‘Don’t take the Crib Goch route’ I kept telling myself as we set off.  I didn’t think I would but there was always an outside chance.  There was little wind and the night was warm.  The fog was thick and just minutes after we left the car it was pitch black.  I tried to remember as much of the route as I could from our trip nine months previously.  The hours passed quickly.  We clambered and hiked along the Pyg Track.  Nothing was overly taxing (apart from the generally long slog that awaited us) but the darkness bought an added dimension of complexity.  Where the path was clear we made good progress but on undefined sections we slowed to avoid navigational errors.

I thought the hardest part to navigate was north of Glaslyn and it was around this area we met a few people who had become ‘navigationally challenged’.  We cracked on with our fellow night hikers and before long we came to the ‘money post’.  It wasn’t too far now.  We pushed hard for the summit and as we arrived it was just about light enough to move without head torches.  We took some photos but mostly we wanted to get the bivvy bag out and snuggle up.

Arthur was tired.  I was tired.  The wind had grown strong so we found some shelter around the back of the station.  I put out the roll mat on the widest step I could find and we settled down.  I didn’t sleep well but Arthur was out like a light.

Within a couple of hours I was up having slipped in and out of sleep.  The views were immense.  Stepping out of the shelter meant being hit with a ferocious wind.  I wanted the cafe to open (whilst waiting I met the sister of one of my work colleagues- how random!).  I needed a coffee.  It didn’t open because the train couldn’t get up in the wind.  A man from the mountain rescue team I was chatting to gave me some of his coffee and another person also gave me some of their tea.  I was grateful!

Around 10 o’clock we decided to head off.  Our target was the Y Lliwedd half of the horseshoe.  We clambered down the first part of the Watkin path and then struck out for the ridge line route.  It was quite hairy in places.  We crawled on our belt buckles to take a look over the edge.  I wasn’t happy with the risk.  Visibility was very poor and the wind was strong.  I spoke to Arthur and explained what we were going to do.  We were going to head back, pick up the Watkin Path and hike to the wrong place!  From there we would hitchhike back to our car.  He was enthused by the prospect and practiced thumbing a lift!

Some hours passed before we seemed to make any progress.  The wind dropped and the day grew hotter.  The views were awe-inspiring and I was struck by the vastness of the mountain range.

Back at the main road we went to a café to grab some coffee, fizzy and chips.  I left Arthur and went to look at the bus time table.  I was so tired the numbers and letters were merged into a seething mass of unintelligible confusion.  We would be hitchhiking.  “Get out your owly and look cute”.

We were picked up by a kind family who dropped us back at the Pen-y-pass car park.  We climbed into the car and fell asleep.  Around 6 o’clock we set off towards home.

On the way we stopped for some pub dinner.  I was too tired to drive much further so we spent the night sleeping in the car somewhere in Shropshire.  We were awoken by a massive thunderstorm.  It had been another great adventure.