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Bring Me Sunshine...

Submitted by An Outdoor Idiots Team Member.



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The first thing we did was to put in a full day of walking the day before. This wouldn't be enough for us to acclimatise to the horrific temperature - conventional wisdom says this can take a week or more. But it would let us know our limits, and tell us if the idea of climbing a fairly large mountain in the middle of the current weather was beyond us. For that preliminary walk, we walked throughout the day, including midday. But it was a walk that would offer plenty of shade and respite should we need it. There were forests to take refuge in, and even abandoned quarries and mines. The walk had some very strenuous uphill sections, but they were all relatively short - just a taste of the continuous uphill slog that we were going to be faced with the next day.

Everything went smoothly on this "taster day". The temperature in the valleys, where we started the walk, was about 30°C, and it was a cloudless day. However, we avoided sunburn and any signs of heat illness. We struggled to enjoy it - neither of us like the heat - but it was nevertheless an interesting day. Most things we did centred around the heat and the overwhelming urge we felt to stay as cool as possible. We walked slowly, and stopped often. We became very tuned in to the idea of looking for shade. Even the bit of forest we took refuge in was chosen because it was in an area that caught the wind. It was a fairly windless day, but, from a distance, we could see some trees gently moving in that area, unlike any other. We spent about an hour sitting around in the forest, making the most of the shade. That was nice, but it didn't compare to the experience we had later of standing at the entrance of a mine tunnel. That was a truly marvellous bit of relief. In fact, we ventured a few paces into the tunnel to take refuge from the roasting we were getting outside, and within quarter of an hour we were feeling positively chilly. This was helped by the airflow, of which there was plenty, because the tunnel did not lead to a dead end.

We really were in the realm of the insect. Throughout the day, we saw types of insect that were unlike anything we had seen before, and most certainly should not have been allowed. We saw a vivid green ladybird with yellow dots (someone will no doubt send us an email telling us that we didn't, and that it was probably a shield bug or a rosemary beetle; they will be wrong), and a fly that was shockingly large - probably about an inch and a half long. Just as we were marvelling at it, it took off, at a shocking speed. I could swear it was humming the theme to "Airwolf" as it disappeared.

By contrast, mammalian life wasn't doing so well. We saw two bats and three rodents, all dead. And the sheep were having a hard time of it. Sheep aren't as stupid as people like to make out.

[The Editor speaks: "Poppycock!"]
[Flossy speaks: "Baa-aaa-aah!"]
[The Editor speaks: "Well okay, they can make a half-decent cup of tea, I suppose. I'll give them that."]
[Flossy speaks: "..."]
[The Editor speaks: "Can't you take a hint, Flossy!? Kettle! Now!"]
[Flossy speaks: "Baa-aaa-aah."]

On three occasions, we almost stumbled over sheep. We didn't see them until we were almost on top of them. They had found tiny little craters in the ground - just enough to lie in to get a bit of respite from the sun's rays. We got used to them running off when they realised we were there, until one, even after we had surprised it, surprised us. It wouldn't budge. It was clearly unhappy that we had got so close to it - literally within arms reach - but it wasn't going to give up its spot for anyone. It had found a tiny bit of shade and it was going to stay there for the rest of the day. That was impressive, but the most impressive display of the wisdom of sheep came as we descended into an abandoned quarry. I had visited this quarry on many occasions in the past, and had appreciated it for just how quiet, lonely, and, well, abandoned it was. On this hot day, however, I noticed that a group of sheep had had the same idea as us - they were lying just inside the entrance to a mine tunnel. To get there, they must have made a fairly awkward descent into the quarry. And there was no grass in the quarry, so they had clearly had to choose between food and shade. These sheep knew what was what, and where was where. And they had got there before us.

So that was day one. Back at the campsite, at the end of the day, and when the light had just faded enough for the rule of the midges to end, I noticed a wonderful thing: there was only one mountain visible from the campsite, and by extraordinary coincidence, it was the mountain we intended to climb the next day. This wasn't planned - there were much closer campsites than this one. Anyway, I couldn't resist trying to get a picture of it, with the magic light-enhancing facilities of a modern camera:

Moel Siabod
Moel Siabod and a Tent. Moel Siabod is the one in the distance, without the guy lines.

Moel Siabod has its summit at 872 metres or 2860 feet. The walk we were planning started at an altitude of 150 metres, and would cover a horizontal distance of about 10 kilometres. According to the Naismith rule (or my version of it, where I treat steep descents in the same way as steep ascents - this works well for me) the whole walk could be done in less than 5 hours. But we were expecting to progress very slowly for various reasons: we would be walking slowly, resting regularly, stopping to refill water, and we were also going to approach it from the ridge to the south-east, which involves the odd bit of scrambling. On paper, it is a relatively straightforward undertaking. But we were careful not to underestimate it. The approach to the summit would be almost continuously uphill, and the total height gain was significant. As it happens, both the height gain and the horizontal distance were almost identical to walking up Snowdon via its most popular route (which starts at an altitude of about 350 metres), then back down again, which is considered a fair day out by many. But the main reason we were careful not to underestimate it was, of course, the heat.









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