Nos Galan

Race: Nos Galan elite male race (5k)
Time/Position: 17.45 (57 from 149 [2nd V45])
A wonderful celebration of the eighteenth century athlete Guto Nyth Bran, who was so fast 'he could catch a bird in flight'. Dad and I have talked about going down to this unique race for years, so it was very nice to finally get to Mountain Ash this New Year's Eve. It's a long way to go for a 5k but it was absolutely worth it - a brilliant atmosphere quite unlike any of the other 530+ races I have done: a night-time circuit round a distinctive valleys town, with big enthusiastic crowds and fireworks beforehand. After a coffee in a tiny cafe, we watched the junior races and mum and dad got a great viewing spot near the start. The atmosphere builds, with the mystery runner lighting the torch, excellent fireworks, and a touch of tension in the air - the field for the elite race is obviously very strong. I felt pretty good off the back of the handicap race two days ago and a recent return to informal speedwork. The race takes three laps of the town centre circuit, which heads out to the Bailey's Arms at the far end of town, rounds a tight turn and then runs back to the main square with the Guto statue which is the race's epicentre. The crowd and atmosphere here was tremendous, with a loop round the main road and back out again. My pace stayed fairly steady and I felt controlled and comfortable throughout, more so than at the handicap (virtually identical times) so I wonder whether I should have pushed a little more. I would have been first V50 had I been five months older, and indeed first V40 had I been five years younger (!), but had to settle for 2nd V45 on the night. A great way to end the year.

Deeside handicap

'Race': Deeside handicap 5k
Time/Position: 17.20
It's been a few years since I turned out for this Christmas informal handicap so it was good to be back on a speed session perfectly placed three days after Round the Walls and two days before Nos Galan. The route round the industrial estates and beside the Dee is fast and flat and I finished mid-table in the handicap, fifth fastest finisher.

Round the Walls race

Race: Round the Walls Chester (4m+)
Time/Position: 26.06 (14th from 440 [2nd V45])
My 9th or 10th time at Round the Walls, and I have never done the same route twice! It must be a nightmare to organise, with the constant work on the walls combined with weather conditions. The Bridge Street crossing has recently closed so I knew a variant was likely: sadly, however, it just doubled back after King Charles' Tower, heading down the ramp and back along the canal path, a deep trench at this point. This meant the race missed the best bits over Eastgate and down towards Handbridge, although at the bowling green it headed back to the walls up steep steps by Bonewaldesthorne's Tower and back along to the Roodee. Both sections on the Roodee were muddy and very slippery in my racing flats, like Bambi on Ice, losing lots of time. The drizzle, persistent at the start, eased a little during the race to give a dry finish and family walk back to the car.

Tegid Way

The traditional pre-Christmas outing, and a very good one this year. The Tegid Way is a fairly new 18 mile waymarked route that links Cynwyd with Bala, travelling west the whole way albeit by a highly indirect and winding route that avoids all main roads and embraces the best scenery. Jez and I met Peter in Bala, then drove back to start from Cynwyd via a giant dogleg that heads away from Bala and up to the Berwyn ridge and Pen Bwlch Llandrillo. This is a long but gradual climb, ideal for me as I had gone over on my kneecap on the steps down to Gwernymynydd on Friday night - it was a little sore on the descents. Just below the bwlch, the route heads down another superb track to Llandrillo with great views west - cloudy with intermittent sunbursts. From Llandrillo it finally begins to take a more direct route, across fields and then back over the Dee to gain a long and unexpected climb up a steep minor road to eventually gain the quiet village of Llandderfel. Beautiful scenery throughout this section, all obscure: in fact I'm not sure I have ever been along some of these paths or roads before. Finally, Llyn Tegid comes into view - although there were still several detours above the main road on the northern side, and all the way round the edge of Bala, before we got there (2.47 from Cynwyd). A drink in Stori was an excellent way to end an excellent day.

Marchlyn horseshoe

Peaks: Carnedd y Filiast, Mynydd Perfedd, Elidir Fawr
Area: Glyderau, Eryri
After doing this route as a hill-walk with the scouts a couple of years ago, I'd squirrelled it away as a nice shortish run. It was the perfect option today: a cold, crisp winter morning, heading home from Beaumaris. It seemed likely to be tricky conditions high up, with a bitter windchill and 'icy' snow, so I felt the Carneddau race route (my original plan) might be unwise. I parked in Deiniolen and jogged up the very long tarmac road towards Marchlyn. You can park much higher up, but I felt the need for more mileage. I broke off to join the obvious snaking path (Minffordd) that slants leftwards to gain the shallow col below Filiast and the hill that marks the true start of the Glyder ridge. The normal path up Filiast was problematic: ferocious windchill, scoured, fully iced-up over a couple of inches of snow. Tricky in old Inov8s, as was the awkward bouldery summit (47 mins from Deiniolen). But the onward route to Mynydd Perfedd was superb - the sun breaking through banks of cloud above Glyder Fawr and superb views to the glistening white Carneddau. The wind dropped a little, and Elidir Fawr looked very inviting in the sunshine with its curving ridge. I kept to the ridge crest on perfect virgin snow. Huge banks of black cloud over Snowdon but the sun peeked through. From the summit, I descended direct - this was OK at first as the snow was soft and thick. Lower down, however, the slopes were scoured, hard ice. This was a real issue, and I actually had to retreat from the direct line to the lake. I found a gentler route down but still had to kick steps until the angle eased. Fast running all the way back to Deiniolen from the top lake (1.43 in total). This followed my usual 12 mile loop of the Beaumaris hinterland, and preceded a 14 mile Eglwyseg run the next day.

Nant y Pandy Parkrun

'Race': Nant y Pandy Parkrun (5k)
Time/Position: 19.39 (2nd from 38)
I had no idea that a delightful hidden valley lurked in the middle of Llangefni. It was reminiscent of Fairy Glen or Nant Gwynant and was a genuine surprise. We were on our annual trip to Henllys, so this was an ideal way for both of us to get a Saturday run in. The route takes the tightly defined wooded valley of the Cefni river before opening out to a broader valley with nice scenery. This was much more exposed, into a strong headwind, and leads eventually to the turn-around point on the shores of Llyn Cefni. One young runner was miles ahead, and I was effectively running on my own with the 3rd runner a fair way behind. The return was great, a slight tailwind, a few steep climbs and flowing descents. Not the quickest course, perhaps, but certainly one of the most enjoyable parkruns around.

Ellesmere Port Parkrun

'Race': Ellesmere Port Parkrun (5k)
Time/Position: 19.46 (4th from 66)
Given the recent rain, this was surprisingly hard going. It is almost entirely flat, but also almost entirely cross-country, two laps across wet fields and woods in Whitby Park. My shoes, with worn soles, were not ideal as I slipped and slid round sections of the course (which I had never done before).

Tal y Fan from Conwy

Peaks: Tal y Fan
Area: Carneddau, Eryri
A reprise of a run last done many years ago. Since then, I've done multiple combinations of routes up this little hill, from Aber, from the Conwy Valley and, of course, from Porthmadog in July! This particular route leaves the kitchen and walls, then heads up the Hendre road all the way to the top: this is tough but runnable all the way. The tiny road then gives way to a rocky track below Llangelynin church, then over the fields to join the valley. I then cut directly across to gain the wall, which leads steeply over several little tops to the trig point (58 mins from the house). It was cloudy and cool, good running conditions. I descended due north from the summit, straight down to gain a very good track leading east to the standing stones below the quarry. From here, I picked up my favourite tracks leading past the stone circle to Sychnant and back to Conwy in time for lunch. A lovely outing.

Birkenhead 5.5m

Race: Birkenhead 5.5m (Border League race 3)
Time/Position: 32.10 (44th from 345)
Earlier this year I recorded my slowest ever time on this very familiar four-lap circuit. A minute quicker than that today, so at least I am going in the right direction (although still 30 places and over a minute slower than my best). I have done the race at least eight times, and always quite enjoy it despite the laps, as I like the park. It was icy in places today, and I slipped on the tight corner after the pond on one of the loops. Crisp sunshine throughout, and we popped to Bold Street by train immediately after the race.

Erddig Parkrun

'Race': Erddig Parkrun
Time/Position: 19.37 (2nd from 165)
Quite a contrast to last Saturday's pressure, a nice trot around a route I hadn't done before. It is one of the better Parkruns, a really nice loop around the enormous Erddig grounds, starting in front of the stately home and pelting through thick mud to gain a mini-loop before heading back to the house, and out for a long lap through the main parkland out towards Rhostyllen. It was drizzly, dank and misty throughout: wet and awkward underfoot in places. After a mile or so, I moved into the lead and stayed there until just before the final steep climb to the finish. Another runner had stayed close behind (we were a minute clear of third place) but I couldn't keep up with him as he pulled ahead by 11 seconds. A tad tired after last night's Collie run, but a really enjoyable course which we'll definitely revisit.

Carneddau run

Peaks: Pen Llithrig y Wrach
Area: Carneddau, Eryri
A reprise of a longish run I did this time last year, with a few refinements to improve it. I dubbed it 'Pen Llithrig the hard way' last time, and it certainly makes the most of a small peak, starting out at sea level in Tal y Bont, then heading up the very steep road into Cwm Eigiau. This takes around 35 minutes of steady running, and was enlivened by superb autumn conditions - mist clearing the valley and spectacular leaf colour all around. The higher peaks were snow-covered and it remained pretty cold all day. The route levels off for the long run up Cwm Eigiau, which is always wonderful, one of my favourite places. I detoured to Llyn Eigiau, which was unusually still giving superb photo opportunities: like glass. Then it was back to the track, staying on it past a derelict farmhouse to the back of the cwm. Then comes the savage climb to Bwlch y Tri Marchog: 30 minutes of vertical bog, moss-hauling and fence pulling. As a recent Strava convert, I later discovered this was a segment, and the fastest known time (although only two records, not surprising as it is a ridiculous route). From the bwlch, the 'normal' climb up to the summit is easier and much more sensible. Wonderful views over Ogwen and Llewellyn in constantly changing cloud conditions: good snow cover higher up but just patches where I was. Then, it was down the ridge, familiar from all the Paddy reccies this year, cutting off too early for the shore of Llyn Cowlyd, another of my favourite spots. This is awkward but quite quick, and I pelted along the lakeside, to gain the pipe and the long run down to pick up the Pipe Dream climb through Dolgarrog woods back to Tal y Bont - 24k, 900m, in 2.44.

British and Irish Masters

Race: British and Irish International Masters cross country 8k (Aintree, Merseyside)
Time/Position: 29.55 (85th from 88)
Seven years has elapsed since I last ran for Wales at the International Championships. That was Belfast in 2012, I was running 34 minute 10k's at the time, and still only had eight or nine behind me. So I was under no illusions here: I was just a replacement, certainly one of the oldest in the field (a big span, from 35-50, in this race) and fully expected to finish last. The race itself (in the middle of the famous Grand National at Aintree) was the flattest cross country course I have ever seen, which just meant the pace was even higher. My tactics were obvious: just try to hold onto the back of the pack. Easier said than done, and I quickly found myself dropped off the back as the pace is blistering from the off, and no quarter is given, nobody ever slackens off. I managed to hold on though, without drifting too far back, and by the end of the second lap was clawing back a little. Each lap was 2k and I tried to up the pace on the third, passing two and catching up to a group of four Irish and Northern Irish runners. They were just ahead on the final lap, but I didn't quite have the pace to pull ahead. So, a predictably poor showing, but at least I wasn't lapped and didn't finish last. My plan was always to be running much faster when I turn 50 next year, and to be picked for Wales in 2020. So this came a year too early, when at the top of the age category, and I suspect that for all those reasons, after 530+ races this will perhaps always be memorable as the hardest race I ever do! A huge honour to run for Wales again, and a remarkable event that really puts everybody in their place - the standard is quite incredible. If all goes to plan, I hope to be at Dublin next year.

Kelsterton 4.5m

Race: Deeside 4.3m (Border League race 2)
Time/Position: 26.19 (65th from 446)
Still a little jetlagged, but given the location I decided to have a quick blast at the second race of the season. It wasn't too much of a surprise when I started to struggle on the second part of the steep climb from Kelsterton. Afterwards, as the road weaves around and starts to descend, I picked up a few places initially before blowing completely as we re-entered the college grounds. I lost a lot of places and limped around the track to finish well down the field again.

Uisangbong and Yongchulbong

Peaks: Uisangbong (540m), Yongchulbong (571m)
Area: Bukhansan, South Korea
Although only small, Yongchulbong's attractive profile and interesting, scrambly ascent just about qualified it as the 50th overseas peak of my 50th year. Criteria for selection: nothing on the British mainland, nothing I’d done before, all had to be notable in some way. A few were technical, some remote, some shapely, some obscure, some popular. The 50 were as follows:
Feb: Beenkeragh, Carrauntoohill, Cnoc na Peiste, Brandon, Purple Mountain (Reeks/Dingle, Ireland)
Mar: Roque del Conde, Roque Imoque, Roque los Brezos, Alto de Guajara, Pico Viejo, Montana Guama, Pico la Vera, Risco Blanco, Pico la Mesa (Tenerife)
Apr: Zoljin Kuk, Pasji Klanac, Babin Kuk, Crni Vrh, Anica Kuk (Velebit, Croatia)
May: Clach Glas, Blaven, Bidean Druim nan Ramh, Sgurr nan Eag (Skye)
Jul: Corno Neri, Pizzo Recastello, Pizzo di Coca, Monte Visolo, Presolana Occidentale, Monte Misma (Italian Alps)
Jul: Gigilos, Volakias, Psari, Mavri, Melindaou, Strifomadhi, Psilafi, Psiloritis, Stolistra, Agathias, Vouloumenou, Skoutsio Korifi (Crete)
Sep: Tskhakvzagari, Koruldi, Chubedishi, Zuruldi (Caucasus, Georgia)
Nov: Dobongsan, Podae, Jubong, Baegundae, Yongchulbong (Bukhansan, South Korea) 
I'd spent most of the day getting as close to the North Korean border as I could by public transport (the DMZ was closed for the whole week I was in Korea). I got to the end of the line at Munsan and walked over the river for a view to the north, then took the metro all the way back to Gupabal where - after eight freshly steamed (jjin-mandu) dumplings - I set off from Bukhansanseong to Uisangbong. It was late, after 3pm, and this proved an inspired choice as it is short but very steep and interesting, bordering on via ferrata terrain in numerous places with ropes, open rock and slabby sections. Both these peaks are impressive spires from the road below and the route is ranked 'expert' by the local grading system. I got to the summit in 31.45 which proved to be an annoying seven seconds slower than Strava's fastest known time (partly because I had to negotiate a group of Korean soldiers on the final staircase to the summit - if I'd realised I might have pushed a little harder). It was a beautiful spot, with soft afternoon sunshine, quite a contrast from my previous two visits. Delightful views over to Baegundae and the autumnal wooded valleys below. On the other side, the endless sprawl of northern Seoul emerging from the haze. The terrain was less awkward for the continuation ridge down to the col of Gasagangdamman gate. From here, more rocky sections led to the higher peak of Yongchulbong; and the satisfaction of a memorable year of mountain activity. I spent a bit of time taking it all in, and had the entire mountain to myself which must be pretty unusual. The light and views of the wooded ridges were glorious, and very distinctive. Then it was back down the little rocky pitches to the gate above the Gungnyeongsa temple with its huge golden buddha. I'd already visited that valley on my Baegundae traverse, so instead I took the next valley down to Baekhwasa. It was a little late, but I was still amazed by this. I saw nobody at all, and the path was even a little indistinct in places! Beautiful woodland scenery again, though, and I kept up a decent pace. After I got back to the main Bukhansanseong I decided to forego the bus and run all the way back along the suburban roads to the metro station at Gupabal. This worked very well (although I had a nosebleed) and I finally stopped for makgeolli and tissues at a little store near the station.

Baegundae traverse

Peaks: Baegundae (836m)
Area: Bukhansan, South Korea
As the highest peak in the Bukhansan, Baegundae was a must, although I didn't realise it could be conveniently traversed until I was on it. I'd enjoyed a few urban runs around Seoul since my Dobongsan outing (and the second city of Busan), but was looking forward to returning to the mountains. Sadly, the peaks were shrouded in mist as I entered the park after a short tube and bus ride: this was the only time I saw them claggy and was a bit unlucky. It was atmospheric, however, as I ran up the metalled road which gives an easy introduction. Above, the direct route is steep, just as steep as Dobongsan, with just as much ironmongery. Being midweek, and early, it was much quieter. Large rock walls of Yeomchobong towered above as height is gained, the mist lending an atmospheric feel, then steps lead to the pronounced Baekwun Bongammun with mist swirling around. From here, a surprisingly steep finish up the rocky ridge, which would be proper mountaineering if it wasn't for the fences! If you ignored the crowds, and the ironmongery, the weather rendered it distinctly Alpine - cold and misty. Around 40 mins to the top from the end of the tarmac. A brief and spectacular clearance from the summit, which I shared with only two or three others - which must be about as empty as it ever gets. The clearance continued, with views over the superb granite dome of Insubong, as I descended back to the Baekwun pass. Instead of continuing the direct descent of the traverse line, I prolonged my time up here (as I was enjoying myself) taking the obvious traverse path which takes a wonderful panoramic catwalk just below the summit of Maengyondae. The sun started to peek through, and I reached another obvious col (Yongammun, below its eponymous peak, which was now bathed in glorious sunshine). I opted to cut left here - on an amazingly empty path through beautiful woodland, its autumnal colours set off to perfection by the sun. It was developing into a stunning afternoon, and I wished I was still up on the peaks. Instead, I ran down to the large Doseonsa temple complex, feeling good, and continued down to Ui and the eastern entrance to the park (1.48 or so for the full traverse). I had gimbap for lunch, then got the metro from Bukhansanul to Digital Media City - which was quite a contrast!

Dobongsan

Peaks: Jaubong (740m), Jubong, Podae
Area: Dobongsan, Bukhansan, South Korea
The world's busiest national park, with five million visitors a year, Bukhansan is just a metro ride from the centre of Seoul. I was curious to see it at the weekend, as I have always felt Snowdon has a case for the world's most climbed mountain, and only the Tatra has come close in my previous three decades of mountain travel. Having said that, I opted for Dobongsan, the northern area, as I felt the crowds on Baegundae may just have been too overwhelming. It was certainly a novelty: I've climbed multiple thousands of peaks, but nothing quite like this. After leaving the metro station, some very impressive peaks fringe the skyline. Then a warren of market stalls, all selling fantastic food for hiking picnics: I went for the classic, gimbap with a side of kimchi. At the entrance is an Alpine museum, which I poked round in happily before starting a low jogging pace upwards, weaving through hundreds (thousands actually) of local hikers. The route from Dobong is surprisingly steep, but mostly runnable, and takes a mixture of rocky staircases and forest paths to gain an impressive slab of granite (Madangbawi) with views over northern Seoul. It was a tad hazy but dry and warm, with beautiful autumnal colours, the best time of year to be here. Above was a vague wooded ridge, with the superb south face of Seoninbong to the right (climbers were on the good looking beige granite, highly reminiscent of Cornwall, Arran or Chamonix). From here, an actual staircase leads up to a narrow col: all very novel. If the hardware wasn't there, it would actually be a fairly challenging peak, perhaps a grade II scramble. As it is, the main peak involves a steep final climb facilitated by metal barriers: fairly exposed at the top (56 mins from the gimbap stall) and a small summit rammed with hikers. It was all pretty unique, as I had hoped it might be. Views down to Seoul were rather hazy, but the surrounding ridges were beautiful: outcrops of granite and dwarf trees, like a Japanese landscape painting. I fought my way back through the crowds then headed up a nearby knoll for a memorable lunch of homemade gimbap and kimchi: outstanding, although perhaps not the ideal running food, and my stomach rebelled for the jog across to the neighbouring - much quieter - peak of Jubong. This was a huge contrast, although not far to the south, and some open rock gained the summit. Then it was back to the knoll, and what I hoped was the ridgeline to Podae. I started up this, but was essentially prevented from doing so by a ranger, who seemed to suggest it was verboten. Instead, I took a meandering alternative, which regained the ridge and led to Podae: which has a kind of viewing platform at the summit, like something from an African safari. I took a direct line down steep steps with lovely autumnal scenes; this valley was steep-sided and much less busy, until the Manworam temple is reached. Soft buddhist chants then accompanied the rest of the run and I rejoined the ascent path lower down. After a rest in a truly delightful glade, spectacular autumn colours, I did as the locals did: a beer in a convenience store, and then a truly memorable hour as I drank a bottle of makgeolli, the local raw rice wine with a chalky white colour, in a kind of beer garden with multiple tables. Seeing me drinking the local brew, two different people shared their food with me as everybody relaxed after their Saturday hike.

Cardiff Parkrun

'Race': Cardiff Parkrun (5k)
Time/Position: 18.09 (9th from 405 [1st age-graded])
A weekend in Cardiff coinciding with dire weather: torrential and continuous rain, with the Taff very high indeed (although not quite over its banks, which was fortunate as this route takes the Taff trail). I ran north along the trail initially for a warm-up, having done 44 miles of it during the Brecon-Cardiff ultra this February. The race itself takes the trail south into Blackweir Fields and Bute Park - the reverse of the Cardiff 10k (which I remember fondly from 2010, as it was the first time I'd represented North Wales and what was then a big pb, 34.45). By contrast, this was my worst position ever on a parkrun, although that is more a reflection of the strength of the field than the time, which I was fairly pleased with. Potentially, a very fast course - flat throughout, although wet and slippery today.

Carneddau run

Peaks: Drum, Foel Fras
Area: Carneddau, Eryri
After dropping Kate off in Llandudno, I drove to Aber and began the familiar climb up the road towards Drum. This is a 5 mile constant climb, and I felt tired throughout. Progress was slow, and the weather worse than forecast: claggy with some drizzle. I have done this climb many, many times however, and always enjoy it. The top of Drum was a little hostile, although I've been up in far worse, and this continued for the long haul up Foel Fras. From here, I decided to drop down the very awkward slopes down to the upper Cwm Afon Goch. This is a wild and trackless place, with tussocks and bog, and no path. Even lower down this tight cwm is awkward. Above the falls, I picked up the pace and continued the run all the way down to the coast and Menai Strait: 20k, just over two hours.

Colwyn Bay XC

Race: Colwyn Bay 6m+ (North Wales XC league, race 2)
Time/Position: 41.40 (34th from 181 [3rd V45])
I have fond memories of a one-off fell race called the Fox Trot that was staged across these hills (a mile inland from Eirias Park) in 2010. Staging an XC fixture here was inevitably going to put it in the 'hilly' category and having missed it last year I was keen to sample the course. We have had a very wet October, so the ground was saturated, very muddy in places. I went for spikes, which weren't ideal on the cobbled track along the base of the valley after an initial loop to spread out the field. The race then takes on a long climb, more akin to a fell race than a standard XC, very steep in places before weaving through woods to gain a farm then a glorious descent with the sea in front. I remembered this from the Fox Trot - and for XC it really helps recovery before the second lap. I tend to struggle with the constant changes of pace that characterise most XC courses so quite enjoyed the unusual nature of this route. It was also, of course, a mud-bath throughout.

Caernarfon 10k

Race: Caernarfon 10k (Borders League, Race 1)
Time/Position: 37.22 (55th from 355)
The standard of the league is definitely going up. Just a few years ago, I finished 13th with a time of 35.52 on this course, probably my favourite of all the BL routes. Today, 50 runners went under 37 minutes. As such, I am quite pleased with the time, as it is more or less where I want to be at the moment, although I'm hoping to be 90 seconds quicker by my 50th birthday in May. I would (just) have finished first V50 today, as it happens, but was 6th or 7th V45! We set off along the seafront, which I always like with views to Yr Eifl and the Menai Strait, I felt more comfortable than I have done, after a little bit of recent speedwork as I transition from ultras and mountaineering. With the hilly return through the interior, I couldn't quite stick to sub-6 minute mile pace and slipped back a tad, although never too disastrously. Very wet towards the finish, and torrential shortly afterwards.

Wirral MT Series, Arrowe Park

Race: Wirral Multi Terrain Series (Arrowe Park 7k: Race 4)
Time/Position: 28.14 (32nd from 196)
I find it hard to believe I won the V45 category in this series in 2015. The standard of competition is now frighteningly high: even if I had better form I think I'd be struggling to place well. The 4th or 5th time I've done this particular fixture, and perhaps the muddiest after a day of rain. Wore my old shoes, which wasn't a good idea, sliding around on the fields in places. I always enjoy it though, as the light fades through the woods on the second lap.

Wepre parkrun

'Race': Wepre Parkrun
Time/Position: 20.20 (4th from 136)
Not quite as slow as I was last time (a full 5 seconds quicker!) but still my second slowest 5k ever. After the Collie run yesterday, and with the Caucasus still in my legs, it all felt a bit of a struggle on the second lap.

Chkuthi and Zuruldi

Peaks: Kakhri (1952m), Zuruldi (2463m), Mentashi (2455m)
Area: Caucasus, Svaneti, Georgia
The sheer scale of the vertical intervals, combined with the altitude, had taken it out of me a bit. Shame, because I quite fancied trying to get up Pik Komsomol today, which I could see from my balcony. After another mammoth breakfast, courtesy of Nana at the guesthouse (chatting to two Spanish climbers this morning - they hadn't got up a single mountain in the two weeks they'd spent in Svaneti). The morning was stunning: crystal clear, and the air was cool as I took the tracks east of Mestia. The start of this route is shared with the famous Mestia-Ushguli four day trek, so several couples with ludicrously huge rucsacks were struggling upwards as I skipped past in my running shoes. Why anybody would do this these days is completely beyond me, with accommodation options everywhere and no obvious need for much equipment, but you see it all the time - I haven't a clue what they deem necessary. Anyway, the track gave way to delightful meadows and apple orchards, and the views up to the Chalaadi glacier and Ushba were predictably breath-taking, a wonderful backdrop which constantly stayed in view. After a steep section through forest, the path diverged, and I guessed the route to Chkuthi took a narrow path across a meadow to a lovely little ridge poised above a ridiculously scenic side valley. This led up towards Banguriani peak and was like something from a fantasy novel: autumnal colours in the woodland, little fields, some Svan farmers hay-baling with wooden sledges, rushing torrents. I continued upwards, not entirely sure of the onward route, and stopped to admire the view to Ushba. Round a corner to the end of the Chkuthi ridge at Kakhri, which guards the entrance to the Adishi valley. After gaining the ridge and views east, I descended all the way back to Mestia and took the cable car up to Hatsivali. Sadly the continuation chairlift up Zuruldi was broken, so a horrible track through the woods was in order. This was the lowpoint of the trip as I was tired and, unlike everything else I'd done, it was tedious and pointless. It just felt like an Alpine ski resort. At the top, however, was a ridge with low woodland and more delightful meadows. I walked eastwards to the highpoint (which is clearly not the mast

marked as Mentashi on the map). I sat on a little vantage point looking out towards Ushguli and Shkhara, which was mostly in the mist. Then it was back to Mestia for an enormous kubdari - a Svan speciality, basically a meat pie with various spices. Next day, it poured down without a break, and I headed away from Svaneti to Zugdidi.

Chubedishi

Peaks: Chubedishi (3015m) 

Area: Ushguli, Caucasus, Svaneti, Georgia
Ushguli is off the scale, a truly stunning location - Europe's highest settlement (if you think this is Europe, that is). Points of comparison in my own experience are the remoter parts of Nepal, or perhaps the Atlas Mountains: ancient organic stone buildings, narrow muddy alleys, livestock, high peaks, and of course the medieval Svan towers that reach their apogee here. I didn't think I'd be able to get up here, but it was relatively simple - a two hour mashrutka journey through stunning villages and landscapes until the road gives way to a bone-shaking dirt track above the Enguri gorge. I'd watched the film 'Dede' (set in Ushguli) the night before, so it was all rather exciting as we drove up the higher valley with the stupendous 5100m wall of Shkhara (Georgia's highest peak) just emerging from the mist at the valley's end. On either side of the upper village (there are four tiny hamlets up here) were two peaks. The driver then told us we had longer in the village than I'd expected, so suddenly an enormous potential bonus presented itself - perhaps I could get up a peak in this stunning location. I had no details but the right-hand (northerly) mountain looked the most feasible, with a ridge leading to the summit (unlike the enormously bulky mountain opposite). I walked through the atmospheric alleys of the upper village (although this is the most touristy of the four), and spied a path off to the right. This did indeed lead up the obvious forepeak, and after a steep haul, to my delight it seemed to continue up to the grassy ridge. It was perfect: a notable peak, very obvious from the village, in the most wonderful imaginable location - an excellent addition to the '50@50'. I trotted up the ridge, with wild views down to the right, Zeshko, and the Russian border - completely wild and uninhabited. To the left, the trekkers valley up to the Shkhara glacier. The peak itself kept emerging then disappearing, as well (perhaps) as Dykh-Tau beyond. Once or twice, it peeked through a hole in dark clouds - absolutely stunning, reminding me of the cinematography in 'Dede'. I left my sac below the much steeper summit cone (still grassy). This necessitated a detour contouring right to gain the final summit ridge, which was broad and led to a large cairn. Fabulous views, despite the cloud and mist, with grassy ridges in the foreground and savage ice peaks beyond. On the descent, which was quick and easy, wonderful views over Ushguli and its valley. I then had plenty of time to wander round all the villages - the bottom two are entirely undeveloped, still in their original medieval state. The top one has some modest cafes, at one of which I enjoyed a beer with ojakhuri (pork, chicken, chilli, butter, potatoes). Later, I had ostri and chvistari after the bumpy return to Mestia.

Koruldi to Guli Pass

Peaks: Tskhakvzagari (2359m), Koruldi (3328m)

Area: Caucasus, Svaneti, Georgia
I have wanted to visit Svaneti for many years: it has always seemed the archetypal hidden mountain land, high up in the Caucasus. It's a fascinating region more generally, which I scratched the surface of in previous brief trips: 2011 and 2012. After a night in Kutaisi, I took the long Mashrutka journey through Zugdidi along the Abkhazian border to the Engudi gorge. Above here, eventually, the characteristic medieval towers of Svaneti mark the entrance to this magical environment - fields and fertile valleys, huge peaks. I stayed in a guesthouse in Mestia with fabulous views to Banguriani - it had a nice, albeit basic, 'mountain hut' atmosphere which I quite liked. This morning dawned superbly clear, and the village was deserted as I walked through it at 7.30am, buying a huge freshly cooked shota puri (tandoor) bread - too big to fit in my sac - for a few pence and climbing the cobbled streets towards the path up to the giant cross visible from most parts of the village. The route up was surprisingly steep in places, through thick woods with views to the magnificent pyramidal snow peak of Tetnuldi at the head of the valley. The leaves were just beginning to turn in the autumnal cool, and it really was a magnificent place to be. After an hour of solid effort, taking all the direct variations, I emerged on the undulating plateau above - infuriatingly, next to a jeep track. The views were stunning, however: directly across to the peaks of Kabardino-Balkaria, the Russian republic across the border, with the white dome of Elbrus immediately obvious. Closer to hand, Latraldashi, Tikhtengen and Banguriani towered above the Chalaadi valley to the right. Ushba, however, was hidden in some very localised mist. I walked to the giant cross which marks the 'summit' of Tskhakvzagari at 2359m, although in reality this is just the end of a long spur. It looks like a peak from Mestia, though, which I suppose is the reason it is a named peak. I sat on the grass for a few glorious minutes, enjoying the perfect temperatures and looking down to the Svan villages in the valley and the summits of Mekhnazi and Lahili. The light remained wonderful as I climbed the broad ridge above - this was a little tedious, but I reached the side path to the Guli Pass fairly quickly. This looked good, but my plan to climb Guli on the left seemed a little underambitious - it was just a spur on the ridge, not much of a peak given the magnificent surroundings. Instead, high above, was another peak. It looked red and shattered, but there was an obvious path up it, and it seemed certain to provide close-up views of Ushba - which at this point was still draped in cloud. I thought I'd take the chance, as the steep climb gave access to the famous Koruldi Lakes. These are shallow pools, but they provide a stunning foreground to the jagged peaks of the Russian border. They are popular, but I had it all to myself. Above, a little ridge led to a vague gravel track zig-zagging upwards. The altitude really kicked in now, at 3000m, and I had at least 1500m of climbing in my legs. I nibbled on my tonis puri, and left the track at the steep scree slope that was so obvious from below. There was a vague path up this, but it took some finding to make this negotiable. The cloud was peeling away from the red ridge above, however, and I began to feel that views of Ushba might be imminent. Nothing could prepare me for the sight that greeted me as I emerged, however. A loose scramble, distinctly unpleasant, led steeply up the final shattered cone of rock to the ridge, and then a stunning, instant view straight across to Ushba, one of the world's most dramatic, recognisable, dangerous and beautiful mountains. Its twin peaks were redolent of Pedraforca in Catalonia, or Pic du Midi in the Pyrenees, but twice as big. I have seen a lot of amazing sights in many mountain ranges over many years all over the world, but this was up there with the best of them: absolutely incredible, with tendrils of mist peeling away from the twin spires and plunging icefalls on either side. There are no obvious lines of weakness from this side. My more modest peak (Koruldi) lay up to the left, and a nice ridge led to a broader col before a final scrambly ridge up red, bouldery, shattered rock led to a small summit cross and cairn a little higher up. The view of Ushba from the true summit was even better, breath-taking and incredibly close. Of all my '50 at 50' special overseas mountains this year (46 done so far), I think this view exceeded that of Teide from Guajara, and the many, many others, as the finest of all. Both Ushba peaks were now visible, and as I descended I took some time to examine the peaks further east - stunning in every direction, just a little overshadowed by the mighty Ushba. The descent was far easier than the ascent, scree running in places, and I decided to extend the day by contouring the wonderful hillside directly across to the Guli Pass. This was wonderful - springy meadows, steppe buzzards overhead, water pipits below. There was no path (I was above the normal route) but it looked initially like I might be able to contour directly across. Sadly, however, I reached a broad river valley which was very steep, almost a gorge, and meant I had to descend to the normal path - steep and tiring. From here, I crossed the stream (awkward) and headed up to Guli before abandoning the attempt just below the pass when I realised I would be too late back if I carried on. The descent was steep but the weather stayed glorious - and I refuelled on the carb-heavy Lobiani (bean pie) in Lushqu Qor beer garden.

Wirral MT Series, Thurstaston

Race: Wirral Multi-Terrain Series (Race 2: Thurstaston 5m)
Time/Position: 30.30 (28th from 245)
Exactly the same position as last week although I felt a little better for this race, which is possibly my favourite of the four Wirral fixtures. It is another two-lap affair, dropping down to the beach with its big skies and views across the estuary. On the first lap, I tripped on an errant boulder, of which there are a few, cutting my knee. This knocked me back temporarily, but as the field opened out I began to pick up a few places and sustained the same modest speed on the second lap. The run-in along the cycle track always takes much longer than you might reasonably expect, and the finish is now next to the visitor centre up a little hill.

Ras Cyrn y Brain

Race: Cyrn y Brain fell race (7m/1300ft)
Time/Position: 52.44 (6th from 62)
Like an extended version of the Ponderosa hill race, this took in some very familiar ground and is an excellent runnable route. This is the third year it's been run, I think, but a first for me. I took it steady for the concrete climb up to Cyrn y Brain, with some fairly big gaps opening out between runners. This joins the long OD descent across the open moor on duck boards and heathery paths down to the World's End road: I was disappointingly slow on this section, and also for the mile or so down the tarmac to World's End. The race then takes the long contouring climb back up Cyrn y Brain, which eventually joins the narrow Ponderosa descent route (I remember doing this climb on a long run from Llandegla a couple of years ago). I made up some ground here, but couldn't catch Simon in front and he finished 30 second ahead after the quick dash down the rather painful concrete path to the finish near the Ponderosa. Nice weather throughout, relatively cool and clear, with fluffy clouds and views across to Snowdonia.

Wirral MT Series, Royden Park

Race: Wirral Multi-Terrain Series (Race 1: Royden Park 5m)
Time/Position: 31.22 (28th from 243)
Last time I did this race, in 2015, I had the Ben Nevis race descent in my legs and still remember a monstrous case of the DOMS as I hobbled round. No such excuses tonight, yet I was still two minutes slower! Still, I felt better than I have recently and did feel a tiny bit of speed returning at times. A huge field set off for a lap round the first field, so it was very crowded for the long lap which takes some narrow paths through the woods to gain the edge of the sandstone escarpment with views over the Dee to north Wales. Quite frustrating at times, especially on the rocky, sandy descent from the trigpoint on the miniature hill that marks the end of the climb. I made up some ground on the second lap but it was all a bit too late, with me a bit too slow, and struggling with the pace towards the end. Still, it feels really good to be back racing again, even if there is a lot of work to do. With luck, I'll be able to do three of this always excellent series this September.

Moelwyn Paddy leg

Peaks: Moel Siabod, Clogwyn Bwlch y Maen, Carnedd Cribau, Cerrig Cochion, Moel Meirch, Ysgafell Wen, Moel Llyn Cwn, Moel Druman, Allt Fawr, Foel Ddu, Moel yr Hydd, Moelwyn Bach, Craigysgafn, Moelwyn Mawr, Cnicht
Area: Moelwynion, Eryri
The third time I have done this most obscure and arduous of Snowdonian traverses this summer: I have no great desire to do it again for a while! On this occasion, I was supporting a Paddy Buckley attempt for the first time. As Paddy was one of my targets for this year of multiple mountains, I had mixed emotions as this summer has felt like 'now or never' for me to have a proper go at it before I switch back to normal running next year. However, you have to properly commit, and it definitely didn't feel appropriate to join another attempt when they've done all the organisation and got a team together. Instead, I wanted to properly support Hayley and Rich's attempt, so set off with them from Capel Curig at 10.30am for what proved a really enjoyable outing. An hour before, the rain was coming down in torrential sheets, but it cleared completely on the way up Siabod, and we reached the summit in 50 minutes from Capel. A light shower as we ran down the superb gentle ridge to the next two peaks, before the boggy and awkward section that ultimately leads to Cerrig Cochion. The terrain remains awkward over the rocks of Moel Meirch and Ysgafell Wen - there is never much climbing, but locating the true summits is tricky, and it is always arduous underfoot. We had a team of five in total, with two other support runners, and we made a good team - perfectly paced, around 20 minutes up on a 24-hour schedule, and all good company. After Ysgafell Wen, the terrain eases to excellent running out to Allt Fawr and then down to the water sources above Blaenau. Superb views, they couldn't have had better weather at this point - cool but clear. In the panic of the morning, I had neglected to pack any food for myself, and this became a bit of a problem on a 6.5 hour leg - it wasn't as if I could ask anybody for a bite! Moelwyn Bach brought back nice memories of our 'coast to coast' with Cardigan Bay glistening and Porthmadog bathed in sunshine. And then it was along the familiar ridge over rocky Craigysgafn to Moelwyn Mawr: more wonderful views as the clouds melted away from the Carneddau far to the north. It is a long and complex haul from Moelwyn Mawr to Cnicht, weaving through quarry workings, lumpy terrain and hidden lakes. We met Steve and Hazel here, and their bananas and cake was most welcome - because the direct assault up Cnicht follows. I reccied this in April (nobody in their right mind would ever do Cnicht from this side) and stuck to the contouring route I discovered, which works well. A long descent, rocky at first down the scrambly Croesor race route (my left knee a tad painful after the Beacons race) and then a long bouldery track which leads to a minor road and, eventually, Nantmor. I cooked soup, then drove Hayley's car back to Capel as they continued over the Hebog leg. So, mixed emotions: perhaps the Fellsman and Porthmadog-Conwy 'coast to coast' may have to stand as the high water marks of the last two 'distance years'!

Marian Bach climbing

Crag: Marian Bach, Llysfaen
Routes: High Speed Virgins (f5b:sec), Line Right of HSV (f5:sec), Tanfastic Variation (f5b:led), Tanfastic (f5:sec), Malibu (f5c:sec), Encierro de la Villavesa (f5b:led), Rocky Robin (f5:sec), Krakatwo-er (f5c:sec), Seren (f4:led)
On my last, and only, visit to this hidden crag, the routes had only just been put up. They now have names and grades and it is a nice, peaceful venue - ideal this morning, as I didn't have much time and it was very windy at nearby Castle Inn. Steve led a short new route on the left, then I led the un-named route up the left wall of the Tanfastic groove. This was steeper than it looked and enjoyable. Malibu takes a steep wall further right on big horizontal holds and is really nice, perhaps the best route here. I led the obvious right-left traverse using the same starting moves, and this also gave pleasant and worthwhile climbing, as did the obvious line of Rocky Robin. Some of these I'd done on my previous visit, some were new to me. The awkward wide crack of Krakatwoer was definitely familiar, but the easy route to its right was new. Back to Conwy for a picnic lunch.

Brecon Beacons fell race

Race: Brecon Beacons fell race (31k/4500ft/BL)
Peaks: Carn Pica, Waun Rydd, Cribyn, Pen y Fan, Corn Du, Twyn Mwyalchod, Pant y Creigiau, Tor y Foel
Time/Position: 3.53.28 (21st from 69)
The missing piece of the jigsaw, in the sense that this was the only long Welsh fell race I hadn't done. It takes a grand, sweeping loop of the long valley that curves west above Talybont. We camped in a nice wooded glade by the youth hostel, just below the Taff Trail that I enjoyed so much on February's Brecon-Cardiff ultra. The day dawned hot, and became very hot - 27c in fact, and it was obvious that the crux would be coping with it on a course with no shelter and no water. The race starts below the reservoir, just above the village, and heads up the road and obvious track to the start of the broad ridge over Twyn Du that eventually leads up to Carn Pica, the most easterly of the Beacons. This is a sharp little climb at the end, and a great viewpoint in all directions. My relaxed approach meant I could take pictures and enjoy it. A lot of height had already been gained, and a very helpful cooling breeze was gratefully received after a sweaty and long climb. The ridgeline then curves invitingly towards the distant main Beacons summits. For such a hot day, the clarity of light was wonderful - and the running superb along the main path above the northern escarpment (Craig Cwm Cynwyn). The race contours Fan y Big to the col below Cribyn - and then a short, steep climb gains the nice summit ridge of Cribyn before another steep descent with superb views of Pen y Fan, now directly in front. It was such a stunning day, and these peaks are so accessible from the Storey Arms, that there were hundreds of people on the tops - it was actually quite hard to find the marshall on Pen y Fan, and Corn Du (just a matter of minutes away). Only the 4th or 5th time I've been up the main Beacons summits. From the top of Corn Du comes a very long level ridge south-east to Rhiw yr Ysgyfarnog above the Gwaun Taf valley (which joins Taf Fawr at Merthyr). This ridge, like the earlier one, is runnable although awkward and bouldery in places - the sandstone slabs reminiscent of certain Peak races like the Roaches. The next checkpoint was at the trig on Twyn Mwyalchod, then came a steep descent where I took a bad, indirect line, immediately losing five places (I was 25th on Corn Du). Then it was down to a waterpoint below Upper Neuadd, the only water on the route, before the airless trudge through Taf Fechan forest. The breeze gone, it was very hot work, and got worse as we gained the tarmac (the same road to Merthyr that I ran down from the highpoint on Brecon-Cardiff). The climb up Pant y Creigiau was probably the crux of the route, and I took it too far left, losing ground again. After the summit, I could see Tor y Foel, the final peak, and felt the end was in sight. In reality, the topography on this side of the valley means it takes forever to reach. It heads over Darren Fawr via multiple bumps and hidden valleys. I made up some ground on two local runners, which helped for the route-finding here, which seems bewildering as the best lines weave left and right, seemingly avoiding the direct route to Tor y Foel. Great views down to the lakes and across to the main Beacons summits, all looking very distant, and in front to the east was the Usk valley and Black Mountains. It was all very hot and thirsty work, and I passed three dehydrated semi-casualties before gaining the final climb up Tor y Foel. This is a nice little summit, directly above the YHA and dam to which the descent heads directly, with local knowledge a help again. The race finishes on the dam wall - a wonderful, aesthetically pleasing circuit, but the hottest 'long' I have done for several years (I think the Welsh 1000s in 2011 was the last time I did a 'long' that was this hot).

Tremadog climbing

Crag: Upper Tier/Two Face Buttress, Tremadog
Routes: Falling Block Crack (S:led), Gwynedd/Mistook (VS 4b:sec), KMA (HS 4a:led), Madog (VS 4c:sec), Olympic Slab (VS 4c:sec), Stromboli (HVS 5a:sec)
It hasn't been the most successful of years, rock-climbing wise, as the focus has been on multiple mountains instead. So this was a nice opportunity to get onto a rather obscure part of Tremadog that I hadn't visited before, Two-Face buttress, which is hidden below the Upper Tier, its lower pitches buried in vegetation. We kicked off on the more familiar terrain of the Upper Tier, however, where I led the easy Falling Block Crack for the second time. This goes to a small bulge around the block, which gives a few bridging moves to an easy finish: a nice, simple route to begin with. Vic led Mistook, which takes the curving finger crack to the right. I did the eliminate start (Gwynedd) at the same grade, but had to take the Mistook crack towards the top to retrieve the gear. KMA was a gap for me: it takes the obvious line on the left of the crag. The start is awkward: smooth rock with a puzzling move, few obvious holds, squirming up the broad crack to eventually gain projecting holds and a big ledge. After a move left round a tree, the route continues via some nice bridging to an upper rib. Quite enjoyable, and the sun came out giving wonderful views over the Rhinogs, estuary and Criccieth as I brought up Vic and Ceri. Madog takes the smooth and awkward jamming crack to the right, with a delicate and tricky finish (if you take it direct). After lunch, we hopped over the fence and abbed down to the tree below Olympic Slab. This takes an immaculate steep slab of perfect Tremadog rock, protected from crowds and polish by its inaccessibility. It is short, but harder than I expected: quite technical for a few moves. It goes up spikes to a very thin crack, which is delicate up to some small holds, then another crack, a tad easier, to the finishing groove. Very well positioned, with an exposed feel, despite its brevity. We then moved the rope and abseiled down the other side of the buttress where Vic led Stromboli. This is the archetypal 'route of character'. Again, only short, but with a big feel, packing a lot of climbing and variety in to 25m or so. It goes easily to a great undercut traverse, which requires some thought on a single 9mm, with very little for the feet and a precise sequence to gain a good hold at the end of the overhang. This gains an easy slab up to the impending double-overhang of the headwall. This is the second hard move, and probably the crux, up an overhanging groove, nudging upwards to gain an enormous hold with nothing for the feet until you find a perfect little ledge on the right wall. Hauling up gains the final slab and another hard move up right, to pull over to the belay. It started spitting with rain the second we all finished, then rained properly as we descended: excellent timing.

Two Hillforts fell race

Race: Two Hillforts fell race (8.5m/2600ft)
Time/Position: 1.18.44 (9th from 73)
A two month lay-off from racing, my longest in many years, so this (along with yesterday's Parkrun) was always going to be a shock to the system. As such, it went as well as could be expected, perhaps better as I felt fairly comfortable throughout, albeit very slow. The excellent new route seemed similar to the defunct Tavern Trial or Lletty, although it started from a different farm, contouring along to the same steep path up to the Moel Arthur car park. Then comes the brutally steep climb up the front of Moel Arthur, then a descent through the heather towards Pen y Cloddiau. This is always my favourite hill for running, and we took the fire road which climbs gently on the Vale side before running along the top of the hillfort to the summit. The weather was beautiful but windy, a nice late summer day. There were quite big gaps between runners - I passed one and was then passed by a fast finisher as we climbed back up to Llys y Coed for the long run in, which starts by the Cilcain col and ends with the superb grassy descent back to Llangynhafal.

Wepre Parkrun

"Race": Wepre Parkrun
Time/Position: 20.25 (3rd from 134)
My first Parkrun for almost two years, and inevitably my slowest ever. Despite that, this felt like a decent speed session amidst all the slow plodding and there are signs that it might not take too long to regain some speed when I finally get back to proper training. E is now volunteering, so there may be other opportunities to run the two-lap, hilly course through Wepre woods. It is always very pleasant, so it is odd that I've only done it three or four times. First on the age-graded results at least!

Berwyn run

Peaks: Cadair Bronwen, Cadair Berwyn, Moel Sych, Cadair Berwyn
Area: Berwyn, North Wales
An unsettled period of weather, with the clag fairly low over the ridge as we set off from a deserted Llandrillo, still early on Sunday morning. We set a decent pace throughout, up the very steep tarmac to the slightly gentler slopes via Moel Ty Uchaf to Moel Pearce. Then it was into the clag, sticking to the fence for the direct - but boggy - route up to the summit of Cadair Bronwen. It was fairly cold and windy here, but not as wet as forecast, so it was on with the coats. We were all going quite well (Stuart had joined Jez and I for the morning) and this route is runnable throughout. Light drizzle for the steep climb up Cadair Berwyn (last time I was here I bivvied just below the summit on a perfect May day in a drought), then along to the actual Berwyn highpoint before pelting flat-out along to Moel Sych. Instead of dropping down to Llyn Lluncaws, we ran back over Cadair Berwyn, then descended the very boggy permissive path back to Llandrillo, which is overgrown now in several places: 2.10 for the round.

Idwal climbing

Crag: Glyder Fawr, Idwal
Routes: The Other Direct Start (S 4b:sec), Tennis Shoe (HS 4a,4a,4b:led p.2), Original Route (VS 5a,4c:led p.2), Continuation Crack (HVS 5a:sec)
Over 30 years, I have done most of the possible 'enchainement' combinations up the cliffs of Glyder Fawr. Whichever combination of routes is selected, you are always guaranteed one of the best mountain days in Snowdonia as you make your way up the different crags leading towards the upper cliff. Today was a fairly standard selection, although Vic led a long alternative start to Tennis Shoe ('the other direct start') which I couldn't remember doing before. It is well to the right, much more direct and better than the polished normal start, I think, and has some delicate moves initially on very small holds, before cracks are gained. These look vegetated from below, but are OK, and give good climbing. This leads to a blanker section before a steeper final crack up to the belay: almost a 50m pitch. I then led up the enjoyable rib which is nicely positioned and good climbing, up to an easing and then a small belay ledge which we shared awkwardly with another pair. The angle eases here, so Vic scrambled up to the final tower before leading it. I remember leading this back in 1993 or so: it is surprisingly tricky with a precise sequence required (you have to find a sharp little hold after traversing left). Then comes the steep slab to the poised boulder right at the top. Next up was Original Route, all a bit wet and muddy at the start. Vic led - the first few moves are tricky, then comes the simple Crescent Slab, curving right to the off-width chimney crack which I well remembered from doing the route before. It is hard, grovelling stuff with no easy solutions, just arm jams and other unpleasantness. I led the final pitch, which is graded 4c but is easier: up a nice crack with good gear to a ledge, then moves right to a little spike and easy finish. We finished with a little gem, which neither of us had done before. Continuation Crack is directly above, just left of the more travelled trade route, Groove Above. It gives a superb pitch, with technical moves initially, which require a few delicate steps on the left wall. This leads to a wonderful pocketed section before the route steepens towards the top: this looked like the crux from below but was fairly straightforward, with the crack positive and more pockets. The rock is superb, and not too polished: a great pitch, somewhat remarkable that neither of us had done it before. We then descended down the hugely polished normal slabs descent, which is thought-provoking these days. We were back at out sacks less than three hours after setting off, nicely efficient.

Trevor climbing

Crag: Trevor, Eglwyseg
Routes: The Full Nine Llaths (f5a:sec), The Last Llath (f5a:led), Ogre in the Ogof (f5a:sec), Maevanwy (f6a:led), Screch yr Hebog (f5c:sec), Raptor Rap (f5a:sec), Merlin Magic (f5b:led)
I'd successfully avoided Trevor this year, but a short trip seemed in order today after a break from climbing of several weeks since Italy - partly because my gear was nicked in Bergamo. I dug out my old saggy harness, old shoes and second helmet and we had a decent few hours at the extreme left of the crag, where I repeated some routes that I did shortly after they were originally bolted a decade ago. They're not too bad, although as ever it's a bit of a comedown after continental limestone. Some of these routes were unticked in my guidebook, including The Last Llath and the pleasant Ogre in the Ogof which takes a nice slab. Maevanwy, supposedly 6a, was a first too - overgraded, it takes an easy slab to a blanker wall, with one or two delicate and technical moves to gain an excellent pocket. Another example of Brits misunderstanding the French grading system. Steve led the f5c up the shallow groove, the best line here with a thought-provoking move using a side-pull at mid-height. The square groove to the right is quite good, and the 5b takes the disjointed rib.

Vafes runs

Two attempts on two different mornings to get to the top of the local peak - an eye-catching mountain directly above Vafes that was called....well, I'm not too sure. It was something like 'Skoufou', but that was from the mouth of a local shepherd. I made the first attempt on Sunday - driving up the tiny road to 'upper Vafes' (where Patrick Leigh Fermor hid with the partisans in WWII) and continued on foot up tracks to another of those distinctive and wonderful Cretan mountain plateaus. This was directly below the peak in question, and I thought I could see a way up, so continued until encountering a shepherd outside his hut. He was friendly, although we had no words in common - and told me the name of the mountain, which I struggled to remember or convey in print, gesturing vaguely westwards at a possible route up. I ran along the track before ploughing direct through the maquis in an attempt at the summit - giving up half an hour later with bloodied legs, dehydrated. It was never going to work, so later I asked the English-speaking shopkeeper in Vafes if there was a route. He thought not, which seemed extraordinary given how eye-catching and obvious the peak was - remote parts of the Balkans are the only European equivalent, otherwise you would have to be in the developing world to encounter a similar situation. Anyway, two days later - our last day - I tried again, sticking to the path for well over an hour of running, a good few miles, and then contouring west and upwards, getting quite close but still seeing no route through the maquis: very frustrating.

Kastro

Peaks: Skoutsio Korifi (1893m), Kastro (2218m*)
Area: Lefka Ori, Crete
The true 'mountain desert', the extraordinary landscape of the central Lefka Ori, is not easy to penetrate without a bivouac. I'd gazed into it from the summit of Melindaou, but wanted to get amongst it somehow. Looming high above our stone house in the foothill village of Vafes was Kastro, at the eastern end of the Lefka Ori, and research suggested I might be able to sample the landscape by running up it from Askifou in Sfakia (although protected by rows of subsidiary ridges). I wanted to return to the heart of Sfakia anyway, having sampled it on our Saturday trip. Even within Greece as a whole (which has many regions like this) it has something of a reputation: never occupied by foreign powers, notorious for its vendettas, it struck me as a kind of European Afghanistan. I got up early and drove over the high pass into Sfakia, heading upwards from Askifou as far as I could get by car. Inevitably, the little road I'd been following deteriorated into a shepherd's track, and a tricky reversing manoeuvre was required before I could set off up the E4 - quite easy to find but steep at this point as it makes its way through pine woods and steep hillsides to gain pastures higher up. This is Niato, another extraordinary high hidden plateau, so wonderful and characteristically Cretan. It is complex, with the initial meadows (called Tavri, perhaps) just a foretaste: jogging along a track, I then penetrated the true Niato, hidden behind lumpy hills. It is a stunning place, a remote, circular plateau - all greens and oranges in the early morning sunshine, the characteristic brilliance of the Cretan light setting it off, with the Kastro range dazzling white beyond. The route ahead was unclear. I stayed on the main track taken by the E4 until I became a little uneasy, seeing no sign whatsoever of a route up Kastro. This was not altogether surprising, as not many people come this way (although Kastro is relatively accessible by the standards of the Lefka Ori). Still, I didn't really want to push upwards through the maquis and rocks without some idea of the wider landscape, the bigger picture. After a while, I decided I had no choice, so reversed to the obvious valley coming down from the highest ridge, and picked my way up goat tracks with the intention of getting out of the maquis and on to the limestone as soon as was feasible. This worked to an extent, and I soon started scrambling up rough, but gently angled limestone on the right-hand side of the valley. It was windless and baking hot, as the sun began to climb. The northerly wind and lack of humidity that had been such a help to me a week ago was now gone, replaced by the fully cranked-up oven; and this was almost the definition of an unforgiving landscape. It feels exposed, malevolent, like a mirror/reverse-image of the vulnerable feeling you often get when the weather is really bad in the British hills or the Alps. I had 1.7 litres of water with me, and had no intention of hanging around, so ploughed upwards. The other issue was that it was not entirely clear where I was: as I rose, I looked left towards what I later realised was Skoutsio Kourifi, an obscure but shapely peak, but at the time felt that it must be Kastro. As it happened, I was actually on Kastro! It was just that I couldn't see the big picture, given the nature of the topography and the lack of map. Gradually, the penny dropped, as I emerged from the initial very steep rise and hellish scree to gain a shoulder with views out over Vafes and the north coast (and a slight breeze). I was above the re-entrant that is key to the ascent, and traversed the top of this with some scrambling (some way below the true summit of Kastro, as I later discovered) to pick up a ridge which led, via a lumpy subpeak, to the climb up Skoutsio Kourifi. Most of this only became clear later, as I struggled with the topography, map-less. The important thing was that I was now in the extraordinary landscape of the White Mountain Desert. If not unique, it is certainly unusual. It reminded me of the Sinai or Wadi Rum, but in some ways was even more barren in the sense that it is devoid of life and water. Looking into the central part of the range does feel a little like I remember the remoter parts of Wadi Rum: quite serious, and no place for a leaky bottle. This was as far as I got, however, as I had promised to be back by midday. So I scampered to the summit of Skoutsio Kourifi, with its views of the Sfakian coast, then down awkward screes - completely pathless, no sign of humans - down towards a valley above Niato which looked feasible from above. This reading of the landscape was quite satisfying and, despite a few falls and punctured fingers (on the prickly vegetation) and swollen hands (one of the plants leads to some kind of allergic reaction), I got back to the level pasture of Niatto in reasonable time. From here, I ran flat out back to the car, still with a little water left.

Samaria Gorge

Not one, but two family trips down this most famous of gorges. After my three days in the White Mountains solo, I was really looking forward to showing K and E around after a rest day in Chania. I deliberately saved Samaria for a family outing having looked down on it from all the surrounding peaks, and the Kallergi refuge, but E didn't fancy the standard coach trip with 5am start. So we drove up in our own time on Thursday morning, having a picnic breakfast at Lakkoi and entering the gorge around 10am at Xyloscala. Views were just as perfect and spectacular as they had been when I was here a few days ago, and I warned them both that we were essentially doing a 'hillwalk in reverse', so a certain amount of judgement about when to turn back was in order. The zigzags from Xyloscala descend for 600 metres and must be very hard on the knees for the tourists who come this way. After this, the side gorge comes down from the Gigilos Pass, and the path levels out a bit until the ancient chapel is reached at Ayia Nikolaos, a delightful resting spot. After seeing virtually nobody on all my forays up 14 Cretan summits, it was a novelty to be faced by hundreds of tourists of all shapes and sizes today. After rest and snacks at the chapel, we continued onwards, much gentler now as the walls begin to narrow a bit. The river is crossed multiple times during this section, with views up the walls of Gigilos and Volakias. All the rest stops had water, a crucial factor that makes it feasible for ordinary walkers. Eventually, the gorge opens out again above the abandoned village of Samaria. This is the point at which it really narrows, but unfortunately I also deemed it the best time to turn back as I felt we would be pushing it otherwise. On the long haul back to Xyloscala, we saw two cri cri (agrimi) the endemic Cretan wild goat (I had also seen two or three on my mountain trips) - this was presumably because the gorge was now completely empty, which made for a memorable trip back up, away from the hordes, definitely the way to do it. One kri kri, spotted by E, was a male with horns. E and K coped well with the long climb up, and agreed to go back again, from the bottom this time. So after moving from Maleme to the foothill village of Vafes we drove, two days later, to Hora Sfakion on the south coast and booked ourselves onto the morning ferry to Ayia Roumeli. A wonderful, unforgettable journey ensued, hugging the wild coast en route to the beautiful village of Loutro, the fantasy Greek coastal village with whitewashed houses and tavernas framed below a burnt orange hillside. Docking at Ayia Roumeli, a superb view of Volakias towering above the gorge, looking pretty impressive. A long, hot walk through the village to the exposed, shadeless track that takes some time to reach the lower entrance to Samaria. From here, the walls begin to close in and quite quickly the famous Sidereportes (Iron Gates) are reached, a very narrow section which necessitates a raised traverse above the river. The gorge is not that high at this point, however, and is actually quite a bit more spectacular higher up. After the Gates, we reached the very large rest stop of Christos and took a long break. Too long, in retrospect, as the next section - undoubtedly the most spectacular - is also the longest. We were travelling uphill, opposite to the hordes of tourists, but the views are better this way as the walls soar upwards and the gorge remains tight throughout, the path twisting and turning and often crossing the river. As it opens out before the village, we had to call it a day - not willing to risk missing the return ferry at 5.30pm. Another excellent day - we recuperated with frappe and freshly squeezed juice in Ayia Roumeli before another wonderful boat trip in evening sunshine. Cuttlefish and Sfakian pies in Hora Sfakion in a seaside restaurant as the sun set.

Zoniana Gorge

If Samaria is the best known gorge in Crete, Zoniana may well be the least. My time was limited this morning, as I was leaving the mountains to begin our family holiday, so my discovery that a gorge left the village just a few hundred metres from my hotel was serendipitous. That said, it was extremely obscure, and I very much doubt more than a handful of people ever venture up the gorge, which lent it a rather eerie feel. As soon as the village is left, the valley gives way to the usual messy shepherd dwellings - these then give way to the gorge proper, which twists around until it passes two more remote shepherd houses. I annoyed one of these by jogging round the corner and scaring his flock. Above this, the gorge becomes much tighter and continues to twist and turn - but the walls are never very high. A few dry limestone bowls needed negotiating and the bouldery base of the gorge was awkward throughout. After satisfying my curiosity round some twists and turns I ran back the way I came and checked out - didn't find anything for breakfast until I got to Perama near the coast!

Psiloritis range

Peaks: Psiloritis/Mount Ida (2454), Stolistra (2325), Agathias (2424), Vouloumenou (2267)
Area: Mount Ida, Crete
The highest peak in Crete, and a rare recent example of 'good form' with me feeling as fresh as a daisy throughout. After yesterday's outing, I drove across to the Rethymno hinterland - tortuous roads through very distinctive villages. The most distinctive of all is the one I stayed in - Zoniana - which became internationally infamous a decade ago as 'drug-dealing shepherds' (according to the Telegraph) opened fire on police with kalashnikovs. The village is notoriously hostile to authority and is said to resemble 'Godfather-era' Sicily in its clannishness. It was certainly distinctive, with many men still dressing in black shirts and an insular air (bursts of gunfire marked what I was told was a 'pre-wedding' celebration last night). This morning, I drove to the neighbouring village of Livadia and took the winding and unsignposted road up to the Lakkos Mygerou, a typical remote Cretan chapel combined with mountain refuge. I was dreading this drive, expecting it to be impossible in a hire car. In fact, it was a delight - well-surfaced, not scary, empty, and winding up through glorious, remote scenery. It felt biblical and reminded me strongly of parts of the Middle East or North Africa: the low sun lit the conical hills to perfection, and Lakkos Mygerou itself had a magical atmosphere. Another high Cretan plain, enclosed by mountains, with the moon above the summit of Psiloritis. As with most of these high pastures on Crete, the lack of running water (and wind) meant it was absolutely silent apart from the sheep bells and occasional calls from shepherds. Psiloritis itself has several names - the modern Greek takes precedent, but 'Mount Ida' (spelt many different ways) is common, and the actual peak is often referred to as Timios Stavros, after the tiny chapel on its summit. I set off up a well-trodden path, surprisingly so, and was delighted to discover that I was on something of a flyer. I felt better than I have for months, and covered the ground very quickly. The path weaves up to join a broad spur above a rough cwm, and finally emerges at a wide col below Vouloumenou. Here, several paths join including the E4 and the path from the Nida plateau further east. The rest of the route is superb - perfectly angled for running, up a broad ridge with a nice high mountain atmosphere as it climbs to 8000ft. The dominant peak is a perfect dome of bare rock - very exposed to the elements and massively higher than anything surrounding it, meaning that you can see all of Crete from the summit, from Dikti in the east to the Lefka Ori in the west, and 'sea to sea' across the width of the island. These kind of 'helicopter' views are rarely the best, but the sheer scale of this combined with the stunning clarity of light made it pretty special: particularly the views of the White Mountains and the tiny villages towards the south coast. I'd met a Dutch-Cretan former Swansea City footballer on the way up and caused a stir with my rapid (66 minute) ascent to the summit - he phoned his dad, a Livadia native, to let him know! We were joined by his girlfriend and two Swedes, quite a crowd for a Cretan mountain. To the west, my eye was caught by Stolistra (I didn't know its name at the time), a little summit at the end of an additional spur with clouds boiling up from the valley below. I felt so good that I decided to run to the top of every summit I could see, everything on the broad Psiloritis ridge. As it happened, it was a long descent on scree to a col but hardly any re-ascent required to gain the small top (which was indeed right at the end of the range in a great position above the spur). It was ferociously windy at this point, enough to knock me over twice. Oddly, despite the ease of ascent, I later clearly saw Stolistra from several points on the island, including the beach at Georgopolis - a very long way away. The re-ascent back to the chapel slowed me a bit, but not too much, and I then had it to myself. After another snack, I pelted along the crest of the ridge, over a minor summit, past a snowpatch, to the pathless climb up Agathias. Again, I didn't know what it was called at the time, having no decent map. This gave brilliant views back to the main peak and across to Dikti. I cut the corner, steeply down to the E4 junction, which I left immediately for the superb broad ridge out to Vouloumenou: this was great, perfectly runnable again across a kind of blocky limestone pavement. The summit was poised above Lykkos Mygerou and the brown dusty valleys adjoining it: again, it reminded me of the Sinai more than anything else. Further below, I could make out Livadia and my 'home village' of Zoniana, seemingly directly below. I spent a little time relaxing, but still felt really good with bags of running left in my legs, so just ran back to the valley and car flat out. I then had the challenge of sourcing food in the villages, which I managed by also visiting the show cave of Sfentoni, which was unexpectedly superb (and the snack bar served local cheese pies with magnificent views back up to Psiloritis). Later I even managed to get the only taverna in Zoniana to rustle up some souvlaki and dakos, no mean feat!

Psilafi ridge

Peaks: Strifomadhi (1921), Psilafi (1984)
Area: Lekfa Ori. Crete
I was looking for a way of extending my time in the White Mountains before leaving for the central range of Psiloritis, and decided that the rounded peaks to the west of Gigilos were ideal as a short 'active rest day'. After another relaxing night at the lovely Neos Omalos, this time with a balcony that faced the low range of mountains north of the hamlet, I set off for Xyloscala after another breakfast of local products. Unfortunately the first part of the route necessitated retracing my steps up the zigzags taken by the Gigilos climb, but as it starts to descend to the pinnacles I struck directly up the goat tracks to gain a broken fence which follows the ridge to the summit of Strifomadhi. I tried to contour further right, pointlessly as it was completely pathless, and meant I missed out on the best views. Eventually I gained the ridge proper and then the summit. Views were predictably excellent, particularly down the Tripiti gorge, which Strifomadhi is poised directly above, with the deep blue Libyan sea below. The higher peak of Psilafi looked attractive, and was clearly higher, to the west. The broad ridge across to it was obviously quite kind in terms of terrain, so I ran across, above a doline with large snow patch, to gain a very broad col. From here, it was just a few minutes of running at a nice angle to the summit of Psilafi at 1984m. This had great views down to Omalos, as it is probably the closest peak to the hotels. I contoured back to the Strifomadhi ridge past lots of nosey goats, and sat for a good while on the ridge in spectacular atmospheric conditions. Late morning, and wisps of mist were forming and reforming directly above my head. At times I would be enveloped, then seconds later it would clear: it changed continually. Sometimes a large block of cloud formed over Strifomadhi, then a huge patch of blue would appear, with mountains and sea through the gap: it was tremendous, and I sat for a while just enjoying the show. On the way down, I stuck to the ridge, which was nice, and actually saw another person towards the bottom of it. I then drove down to Fournes for lunch of dakos and frappe in a taverna above the orange groves, before embarking on the long drive to Zoniana for part two of my mountain trip.

Melindaou ridge traverse

Peaks: Psari (1817), Psari North (1849), Mavri (1883), Melindaou (2133), Koukoule (1631)
Area: Lefka Ori, Crete
The bulky mass of Melindaou is the most obvious objective from Kallergi, and throws down an excellent ridge to the south. I had wondered whether I might get all the way to Pachnes and back from the hut, and still feel this was achievable, but a few issues put me off: first, it would have to be out-and-back, and that would mean a 40k outing with a tedious return. Second, at least three litres of water would have been required, making running difficult, and there were only bottles for sale at the hut, nothing drinkable. As a result, I decided not to stay a second night at the refuge, brilliant though it was, as it would have been a bit weird as the only guest again! A great breakfast, with local thyme honey and chocolate cake as the early morning sun streamed through the window, then it was off at slow jogging/fast walking pace down the E4 path which traverses the whole of Crete and takes a track round the various spurs and small hills towards the sheepfolds of Poria, a kind of crossroads at a notable col. Dozens of griffon vultures wheeled overhead, some at very close range. From here, there were two options - I took the weaving path up to join the top of the ridge at the first main peak of Psari. This was really good in the early morning chill, with the sun still blocked by the ridge and a few armed shepherds collecting mountain greens! From Psari, a mouth-watering prospect as views open out and a superb ridge reveals itself in front. This is a little rocky, and quite unusual for Crete given the dome-like summits characteristic of the White Mountains. The wind was quite strong and quite cool, still blowing from the north, with cloud constantly forming and dissipating over Melindaou. A short climb gained an unnamed peak north of Psari, but clearly higher than it, and then a steeper, longer climb up the ridge to Mavri: a great viewpoint. Two shepherds were moving their flocks just below me, clouds of dust blown up and away by the wind, while spectacular plumes of mist formed over Melindaou. I'd been slightly concerned about navigation but needn't have been, because after descending from Mavri I picked up the E4 again (which avoids the ridge but passes close to Melindaou). To the left, I could see Chania and the north coast, to the right a bird's eye view down the Samaria gorge to the Libyan Sea and Gavdos - Europe's most southerly point. A cold northerly whipped across the ridge and I had to put on jacket and hat near the summit after breaking off from the E4. The view was superb: across into the heart of the 'white desert' that marks the extraordinary central part of the White Mountains, a genuinely unique landscape that echoes parts of the Middle East but has an utterly barren physical character and distinctiveness that sets it apart. I moved down the ridge a little, seeking better views of the 'madares' (as the conical peaks are known), then went back to the summit to drink in the view over Samaria and Eligias gorges to the sea. Yesterday's peaks were particularly impressive from this angle, and Pachnes did look reachable albeit regrettably unfeasible in the circumstances. I descended to Poria down the E4 completing a satisfying loop: this went through a shallow valley with a couple of green meadows providing a break from the dessicated limestone. At the hut, I was reluctant to leave the mountains so extended the day by traversing the spur of Koukoule to its highpoint, another tremendous vantage point: Melindaou looks very bulky from this angle, and Volakias is also impressive. Superb cloudscapes. I had the last of my pitta and taramasalata, then descended back to Xyloscala.

Volakias to Kallergi

Peaks: Gigilos (2080), Volakias (2116), Volakias South/Prinias (2118)
Area: Lefka Ori/White Mountains, Crete
A great start to my five-day immersion into the Cretan mountains in advance of our family holiday. I was initially tempted by a backpacking traverse of the White Mountains, but eventually discounted this as impractical in the time available: instead, I hired a car, and headed uphill for Omalos after landing in Chania. I stayed in a great little hotel with a lovely mountain atmosphere, and after breakfast of local thyme honey, yogurt and freshly churned butter headed up to Xyloscala at the top of the famous Samaria gorge. I was just before the main glut of tourists, and planned to descend the gorge with K and E later, so was in a very happy frame of mind as I left it all behind and headed up the zigzags towards Gigilos. This was an obvious first peak - probably Crete's most climbed mountain - and a fine-looking objective when viewed from Omalos. It throws down an impressive slabby face of naked limestone to the north, and has a pyramidal structure unlike most of the Lefka Ori. At the top of the zigzags, the route heads round a spur and begins to descend towards the obvious valley marking the true start of the gorge. This is quite spectacular and contains a number of large crumbling limestone spires and arches. The route negotiates these and is interesting throughout as a result. One section passes through one of the arches, while another weaves between two giant pinnacles. Above, the miraculous spring of Linoseli: three troughs of clear, cold water - the only water I ever saw in the Cretan mountains. Above, some rough zigzags leads to a pronounced, and very windy col between Gigilos and Strifomadhi. Ahead, the remote gorge of Tripiti drops down to the south coast near Sougia. A shepherd was just below, issuing the weird shouts to his flock that were to become quite familiar over the next few days. To the left, the broad summit ridge of Gigilos, a few hundred feet of slabby rock - giving some scrambling if taken direct. I stuck to solid rock where possible and found some nice variations up to the 'summit' - a giant cairn. I suspect this is where most walkers finish, but it is obviously not the high point. That is some way east, and an interesting ridge led to it, through chaotic boulders and limestone troughs. Some more scrambling and lots of weaving to the real summit, with views straight down the gorge and across to Omalos. Griffon vultures wheeled overhead as I had a snack. It had only taken an hour at a brisk but sustainable pace, not running, and the day had barely begun. Across a rough gap lay Volakias, clearly the dominant peak despite Gigilos's shapeliness from below. I traversed across untravelled limestone slabs to a broad hollow between the two peaks then picked my own way up trackless terrain left of the main 'ridge'. This gave some good scrambling but also some tough terrain - thick maquis and boulders, all very wild until I finally picked up a tenuous but cairned path much higher up. This took a weaving but comfortable line through the little crags to the summit. Again, however, I was not convinced this was the real summit. A narrow ridge with two or three gendarmes was poised above Samaria with another summit beyond. I had time, and was thoroughly enjoying myself, so embarked on the traverse. It was remarkably untravelled, almost no signs of human traffic although there were sheep and goat tracks in places. It was fairly shattered and quite narrow on the crest, although never too steep - I generally avoided difficulties on the right-hand side (opposite to Samaria) and it was all quite complex in terms of route-finding. I saw one 'human' cairn half-way after a broad chimney descent used by sheep, then avoided a gendarme by taking another steepish chimney to regain the crest not too far from the second summit. This was marked by a small cairn and I spent some time deciding whether it was higher or not! It definitely is, and this was confirmed by views from the other side of the gorge later on. Whatever, it is a fine and dominant peak - and looked superb a week later when we approached Ayia Roumeli by boat as it towers above the left side of Samaria. The ridge continues for miles right down to the sea: this would be a serious undertaking, completely pathless and devoid of water. Instead, I reversed the ridge - still quite involved but a bit simpler with prior knowledge - back to the first summit. Then an easier descent following the small cairns before contouring Gigilos back to the col and Linoseli, where I had a break drinking from the spring and enjoying the incredible view across Samaria to Pachnes and Melidaou. I was still getting used to the incredible Cretan light, taking far too many pictures, but finally descended back to Xyloscala and the famous restaurant, which styles itself as having the 'best view in Europe'. Not sure about that, but it was pretty stunning around 2pm as I ordered mountain tea with thyme honey and drank it on the wooden balcony poised above the Samaria gorge. I packed a few more things at the car, had some pitta with taromasalata for a Greek (but certainly not Cretan) lunch, and then started the walk-in to Kallergi. This takes a diagonal line through dwarf forest to a track, and then an indistinct short-cut up a shallow gully to eventually gain a forepeak with superb views back to Gigilos and Volakias. Across a gap, Kallergi, the only real hut in Crete. I'd booked a place, and checked in after a chat with the warden. It occupies a superb position on a small plateau: directly below is the Samaria gorge with the Libyan Sea shimmering distantly below. Even further out, Gavros - Europe's most southerly outpost. To the west, this morning's peaks - Gigilos and Volakias, with the latter clearly dominant and the ridge I'd traversed quite impressive. To the east, tomorrow's target of Psari and the ridge to Melidaou: beyond, Pachnes, probably too distant for me to reach. Nobody was in the hut, apart from one Flandrian having a drink while she waited for her friend to return from Melidaou. I spent a wonderful few hours dozing in the sunshine, until it dropped and the bitterly cold northerly sent me inside (but not before I used the famous wooden toilet, which is suspended above the top of the gorge with freefall waste products). A spectacular sunset as I dined alone in the hut on bean soup and pasta - with a dorm room to myself that night. Not the first time I have been the only guest in a mountain hut, but it always makes for a particularly memorable experience.

Sea to Sea traverse (Porthmadog-Conwy 44m)

Peaks: Moelwyn Bach, Craigysgafn, Moelwyn Mawr, Moel yr Hydd, Foel Ddu, Allt Fawr, Moel Druman, Pt 672, Mynydd Llynau yr Cwn, Ysgafell Wen, Moel Meirch, Cerrig Cochion, Carnedd y Cribau, Clogwyn Bwlch y Maen, Moel Siabod, Pen Llithrig y Wrach, Pen yr Helgi Du, Carnedd Llywellyn, Foel Grach, Carnedd Gwenllian, Foel Fras, Drum, Carnedd y Ddelw, Foel Lwyd, Tal y Fan (44 miles/3850m/12.55hrs)
Area: Moelwynion/Carneddau, Eryri
I had originally intended to make a Paddy Buckley attempt this weekend - but to say I had not had the ideal week of preparation is an understatement, after a very stressful 72 hour delay in Italy. My head was, most definitely, 'not in the right place', as the modern cliche would put it. However, all was not lost, as I had a fine alternative up my sleeve. For some time now, I have been struck by the obvious (to me, at least) 'Sea to Sea' run from Porthmadog to Conwy taking in every peak lying naturally en route. I persuaded Peter to join me, he liked the concept, so it was that we dipped our feet into Cardigan Bay at 6.50am this morning, ready to traverse 25 peaks on our way to Conwy harbour and the north coast, into which we intended to dip our feet 'some time' later. From Porthmadog, we jogged alongside the estuary, then took the path next to the railway below the Tremadog crags to Prenteg. This eventually gains the road that kinks east to Garreg, before branching off for Croesor. All this is fairly lengthy and a little dull, but - crucially - I got the route-finding right, then found the right path east towards Moelwyn Bach (via Gareg Fawr and Pen yr Allt in a continuous line to the 'path' up the boggy valley leading to Bwlch Stwlan). This heads through woods to conifers, then finally gains the open hill above Pen yr Allt. The weather was humid, misty, drizzly - contrary to the forecast. Not great for morale. We cut right well before Bwlch Stwlan through little crags to gain steep slopes that eventually come out on the Moelwyn race route (done in May, so fresh in the memory). On the summit, the mist began to peel away giving great views back down to Porthmadog, already very distant - and we had barely begun our day (one peak down, 24 to go). I was determined not to retrace a single step, as the concept was for an elegant, logical, linear route. Essentially, the route then heads relentlessly north, over Craigysgafn and Moelwyn Mawr before the more industrial peaks of Moel yr Hydd and Foel Ddu, down to a water source in the quarry buildings above Cwm Orthin. We deliberately missed out Cnicht, as it is not on the obvious line and would require a contrived detour - therefore not in the spirit of the route. On this section, the presence of slate, Blaenau and industry is never far away. A bank of mist rolled in for the next section, which takes in Allt Fawr (on a limb slightly) before running along the edge of Llyn Conglog to Moel Druman. I reccied all this section in April, and have done it a couple of times before. It is quiet for good reason: it doesn't involve much climbing but it is very long and has lots of awkward terrain: thick heather, bog, boulders, indistinct paths. I would say it is easier in this direction, as Ysgafell Wen and Moel Meirch are easier to locate. It is then a very long haul to the top of Siabod, where the sun finally came out. I had estimated around 7 hours from Port to Capel, and this is exactly how long it took - and we met Jim (unexpectedly) and Hayley (pre-arranged) in Capel for a very welcome feed and half hour break. I should have taken on more water, however, as I knew the next leg has nothing - having done it a few times before. A jog along the road, feeling refreshed, then a quick ascent - now as a trio with Hayley fresh from her BG success - of Pen Llithrig y Wrach in ever-improving conditions. Great views over Cowlyd then across to the Carneddau, although this was arguably the toughest climb of the day. Over Helgi Du, hoping for water on the flanks of Llewellyn but not finding any in the dry conditions. Misty on Llewellyn, the day's highpoint, but I know this entire section like the back of my hand, and we soon emerged on the Carneddau motorway over Foel Grach to Foel Fras. I felt quite good for this section, despite dehydration, and we continued to set a decent pace over Drum and Carnedd y Ddelw to Bwlch y Ddaefaen, very much 'home ground' for me. The end was now in sight (literally, depending on terrain) and the evening sun glorious for the very steep climb up Foel Lwyd: by now we were all badly dehydrated and it was becoming a bit of an issue. We ploughed on, over Tal y Fan (a crucial part of the 25 peak haul - as the concept was a logical line taking in all the peaks that naturally occur on route, with this one having a particular significance for me) to finally get to the stream above Llangelynin. We spent some time drinking and eating, and then it is down to the track above the old church, and the familiar three miles of tarmac road through Henryd and into Conwy. We ran past the Albion and down to the waterfront, descending the jetty in front of the Liverpool Arms to stand in the sea, in beautiful evening sunshine, just under 13 hours after dipping our feet in Cardigan Bay this morning. It all worked perfectly: the route is as satisfying, elegant and meaningful as I had hoped it would be.

Monte Misma

Peak: Monte Misma (1161m)
Area: Bergamasque Prealps, Italy
After a disastrous Saturday night, there wasn't much I could do to salvage the situation today, with it being a Sunday. I should have been home reminiscing about a successful Alpine trip, but I was stuck in a Bergamo B&B waiting for an emergency passport. So I made the best of a bad situation, taking the tram from Bergamo station out to the end of the line at Albino, on the very edge of the northern suburbs. Bergamo has such a mountainous situation, so close to lovely peaks, that you can get to trailheads for a couple of euros. In Albino, I had an espresso in a characterful bar, then crossed the river to gain one of the marked paths up a narrow road to the woods of Monte Misma. Route finding was not always obvious, but I kept a vigorous semi-jogging pace up, and found it very therapeutic (albeit hot) after all the stress (which I knew would get worse again tomorrow as I tried to get the documents and book a flight). The multitude of paths made navigation tricky, as did the thickly wooded terrain, but I weaved up the front of the mountain - the NW ridge above Croce San Antonio eventually became better defined as the treeline was breached. Above, a breezy broad summit complete with numerous sunbathing day-trippers. Excellent views across the urban sprawl of Bergamo in one direction, and the rural valleys and high Orobie Alps in the other. I then completed a satisfying loop of the mountain, traversing south-east to the wooded col below Costa Misma, then an excellent contouring path, cool in the woods, down to Fonteno - a path junction and farmhouse. I then joined the outward path, nice views down to the Valle di Luio, all the way back to Albino.

Predore climbing

Crag: Predore, Lago d'Iseo, Italy
Routes: Formiche (f3c:sec), Bes (f4:sec), Paola (f5:led), Per Elisa (f5:sec), Il Conte Dimezzato (f4:sec), Teb Master (f4:led), Rossana (f5c:sec)
We were always likely to be battling the heat today. Cragging was the only real option, with our flight home this evening, and another long mountaineering day under our belts yesterday. So after a leisurely breakfast in the now familiar surroundings of the Hotel Rossa in Castione, we drove down in ever-increasing temperatures to the shores of Lago d'Iseo, one of the lesser known Italian Lakes but still very beautiful. Predore is practically roadside, although a few minutes walk along the main lakeside drag is required first - motorbikes screaming past. Above the road, all is peaceful: a nice crag with a distinct 'lakes' atmosphere, cypress trees and liquid light, surprisingly busy today given the time of year. It was always obvious that it would be too hot, and so it proved: south facing and disappointingly polished, this was very hard work from the outset. A few parties were occupying the central routes on the cleanest section of crag, so Steve led the easy crack of Formiche: nice climbing on huge holds. I led Paola, supposedly f5, up a slabby wall on the left of the crag. This had one or two very hard moves on tiny holds, like hard slate climbing, but very polished and very sweaty. All the routes seemed undergraded, partly because of the weather, partly the polish, partly because they just were! We did a few more routes with rope above, in the same mould (Per Elisa also had a hard crux), and then led the two strongest lines up the centre when the other climbers left. Teb Master (named after the Bergamo public transport company, I later discovered) was possibly the line of the crag. It climbed like a polished British VS but had real character: good bridging and face holds up a strong, obvious central crackline. Steep finish, nice and varied throughout, a mini-classic despite the polish. Rossana was absurdly difficult for the grade: ultra polished limestone, like burnished marble, too hot to touch by now, as it was early afternoon. After this, I declared a formal end to the trip, and we went for a swim in Lago d'Iseo before driving to Bergamo - where the trip ended very badly with a car break-in and stolen passport.