rock face, over squelchy moorland and tumbled boulders, past the bottomless lake Llyn Cau, as the temperature dropped and we approached the cloudline. The summit was completely enveloped. 

It was not all plain sailing. One of our number, Lisa*, stumbled on an awkward jutting rock and twisted her ankle, yelping but without resorting to any of the swear words that could be considered appropriate on such an occasion. Unfortunately she had to turn back due to the pain, her boyfriend helping her to hobble back down to the car park. We were down to six. Another of our group, Sophie*, was required to be at a life drawing class by 4:30pm so knew that she was unlikely to have time to do the full route. It's not like she could just skip this class – she was the model! So when we were well inside the cloud but not yet at the summit, she made the hard decision to turn round and head back down to allow herself enough time. Jeff* returned with her to help her with the route, as this was her first time up and he was a Cader veteran. 

Tal-y-Llyn on the left, Llyn Cau on the right

So it was only four of us who actually reached the stone at the top, 893m above sea level. Apart from the crowds of other tourists of course, all snapping windswept photos of each other, the presumably panaromic views completely obscured by the white blankness. After stopping just long enough to eat a sandwich and get bitterly cold, we set off on the alternative route down. Although it was my first time up Cader, two of the others had been up many times before and so I was slightly surprised several minutes later when they declared we were lost. We were wandering across the plateau in the thick fog searching for the path down. There was talk of a fence that we should meet that we would then follow downwards, but the fence had not materialised. We soldiered gamely on, wondering if we'd end up on the wrong side of the mountain, but the relief was palpable when out of the gloom emerged the fabled Fence Posts of Hope. 

We carefully negotiated our way back down, pausing as we left the cloud behind to gaze gob-smacked at the view that finally became ours – both the mountain-top lake and the larger lake at the foot of the mountain became visible simultaneously. Poor Lisa was still in the car park, unable to drive her car home as her foot hurt too much, she was waiting for one of us to drive her. We found out later that she'd fractured her foot and is now on crutches. Lisa, get well soon!

On top of the world

* Names changed as per usual