area close by. A valley path follows the densely wooded Mellte gorge for a time, later veering E to climb the slopes above the Hepste before descending to the riverside again, close to the waterfalls at Scwd yr Eira at 929100. The path actually continues into a recess behind the falls. There are numerous other falls and potholes en route.
THE GLYDERS
THE GLYDERS
Snowdon apart, nowhere in Wales conveys the aura and majesty of the Welsh mountains with such authority and panache as the Glyders. There are wild inviting cwms, rocky spurs, sharp bracing ridges, mysterious threatening monoliths, savage grandeur, fresh sparkling lakes – a bonanza of riches. Here you are at the hub of the Welsh hills, surrounded by mountains – the mighty Carneddau, Moel Siabod, Snowdon herself and the hazy blur of Cader Idris – with the skyline a breathtaking array of pinnacles and crests. Tramping the lunar-like, boulder-strewn tableland between Glyder Fawr and Glyder Fach you may glimpse five of Wales’ most famous valleys: Nant Ffrancon, Ogwen, Conway, Llanberis and the hauntingly beautiful Nantgwynant.
Glyder Fawr summit backed by the Snowdon massif (GL 7)
The Glyders stretch, like an arm raised in greeting, from Carnedd y Filiast in the N to Gallt yr Ogof in the E. The elbow is at Llyn y Cwn, close by Twll Du (Devil’s Kitchen), where the range suddenly swings E. There are eight peaks spanning a ridge which, in over 6 miles, never falls below 2300ft. Slightly askew of the main ridge, but linked to it by grand ridge walks, are Elider Fawr and the incomparable Tryfan. Both of these – along with Glyder Fawr, Glyder Fach and Y Garn – are members of the élite 3000ft club.
It is easy to appraise the Glyders from the road, bounded as they are by the A4086 and the A5. Llanberis makes a sorry start. Towering battlements of slate, inelegantly gouged from the mountainside, cast a sombre shadow over what must once have been two enchanting lakes, Padarn and Peris. Despite their scars, they can still charm you on a sunny day.
The mood changes as quickly as the weather. A couple of miles up-valley ushers in one of Wales’ greatest spectacles, the Llanberis Pass, where the massive, lowering face of the Glyders (a Mecca for rock climbers) yields nothing in severity and grandeur to Snowdon’s N flanks on the other side. Beyond Pen y Gwryd the mood changes again. Now it is Moel Siabod that holds the gaze while the Glyders are at their gentlest in a flow of billowy moorland, dotted with crags and fledgling bluffs, white-ribboned by dashing streams.
And so to Capel Curig, the A5 (not forgetting the ‘old road’ of 1805 that parallels it much of the way) and the pièce de résistance. Thrills come thick and fast now. Cupped in the V of the valley, beyond Ogwen, are Y Garn and the plunging silhouette of Foel Goch. Nearer to hand Gallt yr Ogof’s elephantine sprawl is but the precursor to greater things, that most perfect of mountains, Tryfan. Airy ridges, spiky spurs and fresh mountain lakes follow in breathless succession. Bristly Ridge, Llyn Bochlwyd, Y Gribin, Seniors Ridge, Llyn Ogwen, Llyn Idwal, the Devil’s Kitchen, Llyn y Cwn, the twin ridges of Y Garn cradling shy Llyn Clyd… the names roll off the tongue like a hall of fame!
Few trekkers venture further N, but you have only to carry on to Bethesda – to end as you began, in the devastation of quarries – to find that the magic goes on. Not with quite the same might and splendour, perhaps, but superb walking country nonetheless, especially if you value solitude. Cwm Cywion, a hanging valley with a teardrop tarn; the flaky ridge of Creigiau Gleision and the teetering pinnacles of the Mushroom Garden; Cwm Coch and the menacing Yr Esgair ridge, great as a spectacle but too exposed for walkers and too crumbly for climbers; Cwm Bual, Cwm Perfedd, Cwm Graianog and Cwm Ceunant – undiscovered and unsung, all of them, but well worth cultivating in spite (or because) of that.
Tryfan from the east (GL 34)
The N arm of Cwm Graianog is heathery and wild and leads above a wall of slabs, smooth as silk, to the most N outpost of the Glyders, Carnedd y Filiast. From here dedicated walkers could walk the entire ridge to Capel Curig in a long day. And what a day! A rollicking tramp over a grassy saddle, big enough for a fair, soon leaves the slaty wastes behind. Mynydd Perfedd comes next; a name without a presence. The direct line of advance lies straight ahead, but only the most indolent would ignore the edge path that curls so delectably over the aquamarine of Llyn Marchlyn Mawr to the cone of Elidir Fawr.
Back beneath Perfedd is Bwlch y Brecan, high point of an old packhorse route that used to link Cwm Perfedd and Cwm Dudodyn and is one of three still navigable trails that cross the Glyders. These N highlands, over Foel Goch and Y Garn, are perfect striding country, blessed with helpful tracks and laden with atmosphere. With the exception of Cwm Las and Esgair y Ceunant, the S slopes facing Snowdon lack excitement while the neglected N flanks are full of potential with dramatic views across the neat, green meadows of Nant Ffrancon to Carneddau, Ogwen and the spires of Tryfan.
A rude awakening awaits anyone naïve enough to judge the Glyders on the evidence so far. A sharp drop to a marshy saddle reveals Llyn y Cwn and the head of the Devil’s Kitchen. This is the key to the second ‘low-level’ crossing of the Glyders, up the Devil’s Kitchen from Ogwen, down Cwm Las to the Llanberis Pass. More significantly it heralds a change both of direction and of style. This is the Rubicon; no more grass. The next 2 miles, presaged by a toilsome, near 1000ft slog up to the reigning peak, Glyder Fawr, are scree and boulder-hopping.
This is boulder-hopping on the grandest scale! Scabrous, posturing monoliths and spiky tors weave ghostly apparitions in mist and create a landscape of lunar abandon and wanton desolation. Wastes of boulders and rivers of rocky debris litter the narrow plateau that stretches to Glyder Fach in a highway made for giants.
Like good wine, the walk to Glyder Fach should be savoured gently and lingered over. Above all keep to the edge, for beneath the shattered N escarpment (replete with bulging crags, intimidating cliffs, and torrents of scree) lies the heartland: Llyn Idwal, the Nameless Cwm cupped between Seniors Ridge and Y Gribin, Llyn Ogwen and Llyn Bochlwyd, nestling in the shadow of Bristly Ridge and Tryfan.
To the S a myriad of peaks pierce the sky, but beware the slopes. They may look pretty and innocent, cloaked in a mantle of rich purple heather and dappled with knolls and rocky bluffs, but they are a nightmare – apart from a couple of established paths. The glitter of Llyn Cwmffynnon is one of the biggest snares of all, concealing a squelchy morass of glutinous bog.
Before long the dark citadel of the poetically named Castell y Gwynt (Castle of the Winds) builds up ahead, followed almost at once by the other-worldly piles of Glyder Fach. Here the desolation last witnessed on Glyder Fawr reasserts itself in a second outpouring of elemental power, even more intense than the first. Giant boulders randomly strewn create an impression of chaos, of disorder, of the insignificance of Man. No other top in Wales portrays Nature’s architecture more magnificently, or casts such an overwhelming spell of mountainly grandeur.
The Devil’s Kitchen (GL 8)
E of Glyder Fach the land falls away to a broad spongy saddle where, on a still day, you may see Tryfan reflected in the waters of Llyn y Caseg-fraith. The third of the low-level passages crosses here, the miners’ track from Ogwen to Pen-y-gwryd. Then a resurgence of vitality carries the ridge on to the bald moorland crest of the nameless peak. The passion is finally spent. The broad tongue of turf and heather that surges yet again over Gallt yr Ogof before declining to the wooded vale sheltering Betws-y-coed, is a far cry from the harsh, arid uplands of only an hour before. Gone is the drama of crag and cwm; this is pretty country made for late afternoon sunshine or the cool glow of evening when you can watch the shadows lengthen over the Carneddau and envelope the rocky crown of Siabod.
Glyder Fach
If you were to blindfold me and place me at random on any of the 170-odd