Glyder Fawr & Glyder Fach

It was a sunny morning in Dolgellau, our home base for the past couple of days; today we would head northwest to explore the Glyders.

Feeling daunted by the description of the terrain (the “Devil's Kitchen,” in particular), I was more inclined to join two others for an abbreviated version of the adventure. But my comrades were fully confident that I could do it, so here we go ...

Our guide shared a legend about a prince's son being drowned in Llyn Idwal by his jealous uncle, after which no bird will fly over the lake. [I did spot two Canada geese in the water (they're everywhere!?), but perhaps they waddled in from the shoreline.]

Before we reached the trickiest part, a couple of young guys passed us, heading down. (Thankfully, we would not be returning this way.) Shaking his head, and moving faster over the rocks than I ever would (in casual shoes, no less), the second one remarked “Let's go for a walk, he said!” At least I knew what I'd signed up for.

The Devil's Kitchen is that v-shaped notch to the right of center in the next photo. With the rockfall fanning out below. Which is where we were going.

Being in the middle of the group allowed me to capture a clear perspective on a section of the climb up Devil's Kitchen. Having handed off my poles to our gracious guide, I'd ascended (more or less) on all fours. I'd decided that the key was to focus, focus, focus. And not look down.

I'm happy to report that we all made it, unscathed, and paused to admire the view on our way to the summit of Glyder Fawr.

To appreciate the scale (and the challenge) of this walk, look for the tiny figure in the field of rocks in the next photo. (That's me, thanks to one of the members of our group who snapped the photo.)

I can imagine how legends about giants might have developed. Thousands of years ago, long after the glaciers had receded, our ancient ancestors could not have conceived how these massive slabs of rock came to be strewn about.

Clear skies rewarded us with a panoramic view. Having ascended the highest peak in the Glyders, we trekked onward to visit a second one.

Early on, our guide had surveyed us about any physical limitations or issues we might have. My ankle was better, but still feeling not quite 100%; when I shared that I had a “cranky ankle” she exclaimed “A crankle!” without missing a beat. The ankle would soon be forgotten on this hike, as I developed a sharp pain on the outside of one knee. All the climbing, and babying my ankle, may have spawned a new problem. I was trailing the rest of the group; putting weight on my bent knee was excruciating, so I was essentially dragging that leg along.

Our next destination was Glyder Fach (with, of course, a bit more climbing). It was windy up there, so we'd all bundled up.

My favorite feature (so far) was Castell y Gwynt (aptly, “Castle of the Wind”), atop Glyder Fach.

We also visited the iconic Cantilever Stone, but surprisingly only one intrepid member of the group chose to clamber up for a photo op. Out of the question, for me; it would take a full-body agility that I didn't have, at that point. We crossed a boulder field and began our descent.

The others pulled ahead (a far cry from my pace yesterday!) and wouldn't come into sight again until about a mile and a half later, near the end of our route. I had begun to wonder whether I could make it down under my own power. Our guide pulled a knee strap out of her pack, which unfortunately didn't have any effect.

We covered 6.2 miles, with some 2,400 feet of elevation gain—most of that (~1,960 feet) over a distance of ~1.4 miles. I believe it's safe to say that this will stand as the most challenging hike of my life—even if you factor out the knee pain.

Three more days of hiking lie ahead. Tomorrow, at least, promises to be mellow.