BRECON BEACONS
Take a mountain you think you know, give it a bit of a season (we’d recommend winter), and serve it up in a different way. You’ll find that not only is it a whole new taste sensation, but you’ll get most of it to yourself.
My wife loves MasterChef. Regular MasterChef, MasterChef: The Professionals, Celebrity MasterChef – she’ll watch them all. Personally, I’m not a fan. I get no great enjoyment from watching people create amazing food I can’t eat; it just makes me hungry. But if there are two things I’ve picked up from the constant criticisms of the presenters, it’s that a biscuit base is best when buttery, and that seasoning is everything.
In that respect, Pen y Fan has a lot in common with a pan-fired sea bass. It’s a reliably tasty mountain, and one that’s unlikely to disappoint. But if you want a truly exceptional experience, it needs some seasoning. Naturally we’re not talking about a twist of ground pepper, a dash of paprika, or a dollop of ketchup (note to Gregg Wallace: when does seasoning become a condiment?). With mountains, we mean snow. Whether that’s a Salt Bae sprinkling, or a thorough Nigella basting of the stuff, snow adds a whole new dimension to even the most familiar of mountains.
Pen y Fan is a prime example. Thousands upon thousands of boots march to its summit every year, but the vast majority of those will avoid the snow. And while we’re generalising ascents of the Brecon Beacon’s headline peak, it’s also fair to say that those same boots will mostly be marching up the paths that climb gently from the conveniently placed parking areas on the A470. So, a dusting of snow adds an extra dimension to the mountain, but so too does an alternative approach.
Now, Pen y Fan is a splendid mountain, but to describe it as Alpine is perhaps a stretch. However, there is one particular feature that Pen y Fan shares with many of the most famous Alpine peaks, and that is a stonking north face. Like the Eiger or the Matterhorn, the north face of Pen y Fan is steep and sheer, dropping from the summit into the valley bellow through contours so closely spaced that their lines are barely discernible on the map.
So, let’s think about this (and you can probably hear the cogs turning); if we were to tackle Pen y Fan from the north, via its steepest aspect, when the mountain is wearing a coat of snow, could we accurately describe that as an ‘alpine ascent’ of the summit? ‘Accurately’, probably not. But if we allow a little imagination and the kind of childish dedication to adventure that are so often the ingredients of the be
