Hero Worship

Beloved by walkers, climbers, painters and poets, Snowdon is Britain’s favourite mountain and for very good reason: it’s awesome from every angle.

- Jenny Walters

THE FIRST TIME I climbed Snowdon I felt like a superhero. I was in my 20s, walking it with a group of friends for charity, and I almost swerved into the kerb on spotting it as we drove along the A5: “We’re going up that?” I squeaked. I was used to the gentle swell of the South Downs: this looked like Everest.

A couple of our number had walked it before and kept promising us “It’s all flat from here” as we inched up the Pyg Track. I looked from their faces up – up, up – to the summit and it was obvious their encouragement was a wicked lie. Gradually, our group straggled out along the clear, zig-zag path and I was one of the last pair to wheeze into the summit café as everyone else drained their tea.

It didn’t matter I was the slowest and we won’t talk about the struggle I had shuffling to the breakfast table the next morning: those final steps to the summit viewfinder were in all senses staggering. I had sweated my way to 3560 feet (1085m) and the highest bit of ground in all of Wales – and England too. I had climbed a proper mountain, with crag and cliffand the tiniest bit of gnarly footwork. I was looking at a glorious view across a tangle of ridges and lakes and seemingly infinite hills. And there was something else too. Despite the pain in my quads and the quantity of mini jaffa cakes it had taken to get me there (27), I already wanted to climb it again.