Washed Out in every sense

We arrived in Snowdonia feeling confident but a little nervous in the shadow of the looming hulk of Snowdon and Crib Goch. Our trip up to Snowdonia through central Wales was beautiful and the weather held out until we left the pub just up the valley from Llanberis. We pitched the tent in a campsite opposite the pub and got our heads down early in anticipation of our start at 2.30am. In the few hours that we were asleep the wind picked up and the showers blew down the valley from Pen y Pass.

At 2.30 we all squeezed into a pick up and were transported up the valley to the car park at the base of Crib Goch. As we gathered in the darkness of the car park with head torches alight the clouds were passing swiftly across the night sky obscuring the mountainside. Within half an hour of starting we began the first of many scrambles up the rocky outcrops that line the face of Crib Goch. With only the light from our head torches route finding was tricky as our frame of reference was reduced to a few metres. As we broke through 800m the cloud closed in and visibility dropped further. The moist rock became slippery and narrowed to form the knife edge ridge that stretches to the summit and beyond. The going was slow as the wind increased, buffeting us from our left and forcing us to crouch down against the rock. In some ways, traversing Crib Goch is better at night and in the mist. The sheer exposure is often intimidating but in this instance we could see no more than a few metres. 

As we came of the ridge we seemed to lose the route and ended up traversing lower than we should across the face of Snowdon. The surface became slick underfoot and the rock broke loose. After 30 minutes of hunting for a way to the summit ridge we came across a butress that was climbable and made our way towards the summit. One stroke of luck was met with a deterioration in the weather as the wind strengthened further and the rain began to fall. As we reached the summit of Snowdon the weather has closed in so much that we had to huddle around the summit cairn.

As we descended the train tracks we passed several groups of people probably attempting the same feat. By this time, my clothes we soaked through and the rain had begun to seep down the inside of my gaiters and into the top of my boots. After twenty minutes of traversing the ridge line we dropped of the edge over a stile towards the campsite. We passed through the base of the cloud and the campsite began to appear. Both Rob and I were feeling fairly strong, if wet, on the descent despite losing our footing on the boggy ground. As the campsite came into view Rob noticed that our tent didn't seem to be where we had left it. The further down the valley we got the more obvious it became that something was wrong. The group stopped to regroup but we pressed on to investigate. Turning into the campsite we could see that the tent next to ours had collapsed. When we got to the Land Rover we still couldn't see the tent so we headed to the wall behind and saw a crumpled heap of poles and fabric. Given that the tent was filled with my kit, the cots, our sleeping bags and some food it must have been an incredible gust that lifted it off the ground and over a 12 foot wall. Unfortunately, the wall was topped with a barbed wire fence that shredded the ground and fly sheets. With nowhere to sleep that evening and soaked to the bone we reluctantly decided to call it a day, gather together our scattered remains and make our way back to Bath. We were both disappointed to have to quit after the first of the three legs but we I suspect it won't be the last attempt.

We learnt a few useful lessons on this attempt that would make a second effort easier and hopefully more successful. After a good night's sleep (I headed to bed at 8pm last night) I am a little sore in the quads and have a huge heap of soaked kit to wash and dry. I'll take a break from training today but will be back on the road on Monday as my preparations for New York take precedence.

Time is running out

This week, like most of the past few weeks, has been manic on the work front. On the plus side, the work is absolutely fascinating and right at the heart of what I want to be doing over the coming years. However, the period of time that we have been given to complete the project is incredibly short and that is putting a lot of pressure on all of us. The upshot of this is that I have not had too much time to worry about preparations for the weekend. 

When I spoke to Rob this morning it dawned on me how much still needs to be done before we even leave for Snowdonia: I need to get the tent from storage in Swindon, get some energy powder for drinks, maps, batteries, etc. I am looking forward to getting in the car and heading up there but the prospect of waking up at 2am on Saturday with 50km of solid walking over some of the most hostile terrain in the UK ahead of me is scary to say the least. I am sticking to mental images of a fried breakfast on Sunday as motivation...a positive metal attitude is the only option.

In other news, we will be booking our accommodation in NYC for the marathon today (no going back now) and Jasper remains as cute as ever...

Expect the next missive after the event on Monday with pictures and a link to the GPS route in Google earth. I may even try and squeeze in a little video... 

Tapering for the weekend

Jasper has certainly put a dent in my preparations for the Welsh 3000s this weekend. Over the last couple of months I have been following a fairly rigorous training program for the NYC marathon in November. Having finished the first phase of that training last week I was hoping to move on to Phase 2 (with a little tapering of mileage to keep my legs fresh for a weekend in Snowdonia). The sleep deprivation of the last week or so has really taken its toll and it is hard to get motivated when the fatigue levels never seem to drop. I am hoping that the few extra hours of sleep I will get tomorrow will help me recover a bit before Rob and I head to North Wales on Friday.

The more I think about the challenge the more intimidating it seems to get. There are no two ways about it...it's going to hurt! Now off to Boots to buy some Zinc Tape for my feet...

And back to reality...

It hardly seems like two months now since our return to the UK. As we approached the end of our trip in South America our mindset certainly began to shift towards home and all that that entails. I remember standing on the balcony of our hostel in beautiful Buzios and checking our email on the laptop and Sarah beckoned me over to look at an email she had been sent by Sarah Hunter-Rodwell of Didlington Doodles. In the email we had received confirmation that our name was on the list for a litter of miniature Labradoodle puppies due at the beginning of May. We were so excited, but at the time it seemed like such a long way off that we didn't want to get too excited (besides, we didn't know how many puppies would be in the litter). Our last couple of weeks reinforced the proximity of our impending return and we began to adjust to the prospect of heading back to the UK.

After nearly five months on the road and jaded by the cost of living in Brazil we were quietly looking forward to getting back to the peace and quiet of the Cotswolds and re-establishing our life at home. For me the transition was always going to be abrupt as we returned on the Saturday and I was at week on the Tuesday (it was a Bank Holiday). I had been in contact with the office and knew that I was due to start a project up in Warwick and was glad to be straight back at the coal face, fresh and eager to get stuck in. The project is fascinating and the client is great so it is a huge relief to be back in such fine style.

For Sarah, the transition was always going to be tougher as the ambiguity of not having a job to come back to is always unsettling. As it happens, things fell into place quite quickly as the opportunity to continue her studies with a Masters in Early Years Education came up and news came through that Dawn (a beautiful Chocolate Labrador) had had a litter of six new puppies and we were sixth of the waiting list. After eight weeks of waiting we finally headed down to Cranbourne Chase last weekend to collect the newest edition to the Giles household...Jasper. Today he has been with us eight days and it has not been the easiest adjustment to make but he has been worth every minute of the lost sleep we have had. There will be more on Jasper over the next few weeks but now onto something completely different...

I mentioned in my post from Florianopolis that I was cooking up plans for active events to keep me focused and fit when I came back. As anticipated, I followed up and two things have come to fruition so far. The first is due next weekend and the second is due in November. On Friday Rob and I head off to Snowdonia for the weekend to join a group that is going to attempt the Welsh 3000s. We will be meeting up with Lou (who we met on the Navimag and rejoined in Mendoza) who is shortly to return from Ecuador and will head up to campsite just at the base of Snowdon to attempt the challenge. I am sure that we are woefully ill prepared, despite a lot of running and walks. Whichever way you look at it, 50k on foot in 24 hours and 14 peaks over 3000 feet is going to hurt. Still, a challenge is a challenge. The second event is the New York Marathon. Inspired by the feats of Thierry, our French friend from the trip to Antarctica, I was keen to take Simon up on his offer of a joint assault on the NYC marathon. The week before last we finally got confirmation that we had places in the race (not the easiest thing to achieve). So, the roads and trails around North Wraxall will be hit hard over the summer and autumn months. I have bought a GPS and heart rate monitor to track my progress and signed up to a program where I am tracking my progress. I'll write more about the training but for now I need to sign off...Jasper needs to head out to the garden...nature calls.