White Mountains 2010
The Black Mountains and Cardiff hills in snow.
The treacherous Hafod road winding around Mynydd Llangatwg. Heavy snowfall in Mid Wales had forced plans to be changed, so the weekend was spent caving.
Llanelly Hill, my childhood home, seen over the Clydach Gorge.
Snow-on-ice, as the narrow road winds over 50 metres of steep slopes, and 50 metres of crags and quarries. Mistakes are not permitted. The lack of snow tyres and chains in the UK is to be expected with so few days of proper snow, but some ignorant insurance companies showed their stupidity by charging extra for cars with winter tyres, since they were "a modification to the manufacturer's specifications".
The southern Black Mountains, seen from Mynydd Llangatwg. On the left is the edge of the Mynydd Llangatwg Escarpment. Visible in the Black Mountains are Mynydd Llangorse (515 metres), Mynydd Troed (609 metres), Pen Allt-mawr (719 metres), Pen Cerrig-calch (701 metres), Crug Mawr (550 metres) and the Sugar Loaf (596 metres).
By the next day, the skies had become immaculate, and many walkers were out enjoying it. The best I got was this view of the back of Corn Du (873 metres), Pen y Fan (886 metres) and Cribyn (795 metres).
A weekend later, and we headed for the top end of the Black Mountains, seen here from the lane accessing the tiny Cwmfforest village, at the head of the Rhiangoll valley. The farm equipment appears as an aberration against the monochromatic scene. On the left is the Y Grîb ridge, followed by the Pen Trumau ridge and Mynydd Llysiau (663 metres). My pathetic little car was the only regular car daring to follow the increasingly snowy lane, but it coped admirably, getting some shocked looks from the local farmers.
Mynydd Llysiau, the last of our targets.
End of the Pen Allt-mawr ridge. From this angle, it looks almost identical to the last mountain.
Guarding the gate.
One green field.
Mynydd Troed and the Rhiangoll valley.
Tracks of a fox who had been hunting grouse on the mountains.
Wild Welsh mountain ponies at the Rhiw Trumau pass.
White mountains, at the head of the Grwyne Fechan valley. On the left is Pen Trumau, leading up to Waun Fach. On the right is Mynydd Llysiau.
At Pen Trumau, we hit the decreasing cloud base, but being so close to the mountains, we weren't turning back now. The path remained visible enough to point us towards the top.
Haggs and deep drifts. In this featureless landscape, such a sight stands out like a mountain sitting on the mountains.
Trough.
Finally, the tracks disappeared, and we had to resort to a GPS to find the top of the Black Mountains; Waun Fach (811 metres). A lonely rock, normally surrounded by disintegrating black bog, but surrounded here by an endless sea of white drifts.
From here, there was nothing to show the route over the small moorland top. Visibility was down to less than 5 metres, with or without snow goggles. We walked on a compass bearing, and successfully located the path heading onwards down the ridge.
Now in the full force of the wind, we ploughed on along the ridge, tracking off the path when it dropped too low, but returning to it when the snow-covered heather proved too much.
Nearing the next summit, a dog located us. We waited for its owners at the next summit, and learned that they had been following our tracks to reach the tops. Travelling with a GPS but no compass, they seemed to be looking for a good route without realising the distances involved in completing the ridge. So they joined our route, and accompanied us for the rest of the walk.
The second highest summit in the Black Mountains; Pen y Gadair Fawr (800 metres). After touching top, we turned towards the Grwyne Fechan, and sledged on our waterproofs down into the valley.
Back below the cloud base, the sleet stopped for long enough to get a good view over the Grwyne Fechan valley. On the far left is Pen Cerrig-calch, with the small rise on the ridge being Pen Allt-mawr. Directly in front of that is the invisible top of Pen Twyn Glas (646 metres). The ridge corner in the middle of the picture is Mynydd Llysiau, with the Rhiw Trumau pass on its right. Our route would head directly up the ridge corner.
Looking back to the head of the Grwyne Fechan valley. The obvious valley heading up into the mountains is Nant y Gadair, with Waun Fach and Pen y Gadair Fawr on either side of it.
Lower Grwyne Fechan. Above the largest forestry is Pen Twyn Mawr (658 metres), and the whitest top to its right is Crug Mawr. The better known hills beyond that are covered by low clouds.
The increasingly steep climb up Mynydd Llysiau. There is no real path up this slope, but the slope is walkable with care.
A walk along the ridge then reaches the top of Mynydd Llysiau. It's so indistinct that it would be very easy to walk past it without noticing the pile of stones marking the top.
Returning down Rhiw Trumau.
Deep drifts at Rhiw Trumau, now partly melted by the sleet.
The dramatic Mynydd Llangatwg escarpment (529 and 530 metres), where the cliffs drop 200 metres for over 4 km of mountainside.
The southeast Brecon Beacons around Abergavenny. The Blorenge (561 metres), Gilwern Hill (441 metres) and Mynydd Llangatwg.
Cardiff managed to avoid it all at first, laughing at the rest of the UK. But the laughter was repaid very quickly, with 10 cm (4 inches) of snow in one night, and no sign of letting up the next day. The driving turned predictably bad - the councils had completely failed to cope, abandoning most housing estates, and leaving grit bins empty. This van was trying to aim up the gentle slope, but slid back down and had to abandon the attempt.
A very long wait for a train.
Perhaps you could call a taxi.
By the next day, another 20 cm (8 inches) had fallen. The housing estates were smothered under 30 cm of snow, and only the 4x4 drivers could get out. Many drivers had failed to get home, and had abandoned their cars wherever they had managed to reach.
The snow line.
Birdhouses with hats.
Lost and alone.
With the immaculate weather, I took a walk through Tongwynlais.
The road through Tongwynlais is a major road, but even that had not been cleared. Many cars had been abandoned, though many were guests at the nearby hotel.
30 MPH, if you can manage that on this snow.
Houses in Tongwynlais.
Outside the hotel, the road was a joke. On my return, several lorries were giving up, and several cars were attempting to escape (or arrive for work...), each needing the collective help of every passer-by to help manoeuvre them through the snow. Ever hear of snow chains? Nope, me neither.
Power freeze.
Greenmeadow Wood.
Branches drooping under the snow. One hit, and the snow would fall off, allowing the branches to spring back upright.
The path climbing up to the farmland.
Gateway to the green meadow.
Greenmeadow? The only signs of disturbance are the troughs made by animals trying to get into the forest.
The snow was now as little as 38 cm (15 inches) in depth on the open ground, and a metre or more in drifts. Thin, powder snow, too soft for skis or snow shoes, but almost effortless to walk through.
Tracks.
The hills of Cardiff from Rhiwbina Farm. On the left is the Garth Hill (307 metres), the highest point in Cardiff county, while on the right, seen over Fforestganol and Fforest-fawr is Craig yr Allt (273 metres).
The road up Rhiwbina Hill, drowned under thick snow. Even the landrover was forced to turn around. Only the tractors could make it past here.
Wenallt (229 metres) and Coed-y-wenallt.
Castell Coch and a misty Lesser Garth.
No Parking. Access required at all times.
The sun had managed to heat up the trees enough for the snow to melt and fall onto whatever was underneath. Namely me. My normal lens had been playing up since Rhiwbina Farm, and decided not to take any more pictures - perhaps a dry joint caused by the frost.
Robin.
A long sledge run through Coed-y-wenallt.
The abandoned Cefncarnau-fawr village.
Light in the forest.
Light.
Snowfall avenue.
Wenallt fields.
Wenallt.
Snowboarding in our capital city.
Impression of takeoff.
View over Whitchurch.
A pony hurried over to me in the hopes that I might have something to eat that was not layered under a leg-depth of snow. No such luck, I'm afraid.
The edge of Greenmeadow Wood.
Failed attempt to drive uphill through the snow. While it may seem impressive to have made it so far before sliding out of control, you have to wonder what sort of person would try to drive in such a place.
By the next day, the clouds had rolled in, and I headed out with the reserve camera. This is the M4 Junction 32. Empty.
A hill too far. Cars were abandoned wherever they had reached, proportional to the grip left on their tyres. The one at the bottom had no tread at all, and resorted to having a new set delivered and changed at the roadside. The shoppers had given up on using their cars, and were walking for miles, dragging their shopping behind them on sledges. We seem to have moved into the Arctic by accident.
Snow blown over the railway.
Skate Park at the foot of Lesser Garth (177 metres).
Abandoned roads in Taff's Well.
Panorama of the hills around Taff's Well; Garth Hill, Mynydd Meio (322 metres) and Craig yr Allt.
Heol Gôch, the steady climb to Pentyrch. Cars were again abandoned wherever they had reached, with the subsequent queue also blocked from continuing.
Pentyrch. Beyond here, the snow turned to ice, and the residents were marooned.
Lesser Garth, the limestone side of the hill.
Once onto the main hill, the snow piled into deeper drifts, easily enough to randomly swallow my legs.
The burial mound on the summit, guarded by hidden drifts. By the time I reached this point on the way back, my footprints had been completely filled with snow.
Snow whistling over the hillsides.
View from the summit. On the left are the hills around the Ogmore valleys, followed by the hills around the Rhondda valleys, then the Taf valley, the masted tops around Senghenydd, and the hillsides around Caerphilly.
Blown snow drifting into the ditched path.
Patterns in the snow.
Returning through the fields by Pentyrch.
Sheep wading through the snow.
Garth Wood on Lesser Garth.
Abandoned cars in Morganstown. The few that tried to leave needed as much help as they could muster, to avoid sliding into others. By the time I returned home, the entire estate had ganged together to make up for the council's failure, slowly clearing our roads with shovels and hard graft, supplied with tea and hot chocolate. Morganstown, Taff's Well, Tongwynlais, Rhiwbina, and all of the others had to do the same, or simply fail to get out. A side to city communities that rarely gets a chance to show itself.
The treacherous Hafod road winding around Mynydd Llangatwg. Heavy snowfall in Mid Wales had forced plans to be changed, so the weekend was spent caving.
Llanelly Hill, my childhood home, seen over the Clydach Gorge.
Snow-on-ice, as the narrow road winds over 50 metres of steep slopes, and 50 metres of crags and quarries. Mistakes are not permitted. The lack of snow tyres and chains in the UK is to be expected with so few days of proper snow, but some ignorant insurance companies showed their stupidity by charging extra for cars with winter tyres, since they were "a modification to the manufacturer's specifications".
The southern Black Mountains, seen from Mynydd Llangatwg. On the left is the edge of the Mynydd Llangatwg Escarpment. Visible in the Black Mountains are Mynydd Llangorse (515 metres), Mynydd Troed (609 metres), Pen Allt-mawr (719 metres), Pen Cerrig-calch (701 metres), Crug Mawr (550 metres) and the Sugar Loaf (596 metres).
By the next day, the skies had become immaculate, and many walkers were out enjoying it. The best I got was this view of the back of Corn Du (873 metres), Pen y Fan (886 metres) and Cribyn (795 metres).
A weekend later, and we headed for the top end of the Black Mountains, seen here from the lane accessing the tiny Cwmfforest village, at the head of the Rhiangoll valley. The farm equipment appears as an aberration against the monochromatic scene. On the left is the Y Grîb ridge, followed by the Pen Trumau ridge and Mynydd Llysiau (663 metres). My pathetic little car was the only regular car daring to follow the increasingly snowy lane, but it coped admirably, getting some shocked looks from the local farmers.
Mynydd Llysiau, the last of our targets.
End of the Pen Allt-mawr ridge. From this angle, it looks almost identical to the last mountain.
Guarding the gate.
One green field.
Mynydd Troed and the Rhiangoll valley.
Tracks of a fox who had been hunting grouse on the mountains.
Wild Welsh mountain ponies at the Rhiw Trumau pass.
White mountains, at the head of the Grwyne Fechan valley. On the left is Pen Trumau, leading up to Waun Fach. On the right is Mynydd Llysiau.
At Pen Trumau, we hit the decreasing cloud base, but being so close to the mountains, we weren't turning back now. The path remained visible enough to point us towards the top.
Haggs and deep drifts. In this featureless landscape, such a sight stands out like a mountain sitting on the mountains.
Trough.
Finally, the tracks disappeared, and we had to resort to a GPS to find the top of the Black Mountains; Waun Fach (811 metres). A lonely rock, normally surrounded by disintegrating black bog, but surrounded here by an endless sea of white drifts.
From here, there was nothing to show the route over the small moorland top. Visibility was down to less than 5 metres, with or without snow goggles. We walked on a compass bearing, and successfully located the path heading onwards down the ridge.
Now in the full force of the wind, we ploughed on along the ridge, tracking off the path when it dropped too low, but returning to it when the snow-covered heather proved too much.
Nearing the next summit, a dog located us. We waited for its owners at the next summit, and learned that they had been following our tracks to reach the tops. Travelling with a GPS but no compass, they seemed to be looking for a good route without realising the distances involved in completing the ridge. So they joined our route, and accompanied us for the rest of the walk.
The second highest summit in the Black Mountains; Pen y Gadair Fawr (800 metres). After touching top, we turned towards the Grwyne Fechan, and sledged on our waterproofs down into the valley.
Back below the cloud base, the sleet stopped for long enough to get a good view over the Grwyne Fechan valley. On the far left is Pen Cerrig-calch, with the small rise on the ridge being Pen Allt-mawr. Directly in front of that is the invisible top of Pen Twyn Glas (646 metres). The ridge corner in the middle of the picture is Mynydd Llysiau, with the Rhiw Trumau pass on its right. Our route would head directly up the ridge corner.
Looking back to the head of the Grwyne Fechan valley. The obvious valley heading up into the mountains is Nant y Gadair, with Waun Fach and Pen y Gadair Fawr on either side of it.
Lower Grwyne Fechan. Above the largest forestry is Pen Twyn Mawr (658 metres), and the whitest top to its right is Crug Mawr. The better known hills beyond that are covered by low clouds.
The increasingly steep climb up Mynydd Llysiau. There is no real path up this slope, but the slope is walkable with care.
A walk along the ridge then reaches the top of Mynydd Llysiau. It's so indistinct that it would be very easy to walk past it without noticing the pile of stones marking the top.
Returning down Rhiw Trumau.
Deep drifts at Rhiw Trumau, now partly melted by the sleet.
The dramatic Mynydd Llangatwg escarpment (529 and 530 metres), where the cliffs drop 200 metres for over 4 km of mountainside.
The southeast Brecon Beacons around Abergavenny. The Blorenge (561 metres), Gilwern Hill (441 metres) and Mynydd Llangatwg.
Cardiff managed to avoid it all at first, laughing at the rest of the UK. But the laughter was repaid very quickly, with 10 cm (4 inches) of snow in one night, and no sign of letting up the next day. The driving turned predictably bad - the councils had completely failed to cope, abandoning most housing estates, and leaving grit bins empty. This van was trying to aim up the gentle slope, but slid back down and had to abandon the attempt.
A very long wait for a train.
Perhaps you could call a taxi.
By the next day, another 20 cm (8 inches) had fallen. The housing estates were smothered under 30 cm of snow, and only the 4x4 drivers could get out. Many drivers had failed to get home, and had abandoned their cars wherever they had managed to reach.
The snow line.
Birdhouses with hats.
Lost and alone.
With the immaculate weather, I took a walk through Tongwynlais.
The road through Tongwynlais is a major road, but even that had not been cleared. Many cars had been abandoned, though many were guests at the nearby hotel.
30 MPH, if you can manage that on this snow.
Houses in Tongwynlais.
Outside the hotel, the road was a joke. On my return, several lorries were giving up, and several cars were attempting to escape (or arrive for work...), each needing the collective help of every passer-by to help manoeuvre them through the snow. Ever hear of snow chains? Nope, me neither.
Power freeze.
Greenmeadow Wood.
Branches drooping under the snow. One hit, and the snow would fall off, allowing the branches to spring back upright.
The path climbing up to the farmland.
Gateway to the green meadow.
Greenmeadow? The only signs of disturbance are the troughs made by animals trying to get into the forest.
The snow was now as little as 38 cm (15 inches) in depth on the open ground, and a metre or more in drifts. Thin, powder snow, too soft for skis or snow shoes, but almost effortless to walk through.
Tracks.
The hills of Cardiff from Rhiwbina Farm. On the left is the Garth Hill (307 metres), the highest point in Cardiff county, while on the right, seen over Fforestganol and Fforest-fawr is Craig yr Allt (273 metres).
The road up Rhiwbina Hill, drowned under thick snow. Even the landrover was forced to turn around. Only the tractors could make it past here.
Wenallt (229 metres) and Coed-y-wenallt.
Castell Coch and a misty Lesser Garth.
No Parking. Access required at all times.
The sun had managed to heat up the trees enough for the snow to melt and fall onto whatever was underneath. Namely me. My normal lens had been playing up since Rhiwbina Farm, and decided not to take any more pictures - perhaps a dry joint caused by the frost.
Robin.
A long sledge run through Coed-y-wenallt.
The abandoned Cefncarnau-fawr village.
Light in the forest.
Light.
Snowfall avenue.
Wenallt fields.
Wenallt.
Snowboarding in our capital city.
Impression of takeoff.
View over Whitchurch.
A pony hurried over to me in the hopes that I might have something to eat that was not layered under a leg-depth of snow. No such luck, I'm afraid.
The edge of Greenmeadow Wood.
Failed attempt to drive uphill through the snow. While it may seem impressive to have made it so far before sliding out of control, you have to wonder what sort of person would try to drive in such a place.
By the next day, the clouds had rolled in, and I headed out with the reserve camera. This is the M4 Junction 32. Empty.
A hill too far. Cars were abandoned wherever they had reached, proportional to the grip left on their tyres. The one at the bottom had no tread at all, and resorted to having a new set delivered and changed at the roadside. The shoppers had given up on using their cars, and were walking for miles, dragging their shopping behind them on sledges. We seem to have moved into the Arctic by accident.
Snow blown over the railway.
Skate Park at the foot of Lesser Garth (177 metres).
Abandoned roads in Taff's Well.
Panorama of the hills around Taff's Well; Garth Hill, Mynydd Meio (322 metres) and Craig yr Allt.
Heol Gôch, the steady climb to Pentyrch. Cars were again abandoned wherever they had reached, with the subsequent queue also blocked from continuing.
Pentyrch. Beyond here, the snow turned to ice, and the residents were marooned.
Lesser Garth, the limestone side of the hill.
Once onto the main hill, the snow piled into deeper drifts, easily enough to randomly swallow my legs.
The burial mound on the summit, guarded by hidden drifts. By the time I reached this point on the way back, my footprints had been completely filled with snow.
Snow whistling over the hillsides.
View from the summit. On the left are the hills around the Ogmore valleys, followed by the hills around the Rhondda valleys, then the Taf valley, the masted tops around Senghenydd, and the hillsides around Caerphilly.
Blown snow drifting into the ditched path.
Patterns in the snow.
Returning through the fields by Pentyrch.
Sheep wading through the snow.
Garth Wood on Lesser Garth.
Abandoned cars in Morganstown. The few that tried to leave needed as much help as they could muster, to avoid sliding into others. By the time I returned home, the entire estate had ganged together to make up for the council's failure, slowly clearing our roads with shovels and hard graft, supplied with tea and hot chocolate. Morganstown, Taff's Well, Tongwynlais, Rhiwbina, and all of the others had to do the same, or simply fail to get out. A side to city communities that rarely gets a chance to show itself.