SNOWDONIA
It’s not always the mountains that shout the loudest that have the most to offer us. Wedged in between Snowdon and Nantlle Ridge, MYNYDD MAWR has more to enjoy than first meets the eye.
You can hide a lot behind a smile (maybe that’s why I’m suspicious of grinning idiots). But a smile undeniably broadened my face as I sat thinking back to that day on Mynydd Mawr, one of north Wales’ most unloved peaks. I shouldn’t have worried though, because smiles of joy are just that; pure, spontaneous reflections of a feeling, and walking in the mountains is the conduit to that state of euphoria. It’s what keeps us coming back for more.
As we grow and get wiser (we all know what I really mean by that), how we do something becomes much more important than simply just doing that something. Time is precious to us all, yet there’s a value to denying yourself that which you desire, until the time is right of course. This was how I fulfilled my love affair with Mynydd Mawr, a mountain I’d flirted with on numerous occasions and one to which I knew I was inextricably drawn.
The quiet ones…
Mynydd Mawr has the good luck to be situated in close proximity to Yr Wyddfa (Snowdon) and even closer to Trail readers’ favourite Nantlle Ridge. This allows it to flaunt its features, with the sure knowledge that there are bigger, more exciting ranges close by, allowing it to go largely unnoticed by the masses. Don’t get me wrong, I’m no hill snob, I think Yr Wyddfa is one of the most spectacular mountains in the UK – despite the bloody train – and I’ve spent innumerable days and nights on its slopes having the best time ever. But there’s always something niggling away at me; the thought that the ones that shout the loudest actually have the least to offer. That’s why Mynydd Mawr was on my mind. It’s beautiful in surprisingly subtle ways. It would give the merest flicker of eye contact, at just the right moment, disrupting your life just when you thought you had it all sorted. Mountains like that don’t come along very often and they get you; hook, line and sinker.
The right time
I was lost to the thought of climbing Mynydd Mawr at the ‘right’ time. What that was, I didn’t really know. But I knew I’d know when it happened. Mynydd Mawr sits alone. It’s not part of a range, it knows its own mind – important when you consider its illustrious neighbours. Two roads hem it in, acting as a barrier, further subconsciously separating it from the ‘normal’ hills we climb when we go to that glorious part of the world. T
