Singletrack

Soon to be railing corners on the way back down.
Crack of sparrow’s fart.
Today, we pick an early start. Dawn rides are ace. Once you’ve
dragged yourself out of bed, you’ve done the hard bit. There’s
a slight chill in the air, a strange tint to the light and a stillness
that makes you feel guilty for breathing loudly. It’s a little bit
magical and always worth it.
Joining me in Llanberis at 6am are Andy and Al. They
decided to get up at two in the morning and drive through
the night. I generally like to be asleep at that time, so I headed
over the night before. However, by the time I arrived it had
gone midnight and the temperature had plummeted, leaving
me wide awake and freezing in my tiny sleeping bag. When I
meet Andy and Al at dawn, both raring to go, it appears my
plan has backfired… Not that I admit it.
As we cruise through the empty streets of Llanberis, I
remember past trips up Snowdon. There was the New Year’s
Eve summit bivi with fireworks and ‘champagne’. It rained,
the tent leaked, the Asti tasted like, er, Asti and the fireworks
were too damp to light. Then there was the trip where I
listened to an entire Rage Against the Machine album at full
blast on the drive over, exploded out of the car vibrating with
excitement and kicked a load of fully-suspended ass, up and
down the hill, despite being on my hardtail.
Al can remember a visit to Snowdon too, a trip where
he and a mate came over in the rain and walked up in jeans
and leather motorbike jackets. Soaked to the skin, they
encountered the army carrying out path modifications using
dynamite. Forced to take cover behind a rock, they were
virtually hypothermic by the time they got down.
A little disappointed that today’s trip will be less
‘memorable’ than Al’s, we begin to climb. Both Al and Andy
usually ride singlespeeds, but Snowdon appears to have scared
them onto more sensible bikes. However, as they stand on the
pedals and begin to stomp powerfully up the initial tarmac
climb I figure that they’ve forgotten how to shift. Then I
realise they’re in their easiest gears and out of the saddles
because the tarmac start is that steep. But, while steep is one
way to look at it, efficient is another, and we’re soon high
above town and looking for the Llanberis bridleway. I have to
sprint to stop Al, who’s ridden straight past the sign marked
‘Snowdon Summit’. You’d have thought it was a clue.
Get on up.
The Llanberis climb is a wide track with odd rock steps and
slabs blocking the way. It’s fun. Knowing the other two are
good on the climbs, I tell them it’s ‘80 per cent rideable’ and
set off. I don’t even get 10 metres before mistiming a wheel lift
and almost going over the bars - on a climb. Al doesn’t get any
further and Andy, laden with camera gear, wisely decides not
to try. ‘Seventy per cent,’ I say.
30