Snowdon (2007; 82)

He made it. After seventy-five years of having missed out on a childhood adventure, my father finally climbed Snowdon. He found it hard, and at times his face was yellow with exhaustion and he had to sit down to rest, but he climbed the highest mountain in Wales, then walked down again. At eighty-two, that's an achievement.

The weather wasn't perfect for his climb. Although there was sun in the valley, the temperature was cool and there was a strong wind. As we reached the summit ridge, we entered cloud and it became cold. At the very top, there were squalls of hail with a wind so strong that Alan had to scramble the last few metres to the cairn on his hands and knees. Taking the photograph at the summit felt dangerous, as standing was difficult so I had to brace myself against the force of the gale.

And the descent was worse in some ways. The train that normally runs to the summit of Snowdon on its rack system, was not operating so that we had no option but to take Alan down to the next station by foot. He needed to rest on a couple of occasions, and had a cramp in his leg which delayed him for some minutes. However, after recovering, he successfully arrived in Llanberis again, as happy as I have known him for years, but looking tired and worn.

(more later)