With the dire weather forecast it was the ideal time to go off into the mountains of the last day of yours truly's hols.
Visibility was an issues, as was the amount of rainfall and speed of the winds.
But under the carefully considered gaze of the locals
yours truly abandoned Gerry
and set off with two good friends to bag Plynlimon, a mountain last climbed 16 May 1996. It snowed that day too.
The heavy rain turned the small step over with gay abandon Nant-y-Llyn into a raging monster
which had to treated with respect and not fallen into like we did. The bog wont allow the video clips of us jumping over (read in) and doing this twice as per guide book before finding just to the left of this pic was a water board track that took us to the final assault position without having to test our kit for waterproofness.
Here we see Keith checking to see the water carrying capacity of his boots. Again.
Not much later we see the power of the stare.
The wind picked up to around 60mph and blew his glasses clean away.
Naturally we pressed on and didn't in any way muck about like kids.
Yours truly doing the summit waltz with Spotty.
During the descent we came across the site I used for my wild camp back in 1996. The trees a bit bigger.
Finally we found the right route, or rather a different route than planned route down and were several hours in a wilderness of leg sapping bogs and vegetation with multiple stream crossings.
Any thought of keeping dry disappeared
as we slogged it back to Gerry.
Even Spotty found it tough going but still looked magnificent.
Here I am looking back at Keith wondering which bit of the swamp he will fall in.
Eventually we found the exit route along this valley floor, a mile and half of swamp between us and the river crossing, the incongruous trees at the far end of the valley our next target.
The reward for all that effort?
An egg and cress sandwich and a most beautiful sun set.