Much of the UK these days appears to be a virtual snow desert, with winter almost seeming like a long extension of autumn in many parts of Britain.  As a January baby, perhaps it was always inevitable that I’d love proper cold spells of weather. Maybe this is why it pains me just how hard it is to receive a decent snowfall on our shores. Just after Christmas though my spirits started to rise as a northerly wind set in.  Enviable amounts of snow started to fall in Scotland, but sadly, much of southern and central England was left free from snow clouds. I knew then that I’d need to travel if I wanted a snowy fix. The Highlands were too far, but North Wales appeared to doing rather well and was a fair bit closer. That was it then. After a two- year hiatus, I’d head back across the border into Wales and enjoy some walking in the Moelwyns- a lesser-visited region of Snowdonia I’d wanted to explore for ages. 

My journey into this more remote part of the national park nearly ended before it even started. The green and pleasant hills lower down were quickly replaced by a near Arctic landscape. Powdery snow blew across the higher reaches of the Crimea Pass and it was a hostile place. Thankfully, my car and I made it across and I was soon parked in the village of Tanygrisiau close to the town of Blaenau Ffestiniog. 

The Start of The Walk In The Moelwyns

 Right from the off the path headed skywards. Normally I’d be cursing hills so early into a walk, but on this occasion it helped warm me up on what was a very cold day. I was starting the route by following a small part of The Snowdonia Slate Trail. This is an eighty three mile long circular path around northern Snowdonia. As such navigation was no problem and I got my first taste of how the trail had earned its name. Passing through the now disused Cwmorthin Quarry, I’d never seen so much slate in my life. I couldn’t help but wonder what it must have been like for the workers back when it was fully operational.

Soon I reached Llyn Cwmorthin and followed the path along its southern shore. Even after only a kilometre or so of walking, the lake felt remote and I couldn’t help but pause to watch a couple clearing snow from their car outside a small dwelling on the other side of the water. Whether it was a home or not I didn’t know. The view from the window would surely make it a great place to wake up each day if it was.

Not a bad backdrop for the small dwelling I spotted from across the lake I’m sure you’ll agree.

Eventually, I passed an old, ruined building at the far end of the lake and then spotted what lay ahead of me. Cut into the mountainside was a near diagonal path that climbed steeply away from the lake and towards the clouds that were now starting to scud in from the north.

Things Get Wild

Loose terrain and patchy snow beneath my feet made it hard going, but the views and my elevated heart rate more than made up for it. With sweat on my brow and the need to remove a layer of clothing, it didn’t take long to reach another area of disused quarry buildings.

Now I felt fully immersed in the mountains, as they completely surrounded me on all sides. Other than the sound of water cascading downhill in a distant stream, there was silence- no doubt enhanced by the the now deep snow laying several inches thick on the ground. I couldn’t help but pause to gaze around in all directions, so I could fully appreciate the landscape. The location would be beautiful at any time of the year. On this walk in the Moelwyns though, the snowy coat it was wearing just seemed to add another dimension entirely. The dark slate making up the abandoned buildings along with the many crags on the mountainsides seemed to deeply contrast against the pristine snowy blanket.

What Would The Weather Do?

Then there were the contrasting colours in the sky to enjoy too. Above my head and to the south was a near blue sky. The sun sent its rays down onto the snow, which made it sparkle like diamonds. To the north though the sky was black and laden with snow. Distant views that had been visible only moments before were now obscured by a what looked like a wall of mist.  As I checked my map and continued uphill, I felt a mixture of excitement and nervousness. There was no way of knowing how heavy the approaching snow would be or how long it would last. The forecast had said showers, however mountains often have other ideas as to how the actual conditions will prevail on the day.

There were very few signs of other footsteps in the snow. Great for pristine conditions, but it made keeping track of where the path was rather more challenging.

The contrast of the snow against the ever- darkening sky was a very enjoyable if slightly foreboding sight. It was time to put the waterproof jacket back on.

When the snow did arrive, it was a mixture of big flakes and hail stones. The biting northerly wind helped drive it in sideways. The ski mask certainly came in handy.

Other than the solitude and fine views I was enjoying, what I most loved about my walk by this point how much I was living in the moment.

 Anxiety has been the bane of my life for as long as I can remember, however on this walk in the Moelwyns all I was focussed on were the stunning views around me and keeping track of where the path went. Many of the steps taken had to be thought about just to ensure my feet didn’t sink into an ankle swallowing bog hidden beneath the snow. None of these issues would have been present in normal conditions. On this walk in the Moelwyns though, it made it feel all the more adventurous.

Hardy mountain sheep were my only company during the first half of the walk.  I seemed to be the only person around for miles.

Heading Towards Cnicht Summit

It was after nearly two hours of walking that I came across other hikers. I had now joined the popular Cambrian Way and was heading towards the top of Cnicht. At 689 metres high, this summit almost fades into obscurity when compared to other mountains in Snowdonia. It isn’t even the highest point in the Moelwyn range. This title belongs to Moelwyn Mawr, which stands almost a hundred metres taller at seven hundred and seventy metres.

  What Cnicht lakes in height though it more than makes up for in rugged beauty and prominence. It had dominated my view for a good hour or so before I finally tackled it and the ascent certainly didn’t disappoint. The terrain falls away steeply on both sides, offering far reaching and staggeringly beautiful views. On my left I looked down into Cwm Croesor, watching several streams tumble down the rocky slopes at the head of the valley.

Seeing the first footsteps for some while came as a relief as I knew I was on the right route.

What this photo doesn’t show is the sound of flowing water I could hear from down in the cwm.

It was the view on my right though that really blew me away. In the foreground below was a truly rugged landscape. The hills were modest in height, but looked wild and harsh in a way that is hard to describe. What added to their wild allure were the many small lakes scattered across the expanse of tussocky grass and rocky knolls. The proper winter conditions had created layers of ice on their surfaces, but lower elevation meant the seemingly brown vegetation surrounding them was more visible through the thinner snow cover.

As I scrambled up the steep and rocky final hundred metres or so to the summit, I met a lone walker armed with his camera. He was pointing it in a northerly direction and I didn’t need much encouragement to follow suit just because of what we could see before us. The Arctic airmass had given a clarity to the air that is hard to find for much of the year. We admired the view of The Snowdon Massif, as well as the nearby summits of Moel Hebog and Moel- siobod.

Varying weather conditions within our view just added to the depth of the experience. Some of the mountains were bathed in sunlight. Only a short distance away though clouds obscured the summits, no doubt pasting them with another coating of snow. We both chatted briefly and then stood in silence to admire what we’d earned with our hard work. Finally, we wished each other a safe onwards trip, before we headed in opposite directions.

It is hard to put into words just how impressive the view was from Cnicht. Snow on the many summits just made the mountains appear all the more majestic in my eyes.

Another heavy shower tries its best to obscure the view of Yr Wyddfa ( Snowdon ) as I looked north.

Watching the hiker I’d met at the summit head the way I’d just come and into a landscape dominated by rock and snow.

The Return Leg

Care needed to be taken on the steep descent of Cnicht. There is some minor scrambling and bottom sliding was needed to negotiate the slippery rocks in the safest way. Once again the view was sublime. Looking west revealed a more welcoming landscape, where snow gave way to green fields and eventually the shimmering Irish Sea.

Thankfully, the going wasn’t tough for too long. I made easy ground all the way down to the hamlet of Croesor, before retracing my steps on the other side of Cwm Croeser. A pleasant lane was followed for a short while before I once again joined The Snowdonia Slate Trail.

Cnicht looks most impressive when viewed from the west. You can see how its distinctive summit  has earned its nickname as ‘ The Welsh Matterhorn.’

Navigation was easy by this point, but the next three kilometres or so were hard earned. Much of the elevation I had lost descending Cnicht had to regained. It was no surprise then that it didn’t take long for another layer of clothing to be removed. I thought about scaling nearby Moelwyn Mawr, but waning sunlight talked me out of it.  I stuck to The Slate Trail which had me passing another disused quarry and skirting the isolated Llyn Croesor before rejoining the path I had taken earlier above Llyn Cwmorthin.

The light appeared to change almost by the minute on my final leg of the journey. I guess this is why photographers call the time before sunset the golden hour.

It was a relief to once again reach the ruined quarry I’d visited earlier above Llyn Cwmorthin. The snow had set in properly and would fall all the way back to the car.

Re-tracing my steps all the way back to my car was a pleasure. Walking was nearly at an end and twinkling lights of the village beckoned me on. I also couldn’t help but admire two local lads who passed me on mountain bikes. A brief chat revealed they were heading into the mountains for a night of wild camping. I’m sure they were fully kitted out for a warm night in their sleeping bags. For me though it was a relief to have a warm car ready and a night in a hotel.