Cader south (east)

Peaks: Gau Graig, Mynydd Moel, Pen y Gadair, Mynydd Pencoed

Area: Cadair Idris

The mirror image of the 'northern' circuit I did on this day (I think) last year, a rather strange and entirely coincidental quirk. Maybe not entirely coincidental, however, as there is something about Cader from Tal y Llyn in springtime. I can remember doing the southern loop for the first time in April 1989 or thereabouts, and have also taken Morgan round it at this time of year too. Today we set off from the car park at the top of the pass, where I did my Maesglase traverse earlier this month. This gave a superb climb to Gau Graig which I had never done before - just 28 minutes to the cairn. Then, you are perfectly placed at the end of the main ridge. So after enjoying the expansive views over Aran, Rhinog and Waun Oer, we set off at a sustainable jogging pace west towards Cader. This was brilliant, superb views on all sides, comfortable pace, and the great thing about approaching from this direction is that the scenery changes from the gentle eastern hills to the dramatic glacial cwm of Llyn Cau. We stopped briefly on Mynydd Moel (these two are the 'alliterative hills', and MM is something of a tautology too!). Then an another easy climb leads to the trig on Pen y Gadair, still fairly empty as it was before 10.30. The descent to Mynydd Pencoed is awkward and rocky, indeed I have never done it this way round, anti-clockwise as logic takes you clockwise round this famous cwm. My knee was a tad painful but this eased as we got to the base of Cwm Cau to enjoy one of Wales's finest views, the classic glacial scenery building to the pyramidal peak of Pencoed. Steep, awkward but fairly fast down to the Tal y Llyn car park, and then came the sting in the tail, up the bridleway to the top of the pass. Again, this was new ground for me and a very useful discovery as I have always wanted to do a long loop around Cader, which I reckon would be better than the Snowdonia marathon, a Welsh TMB! As such, this route above Tal y Llyn would avoid the busy road. Two hours for the 14k/1050m round, in more cool but delightful spring weather.

Chester parkrun

'Race': Chester parkrun B course

Time/Position: 19.02 (8th from 434)

These plods around the parkrun are at least saving me from total atrophy in my fallow year. This was another perfunctory trot, again in nice dry conditions on the B course. Hopefully they will enable me to retain a semblance of pace through all the resting. Huge field today, very crowded at the start.

Bethesda hills

Peaks: Moel Faban, Llefn, Moel Wnion, Gyrn, Moel Faban

Area: Carneddau, Eryri

A little run over little hills. A beautiful spring morning, it was cool and crisp as I set off from the middle of Bethesda, climbing indirectly through the terraced streets to Cilfodan - the final picturesque terrace before fording Ffos Rhufeniad and then the climb up Moel Faban through lovely open hillside. This is one of the quickest routes to a great view in the whole of Eryri, well under 20 minutes from town. A steep gorge separates Faban from Llefn, after which I skirted Gyrn then took a circuitous route up Moel Wnion. The usual bracing views over Anglesey, the Carneddau and Glyderau. From Wnion, I pelted across to Gyrn but then traversed Llefn and back over Moel Faban, mindful of a painful knee that has developed through resting too much! Warm down walk through the delightful Nant y Coed above Llanfairfechan: my first redstart of the year. Always my favourite time of year in the Welsh hills.

Elidir via Creigiau Gleision

Peaks: Elidir Fawr, Y Garn

Area: Glyderau, Eryri

A rather unusual circuit, but rewarding as a result, and it was nice to push the pace a bit for a change. It was a route of two halves really, starting from Ogwen Cottage then cutting up the untracked hillside above Hafod taking sheeptracks and tiny paths to eventually gain the base of Creigiau Gleision, one of Eryri's most obscure crags. I've done a few routes up here, winter and summer, the best probably being Needle's Eye Arete, a semi-classic scramble which I did with American novice John Boyle a few years ago. The whole place is pretty esoteric, crumbling and neglected. I headed up the main gully, quite atmospheric, then traversed out left to take the South Arete at its base. It is easier and less intimidating than Needle's Eye, which I could see across the broad gully. A few little shelves and rises, then it weaves back right to a narrow solid crest. All quite pleasant, and there are tremendous views across Nant Francon and up Ogwen. From the top, a nice traverse path misses the summit of Foel Goch and leads to the main Elidir-Glyder highway. I upped the pace from the col, but felt sluggish on the long haul out to Elidir. The weather was improving all the time, the early cloud melting away and sunshine easing the windchill (a cold but fairly clear snap). Around an hour to the top of Elidir via this very circuitous route, and then I triggered memories of the Pedol Peris (which I haven't done for at least a decade) by taking the runnable route down to the bwlch then the gentle climb round the side of Foel Goch up to the screes that lead to the summit of Y Garn - just under half an hour peak to peak, probably just a little slower than I used to do it when running the Pedol (which I did three times in total). A knee injury flared up on the descent to Llyn y Cwn (7 minutes) but didn't really get worse as I hopped down the boulders and steps past Twll Ddu to Idwal. I can never go particularly fast on this section, but the knee wasn't agony and I have always felt it easier to go quickly down this section (which has definitely got easier over the years, with step construction, a new bridge, and even gravel in places). So I got from the top of Y Garn to the cottage in 34 minutes or so at a steady but unspectacular pace.

Graianrhyd-Chester climbing loop

Upping the cycling mileage and elevation given my plans for the year, although I am still deliberately keeping things gentle and modest for now, until I am ready to return to the longer rides. This is because I am conscious that it has been some years - seven or more - since I last did 100 mile days. This morning I concentrated initially on climbing, taking the hideous Horeb climb up Hope Mountain/Waun y Llyn. This is much easier to run then cycle, and I think my pb for running is actually quicker than on two wheels. Even on the lightweight Scott, it was hard work. Down to Llanfynydd, then the shorter but still very nasty climb up to Cae Hic. Then it was along to Graianrhyd and then the superbly enjoyable road to Llanferres: lovely surface, lovely cycling, lovely scenery throughout. Less pleasant through Cadole to Mold, then up to Buckley. From here, I extended the day but reverted to flat terrain, through Saltney to Chester, then back home via Lache Lane: 60k/2800ft.

Chester parkrun

'Race': Chester parkrun

Time/Position: 18.47 (7th from 352)

A perfunctory plod around the B course, by way of keeping things ticking gently over in the fallow year. To my slight surprise, and slight annoyance, conditions were perfect: the mud section was very dry, and the temperature was cool so it was a good opportunity to record a fast time (but current fitness levels do not allow!). It was also a rare dry day, sunny even, so Kate and I then exploited it by taking in the hills above Llanarmon yn Ial, with a pint in the Raven to follow.

Snakes and Ladders

Route: Snakes and Ladders ('VD')

Area: Llanberis Slate

A unique (mild) adventure and a wonderful tour of the most obscure and fascinating areas of the quarries, some of which I had never visited before. I wasn't really expecting to do it this afternoon, as the weather wasn't very nice and my companions had done it on their previous hut visit. But after the morning bike loop and a spot of lunch we ventured out from the hut and walked up to the quarries in persistent drizzle, emerging at Dali's Hole. Normally, I object to English names in Eryri. However, I make something of an exception for the quarries for several reasons: first, the quarrymen gave some of the areas 'English' names anyway (like Australia); second, lots of the rock features may not have been named; and finally, many of the climbers names are inventive and/or funny. We hopped the fence by the hole (a blue lagoon with surreal dead trees when the water is lower). This used to be a sports climbing area, on which I have done some good routes, but all the bolts have been chopped.  We walked round the top then entered the lower tunnel which leads into California, a giant bowl of slate preceded by a steep atmospheric traverse around a pit. Snakes and Ladders then begins in earnest, with the hardest section. Three via ferrata rungs lead to a hanging chain of thick iron rungs. It is too heavy to pull on and too awkward to haul up, especially with the rock soaked by the rain (slate being notoriously frictionless in the wet). Vic led, and Steve and I followed, me hauling upwards until I could grab three protruding giant iron spikes. Above easier ground leads to another haul on the chain, then a tunnel that leads to an ab station. This first short abseil leads back to the terrace above Dali's Hole. A contrived but essential start to the full experience! Vic had already found the Tunnel of Love, which is invisible until you spy a tiny crevice. We slid through this, almost a caving squeeze, into a wet tunnel with daylight at the end, which led into the vast expanse of Australia. I have climbed on all the lefthand levels but have never been down to the base before. It is a spectacular spot, which evokes a kind of industrial glacier, a wasteland of slate boulders, which some of the names reflect. Tricky route finding and awkward terrain along the base, then we picked a steep route to left of the 'rognon' which eventually gained the Salt Pans, a level, boggy plateau. Some old buildings are reached, and then the first ladder, a solid affair which leads to the next level on the East Face of Australia. It was so wet that I protected the top section with makeshift via ferrata gear, clipping the rungs. Then an exposed terrace leads rightwards to a double ladder (a transition is made from one to the other, which I protected as the second ladder starts in space). Then we reached the atmospheric Pen Garret hut (possibly a caban, not sure) where some quarrymen's boots are still present, along with the Hogiau Pen Garret signatures. All of this had huge personal resonance and a very strong connection for me. Even though Taid didn't work the Llanberis quarries, the life and culture a few valleys away was the same. I'd heard of Pen Garret before but never been up this far (although again we were now looking across Australia to the upper tier on the West side, which I have climbed numerous routes on). From here, we moved right again, back above California, then dropped down a scree path to a grassy plateau, and then leftwards along a grassy corridor with a misty Yr Wyddfa ahead. Then begins the most memorable section, all new terrain, all hidden to the casual visitor. It started raining in earnest, wind howled through the gap, and we approached the lip of the 'Lost World', another giant chasm. Two abseils lead via a shelf to an easy chain and then the base of the Lost World, an incredible place, slowly being reclaimed by nature. It was a relief to be out of the wind, as it was getting quite cold, but the oppressive weather made it even more atmospheric. There is one escape, over boulders to another tunnel which leads through a huge rock wall into Mordor, an even more remarkable and hidden corner. In this case, the enormous walls are ringed by a circular plateau, with a pit dropping still further to the bowls of the earth. Instead of descending this, however, an escape is possible, by traversing above the pit to a final set of ladders. These are the longest and most intimidating of all, with some missing rungs and rope attachments. One leads to a step to the next, after which a little plateau gains two shorter ladders and the 'Khyber Pass' at the top of the quarries. This is the end of the action, and our descent led pleasantly down the quarrymen's steps to eventually regain the main track which leads gently down to the hut and another gastronomic extravaganza, this time with a Middle Eastern theme. 

Nant Peris bike loop

This is supposed to be a cycling year, so it was perfect timing to join our vagabond dining group on a morning ride from the hut through Llanberis to Llanrug. Nice views of Caernarfon, and then comes the sharp double climb over to Waunfawr, steep in places. The roads were quiet, so it was a great opportunity to do this route which I wouldn't contemplate at the weekend. From Waunfawr to Beddgelert the route essentially reverses the Snowdonia Marathon, gently undulating with a very fast descent into Beddgelert. Then the beautiful scenery up to Llyn Gwynant before the long climb begins. This went pretty well and was good training for my planned summer Pyrenees cycling trip. It is steady for the most part, and it was a great time to do it, relatively quiet on a road that can get very busy. From Pen y Gwryd, I turned up to Pen y Pass where we regrouped before enjoying the effort-free descent down the Pass to Nant Peris and the sharp final climb to the hut. Only 50k but with a fair amount of climbing.

Pico do Papagaio

Peaks: Pico do Papagaio (982m)

Area: Ilha Grande, Brazil

After three days in Rio, I headed off to Ilha Grande, still in Rio state but an immense contrast with the chaotic metropolis (Brazilian states are enormous). The entire Costa Verde on the adjacent mainland is beautiful and mountainous, and this theme continues on the island (half an hour by speedboat from the little coastal town of Conceicao do Jacarei). Arrival is into the small settlement of Vila do Abraao, the liveliest place on the island but still a tranquil spot, as there are no metalled roads or cars anywhere on Ilha Grande. The journey took some time (at least four hours) so I spent yesterday relaxing and was raring to go first thing in the morning, and it was a stunning start weatherwise, deep blue sky and a light breeze. A long switchbacking track for around a mile leads to the start of the narrow trail through the rainforest (perhaps not strictly defined, but the closest realistic description). This was a fairly extraordinary experience, mildly intimidating at first as I had no idea how well travelled the route was initially. For all I knew it may have been rarely ascended. Lots of birdsong, although most species remained elusive at first. The forest was very dense and the humidity quickly became stifling, in fact almost unbearably so where the trail steepened - which was often. A gorgeous little stream valley, chattering clear water, provided some relief. After about 40 minutes of effort, a runner descended past me, instantly setting my mind at ease about the route's popularity. That said, there was no way I could have even considered anything more than fast walking in this humidity. Above, I could see sunshine dappling the trees and after an awkward bouldery traverse the route kinked and it was clear I was on a broad ridge - even though the forest was so dense I still had no views at all. The humidity dropped noticeably at this point, a blessed relief, although it remained hot. I began to sense the summit was near and eventually spied a giant anvil-like rock feature that marks the true summit and gives the peak its name ('parrot'). At this precise point the route becomes unclear for the first time. I took the side path initially (which in retrospect was the correct one) before having second thoughts and taking a very steep direct route up to a clean granite slab and, finally, views out across the sea and over to the mainland. In the humidity, all was shimmering, the peaks of what I assume is the Serra d'Agua suspended above a soft-focused Atlantic. Unbroken pristine forest in every direction. I climbed the slab up to a wall, and then retreated. I later found this was just a few metres away from the circuitous, indirect route taken by the standard path I had missed. A far more comfortable descent, past a friendly nine-banded armadillo and a possible grey-cowled wood rail. A breeze made life a little more comfortable and the crystal blue sky later clouded over for my afternoon birdwatching ramble, 5k through the forest towards Palmas, returning at the col after seeing coati and numerous new bird species including various tanagers, woodcreepers, and a probable (stupendous) black hawk-eagle. Refuelled with a caipirinha and moqueca fish stew.

Pedra da Gavea

Peaks: Pedra da Gavea (844m)

Area: Tijuca National Park, Brazil

Supposedly one of the world's highest mountains rising 'directly from the ocean' but I fear that is a bit of local parochialism (it would even be challenged by certain Skye peaks). Whatever, it gave a superb outing at the start of my Brazilian trip, and also a truly memorable view from the summit. It is nowhere near as internationally famous as the Sugarloaf or Corvovado (Christ the Reedemer) but it is much higher than both, and looks very impressive from the famous beach of Ipanema, the first place I went to on arrival in Rio. Pedra da Gavea is right out in the southern suburbs of Rio, bordering the national park of Tijuca, pristine forest and one of the world's largest 'urban' national parks. I adapted to the excellent Rio metro immediately, and took it to its endpoint at the Jardim Oceanico. From here, a brisk 2k along the road and across the Muzema (I think) river lead to houses in the district of Joa and a steep climb which led to an initial checkpoint. Above, steep Flemish style cobbles led up to a more formal checkpoint, which was just opening as I arrived at 8am, a huge stroke of luck. Another world is immediately entered, a thick forest canopy with breadfruit hanging from the trees and brown capuchins in the trees. Above, a small party of coatis broke cover and moved quickly into the undergrowth. In the canopy, numerous bird species although as ever tropical birding is a rather frustrating experience. It was superb, and the sun broke through the canopy as I climbed. I overtook some early starters although a runner passed me too (I was going at a brisk walking pace, not really running). It was humid but not unbearable. The route continues steeply to reach an awkward slab and then a sort of rocky stream gully with running water. It eventually emerges at a clearing (the Mirante da Lage) with a view of the gigantic monolithic peak marking the main western summit directly above. The route then opens out slightly and the angle eases as the path curves eastwards towards the sea and below the giant rock walls. Then a plinth gave an outstanding view landward to Tijuca, pristine forest and a wonderful landscape. A little higher, and an even better view, with the terminating rock wall framing a dramatic view down to Rio as the mist cleared below. I could see right across to the distant Corcovado with Christ the Redeemer emerging from the tendrils of mist. At the end of this section I finally reached the locally notorious Carrasquierra, a 40 metre slab. This has a crack running down its length but is more broken on the right, where I took it. I was surprised by the fact that two or three moves were genuinely tricky, perhaps grade 3 scrambling in British terms although not particularly exposed despite the fact that the Atlantic Ocean stretched out to infinity below. Open cracks and polished holds, all very reminiscent of Tryfan Bach! Mist was flirting around as the angle eased at the top, but behind a staggering view down through the clouds to the little peninsula of Guaratiba and the town of Vargem Grande (perhaps). The path narrows and continues on a slightly exposed traverse line through thick vegetation above the ocean. After the traverse it climbs again steeply through ancient tree routes up an open gully with more easy scrambling to finally gain the plateau-like summit, characterised by low vegetation. The little green bushes (bromeliads?) on black sand strongly recalled the Canary Islands, far away across the Atlantic! I went up to the sharp rock at the eastern summit, then gently down to the open plinth that most people take photos from. This is a truly staggering spot, poised directly above Sao Conrado beach and the peak of Morro dos Irmaos (looking tiny from above) which guards the end of Ipanema, which I could also see. Ahead, the vast Atlantic, and just inland and over the ridge the endless sprawl of Rio across all of its hills, truly the Cidade Maravilhosa. I was a little concerned about descending the Carrasquierra with crowds coming up, so headed back down. It was fine, with one small group of five coming up. The rest of the descent was simple and I took it nice and easy, saving energy. I took a slightly different route back across to Muzema and back to the metro, where I refuelled with guaravita and a palm heart and chicken empadinha.