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.

Presolana traverse

Peaks: Monte Visolo (2369m), Presolana Occidentale (2521m)
Routes: Via Normale (PD+/II+)
Area: Presolana, Orobie Alps
The 'Queen of the Orobie', as the Presolana is known to the Bergamaschi, has considerable local significance. Not surprising, as it is a dominant feature of the landscape, a kind of 'mini-Dolomite' range that is notable even from the higher peaks further north. From the window of our room in the Coca hut, we'd watched the northern walls change colour constantly in the prevailing weather, and from the south (and particularly Castione, where we were staying) it dominates the landscape. In short, it was essential that we made the effort from our Castione hotel. For various reasons, we were late setting off from the Passo de la Presolana just above our lodging, but we ploughed through the woods to the Baita Casinelli hut in well under an hour, before branching off the vague side path through delightful Alpine meadows towards Monte Visolo, a subpeak on the right of the range. The views from here to the Presolana, which presents a wall of limestone spires from this angle, are superb - classically Alpine with a pastoral foreground of meadows and copses, and a savage backdrop. The path weaved around, and contoured well to the right before embarking on the long climb up the obvious broad SE ridge. Superb views higher up down Valle Richetti to various limestone spires and across to the Adamello and beyond. Mist poured down from the top of the main ridge as we reached the summit of Visolo, but it seemed benign, so after a snack we scrambled down to the obvious col below Presolana Orientale and embarked on a wonderful traverse below the main ridge. In places, this crossed couloirs, snow patches and steep scree and was wonderful throughout with a couple of chained sections. It led to the open landscape above the Clusone bivouac hut. From here, a steep haul up scree leads to the Grotta del Pagani, a deep cave in the cliffs. This is where the Via Normale begins. In many ways, for many reasons, we were in reccie mode throughout, but it all went like a dream, they day unfolding naturally again, rather than us pushing it. Mist spilled down the ridge, and it was early afternoon by now, but the scrambling was superb. An initial slabby wall of limestone leads to a large open couloir, then a traverse left across a steep gully to a chain that allows for a steep pull to gain a wall taken on big holds up to an easier ridge. This is long, and goes up to a very high, steep limestone wall. We traversed left underneath this until reaching a weakness, a shallower broad couloir leading to the summit ridge. The initial stages of this are the most technical on the route, II+, but none of these sections lasts very long, and it never feels particularly exposed. It curves round to find the easiest line, taking one delicate slab to gain a broad, shallow and easy gully, mainly walking, to the summit ridge. At this point, the fohn effect kicked in with the mist we'd experienced on the south face peeling away to stunning blue skies on the north. To our right, the main summit of Presolana Occidentale just a few hundred metres away. Ahead, a vertical drop to the northern valleys and over to Val Seriana and our peaks of a few days ago: Pizzo Coca obvious. We then enjoyed a magical half hour, walking along the narrow ridge to the summit, drinking in the views. We then traversed across to the minor summit west of the gap and along the Cresta di Valzurio for a little bit. The cloudscape changed constantly, wisps of cloud then blocks of mist then bright sunshine. It was mesmerising. Eventually we tore ourselves away and descended the steep gully back to the technical section. It all went easily and enjoyably and we explored the Pagani cave at the bottom of the route before taking a few minutes to rest in the Clusone bivouac - extraordinarily comfortable, warm, well-appointed, state of the art. We ambled down the Valle dell Ombra, all new terrain again, the trade route down the valley, and popped into the Cassinelli refuge lower down. After a glorious beer and water outside, looking up to the Presolana as the limestone walls constantly changed colour in the light, we jogged down the normal route to the top of the pass: new terrain again.

Lantana climbing

Crag: Lantana, Castione, Orobie
Routes: Caretera e Manta (f4c:led), Dune Mosse (f5b:sec), Padania (f5:led), Polvere di Stelle (f5c:sec), Fo di Stras (f5c:led), Solitudine/Dune Variant (f5:led), 5 lire Per la Pelle della Volpe (f4c:led), Marta 97 (f4c:sec)
After yesterday's brief sample, we were eager to get back to Lantana for the tried and tested 'active rest day'. Cragging between bouts of mountaineering always works well, but we had to leave early after a good hotel breakfast - the crag faced west and therefore worked perfectly as a morning venue. Time was still limited, however, as we were racing the sun - knowing that it would be too hot to climb when it lit the face at midday. We went straight for Settore B, a 30m high sweep of limestone slabs interspersed with steeper walls. I kicked off with Caretera e Manta, an obvious trade route at a lowly grade up the left-hand section of the main slab. It was easy but excellent - beautiful featured limestone with pockets throughout, the kind of relaxed climbing I have always loved. Not polished, good friction, dry rock, and not too hot in the shade of morning. Steve's lead, Dune Moss, was even better - some delicate moves between widely spaced pockets on a steep upper slab. All these routes were long and absorbing, and the quality ramped up again for my lead up the corner line of Padania. This was only f5, but I started out up Solitudine at 5c, before heading straight up into the corner. This gave superb bridging interspersed with more delightful pocketed climbing. Very varied and utterly absorbing: a really great route. After these three, all close to 30m of sustained (albeit relatively slabby) climbing, we moved further left for some shorter, steeper and harder routes. Steve led Polvere di Stelle at 5c which, as ever in Italy or France, felt like a British E2 rather than the sort of route we generally grade 5+ (because we get the system wrong at these lower grades, in my view). It was sustained up to a very powerful final move on small pockets over a steep bulge, quite polished, to a flat hold and one more hard move to the top. I did it twice via different solutions, and then led Fo di Stras to its left. This was a little more sustained, a line of pockets curving left, then back right: quite technical throughout, but really satisfying. I led another long hybrid pitch on the slab, and then became tired. More to the point, the sun was now lighting most of the face, so it was becoming tough. On the extreme right of the crag, I led an easy 4c up delightful rough limestone in the hot sun, and we finished with the vague right-hand arete. Black truffle trofie pasta was adequate reward.

Lantana climbing

Crag: Lantana, Orobie, Italy
Routes: Lucertole Impazzite (f5:led), Obelix (f5+:sec), Qui (f5:led), Push Up (f5:sec)
After a convivial evening with only four other hut residents (two Canadians, two Bergamaschi), we enjoyed a leisurely hut breakfast before heading back down to Valbondione from the Coca hut. The weather, fortunately, seemed much less stable today - but we needed a rest, so it didn't matter. We climbed a spur above the hut first for magnificent views over the Val Seriana. Then, the steep Valle del Rolledrino led down to the treeline above Rianlivere to eventually gain Valbondione. A surprisingly steep and lengthy descent, although perhaps we were just tiring after two big mountain days. We got to the village just in time for cappuccino, not wanting to transgress the 11am limit! Alongside a brioche, much better than the average hut breakfast, in a nice cafe in the centre of Valbondione. Then it was down to Clusone for lunch and a walk round before booking a charming Alpine hotel in Castione del Presolana. After this, we were ready for some cragging - but the storm that had been brewing all day finally broke as we checked in. Nothing for it but to relax in our rooms and watch the rain from our balconies: no bad thing. Much later on, at 6pm, it cleared, so we drove to Lantana for a reccie of our nearest crag. After a bit of searching, we found it and it proved very promising. We didn't have time for much, so went to the smallest Settore A for an 'aperitif'. Even on this least distinguished cliff, it was good - pocketed limestone, good features. I led a simple f5 up a pocketed slab, and later led a route up a curving crack further left. The rock was dry, although the pockets were wet. Hunger saw us scurrying back for pizza as it got dark and it started to rain again.

Pizzo Coca traverse

Peaks: Pizzo di Coca (3050m)
Routes: South Ridge/Via Normale (PD:II)
Area: Orobie Alps, Italy
A magnificent traverse of the highest peak in the Orobie Alps, the essence of what I have always enjoyed more than any other form of mountain activity. As with yesterday, the day unfolded gradually in logical fashion with us adopting a relaxed approach, sensibly and necessarily responding to conditions rather then 'summit at all costs'. A late start, by Alpine standards, after breakfast at the Curo hut, then walking around the stunning Lago Barbellino with magnificent views back to yesterday's peak: the Recastello, which looks superb from this angle. High cloud overhead, weather prospects not entirely obvious. After the annoying descent below the dam (hundreds of chamois feeding on the dam wall, an amazing sight) to the base of the Valmorta, we had a steep reascent to pick up the adventurous GR route that heads over the Bocchetta del Camoscio to the Coca refuge (the normal route is much lower down). After a bit of scrambling up short rock walls, the path contours the tight valley of the Valmorta (Death Valley) and really starts to penetrate this wild corner of the Orobie, heading relentlessly up below Pizzo Cappuccello and Pizzo del Diavolo, to eventually ease off and open out dramatically at the remote Lago di Valmorta. This was stunning: a lake and flat green meadow, very isolated, set among superb mountain scenery. The onward route was absolutely relentless, up very steep scree and moraine material to gain the lip of the hanging valley which gives access to the Bocchetta. The fact that a GR route goes up here seemed remarkable: very complex and adventurous terrain, particularly in these snowy conditions. The Bocchetta itself was obvious - a tiny col between Coca and its subsidiary - but the route was certainly not. A steepening snow slope - kahtoolas just about adequate - gained the sanctuary of rock slabs, then the complex, weaving upward route begins. First, this curves right up little walls, and eventually gains a series of little chimneys interspersed with traverses (one of which was steep and tricky, on snow, step-kicking required). The whole route was absorbing and superb, and the weather was improving continually, the high cloud burning away and deep blue skies emerging. The route keeps you guessing throughout, but eventually eases just before the Bocchetta is gained. I basked in the sunshine in this magnificent location, but then heard a distant shout. Steve, well behind, had lost the tenuous route and needed some advice. I scampered back down the top section and we sorted it out, regrouping at the col and dumping some of our kit before embarking on the 1000ft climb up to the summit of Pizzo di Coca. This was absolutely superb: with the steepest section towards the start, up a long but easy chimney with good solid scrambling, giving access to sloping ledges heading right of the ridge up scree. Then came the trickiest route-finding, up a steepish and quite long wall to gain a level and well-defined section of ridge. The hut warden had told us there was no snow on this section, and it proved the case - one patch easily circumvented on the left by a few steep moves on rock. Then came the final summit tower, gained easily via a weaving path and a few short scrambly steps. Steve joined me, and my error on the Recastello yesterday was forgiven as we spent a memorable few minutes enjoying the magnificent views from the highest peak in the Orobie. The peaks over the Austrian border were notable, but the most obvious landmarks were Monte Disgrazia and the Adamello, as well as Pizzo Redorta and Punta di Scais across the nearest valley. It was beginning to cloud over, but it remained high as we descended back to the Bocchetta and the sacks. This needed care but we despatched it quickly, meeting up with numerous chamois towards the bottom ('camoschi' translates as chamois, so the col was well named). The onward route, down to the Coca hut, was much easier than this morning's ascent, clearly far more frequently travelled, and the normal route up Pizzo di Coca. A snowfield led past more chamois to a moraine and long rocky section down to a superb grassy ridge with fabulous views across the valley containing the turquoise Lago di Coca to the steep walls of Pizzo Redorta, festooned with a dozen tight snow gullies. We were beginning to tire, and seriously dehydrate, so made the lake a target. It was another stupendous spot, hemmed in by steep walls on all sides, giving an ice cold paddle and relief for the feet. After rehydrating, we followed the crashing outflow stream down the green valley which led eventually to the magnificently located Rifugio Coca. I have stayed in many huts over many years, but this proved one of the best: immense character in an unrivalled position on the lip of the hanging valley overlooking the Val Seriana. The most notable peaks were, gratifyingly, Pizzo Recastello (done yesterday) and, much further south, the Presolana (which we later climbed on Friday). Again, Steve and I had a room to ourselves, and another magnificent meal: asparagus risotto, pasta with pancetta and mushroom, and more beef and Bergamo-style solid polenta. A violent storm blew up, the hut in the clouds, heavy hail. Then it dissipated giving mesmerising views across the valley from our bedroom window.

Pizzo Recastello/Corno Neri

Peaks: Corno Neri (2650m), Pizzo Recastello (2886m)

Area: Orobie Alps, Italy

Unusually humid as we arrived in the upper Valseriana after flying into Bergamo - the tail-end of a notable heatwave across Europe. After a sleepless night in a mountain lodge in Fiumenero (very hot, constant church bells) and a good breakfast of local cheese and meat, we set off from Valbondione at the head of the valley, already quite late. The path is thickly wooded, offering shelter from the sun, and gently climbs the side of the valley above Grumetti. The Serio waterfalls that plunge down from the hanging valley here are among the highest in Europe and gave a superb backdrop to the route, which becomes steep as it approaches the headwall and emerges from the woods. At the lip of the valley, we emerged into the upper hanging valley (huge) containing the turquoise, stunning Lago Barbellino, and Rifugio Curo: our home for the night. We checked in, had a drink and a breather, and considered our options. It was really quite late, almost midday. Above towered Pizzo Recastello, an unavoidable objective from Curo and a superbly defined, distinctive peak. But we were too late, and the question arose: should we go for it now, or just do a reccie and save it for tomorrow? Clouds were gathering, but they seemed benign for the moment, so we took the track above the lake and then set off for the side valley of Val Cerviera, yet another hanging valley poised at yet another higher level. The path was steep initally but led to the wild Cerviera proper. Nobody around, with the dank and dripping black walls of the Recastello looming above to the left, and the greener, gentler peaks of Monte Verme and Cimone to the right. The normal route starts much higher, after a tricky river crossing (all in spate with huge volumes of meltwater), and branches off from the main GR route in the upper cwm. Huge amounts of snow were lying here, the upper cwm (below Pizzo Tre Confini) a solid white, impressive bowl. We moved left (east) towards Recastello - finally acknowledging that 'reccie' was transforming into 'ascent'. It became snowy and indistinct immediately, traversing left and contouring upwards to gain some open scree (this open valley is, I think, the Cornello Rosso). We donned kahtoolas and crampons here, and made our way to a steeper, more extensive snowfield which led up to an obvious rock headwall below what we presumed was the summit of Recastello. I had always been concerned about snow volume, after an unusually cold May, and this transpired - although it was very soft and deep in this weather. There was no trench, and the onward route was unclear (nobody around, although we did see one couple lower down). So route-finding was the order of the day: we moved up the snow and trended right towards the rocky headwall. A steep gully headed right, obviously too steep for the grade, so we left the snow to gain sloping loose shelves on the right. This looked untravelled, but with all the snow the onward route wasn't clear, so I embarked on an epic reccie up  the open gully to the right. This led to a tiny col with snow patch. Mist was descending, but I had the scent of a summit, so ploughed upwards on ever-steepening rock. It was loose, but feasible, and very satisfying, weaving around to pick the best line up what proved to be a tapering pinnacle. The mist blocked views as I rose, although I did eventually see the summit cross of Recastello on the left across a big void! Too late now, so I continued upwards to the tiny summit of what later proved to be the double pinnacled peak of Corno Neri (the Black Horns, a perfect description and a real bonus in the sense that this is a peak I strongly suspect is very rarely climbed). I descended down the complex route: steep, tenuous, weaving and slightly harrowing, to the snow patch, then the easier gully back to Steve, who wasn't very happy. However, the reccie at least unlocked the mystery of the onward route to Recastello. We minimised height loss, donned hardware, and traversed left across the steep upper snowfield to gain the headwall on the opposite side, finally back on route. I dumped my sack, and took the left-hand couloir direct. This headed up, fairly loose, to another headwall, after which a tighter gully curves left, very atmospheric, with a series of chains. This gives around 100ft of steep scrambling to an easier section which leads to a small col just below a sub-peak. Huge amounts of cloud were billowing up from the Pizzo Coca side, and I was concerned about a storm coming in, so scampered up the enjoyable ridge to the top: not as exposed as I had expected, but good mild scrambling throughout. I signed the summit book in atmospheric conditions - huge banks of cloud and mist but also intermittent views straight down to the Curo hut, seemingly directly below. I descended to the col to find Steve just arriving, very angry with me (rightly so) for going ahead. He left for the summit, while I sat at the col fretting about the weather which was beginning to look distinctly hostile. After he returned, we dropped down the gully using the chains, then donned ice tools for the descent of the main snow field. After this, the descent went easily, following our own footprints, back to the junction with the GR route up the Cerviera. After a snack and rest, a distant thunderclap sent us off down the valley under glowering skies. The storm, when it arrived, was actually fairly mild - and we were back in the Curo hut by then. Refuelled in classic Bergamasco fashion: truffle risotto, beef stew and polenta. 

Tryfan climbing

Crag/Peak: Tryfan, Eryri
Routes: Pinnacle Rib Route (D:led p.1,3), Thompson's Chimney (HS 4b:led)
Thick clag all day, which failed to clear, contrary to the forecast. After the slog up to the Terrace,  led the first pitch of the obscure Northern Rib, looking for the very few little pitches I haven't done on the East Face. Sadly, it is obscure for a reason: disjointed and pointless. So we moved left to the original Pinnacle Rib (having repeated Overlapping Rib fairly recently). Perhaps my third time up the original route, an easy classic. I merged the first pitch to take the pleasant slanting slab then the easy groove to a ledge - 100ft of delightfully simple climbing. Steve led up the steeper groove to broken ground, and I led through picking out the choice bits until the Yellow Slab. I'd led this last September, so Steve led it and continued up the curving flakes above. With mist swirling round, we decided to finish up Thompson's. I last led this in the snow in March 1992, at the time it had the comedy grade of VD. It is quite a thrutch. The initial wall is tricky, then the main chimney was wet - it has a very awkward move up the crack to gain better holds on the right wall, and a flake higher up. It is very atmospheric, though, and finishes as close to the summit as you can get. We descended in thick clag, and then rescued a lost couple from the grassy bowl above North Gully (completely disoriented, they thought they were on the west face), leading them to safety down Little Gully - a day they definitely won't forget in a hurry. Jogged back to the car for an easy finish: useful mountaineering shakedown in advance of our Alps trip.

Carneddau run

Peaks: Pen y Castell, Drum, Carnedd y Ddelw
Area: Carneddau, Eryri
A pronounced dip in form: possibly allergies again (although the muscle damage after my downhill relay leg didn't help). Struggled up from Tal y Bont, maximising the climbing again, up the steep road beyond Llanbedr y Cennin to the old hillfort (memories of taking E up here when she was very young). Pen y Castell is one of Snowdonia's most obscure hills, and the paths up are tenuous to say the least. It was sunny, for the most part, but very windy; and the long haul up Drum was tough - very windy on the summit, as it often is. I lay down in the cairn for a rest, then pelted over Carnedd y Ddelw for the long descent on the road.

Welsh Castles Relay

Race: Welsh Castles Relay, Stage 15 Epynt-Brecon (12.8m)
Time/Position: 1.19.51 (13th from 64)
Given my current training regime, this was perhaps the worst possible leg for me - mainly downhill, all on tarmac. That said, my run at the Beast on Wednesday had come as a surprise and gave some cause for optimism - although ultimately I have done nothing on road for months, and certainly not a half-marathon. I was reliant on the muscle memory from 40+ half marathons in the past, and just kept a pace ticking over that I knew I could sustain. I requested a different leg from last year, in my endless search for novelty, and really enjoyed the drive down and car bivouac. I arrived at the Epynt 'visitor centre' (a derelict house) several hours before the stage, and relaxed in its very tranquil atmosphere (the middle of nowhere, on the edge of the Sennybridge military land). Then the castles charabanc starts to come through - what the event is all about - and the stage begins. An initial climb leads to inspiring views of the Beacons, then a long downhill section through Upper Chapel, before it levels off for undulations through Lower Chapel and Llandefaelog Fach. A detour west up a steep hill to Cradoc was tough but allowed me to gain a couple more places as quick starters began to suffer. Some more hills on this detour section before a downhill finish right next to the river in Brecon. I finished first from the 10 veteran teams in the race (this is not the same as being first veteran!): as with last year, it was nice to be involved and to help the team. We finished a very creditable second Vet team overall, behind Les Croupiers, and I sampled some of the atmosphere on the Sunday, driving down to Cardiff for the finish, and staying overnight.

Beast fell race

Race: Up the Beast, Bryn Alyn
Time/Position: 41.29 (6th from 116 [2nd V40])
I've almost forgotten what proper racing feels like with all the long, slow stuff, so this was a welcome way to jog the memory. I started out mid-pack, genuinely expecting to stay there, but was somewhat amazed to feel quite good, just like old times. I've done every 'Beast' race since it started (apart from last year), so don't have too many excuses, and always enjoy the course. I kept it slow and steady through the woods, then upped the pace a bit for the climb through the limestone outcrops to the top of Bryn Alyn, passing a few of the quick starters. I descended reasonably well, given lack of road speed, and managed to keep it going for the climb back up Bryn Alyn which is always the crux (although it was cooler than usual this evening after a showery day). Then came a grand old battle with Simon on the run in through the woods back to Maeshafn, which is all a lot longer and harder than it used to be.

Orme/Penmaenbach climbing

Crag: St Tudno's, Great Orme
Routes: Pile Driver (f6a:led), Thankyou Johnny (f6a+:sec)
Crag: Penmaenbach, Conwy
Routes: A55 Hole Arete (f5:sec), Jack the Jeffer (f6a:led), Linking Crack (f6a:led), Grandad's Groove (f6a+:sec), Work-Life Balance (f6b+:sec*), Shezurrection 2 (f6a+:led)
More difficult decisions on this short trip. The best forecast of the week - but cloud was draped over central Snowdonia first thing, and a cold north-westerly wind was blowing. The two most feasible options were chalk and cheese: sports climbing around Llandudno, or a mountaineering route on the east face of Tryfan. We went for the former, dropping Kate off and heading round Marine Drive for the very short walk down to St Tudno's. I've never climbed at this crag before, although I've been near it, and some of the routes have recently been retro-bolted. It is just minutes from the car, and indeed the centre of Llandudno, but as with all the crags below Marine Drive, feels miles from anywhere with wonderful views of the sea. Conditions were poor - it was dry, but cold, sunless and very windy as I set off up Pile Driver. This takes a steep juggy groove to a tricky crux traversing left on small holds. This leads to better holds and an easier finish on flat holds up a vague groove further left. My fingers were numb with cold, which doesn't help at the Orme, where I have always found everything just a bit too hard! The 6a+ to the right seemed a tad easier - certainly more positive, up juggy flakes to a technical section at the top. Both quite good climbs, but that was enough - we needed sunshine and shelter, so scampered back to the cars and round to Sychnant. As ever, a lovely walk down to Penmaenbach in glorious clarity of light - but the wind stayed, nagging and persistently cold. We just couldn't escape it, so Steve did the easy arete and I did the more sheltered side slab of Jack the Jeffer at 6a. I did this last year - it has one or two delicate moves but is worthwhile. We then moved down to the middle tier, visited with Peter in April. This time, we made much more of an impact on it. Most of the routes look dire from immediately below, but better and more defined from a distance - and are OK, if not exactly classic, when actually climbing them. Linking Crack is scrappy at first, but a bulge leads to a clean upper wall and enjoyable sharp, slanting crack. This is fairly positive and simple, with hidden footholds, and leads to a steep final wall. A fairly long 22m pitch, as was Grandad's Groove, which has a few tough moves at the start up a steep wall and vague groove with good flakey holds leading to a slabbier section before a similar finish to Linking Crack. The slabby (relatively) wall further right is cleaner and better - and gives good climbing. Steve led the 6b+ without knowing the grade! It has a blank section at mid-height, which I found desperate in my dreadful new shoes - like clogs and not at all what was required. Neither of us did this cleanly. Shezurrection - a 6a+ to its left - was the best route I've done on this section. It takes a nice line up a very vague shallow groove. Generally positive holds and fairly sustained, although never excessively hard. It takes a bit of thought to get the right sequence, and stays interesting right to the top.

Hebog-Nantlle

Peaks: Bryn Bron Banog, Moel Hebog, Moel yr Ogof, Moel Lefn, Mynydd Bwlch y Ddwy Elor, Trum y Ddisgyl, Mynydd Drws y Coed, Y Garn
Area: Nantlle/Hebog, Eryri
Torn between two options this morning. I originally planned to do the Duddon fell race, but didn't fancy the long drive on my own. Instead, I opted for a longish Paddy reccie, recreating it by starting at 4am from home! I left Beddgelert at 6am in constant drizzle, totally unforecast, with hopes (soon to be dashed) that it would clear. There's not much point doing a reccie in thick clag, particularly as my plan was to concentrate on finding the best lines across the section of Eryri that I know least well. Indeed, I've never even been up Bryn Bron Banog - an obscure outlier of Moel Hebog. I jogged down the empty road through Aberglaslyn, looking across to Canyon Rib, an obscure climb which I did in 2011. Then a wet and humid trudge through the woods to emerge onto the open hill - somewhere above lay Bryn Bron Banog, but this was terra incognita for me. I followed my nose as well as the map, as the detail was insufficient, tracking walls upwards through bog and awkward terrain until I reached the windy summit - all very bleak, drizzle and thick mist - utterly pointless from a reconnaissance perspective. I ended up descending well to the north, right the way down to emerge from the clag above the hill farms, then contouring awkward terrain to pick up the Hebog race route at the bottom of the track. It is a long and draining climb from here, good training in a sense, and it looked like the clag was dissipating. A forlorn hope: at the summit, the mist was thick again. Nothing for it but to plod on, jogging down the steep slope to the col below the cleft that leads to Moel yr Ogof. I remember flying down this section, feeling very good, on one of the years I did the Cwm Pennant horseshoe race. Then over to Moel Lefn, an easy summit to miss, but not as easy as Gyrn to miss. I actually got the route bang on across the ridge, not easy in these conditions, and remembered the tortuous maze through the quarry workings around Bwlch y Ddwy Elor. Heavy rain started again, and the wind picked up. I found the climb up Trum y Ddisgyl utterly dispiriting. This was very discouraging given what I have been training for. No idea what the issue was, particularly as I have never found this route all that demanding before (indeed one year I had something of a flier up this climb on the Pennant race). At the ridge, I headed right along the narrowest and best section of the Nantlle ridge, which was wet, slippery and claggy throughout. At Y Garn, I just descended straight down to Rhyd Ddu, fed up, which meant a long run back to Beddgelert, over 10k to add to a fairly lengthy morning out. The road is too dangerous, so I took the weaving (and tiring) forest track and was back in time for lunch.

Ogwen circuit

Peaks: Pen yr Helgi Du, Pen Llithrig y Wrach, Gallt yr Ogof
Area: Carneddau/Glyderau, Eryri
A slightly eccentric impromptu horseshoe. The intention had been to reccie the Hebog/Nantlle leg of Paddy, but torrential rain along the A55 dissipated those plans. Instead, we adapted, and parked at the end of the steep tarmac road that gives access to Llugwy and Bwlch Eryl Farchog. This is fine in any weather, a quick running route into the hills. And by the time we'd reached the bwlch, very quickly from Ogwen, the weather began to clear with mist peeling off the ridge to Helgi Du. We ran up this, still before 9am, and straight over the other side towards Pen Llithrig. I was last here over Christmas with my 'hard way up' from Tal y Bont. We were all enjoying ourselves now, and decided to extend the day by descending to Capel Curig (quite complex to find the best line on the top part of this descent, and part of the Paddy route of course). At Capel, I discovered I'd dropped my food! My companions fed me, and we then embarked on the very long and trackless climb up Gallt yr Ogof. Good running up the old Miners Track initially, then into the bowl below the Red Slab, contouring up to gain the summit in foul weather. It was now as cold and wet as it had been when we started, so we pelted down to Gwern y Gof Isaf and the car, in time for lunch.

Ras y Moelwyn

Race: Moelwyn fell race (10m+/3200ft/AM)
Peaks: Moelwyn Mawr, Craigysgafn, Moelwyn Bach, Moel yr Hydd
Time/Position: 1.50.50 (88th from 280)
I was amazed to discover that it has been a decade since I last did this excellent race. I can only think that is because it tends to clash with London. This year, however, it was run a month later as a British championship race, and as such the sense of occasion and place in this most distinctive and interesting of towns was ramped up a bit. I have a bit of a connection with Blaenau, so really enjoyed the special start from Rawson Square, in front of Ty Gorsaf in the middle of town with all the peaks just emerging from the clag and visible from the start: a brilliant touch. Then came a fast start through the streets of Blaenau, before dropping down to the rugby club and making our way onto the open hill over the railway. Then comes a long but gradual climb up to Cwm Orthin, which I remembered well from last time, passing below the crags of Tan y Grisiau, a favourite climbing area for me. I kept a steady pace going, albeit slow given current training regime, until the final steep climb up the northern ridge of Moelwyn Mawr. The mist was down, and it was quite cold and clammy on the summit. Even with 300 runners, the route over Craigysgafn was not all that obvious in terms of the quickest line - and I certainly didn't get it. The climb up Moelwyn Bach is quick, however. In the mist, I had no memory of the onward route: I plunged leftwards down the gully initially, slightly unsure, then prevaricated with a poor onward route, too far right initially, then too far left, before emerging from the mist above Llyn Stwlan, where the checkpoint was. The race used to head across the dam and up Moel yr Hydd, but today went backwards, up the side of Moelwyn Bach again, to join a superb contouring slate path to the col (others took a better line further right). Given current distance, I found the final climb up Moel yr Hydd fairly comfortable, and the mist then cleared for the tricky descent down the broad boggy and rocky gully back to Cwm Orthin before a long and weaving finish with small extra climbs. I finished at the rugby club 15 minutes down on my 2009 time, although a fair portion of this must be due to the extended route - at least that's what I'm telling myself!

Maeshafn climbing

Crag: Maeshafn
Routes: Puppy Power (VS 4b:led), The Bulger (HVS 5b:sec), Bulger variant (VS 4c:sec), Sling  variant (VS 4c:sec), Little Finger Jam variant (HVS:sec)
The usual brief pre-Collie outing, although I did kick off with a lead of the slabby VS Puppy Power, done numerous times before. This is briefly delicate for a few moves, before an easy finish on big holds. We then moved round to the Amphitheatre, where we set up a top-rope for more routes done many times before. The Bulger, and its variants, are much easier than Little Finger Jam, which has always had a desperate start (UK 5c+?) and is even more polished these days.

Ogwen climbing

Crags: Clogwyn Bochlwyd/Craig Caseg Fraith Isaf, Ogwen
Routes: Marble Slab (HS 4b:led), Arete and Slab (D:sec), Two Pitch Route Direct (S 4a:led), A5 (HS:sec), Grug (S:led), Canol (HVS 5a:sec), Bulge (VS 5a:sec)
Having dragged Steve to the obscure and vegetated Craig Rhiwarth earlier this month, I felt a conservative choice was in order for this brief late afternoon outing. Bochlwyd fitted the bill, and I kicked off with a route I last did in the early 90s. Marble Slab is short, but delightful, with its twin cracks leading to a well-protected but committing move around an overlap, before delicate slab climbing with good wires leads to a ledge and easier climbing up the right-hand arete. Due to a lifetime taking detailed notes, I later discovered that Tim led this all those years ago, not me! So it was nice to lead it today. Steve then did the Diff to the right of the crag, and I led a direct version of Two Pitch Route. I did something similar last year, taking the groove on the left, then leading direct to the top in one, without traversing left. This takes slightly messier terrain right of the crack: a touch harder than the normal route. The weather had been a little cold and cloudy, but now began to clear beautifully to fluffy clouds and warmish sunshine. We drove round to the little crag above Gwern Gof Uchaf. Steve led the rather awkward A5, which takes a left-slanting crack with a tricky move or two. My lead, Grug, was not great: slightly green closed cracks to a ledge, then more dirty climbing up cracks to a tree. Small wires and small cams needed, mildly disconcerting. We finished off with rope above, using the excuse of excessive polish. Canol is easier than Bulge, despite their respective grades. It climbs delicately to a ledge on rounded holds, then a nice finger jamming crack to the top. Bulge is just a bit awkward, and very polished throughout. A late finish in which a beautiful evening developed, although a few light clouds remained.

Cuillin Ridge North-South (day two)

Peaks: Sgurr Dubh, Sgurr nan Eag, Sgurr a'Choire Bhig, Gars Bheinn
Area: Cuillin, Skye
Overnight, I began to regard this unconventional Cuillin traverse as perfectly calibrated Paddy Buckley training! If I am attuned to anything at present, it is fast walks up multiple climbs, so it was no real problem to be faced with the 3000ft re-ascent back to the ridge from the Glen Brittle hut. In fact, it was enjoyable - another stunning morning, the wind had dropped to a whispering breeze now and the temperature had climbed considerably. Conditions remained superb, though, and it was never too hot. From the hut, I jogged along Glen Brittle to the campsite, then up the Coire Lagan path until it splits. I descended this way last year, and was relishing the chance to revisit Coire a'Ghrunnda, which is one of Skye's finest cwms (although, unlike most of Skye - which feels utterly distinctive - to me Ghrunnda is reminiscent of the Maritime Alps). Staying left on the approach (it is a classic hanging valley) gives some fine scrambling on clean gabbro, as ever there are no easy ways up and the route-finding is never simple. It was early, and I was completely alone in this wonderful bowl of rock, with stunning views backwards across the sea to Rum. The far side is very bouldery and awkward but gives access to the main ridge fairly simply - the easier section below the TD gap that we visited last year. Sunny on the eastern side of the crest, and I romped along the rough sculpted rock, bypassing the tower on the ridge, Casteal a'Gharbh Choire, but then commencing on the scramble up Sgurr nan Eag too far left. This led to a steep wall, then exposed traversing right across slabs to a very steep groove - which I guessed would gain easier ground. Luckily, it did, and I followed the normal ascent route to the ridge crest at the top - with the summit some way along this to the south. It was a wonderful privilege to be up here alone in these conditions, and the remainder of the ridge to Gars Bheinn looks mouthwatering from Sgurr nan Eag. It is much more straightforward than the rest of the traverse, but still beautifully defined and starts with a steep descent on scree to a bealach, before grassy but steep scrambling leads back up to the fairly sharp crest of Sgurr a'Choire Bhig. From here, a joyous catwalk suspended above the sea leads along to the beautiful pyramid of Gars Bheinn. This entire section, alone, was memorable - stunning views down to Coruisk on the left, and the sea coming ever closer in front. Every step was a pleasure. My solitude was then interrupted by three Scousers, just embarking on the traverse from south to north having taken four hours to slog up Gars Bheinn. These were the only people I saw all day, however, and after rounding a shattered tower, I climbed up to the summit of Gars Bheinn and drank in the view, undoubtedly one of the best in the British Isles. The entire ridge back to Gillean dominates, of course, as does the sea directly below. It was one of those very special mountain moments - I sat there for half an hour drinking it all in. The reverie soon goes, however, with an unusually tough descent directly down the shifting scree that forms this peak - still, better down it than up it. Then comes the long but very pleasant trudge back along the remote territory marking this furthest stretch of the southern Cuillin, I was a bit tired, and stopped for water a few times. But it only took me 2.52 from the hut to Gars Bheinn, so I was moving much more quickly for this southerly section. I began to slow towards the end of the descent, however, and drove straight to Shiel Bridge for a wash in the river and a picnic lunch looking up at the Five Sisters.

Cuillin Ridge North-South (day one)

Peaks: Sgurr nan Gillean, Sgurr a' Fionn Choire, Bruach na Frithe, Sgurr na Bairnich, An Caisteal, Bidean Druim nan Ramh, Sgurr a'Mhadaidh, Sgurr a'Greadaidh, Sgurr Thormaid, Sgurr na Banachdich, Sgurr nan Gobhar
Routes: West Ridge Gillean (M), Druim nan Ramh Traverse (M), Four Tops Traverse Mhadaidh (D)
Area: Cuillin, Skye
An unconventional and not entirely legitimate Cuillin ridge traverse, which ended up as a considerably more physical, but less technical, two-day outing. Yet it was still a continuous linear journey from Sgurr nan Gillean to Gars Bheinn, and in that sense a privilege, as well as an unusually demanding version with over 3000ft of extra climbing. The night was windy, with gusty blasts rocking the van as I tried to sleep outside the Glen Brittle hut. As a result, I missed my alarm and was dozing (assuming the day was off) when Simon knocked on the door of the van! As a result I had about 10 minutes to prepare for a day some spend a lifetime preparing for. I wolfed down a bit of breakfast, threw some kit in my sac, and we were off to Sligachan, nearly 8am - far too late already. Vic imposed a 10 hour time limit on the attempt, which proved a tad ambitious. The main issue early on was the wind, a bitter northerly that blasted into us as we struggled up the 'tourist route' up Gillean. I last did this in pouring rain and thick mist with Gareth in the wet August of 1992! It is a very drawn out route, something of a slog, which curves round the base of Pinnacle Ridge (which we did last year - a far better way up), then finds a way through complex terrain to gain a bowl of rock and finally the upper south-east ridge which proves that the 'tourist' descriptor is something of a misnomer - it is pretty narrow and exposed. Very windy throughout, quite draining at times, and a shame so early on in the traverse. I found a way up solid slabs to the ridge, which avoided the scree but meant I lost contact with the other two until the summit, which is a spectacular spot - I often say it is the finest peak in the British Isles. After a bite, we got the harnesses on and descended the superb West Ridge. I missed the top section of this last year, so it was nice to do it in full - weaving down shelves and walls to pass through the 'window', a hole in the rock. It is interesting and fun throughout, and ends at Nicholson's chimney, which we abbed (as we did last year). We skirted Am Basteir, to save time, but I nipped up the scrambly traverse over Sgurr a'Fionn Choire by way of recompense, and because I hadn't done it before. It is quite a striking peak from some angles. From here, we moved very quickly over Bruach na Frithe - still very cold and windy - and then down the superb ridge which approaches the complex central section. Perhaps the best views of all are had from this section before An Caisteal - it gives good but non-technical scrambling and allows for quick progress until you reach the awkward gap below An Caisteal. We roped up and I led a short pitch to a grassy section, where we had lunch with great views into remote Harta Corrie, before heading up a slabby basalt groove to the top. Next up is Bidean Druim nan Ramh, perhaps the most complex section of the whole ridge, with three separate tops. The intricate detail is hard to recall, but there is a great deal of downclimbing, the occasional abseil, and some excellent hard scrambling. I suspect it is even more complex from north to south, as the route-finding is less obvious. A step over a deep gully sticks in the mind, as does a very exposed traverse above a lot of space near the final tower. Eventually, the angle eases and the ridge becomes broad and grassy for a short section before rearing up quite quickly towards Sgurr a'Mhadaidh. I'd been up the main summit of this peak before, freezing in a howling north-westerly gale in 2015. But the mountain has a lot more to offer - in fact, it has four separate summits and is another famously complex section of the ridge, particularly in this direction. The first two peaks are fairly easy, with simple downclimbs and excellent scrambling. Then things get more complicated and serious, with steep pitches and roped downclimbs before the descent of the final peak before the main summit - this is very steep indeed, indeed it looks quite outrageous at the grade from the other side. It gave absorbing scrambling to the final col, before a mini ridge leads to a step left onto exposed slabs which give access to the Mhadaidh summit ridge. Throughout this section, tremendous views straight down to Coruisk and Coire an Uaigneis. Light cloud blocked the sun for a while, although it stayed clear. We descended to An Dorus, a familiar spot to me now, a tiny breche which requires a few steep moves to leave on the Greadaidh side. We then kept too far left on the ridge up Greadaidh, having to retrace our steps to get on the right-hand side of the 'Wart' rock tower. Famously, the ridge between (and slightly beyond) the twin summits of Sgurr a'Greadaidh is the narrowest section of all, a proper knife-edge, and gives tremendous scrambling and views. We did it last year, but it seemed more spectacular in this direction. You lose track of time on the ridge, absorbed in its wonderful intricacies, and the sun was beginning to drop - all clouds melted away and a stunning evening began to develop. At the bealach, we met Dave and Ken, dozing behind some rocks, in the middle of their three day south-north crossing. It was obvious that we would fail to meet our 10 hour target, so began to hatch different plans. Above comes the easy scrambling up towards the Teeth, and then airy slabs to the top of Sgurr Thormaid, before the awkward scree traverse to gain Banachdich. After continuing along to Sgurr Dearg, Vic suggested we sack the attempt and descend to the hut - glistening below in the evening sunshine (we had no bivvy gear and no torches, so to an extent our hand was forced, although physically I felt fine and had plenty of water and a full malt loaf left). Instead of going straight down, we traversed across to the wonderful spur of Sgurr nan Gobhar - which gave a stunning and memorable descent, straight towards the setting sun which was dipping towards the Outer Hebrides of Barra and Uist. To the left, Soay and Rum all greens and blacks on a glistening silver sea. It just got better and better, and as I descended I realised my legs felt good and that there was no real option but to climb back up to the ridge and finish the job the next day.

Clach Glas-Blaven traverse

Peaks: Sgurr nan Each (720m), Clach Glas (786m), Blaven/Bla Bheinn (928m)
Routes: North Ridge (D:led), South Ridge (D:sol), North Ridge/18m Chimney (D:led)
Area: Cuillin, Skye
Rather like Ardverikie Wall, this has been a painfully obvious gap in my mountaineering CV for decades. I'd arrived in Glen Brittle fairly late yesterday evening, and found it unsurprisingly tricky to get a partner for this - as it requires a long drive back in the direction most people had just come, so was not a very logical choice for the first day on Skye! However, unlike the rest of the hut residents, I only had a couple of days so had to maximise my time, and wanted to fill in those obvious gaps. Eventually, an ideal little team emerged: Simon M agreed it would make a nice 'active rest day' in advance of our ridge attempt on Monday, and new AAC member Elaine arrived at the last minute. We drove round to Loch Slapin, last visited with the family in 2012: stunning views across to Blaven, one of the most famous and best views in the UK, with the entire ridge etched black against a deep blue sky. The car park was full, so Elaine (who had detailed local knowledge) introduced us to a connoiseur's route, very much my cup of tea, up the untravelled valley of the Allt Aigeann. This was superb: completely empty, following a delightful stream as the valley twists right then left and becomes a tight rocky gorge. Some tricky scrambling allowed us to escape the gorge, then fairly solid scree led to the big bealach between Garbh Bheinn and Sgurr nan Each. It clouded over a bit temporarily, and a fierce northerly blasted into us when we emerged - uncomfortably cold for a while. We skirted the highpoint of Sgurr nan Each, and the wind dropped quite a bit as we approached the mighty Clach Glas - which looks stupendous from this angle, the 'Matterhorn of Skye' as it is often called, a spire of black rock. At another col, numerous gendarmes and pinnacles dot the lower section, which are turned on the right. Above some exposed slabs give good scrambling to a narrowing of the ridge where it begins in earnest. More twists and turns lead to a scree gully, and then a rightward slanting shallow chimney which is key to the route. I led this on my half rope and Elaine was happier this way: Simon soloed alongside. At the top, the route heads left up superb open slabs, easy but exposed throughout. I led a long pitch up the slabs, heading right at the top to a belay, then led up gabbro shelves to the superb summit: this entire section is wonderful, as good as anything of its kind in the British Isles. It was sunny again, with stupendous clarity of light. The views were magnificent in all directions - across to Blaven, then back to the Cuillin outliers, then across to the main ridge, all of which is visible from this angle. The peaks of Knoydart, Torridon and Sgritheall all glistened with Friday's fresh snow, and the panorama stretched from Jura in the south to Fisherfield and the Outer Hebrides. After a snack, the traverse continues. We stayed roped up for the crack that leads to the tricky downclimb of the 'Imposter'. This is the famous, photogenic spire at the top of the south ridge. it looks improbable from below, but - as its name suggests - is much easier than it looks. The bottom basalt section is a tad awkward, however, and very exposed above Choire a'Caise. After this, difficulties ease but the ridge remains narrow and superb, dropping down to the left via a gully lower down, absorbing scrambling throughout with numerous surprises and detours required before the obvious haven of the 'putting green' is reached. This is a grassy col between the two peaks and an obvious lunch spot, with the Great Prow towering nearby. Then comes the route up the north flank of Blaven. This has a steep wall with good holds before slanting right then left to gain a scree slope below the 'half crown pinnacle'. On the right is the 18m chimney, which was a cold but atmospheric line with two good threads and good gabbro holds on the right wall. I brought Elaine up and we then dumped the sacks at the mini-col before walking to the top of Blaven via the broad east ridge in perfect weather (although it clouded over just a tad at the summit). A very long descent down to Coire Uaigneach, where the route kinks round, back to the shores of Loch Slapin and the car on the other side of the lake. Nice to tick this classic route at last - perhaps the best route of its kind in the UK. Alpine PD+.

Ardverikie Wall

Crag/Peak: Binnein Shuas (747m)
Route: Ardverikie Wall (HS 4a,4a,4b,4b:led p.2)
Area: Central Highlands, Scotland
A classic climb, one of Scotland's finest, and one that I have wanted to do for decades. We decided it would make an ideal stopover (and meeting point) en route to Skye, but driving up the A9 late on Friday night in driving sleet and wet snow, having just escaped a blizzard on Ben Vorlich, it seemed highly unlikely we would even start the walk-in never mind do the climb. A very cold (-3C) night sleeping in the car at the Craig Meagaidh nature reserve (last visited two years ago, our final greatly missed Whit family Highlands trip) compounded that view. But: I was woken next morning by sunlight streaming in through the rear window, and spectacular plumes of mist draped around the slopes of Creag Meagaidh, gradually burning off as the sun rose. After coffee and porridge, I met Vic and Simon at Moy Bridge and we started the walk-in under glorious skies: it was cold but not freezing, not entirely settled, with shower clouds to the east, but generally an incredible change from last night. Dry rock seemed a real possibility. And we knew the forecast was for it to get better and better over the next few days. First, however, we missed the turn off when chatting and made a famously long walk-in even longer by heading west through the conifers! Very annoying, but we reversed and decided to concentrate, heading along the track which skirts Binnein Shuas and gives access to the remote valley that gives the route its special character. I can't think of too many points of comparison in the UK: such a quality climb in such a wonderfully remote setting (Craig yr Ysfa would be the closest Welsh equivalent). This whole area has a distinctive feel, which I enjoyed in 2017 when we were here, slap bang in the middle of the Highlands, hovering between east and west in tone. The track curves round the corner, and there in front is Lochan na h-Earba, with the towering crags of Binnein Shuas catching the sun above. Famously, Ardverikie Wall looks utterly improbable at the grade until you are below it. From most angles it looks like an intimidating blank wall of rock, save for the obvious flake crack on pitch 2, which I ended up leading. We made good progress after the track, as a well-trodden path leads up to the base of the route. I thought we would have it all to ourselves, but no such luck - two young lads on bikes beat us to it, so we had a delay. Soon, though, Vic led up the merged first pitch, which takes a juggy rib - introducing us to the feldspar/microgranite characteristic of the crag, rough and compact, not unlike Cornish granite in places. The rib goes to a juggy steepening, then a run-out pocketed slab. Simon and I followed (we climbed on two single ropes for maximum flexibility). This gave me the superb second pitch - traversing right to gain the beautiful flake crack that is the most obvious feature of the route. This was easy but delightful, well protected with some bomber wires, and impeccable climbing - steady, absorbing and interesting throughout. At the top of the crack, a bulge leads to a platform then a short wall, where I joined the other party at an awkwardly small stance. The views and general ambience, looking down the wall to the loch, and across to the high peaks of Geal Charn, the Ben Alder group and across to the far end of the Ramsey Round at Chno Dearg, were unbeatable. Simon led the 3rd, another long pitch (this was a perfect route to do as a trio, with three brilliant quality 35m pitches). The probable crux comes straight away, a delicate move up the slab to a closed crack, which leads more easily rightwards to a broader, easy groove which heads diagonally left to another perfect belay. Vic led the 4th, up a scoop to a curving system of steep flakes - a precise solution to the final steeper section, curving right through the day's only wet patch, to a pull over the final bulge on perfectly positioned jugs. This leads to a terrace and the end of the difficulties, with a long final slabby pitch on easy rock leading to the plateau. The sun had now emerged after appearing intermittently (along with some very light rain) and we finally started to warm up (although it was never unbearably cold). We had lunch admiring the glorious views - it was especially nice to look across to Laggan and the valley we stayed in two years ago, and beyond a very snowy Cairngorm plateau. Fluffy clouds now, so having carried sacs throughout we completed the day in appropriately traditional mountaineering fashion, scrambling to the top of Binnein Shuas for its view of Creag Meagaidh, then descending the rocky shoulder to the west (with all the Grey Corries, Ben Nevis and the Mamores directly in front). This was all memorable, and led steeply but directly back to the track and car for a perfect loop. A classic climb, classic circuit and a memorable day. At the car, I drove to Spean bridge for a pie which I ate in glorious sunshine looking straight out towards the Grey Corries at the Glengarry viewpoint, then enjoyed the always wonderful drive over to Skye and the Glen Brittle hut in wonderful weather.

Ben Vorlich

Peak: Ben Vorlich (985m)
Area: Loch Earn, Scotland
Almost unbelievably, here was another mountain, another country, and yet another blizzard to add to this spring's long list. I wanted to stretch my legs in the evening, breaking the long journey to Skye with a quick mountain run. This is something I have done many times over the years, and it works well. As such, Ben Vorlich was one of the few remaining obvious gaps for this kind of quick outing, and the drive from Strathyre round the quiet southern edge of Loch Earn was new to me. Northerly airflow has continued for days, and it was still cold as I headed from the shores of the loch up the track through Ardvorlich house (and Bodnant-style hill garden) towards the open hill. Ahead, Ben Vorlich had some high clag and streaks of snow from this week's falls. Behind, however, Ben More and Stobinian rose from shower clouds, glistening totally white and gleaming in the evening sunshine. I planned a quick ascent, although resisted breaking into a run given the likely exertions of the next few days - fortunately, this hill is perfect in that respect. A gentle climb through open woodland leads to the open hill above the pretty stream valley, Allt a Choire Bhuidhe, and views begin to open out to the north over the Perthshire peaks. Above, the track becomes a path and steepens considerably. Here, the rain started in earnest. Then, an all-too-familiar pattern as it gave way to sleet and then snow as I ascended. After a forepeak, the snow got quite heavy and the top was pretty hostile - heavy snow falling horizontally in a stiff northerly wind, eyebrows icing up. I got to the trig point in 56 minutes, decided not to continue to Stuc a'Chroin, and descended in very poor visibility and very cold temperatures. All my tracks had been covered by a thick fresh layer of snow. On regaining the woodland, the rain stopped and the clouds began to clear leaving Ben Vorlich completely white and radiant. This, however, marked the end of this year's bad weather luck - within less than 36 hours the temperature was nudging into the low 20s on the shore of Loch Slapin.

Craig Rhiwarth climbing

Crag: Craig Rhiwarth, Llangynog, Powys
Routes: Ivory Tower (HS 4b:led), Silwood (HS 4b:led), Right-Hand finish (HS 4b:led)
One of these days, I will have to stop dragging people to obscure crags in the remotest parts of Wales. Although I enjoy exploring esoteric corners and trying to do new things, it doesn't work all that well, as there is a price to be paid in terms of vegetation, dirt, brambles and frustration. Craig Rhiwarth had been on the list for some time, and proved all the usual points - in the sense that the short climbs are potentially very good, but lack of traffic means they sink into obscurity, a vicious circle (see also Craig Dinas, Crafnant, Cywarch and many more). To guard against this, Steve and I started off at bolted Llanymynech, although I fell off the 'warm-up', and all the big routes were busy, so we took this as a sign and headed for Llangynog down the beautiful Tanat Valley (previously visited by bike on the Wild Wales challenge, and the Berwyn traverse of 2016). There was method in the madness: it was Bank Holiday Monday, and this seemed the perfect way to avoid crowds and traffic. In that sense it worked, and it is all convenient: parking in the village and walking up the valley to the obvious crags. The problems come close to the left-hand crag; waist-deep brambles. But, I've known worse and hacked them away to establish a base camp. I led off up the obvious HS line (Ivory Tower) on the right of the crag, and this was an excellent start which proves the initial point. A steep and splendid layback crack leads to a giant flake. Then easier climbing moving left to a steeper crack with great holds before a few moves gain a vegetated finish up a mossy slab. A great little climb, and a great start, but sadly the day's highlight. I should have led one of its neighbours but instead we hacked around to the left of the crag where I led Silwood at the same grade. This, an obvious left-to-right weakness, looked innocuous from below. But the first few moves were steep and awkward and the entire climb was untravelled; I would guess it has only ever had a handful of ascents. Worse, all the vegetation was sharp brambles, and needed clearing by hand: painful. The climbing is easy above, with good gear once the cracks and flakes are excavated! Two good flakes lead to the finishing groove. I moved right at the top flake to take an obvious steep black groove: this was better protected than the normal finish, with much better climbing, steep but juggy all the way. Possibly the most blood I have ever shed on a route! From here, we moved to the right-hand buttress, which has a much easier approach, but sadly ran out of time. Another less than successful day, but useful in some ways: it would repay a return visit, as the routes (although short) are nice and the rock is excellent. Apart from this, it is such a beautiful spot at the top of the Tanat Valley, with ancient oak woodland and soft green hills all around, that it's a nice place to spend some time regardless.