A wonderful forecast last weekend encouraged Phil and I to get some climbing in, staying at the caravan in Beddgelert one last time before it’s sold and gone forever.

Our grand plan of an early start from the campsite on Saturday was thwarted by the locked gates at 06:30. They finally opened at 07:30 and we set off towards the Carneddau. The objective was Amphitheatre Buttress, a three-star 300m V. Diff on Craig yr Isfa at the head of Cwm Eigiau. The previous night’s forecast had looked promising, but the cloud was low and getting lower. We parked at the bottom of the Ffynnon Llugwy reservoir road, and an hour later found ourselves stood at Bwlch Eryl Farchog. In cloud. We couldn’t see the buttress, or Craig yr Isfa in general, or indeed even the path down to the bottom of the crag. Nine wet pitches didn’t appeal, so we waltzed back down to the car, considering alternatives.

Finding Milestone Buttress and Bochlwyd Buttress crawling with people, we abandoned the Glyderau and decided on Pinnacle Ridge (VDiff, 98m) on Pen yr Ole Wen. It gets three stars and, sure enough, provided a few pitches of entertaining climbing, albeit broken up by too much heather and gorse. We returned to the car, after taking a look at the old Roman bridge at Ogwen, part of an extension to the old Roman road of Watling Street which used to run all the way from Dover! Back at the car we contemplated our options for the rest of the day. I suggested that Lockwood’s Chimney may be worth a look – a Diff route in Nant Gwynant which is apparently particularly suitable for bad-weather days (which Saturday was rapidly turning in to).

Parked in the valley, I couldn’t remember exactly where the route was supposed to be, so we nipped back to the caravan to grab Phil’s guidebook. Rock Climbing in Wales, by Ron James, was published in 1970 and was to prove a critical publication in our exploration of Nant Gwynant. Armed with the book we returned to the valley and walked to the bottom of the crag. What followed was an hour and a half of lunacy, as we scrabbled around in some (admittedly quite lovely) ancient woodland looking for the start of the route. The guidebook said to head from the path to a bluff approximately the size of a house. We duly did this, and then continued around the side, all the while clambering over rocks and fallen trees covered in thick layers of lush moss and lichen. Stood next to the bluff, we realised that the book wasn’t guiding us around the thoroughly overgrown rock, it was supposedly sending us up it!

I’m not sure when anyone last did the complete route as per the 1970 Ron James guidebook, but from the amount of vegetation I’d hazard a guess it was probably around 1971. Ignoring all suggestion that we should ascend the bluff, we skirted around the side and eventually got to the route proper. By this time it was starting to go dark, so we just snuck a look through the Marble Arch at the start of the first pitch. Disappointingly we couldn’t see the chimney, but I guess that means the surprise isn’t ruined for when we do get around to doing it.

Sunday dawned sunny and clear, and an early start saw us at Milestone Butress before anyone else. That’s right, Milestone Butress, the east-facing crag which was in the shade all morning. My overiding memory of Ordinary Route (Diff, *) will be that it was cold. So very cold. Nevertheless, it provided some entertaining climbing over its six pitches. This included a thigh-width crack, described in the guide as requiring a move similar to the hokey-cokey. After leading up it, Phil cheerily informed me that the hokey-cokey was indeed the required technique.

I confidently approached before getting my left leg jammed in the crack. Giggling to myself whilst unable to progress any further, my mirth turned to embarassment when my mobile rang in my rucksack. I shouted an apology to the couple on the route next to us, unable as I was to do anything about extracating myself and accessing the bag to turn the phone off. The next pitch involved some à cheval action, followed by what was described by the guidebook as “vigorous squirming” up a chimney. Phil seemed to be taking his time leading this pitch, and when I arrived at the foot of the chimney – just below his belay – he revealed that the delay was caused by him needing to remove his rucksack and push it up in front of him! I squirmed my way up the chimney, finding it quite enjoyable once I worked out the correct way of doing it, and from there we moved up easy ground to the top of the buttress.

After that it was a simple case of descending the north ridge of Tryfan all the way to the car. All in all, a successful weekend despite the weather and crazy 1970s guidebooks doing their best to throw us off course. It seems winter’s well and truly over now (south of the Highlands, anyway), but if this is what summer’s got to offer then maybe it won’t be so bad!

Footnote: Sadly, it’s looking increasingly likely that last weekend was my last time staying at the caravan, as it’s definitely being sold. Our family has had a caravan permanently in Beddgelert for nearly fifteen years now, so it’s a bit weird to know it’s finally going. Looking on the bright side, it might encourage me to visit other mountainous areas of the UK (apparently there are some), but it’s definitely the end of an era. I’ve had some brilliant weekends up there, climbing, riding, drinking, walking and all manner of other fun and games, so thanks to everyone who’s ever stayed up there and given me such great memories of the place. Sorry if I sound like a complete sap, but that caravan was awesome.