Crib Goch - The Poisoned Chalice

[Ian A]

Crib Goch â€" The Poisoned Chalice





It was the 10th August and the weather was good with a 70% chance of cloud free summits. Woman had never crossed the foreboding Crib Goch and it had been on her bucket list for a long time. I, being petrified of heights, had been there three times before, bottled it once (near the top), managed it the 2nd time and my friend on the 3rd occasion bottled it. Today I was feeling brave.



(Walking up the road looking towards Beddgelert)

We arrived in good spirits to find that there was nowhere to park for, literally, more than a mile â€" this is common for the Pen y Pass staging area of Snowdon and was expected. What was also expected was an element of stupidity on my part and this manifested in me leaving my SD card for my video camera at home â€" so, no video of the “I am never doing this walk again”. As it turns out, I would not have been able to video it as circumstances yet to befall us would prove.

We set off with light hearts up the road to Pen Y Pass and engaged the PYG track. Immediately, groups of people swathed and littered our route â€" it was the day of the charity walkers, the holiday makers and the training shoes. I considered they would be heading for the summit and not Crib Goch â€" I was right.



(Looking down towards Llanberis from the PYG track)



(Llyn Llydaw from the PYG track)







(The lower flank of Crib Goch)

After an eon enveloped in foreign languages, we turned off the PYG track to Crib Goch and made our way to the looming red rock â€" with every footstep towards this widow maker another pang of anxiety filtered its way through me. We made the early scrambles on the lower shoulder easily enough but then the route toughened and a bottleneck of a small group of people appeared as a discussion on how to breach the lower shoulder ensued. A foreign family peeled off and took a short scramble that looked ok and, since the rest of us were lemmings, we followed. This scramble was exposed and although it was short, it was enough to send a shockwave of fear and angst shooting through me like a meteor shower on a clear night.



(Over the tricky lower scramble looking up the exposed shoulder)


As we climbed the now exposed shoulder I found myself clutching at the ground, unable to look around and unable to focus anywhere expect upon my hands. I turned around to see woman trailing and struggling with energy levels so I waited. I found being immobile on the exposed mountainside to be a fate much worse than moving and I was again rocked with fear. I shouted down to woman insisting that she came past me and headed up in front â€" that way, at least, I could focus on her feet AND avoid pausing.

As we climbed, the two sides of the Goch narrowed bringing with it a spectacular view of both sides (at the same time). This view was awesome both in the sense that it was fantastic but with it came overwhelming fear â€" I could not look.

As we neared the top I found a small recess and climbed into it and cocooned myself into a ball in an effort to resort back to the foetal position and find some kind of strength to carry on. I did not need to cross the Goch but I knew that woman so wanted to. I could not let her down.  A man and his wife appeared above us coming down having traversed the ridge and he asked if I was alright; “no”, I replied. An inquisitive look returned my statement so I explained I didn’t like heights. Concerned, the man told me it would get much worse; but I knew this already and I said “I know”. Content it was my problem (and not his) the man and his wife vanished leaving me to ponder how I would eventually get out of the recess I was in.

Finally I made the move, leapt out and beckoning woman, we made for the knife edge at the top. We arrived and I didn’t feel too bad. The arrival point sported a reasonable plateau big enough (just) to find your feet and take a photo across the ridge â€" so I did



I put my camera back in its bag, swung it around my neck and headed onto the knife edge with a false sense of security following woman. In front of us were a party of four, a father, two sons and a family friend. The friend was clearly afraid of heights (and was showing it) and the two sons were apparently afraid but trying not to show it. After only 10 yards came the first problem; to understand this you need to understand the ridge â€" on the one side (into the horseshoe of Snowdon) exists a steep slope down (visible in the picture). Although this may not look like much, one slip would be fatal as there would be no way to arrest a fall. The otherside does not exist, by that I mean the ridge undercuts itself so there is literally nothing (visible in the later pictures) except a 1000+ foot drop to death. The problem we encountered was that it was not possible to continue on the sloped side and we had to cross onto a narrow ledge on the nothingness side and shuffle around. This I approached with the greatest trepidation as I felt the anxiety and fear flooding back. As I stepped over the ridge and onto the ledge (with my back to the 1000+ foot drop) my camera bag snagged on the rock and caused me to lose my balance. I gripped the rock in front of me like an iron vice and it was loose. Petrified, I searched and found (in an instant) another rock to grip, this one was solid.

I was now frenzied in fear, such was the scale of fear my body flooded with lactic acid and I began shaking uncontrollably. I had to get rid of my camera bag and it was urgent but I could not be in a worse position; I was leaning backwards, gripping the ridge with 1000+ foot of nothing right behind me.

I fought, one armed with my camera bag strap to get it off me (the other arm locked onto the rock in front of me). Once off, I wrestled with my rucksack to remove that too â€" that was when woman saw what I was doing and shouted across “you couldn’t have picked a worse place to do that”. Of course that was exactly what I needed to hear and I returned the shout with a panic stricken “I’ve got to get this off”.  Woman began making her way back to me but I could see the peril she was in in doing so and this worsened the river of fear and lactic acid flooding my body and I shouted at her to stop and go back. The shout was loud enough to attract the attention of other people on Crib Goch who looked around.  One handed I managed to wrestle the camera into the rucksack and return the rucksack to my back â€" there were to be no more photos.

Now, however, I was at the most precarious point of the Goch and filled with more fear than I believe I have ever experienced. I knew I must continue and, from memory, I knew the way forward was easier than the way back â€" I scrambled over the edge and took to my hands and knees to push forward slowly.

Within a few minutes we had caught up to the man, his two sons and his friend. The man apologised for going slow and offered to let us past. My response was instant and urgent â€" “no”, I said. “I need your confidence to get me across”. The man nodded in resigned acknowledgement, he understood and he accepted his new role in the day’s adventure.

Hand hold by hand hold we made our way across the knife edge, not once did I look up, not once did I look across the horseshoe, not once did I dare to take my eyes of the ground in front of me. Woman, on the otherhand, was stood upright and wandering around. Such was the level of my fear, the level of lactic acid and the sickness in my stomach, that I could not muster any will to scold her for her obviously perilous movements.

Many times I froze, locked to the ground and pondered my fate. Many times I considered stopping and calling for help but the logical thought process of “no one can actually help me better than I can help myself” overcame the irrational thoughts. The thought of being airlifted into a helicopter was much more frightening than carrying on and, bizarrely, the thought of rescue spurned my advances onwards.

We finally came to the end of the knife edge but were presented with a new challenge â€" a scramble down and around exposed rock;



This was not a tough scramble but it was exposed and I was already a wreck. I knew I was hungry having missed lunch but the lactic acid in my stomach removed any desire to eat, with fear and circumstance both collaborating to prevent any place to eat in any event. With a loud moan of “oh no”, I made for the scramble hoping to find sanctuary on the other side â€" there was none.

The scrambling around was torturous, I would guess it would be very enjoyable in different circumstances but the exposure and now embedded fear threw a dark cloak across it.



Up and down we went, scrambling with nothing beneath us except certain death and no relief from the little or no edges of the ridges. I searched for an escape route down but there was none, I was totally committed to finishing this route by hook, by crook or by coffin.

Finally we came down the far shoulder of Crib Goch and we found ourselves on a wider ridge walk between the Goch and Crib y Ddrysgol



Here I was able to recover my camera a take a shot looking across at the peak of Snowdon. As silly as it seems, I have walked in many places and in far more tricky places than the path we were now stood on (to say nothing of the route I had just done) but even this, much easier path laced me with fear for it offered no sanctuary and no escape.



(Looking back at Crib Goch and the knife edge we had traversed)



(Looking back again and the man whose relaxed and calm composure got me across)





(Looking across to the peak of Snowdon and the masses there)

We continued our journey and it was now clear that woman was fatigued. Neither of us could eat because of sickness, mine caused by fear which had filled my stomach with lactic acid and woman who had exerted herself beyond her normal capacity and who had also filled her stomach with lactic acid. I could see the pain of fatigue on her face but we were committed to move forwards. We began the walk and scramble up the shoulder of Crib y Ddrysgol and finally we succumbed to rest at a cairn and looked back at our doom.



(The foreboding Crib Goch in all it’s splendour).

Our rest presented an opportunity to the man who had unwittingly brought us this far to accelerate ahead from us and rid himself of the shackles he had not wanted or expected. Suddenly we were alone, tired, in fear and, to top it all, a strong wind gathered and brought with it a cold blanket of moving air and descending clouds. I knew we must move us onwards and I knew time was important, we still had more scrambles and time and energy were both in short measure.

I pressed woman to move forward and with a wince or two, we continued, fighting the side gusts and hugging the mountainside as we went.  Fear once again flooded my body this time it was accompanied with a sensation of loneliness and isolation. It was true, on the otherside of the mountain we could see hordes of people but, for our part, we were a million miles away and my spirit guide had vanished.

I looked back to see the fatigue taking a grip on woman and, propelled by my own fear, I pulled us forward.



(Just after a scramble on the shoulder of Crub y Ddrysgol)






Finally, we reached the summit of Crib y Ddrysgol and our path from there was to prove much easier as we descended to meet the Llanberis path and the gazillion people who were walking up and down it. Never have I been so grateful to see other people.



(The joining of the ways)

We considered our options and notwithstanding fear and fatigue, we decided to head up to the cafe and grab coffee and food. Even though the path was now sanctorious, I remained in fear, unable to shake off the mantle which new gripped me like a tight wet suit. Woman was unable to shake off her fatigue and the last part of the journey to the top was wrought in its own difficulties. Some other people, however, had a somewhat easier ride up ....



Finally, and at last, we both made it to the top of Snowdon amidst the masses ....





We fought our way into the cafe which was hammered with more people than tea leaves in China â€" it didn’t matter, I was so grateful to be among the living that not even a large dose of valium could have made me feel this good. I queued for an age for food and drink but it did not matter. Woman found a spot to sit on the floor for us among the masses, but it did not matter. I burned my tongue on my coffee and the food was atrocious and yet, it still did not matter.

We had the journey back to endure but this was to be easy ... as we descended first the PYG track and then the miners track, we found a mine;



This was a mine we had been in before and a lack of lamps and a lack of leg function (we were knackered and our knees were killing) prohibited entry. Also a human turd guarded the entrance and I supposed someone else had also been on Crib Goch today.

Seven hours after starting out, we arrived back at the car â€" the car seat had never felt so good. It took us an hour to get home and even then, whilst wandering around the house, I was still “wobbling” with fear and I could not stand upright in the shower for fear of losing my balance.

It had been a day I would never forget for many reasons â€" but I am glad I did it.

Ian

[mike leahy]

you melo-drematic big tart :lol:  :lol:  :lol:
 well done

[Danny Sutton]

You beat me to it, i'll be doing that next week, probably on my own.

[Ian A]

I won't be doing it ever again ...... good luck  

[Dave Tyson]

It's excellent in winter with snow and ice. Just make sure your crampons are sharp and you have a good ice axe. Its solo-able if you are careful - just don't fall off as you won't stop before you hit the bottom  :woohoo:

Dave

[Ian A]

Dave you are mad  :S  :S  :S