Here’s the best way to demonstrate why climbing on a dry stone wall can be hazardous to your health. This wall in my garden had been showing an alarming bulge for the last few months and yesterday, this was the outcome.
Rhosyn
So, when you realise that you have to walk the length of a field to get to a gate because of a dry stone wall, DON’T be tempted to climb over!
Climbing at the Beacon
This was the third such competition and numbers increased from 35 participants last year to 62 on Saturday! Registering over 30 new competitors and creating judging score sheets in 30 minutes was a nightmare. My role as stated on my bilingual badge is “Computer Dude / Dŵd Cyfrifiadurol” (we try to be bilingual in everything!). It just means I sit on a hard chair at a table, in a draft, collating the scores from the judges, round by round, of the different age/gender groups into a spreadsheet to identify the winner in each group and also to keep an eye out for score-ties which need a climb off. I’ve been doing this role for three years for the bouldering competition and for British Mountaineering Council (BMC) Youth Climbing events which combine bouldering with roped ascents.
These competition are the highlight of the year for me and every time I can’t help but marvel and be inspired by seven year-old boys and girls less than a metre tall and under 20kg in weight climbing with determination and confidence. The other heart-warming thing is the way all the kids (and their parents) call out to encourage and help a child who may be faltering. They’re in competition with each other but you’d hardly know it. Far from the middle-class cutthroat competions in Surrey where I lived. I recall an incident at a competition at Plas Y Brenin last year where a 12 year-old lad got stuck about 7m from the ground but he was determined not to give up. Despite being exhausted, he continued to try and try again. Gradually, more and more people came to watch this boy and shout encouragement. He fought for 12 minutes and eventually completed the route to a combination of deafening cheers and several parents with tears running down their faces.
I’m proud of of my son Mark who is the BMC Youth Climbing co-ordinator for North Wales and the part he plays through his work as an instructor and organising regional and national competitions in developing the skills of these young people. They inspire me with their dedication and skill and I always come away from a competition feeling elated – plus exhausted, cold, nursing a numb bum – but checking the date of the next one.
Probably the most-asked question I’ve been asked since moving into the shadow of England and Wales’ highest mountain is, ‘Have you been up Snowdon?’ Until recently the answer was no, but on my birthday a few days ago I took the train to the summit. I will pause here for the boos and tuts from veterans of the Pyg track, the Miners’ track, the Watkin path etc. My excuses were: a) it was my birthday; b) Christine was in Surrey with my younger son (on my birthday! c) I like trains and d) I was too lazy to walk.
The line has only been reopened for three months or so after a long closure to demolish ‘the highest slum in Britain’ (the old café) and to create a new café and improve access to the summit. Three years and an eye-watering £8.3million later we have Hafod Eryri.
Actually, it’s a rather fine building (at £8.3m, it should be!) but it’s still just a still just a place for a cuppa and a pee. Much thought went into the design and interpretation and I loved the Welsh poetry etched in the windows and the factoids carved into the granite floor. Behind and above Hafod Eryri is a concreted path and steps to the top. Yes, steps. Because 350,000 people visit the summit annually, the wear and tear on that small piece of the mountain is immense. It all felt terribly false.
To be honest, I hated all the steps and concrete and I understood Mark, my son’s view that despite living locally, working for the Beacon Climbing Centre and devoting his life to climbing, he had never been to the summit and had no intention of doing so. When I saw the scrum at the trig point, I could understand why.
However, five minutes later, I was there at the top and for about 45 precious seconds, was alone. Everything I could see on that glorious morning was down and for that brief interlude, nobody in England and Wales was higher than I was. It was magical and I can’t wait to do it again.
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