Snowdon (or 1932: 7)

In 1932 my father's family went for a rare week's holiday to Llanberis in north Wales, beneath Snowdon. My father was just seven years old, the second youngest of six children. There should have been seven, but his youngest brother had died shortly before the holiday. I think that the holiday was to help the family recover from Jack's death. There wasn't much money around. The Depression was still in force, and my grandfather had been sporadically unemployed. Only my granny's teaching job kept them afloat for much of that time.

One day my grandfather, took the children for the long walk up to the peak of Snowdon, which is Wales' highest mountain. All except for my father, who was delegated to stay in the village to keep his mother company and to help with the domestic chores. Ever since that day, he has resented the fact that he alone was prevented from making the ascent, and he has never ever climbed it. His younger sister was allowed to make the climb, and all the elder siblings. He still complains about how unfair it was for him, so we need to put things right.

This coming May we plan to finally take him up Snowdon, when he will be 82. He's fit enough,as he walks eight to ten miles twice a week, most weeks, but we don't know how long that will continue.
There will be my father, at least two of his sons (myself & Rick), plus Moonface, probably Tom, and at least one of Rick's boys. The day will be a challenge. Olwen probably won't make the climb,but she may take the train.

Rick has never been up to that area of Wales, and I have only climbed Snowdon once. Roll on May!