Time flies. So fast that the last time I saw this vista the cafe at the start was a green shack with a toilet attached that smelled like a medieval sewer. The food was hot and unrecognisable unless you had a bacon sarnie which looked the part and set in its own lard in the chill mountain air unless you ate it quickly.
I told the hyperactive anorexic Liverpudlian in the new hybrid cafe that now looked like a cross between Greggs and Costa but with less soul and worse food that things had changed. Yes she agreed, they had, must have been 3 years ago then your last visit, er no...10 years, but I didn't admit that.
She continued.
Apparently the same people own the cafe as last visit but they were able to upgrade to the new all singing all dancing fragrance free toilets with lottery money. Not winnings, but funding. Anyway after a tasteless 500 calories and a cuppa yours truly, Keith and Spotty the action Berner set out to complete a traverse of the Devils Kitchen, both Glyders and then home in time for tea and medals. The approach route had also changed, instead of hauling ourselves up a sheer rock wall at the back of the cafe, health and safety set us along a wheelchair friendly track in the opposite direction until we were allowed to head off vaguely in the right direction. Having circumnavigated the lake and eyeing the rock wall at the end the way forward was obvious, up, and aim for the dark crack in the centre. From there it should be easy. Ish.
Initially things were none too bad, crossing the snowline we encountered iced rock, but some helpful stonework almost like steps. I had taken Spotty as memory served that this was a straightforward route with no real tricky bits, so dog friendly.`
Which it was. Apart from this near vertical section with Spotty in some difficulty (falling) and me with no rope so not able to help, or descend thanks to the ice. The only way was up.
Here we see Spotty demonstrating true grit, its his fourth attempt, just to his right you can see paw prints higher up, the high water mark of the previous attempt. He didn't make this one either and this time he left blood on the rocks from a cut paw. Camera away I dropped down a few feet and lay down good arm outstretched and this time managed to grab his collar giving his the final bit of help he needed. This had an unexpected consequence in that I now had a very happy Berner on an icy ledge with me, who, in his enthusiasm to thank me, nearly sent us both back to ground zero a lot quicker that either of us would have wanted. Thankfully a swift bollocking curbed his exuberance and we were able to extract ourself from the danger zone.
It was a tough climb after nearly two hours we topped out
where we encountered a 300 metre ice slope. Crampons on, ice axes out and we were away. Spotty really enjoyed this bit, in fact he was sliding down and then running back up. Had I not been maintaining 12 point contact with the acute angle of the mountain then this would have been captured on film.
The alien like landscape of the summit hove into view, along with a break in the cloud cover allowing us fantastic views
where Spotty played King of the Hill.
Last Novembers route appeared through the gloom
as did the lake from where we started.
The summit of Glyder Fawr has a very famous stone called The Cantilver, Keith posed for the compulsory photo while I concentrated on eating.
I took the easy route down, deciding that Bristley Ridge was not K9 compatible so we headed south then north east to the saddle between the Glyders and Tryfan. Daylight was running out but we made the descent without needing headtorches
with the final mile or so out of the snow. Buoyed up with thoughts of a cuppa, happy with our success and overjoyed that we were dry we sped up a bit just in case the new look cafe had new look opening times. The old cafe stayed open as long as there were cars in the car park.
Ahead of us several dozen climbers were converging all with one thought in mind.
Tea.
We finished a 5pm.
In time to see the lights go out and the shutters go down on the cafe.
Progress sucks.
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