A long Cherished Ambition
By Sean Kelly
Having lived in Snowdonia for something close to 13 years I had never managed to combine an ascent of the Bristly Ridge with adequate snow conditions i.e. well plastered. Either the ideal conditions never materialised when I was on the mountain or else I was without a partner. But then I lived in hope.
Well I finally managed to pinch 3 days in Wales in the most unbelievable snow-conditions experienced for over 30 years, in early January of 2010. There was literally bottomless snow everywhere, well up to the chest in places and very impressive ice. The New Year crowds had long departed and the roads were empty apart from the odd motorist who braved the difficult driving conditions. We made our way up from Birmingham, where I had picked up Mark en-route to the London University hut, handily located adjacent to William's farm in the Ogwen Valley. We entered its musty portals and turned the heating up high.
And so it was a Tuesday when I finally set out to climb this long-standing objective, Ogwen's famous Bristly Ridge. However, its ascent was far from straightforward as we departed from a quiet Ogwen Cottage, and disappeared into a white murk that now enveloped all the surrounding mountains. As is usual at this time of year I was not hill fit, unlike greyhound Mark who went running every day. He was soon a speck in the gloom as he navigated his way into Cwm Bochlyd and the foot of the Ridge. By now, snow was steadily falling, masking out any semblance of a path, and so I stumbled on, tripping over buried rocks, and struggling with the unaccustomed weight of a winter sac. It was with some relief that I joined Mark sheltering under the wall at Bwlch Tryfan. The route ahead did not look promising but a little bad weather was not going to put us off. We quickly sorted out the gear we needed, and Mark led off with me vainly trying to follow in his deep footsteps, that led to the foot of a steep buttress.
The crux was the initial gully, of which there were two. We opted for the right-hand one, which provided 2 very difficult insecure vertical pitches, led alternatively with Mark. Each pitch had an awkward bulge and no amount of flailing axes seemed to provide secure placements on which to heave, but somehow wide bridging and much faith somehow resulted in further blind progress. Brushing away piles of deep powder snow failed to reveal any suitable axe placements, but somehow with crampons scarting about on submerged rock, progress resulted, and we finally overcame these troublesome pitches.
During all this struggle, while we has be so preoccupied with the difficulties, the weather had taken a serious turn for the worst, with both the wind increasing dramatically, and snow starting to fall heavily. It now seemed prudent to avoid the ice encrusted pinnacle by traversing beneath it to the right, and regaining the ridge higher up the climb. The smooth slab would be very testing in the maelstrom in which we were immersed. Time was of the essence if we were to not be benighted on this short winter day, so we were grateful to ascend to the right of the main ridge, which thankfully afforded some protection from the worst of the elements.
Gradually the ridge eased off as we eventually emerged onto the Glyder plateau in truly desperate weather and wind-chill approaching -25C! Even simple tasks proved extremely difficult, and gloves froze solid almost instantly when removed. I hastily unfurled a new bothy shelter, which provided a welcome relief from the weather if not the swirling spindrift, which seemed to penetrate everywhere. We were able to grab a quick drink, scoff a fruit bar and have a quick glance at the map to determine bearings and escape from this hellish plateau. Mark led off as my eyelids had by now frozen together, and the simple task of seeing where to navigate was restricted to a few metres by spectacles incrusted in ice and frost. Goggles only made matters worse. Gradually the ground started to fall away and we aimed in the general direction or the large valley to the E. of Tryfan. Well, we couldn't miss that!
The slope started to drop off quite steeply now, and using poles to assist out drunken progress, we slowly worked down through deep powder obscuring many large hidden rocks ready to entrap this weary climber. Suddenly a gap in the gloom provided a brief glimpse of the ridge and it was with a certain sense of relief and renewed faith in our navigational skills that we descended to the stile over the half-buried wall at Tryfan Bwlch. Even the route on from there was not easy to define, as deeper powder covered any vestige of mountain trail. The stream below Llyn Bochlyd managed to entrap me as the ice collapsed, and so I went in up to my chest in cold water and powder snow. A final alarm at the car park in the dark when my electric key fob refused to work because of the intense cold. Visions of a bivvy by the tea-shack crossed my mind but thankfully it finally responded to my warm hands and prayers. The car had accumulated 6 inches of new snow!
Back at the hut a surprise awaited in the guise of a new floor. Workman had been busy during the day and moved all the furniture and out belongings, and the whole lower floor had been screeded. We were forbidden from walking on it until it had set. With that we abandoned the hut in favour of the Tyn y Coed with its roaring fire and nobody else in residence. Not surprising what with a foot of new snow on the roads that were totally deserted. Many pleasant hours passed as we warmed our frozen bodies in front of the blazing coals. Opening the hut door much later that night there was a pleasant note from hut warden Ray Greenhall apologising for the state of the hut. Older members might recall Ray a KMC regular in the fifties along with other Rock & Ice. I knew his brother Brian very well after working one summer at Ghyll Head years back. The central heating (please note KMC hut committee!) had been set high so that the floor could dry out and so we toasted again as the mercury dipped to -11C that cold night.
The following day we ascended the Idwal Stream about 3+ in today's state and quite sociable as other parties were on the route including 2 lads from South Devon MC! Saw Chris, an instructor from Ogwen Cottage on the walk-in. Another couple of lads were using an old teatray to glissade down the Ordinary Route on the Slabs, achieved at a great rate of knots and much shrieking! The next day was fantastic with unbroken blue skies so we headed for the 'Pass', hoping for a quick dash up Crib Goch as Mark had to get back to Birmingham to look after the kids later.
Unfortunately the National Park warden wouldn't let us park in the snowdrift that passed for a car-park, so with a somewhat heavy heart we set off back for Birmingham and Devon, driving through some beautiful countryside with hardly any other motorists to be seen and minus 11C still at Corwen! A memorable trip.
