A Wintery Wander with the Grim Reaper on Pen y Fan

One chilly winter weekend back in the day, after a week of heavy snowfall, the hills were still white but the roads had cleared. It seemed like the perfect time to finally make the trip up Pen y Fan.

It’s not a bad run from home. About 90 minutes or so and we thought it would make a decent walk for us and our dog Stan. I didn't know at the time that I’d end the day feeling like I’d come the closest I've ever been to death. At least, knowingly. I mean, I might have once stood next to a proper lunatic in a pub who was quietly contemplating stabbing me with a pool cue, but I like to think I’m the sort of bloke who waits their turn to order a pint. None of this elbowing through the crowd to demand six cocktails while waving my card like I'm bidding at an auction. 

When we got near the mountain it became abundantly clear that we weren’t the only ones with this bright idea. The road had turned into one very long, unofficial car park. We eventually found a gap and squeezed in. What we didn’t realise was that the snow had covered up all the double yellow lines. So a few days later, a parking fine dropped through the letterbox. I suppose it was fair, technically, but I did think it was a bit harsh at the same time. No visible lines and no warning. We felt cheated, but the day could have been a LOT worse. 

From where we parked, the walk starts with a short up and down before a steady climb toward the top of Pen y Fan. It was slippery to say the least. The snow had been packed down by a steady stream of walkers, turning the path into something more suited to bobsleighs than boots. There were very few untouched patches so it was hard going, but also quite fun in a novelty sort of way. Loads of people were doing a charity SAS challenge, running the route carrying enormous backpacks. Fair play to them. I watched with respect and admiration, but absolutely no desire to join in. I prefer to take time to enjoy the scenery on my walks. I wouldn't be able to see that much on this one though. 

As we climbed higher, it got more exhausting and the visibility went from poor to "you may as well close your eyes". The slope got steeper and I began to lose my bearings a bit. At one point I started sliding sideways, managed to crouch down, dig my hands into the icy ground, and stop myself just in time. I looked to my right and all I could see was thick fog.

I kept slipping, trying not to panic. Eventually, I reached a patch of proper snow and managed to get some decent grip back. Stace took a photo of me at that point, mid-crawl...

Later that evening, safe at home with a coffee and all my limbs intact, I looked up some photos of Pen y Fan in better weather. That’s when I realised just how close I’d come to a rather dramatic exit. It gave me a proper shudder. A clear day with the same icy conditions and I wouldn’t have gone anywhere near that bit.

Of course, at the time I had no idea I was being an idiot, so we carried on. Now with more grip and slightly more respect for the terrain, we made it to the summit. The view was non-existent. We could barely see five metres ahead. We may as well have been standing in our back garden with a white bed sheet over our heads. Still, there’s something satisfying about making it to the top, even if the reward is just knowing you did it.

We didn’t linger. It was freezing, the visibility was still dreadful, and no amount of pretending we were in a snow globe was going to make it comfortable. So we continued along the top and started descending the other side. Gradually, the fog lifted and it became a lovely stroll down the hill, full of cheerful walkers and exhausted runners. It was great. I even had the energy to build a Bristol Rovers themed snowman.

All in all, it was a class walk and we genuinely loved it. If we’d known in advance that we’d get a parking fine and I’d nearly fall off a mountain, it might have taken the shine off. But in the moment, it was brilliant.

Aside from some wintry walks on the Malverns, I hadn’t done many hikes in the snow like this. But there’s nothing quite like filling your lungs with crisp mountain air and pushing yourself up a slope that wants to put you on your arse. I even came away with a couple of useful life lessons. First, be properly prepared when walking in winter. And second, always keep a hair dryer in the boot, just in case you need to melt some ice to check whether you’re parked illegally.