Awesome Specialized balance bike. © Haydn Williams 2013

We arrived at low tide and so were able to explore the cave that cuts under the headland. Unfortunately no-one provided any entertainment by falling into the water.

Gareth avoiding the big puddle in the cave at Mullion Cove. © Haydn Williams 2013

The good weather continued over the next couple of days, and we got to explore some non-seaside areas of Cornwall too.

It's not all beaches. © Haydn Williams 2013

You can just about see Gareth running across Stithians Dam. © Haydn Williams 2013

Paul managed to add some excitement to the trip by falling over and breaking his arm, but still managed to clamber around rockpools etc. with aplomb.

Paul after his accident.

As expected from a Cornish holiday there was a lot more beachy action, including a trip to Perranporth where we bumped into our next-door neighbours!

Caesar enjoying Nansidwell beach. © Haydn Williams 2013

By mid-week the weather was turning, and we took a trip to St. Michael's Mount. Walking out along the causeway was fine, but by the time we were ready for the return journey the rain had set in and even managed to obscure the top of the mount itself.

Saint Michael's Mount in reasonable weather. © Haydn Williams 2013

Saint Michael's Mount after the rain has blown in. © Haydn Williams 2013

That rain proved to be the start of a big storm blowing in from the Atlantic, resulting in big swells before our scheduled coasteering trip. The company running it phoned to say that we'd have to change to a more sheltered location, but that it was otherwise going ahead as planned. On arrival at Newquay the wind was blowing massive waves onto the rocks, and lifting sand off the beach to blast the paintwork on our cars.

Seems like the perfect place for coasteering. © Haydn Williams 2013

The "sheltered" side of the headland looked little better, so while other members of the group geared up anyway I bowed out through a desire not to die.

Seems like perfect conditions for coasteering. © Haydn Williams 2013

The safety briefing was given and they moved to the first jumping-in point. This was quickly deemed too dangerous, so they moved to the second. Which was also deemed too dangerous. So they moved onto the third. At which point the instructors called the whole thing off.

Abort abort abort! © Haydn Williams 2013

With the worst of the weather out of the way, we returned to Fistral Beach in more clement conditions the next day and Caesar made good use of the exposed sand.

Fistral beach – plenty of space for running around. © Haydn Williams 2013

The trip home was punctuated by a detour for a walk past the Hurlers and on to the Cheeswring on Bodmin Moor.

Atop Stowes Hill on Bodmin Moor, having visited the Cheesewring. © Haydn Williams 2013

Not a bad start to the weekend. © Haydn Williams 2013

At the grand old age of 31, I didn't fancy camping the night before and so we passed the night in relative luxury in a hotel. I'm not sure whether that's sacrilege on an MM weekend, but it definitely makes life easier. The forecast was reasonable and blue sky abounded as we reached the start field on saturday morning.

Queuing up at the start. © Haydn Williams 2013

A nice bus trip took us to the shores of Loch Laggan, where we had a clear view of the still quite comprehensive snow cover from around 800m. We started the day in high spirits, and they only got higher as we moved up the Allt Coire Ardair to the lochan via two controls. With our recent Snowdonia jaunt proving its worth we then climbed the snow slope out of the back of the cwm.

All smiles as we climb away from Loch Laggan. © Haydn Williams 2013

From our high point of Stob Poite Coire Ardair we flew down good snow to pick up the second half of the day's controls. I started suffering at this point, losing pace and generally feeling quite sick (something which doesn't normally afflict me even if I'm really pushing). By the final checkpoint, around 3km from mid-camp, I was about ready to give up and was really only carrying on for Greg's sake. I crawled to the finish and promptly spent the rest of the evening being violently ill.

All mountain marathons should be like this. Heading in to Coire Ardair. © Haydn Williams 2013

Watching our footing on the way up to The Window. © Haydn Williams 2013

With the tummy bug identified as the cause of my slow pace, we enjoyed the warm, dry and sociable atmosphere of the heated ceilidh tent (luxury!) and then I waited overnight to see if breakfast would stay down before deciding whether to retire or not. Fortunately everything went according to plan and so we marked up the controls on the map and started day two with a climb to the first one. Sunday was Greg's turn to suffer, as a heavy cold combined with him having decided to carry my half of the shared gear as I'd effectively taken on very few calories overnight.

The luxury of mid-camp. Ceilidh tent not shown. © Haydn Williams 2013

As a result, I had a pretty reasonable day and was able to help pull Greg through his 'down' patches. One of these involved a fairly significant fall through a snow bridge and bang to his leg, but he popped a couple of ibuprofen and got on with it.

Getting on with business as the weather closes in on day two. © Haydn Williams 2013

From control number three we took a slightly devious route to four via the head of a stunning gorge north-west of Meallan Dubh, and then proposed to use similarly cunning tactics from four to five. The fact that everyone was heading off in the opposite direction didn't bother us, as we thought we were being very clever by going low-and-long to avoid the shorter but very steep and significant climb that everyone else was doing. We were, at this point, unaware that in my befuddled state that morning I must have completely missed one of the controls when reading the list out to Greg. We do have a system for marking down the controls, but it seems it included me as a single point of failure, and I failed. We also have a double-check procedure in place, but it's predicated on me not being foolish enough to omit controls entirely.

Sweet relief. Final checkpoint of the weekend. © Haydn Williams 2013

Everyone else was therefore doing the climb because they knew about the control at the top of it! We duly navigated our way to what we thought was the next control, blissfully ignorant of the fact that everyone else had visited another one in the meantime. We obviously weren't aware of the error at the time, and the last couple of kilometres felt like a battle of attrition with the hillside as we continued to plod our (now 25%-longer-than-the-planner-intended!) way to the last control. That done, we both managed to get a sprint shamble on to the finish line.

Click for bigger. Day one on the left; day two on the right.

Interestingly, we placed 15th on day one and based purely on timings for day two we would have placed about 18th overall. That involves us covering a bit less ascent but a bit more distance, so we can't have been moving too slowly despite how it felt. Alas, you don't get extra points for going entirely the wrong way and so for the first time we don't have a race result. Shocking. Nevertheless, we both had fun and that's what counts. Apparently *.

Anyway, I can safely say that this was the hardest, snowiest, friendliest, most relaxed, most river-crossingy, and probably overall most enjoyable mountain marathon I've done to date. The Saunders is in July and it will have to be pretty special to beat this!

* That's a joke – I had a great time.  :)

Peek-a-boo! © Haydn Williams 2013

After a quick check-up at the workshop and some new brake pads and fluid she was declared fit-for-purpose, so we loaded her onto the trailer and headed to the circuit. We met Gareth there and all pretended not to be nervous or just plain terrified.

Fortunately not needed. © Haydn Williams 2013

It soon became clear that there were lots of people with some serious kit in attendance; within seconds of arriving I'd spotted a GT-R, an SLS and an M6. The only reason I didn't spot any other worryingly-fast hardware is because all the single-seaters were so low-profile they were hidden behind everything else.

Not quite concourse standard, but we've all been very busy with other things. © Haydn Williams 2013

Gareth's rather hectic introduction to the circuit was on the 'sighting lap', which turned out to be only a fraction slower than a full-on flying lap, while I desperately tried to remember lines in preparation for my go.

What a beauty! Dad laying down a fast lap. © Haydn Williams 2013

Oulton Park. © Will Pittenger http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/User:Will_Pittenger

With the proper session started, the Celica did us proud. I wouldn't say that any one of us was significantly quicker than the others, but there was only one person who didn't spin (and he has a blog called Haydn's Blog). Unfortunately I unexpectedly had to leave early, but did manage to fit a couple of sessions in. I'll admit to a fairly significant wobble entering Cascades too quickly, which was corrected more by instinct than possession of the appropriate knowledge and skills.

The sticker allows you onto the track. If you break the rules, you're officially de-stickered and sent home. © Haydn Williams 2013

By the time Dad and Gareth had finished thrashing her around the track in the afternoon, the poor old car was apparently dropping oil and so she finished the day with her head held high. And has now probably been squashed into an eighteen-inch cube.

After bidding farewell to the happy couple on Saturday night, we returned home on Sunday to rescue the dog from his first ever night in kennels (he survived), and I raced west to seek out the snow.

Cwm Idwal looking promising. © Haydn Williams 2013

It was so warm on Sunday morning that I ran up to Devil's Kitchen in a t-shirt and shorts. There was still plenty of snow cover around though, with the axe being brought out at Idwal Slabs. I knew John and Ben were planning on climbing the Devil's Cellar, so I traversed below all the ice routes just in case they'd ended up on something else.

Nice snowy path up to Devil's Kitchen. © Haydn Williams 2013

There was no sign of them, but I did spot a cheeky git on The Screen removing John's peg that I'd failed to extract when seconding the route with him earlier in the year. After cursing the thief, I carried on up the Kitchen. Speaking to Ben and John later in the day, it transpired that the thief was actually Ben, and I just hadn't recognised him! So John got his peg back but I didn't even say hello!

Two chaps at the top of the slog from Llyn y Cwn to Glyder Fawr – where I'm going next. © Haydn Williams

The steep slope up to Glyder Fawr is always more amenable in the snow, and there's some serious bum-slide potential there at the moment. The sun was still shining, and I was having a wonderful time.

Sun halo. Never seen one of those before. © Haydn Williams

The leisurely jog across the plateau was disrupted slightly by the sections of snow with a solid icy crust which wasn't quite weight-bearing, resulting in bashed-shin syndrome. Nevertheless, I was soon past Castell y Gwynt and on to Glyder Fach. It's usually a pain to get around the summit, but with so much snow around it was a simple run past the cluster of rocks and right to the foot of the Cantilever.

Obligatory silly pose under the cantilever. © Haydn Williams 2013

The steep screes at the side of Bristly Ridge looked a bit dicey in running crampons, so I flew down the east flank of Glyder Fach and then cut back along the Miner's Path towards Bwlch Tryfan instead. The head of Cwm Tryfan was decidedly steep, and a slip would have meant a loooong slide – funny how normally innocuous terrain can become so much more serious in winter.

Invading someone else's snow hole. © Haydn Williams 2013

At the bwlch I had a chat with a bloke about how Bristly Ridge probably wasn't advisable with a walking axe and no crampons, and then descended Bochlwyd Stream (so easy in the snow!) to Ogwen. Lovely.

Monday morning saw an early start, with sheep causing maximum disruption at Pen y Pass while I got ready in the car park.

Sheep setting about increasing the entropy of traffic. © Haydn Williams 2013

The aim was to head to Y Lliwedd from the Miner's Track, thus avoiding the strong westerly winds which were forecast.

Y Lliwedd. And me. © Haydn Williams 2013

Another glorious morning found me in solitary bliss as I left Llyn Llydaw and started climbing. The wind noise akin to a train coming over the ridge as I ascended the last steep snow slope made me re-think my plans, and I beat a hasty retreat to the lake. Having lost my hard-won height, I once again climbed – this time onto the Horns.

Y Lliwedd. I made it to the ridge at top-left before retreating from the gusts. © Haydn Williams 2013

From the Horns, with time pressures mounting, I dropped down the Pyg Track in it's full winter garb. Normally a awkward knee-jarring rock-fest, it was fast and fun all the way back to the car park. From there the real-world kicked back in as I drove home for an afternoon of work, the pain softened somewhat by a cracking weekend.

It's no wonder un-prepared people get in trouble when even the first section of the Pyg Track looks like this. © Haydn Williams 2013

Sunrise over the Moelwynau. © Haydn Williams 2013

I woke in Beddgelert at 05:30 on Thursday morning, to glorious sunshine and a clear blue sky. I packed my stuff and headed up to Pen y Pass, with the intention of doing a loop over Snowdon on to Yr Aran and back over Y Lliwedd. The sunrise was fantastic, and it started as one of the nicest days I've had up there in a long time. I made a route-choice error in deciding to go over The Horns – visually stunning, but physically tiring as I had to break trail all the way.

Y Lliwedd – my initial plan was to return this way. © Haydn Williams 2013

The pace quickened at the Pyg Track, which was nicely compacted by previous traffic. At the bottom of the zig-zags the weather closed in and the wind picked up. I headed for the summit in total whiteout and very strong winds before giving up shortly after and returning to the bwlch. Navigation was a bit touch-and-go through waist-deep drifts, as visibility was non-existent and my footsteps filled with blown snow immediately.

My trail on the Horns. © Haydn Williams 2013

On the way back down I met a mother and son who were in trouble and basically unable to get get off the hill without more support than I could give them, and so I called 999. We hunkered down for a while before the sea king from 22 Squadron arrived and dropped some MRT guys further down the hill. They roped up the pair and walked them down a couple of hundred metres, before we were all flown in one of the icon yellow Sea Kings to Ysbyty Gwynedd, where they were treated for hypothermia (and I got to check out the Mountain Medicine posters).

Welsh Winter! © Haydn Williams 2013

Everyone was OK in the end, but it could have been a lot more serious. I've shortened proceedings somewhat in the paragraphs above, but wouldn't want to trivialise them; you can get an idea of conditions in a video that the MRT have released. I don't wish to sound patronising, but the skill and professionalism of the MRT and RAF personnel was incredible, and something you really don't appreciate until you experience it first hand (which hopefully most of us won't!).

Proper Welsh Winter! Weather comes down over Trinity Face. © Haydn Williams 2013

Finally, when I got to the hospital I realised that my GPS had been running the whole time – see if you can spot the bit where I waited with the casualties, and the part where I jump in a helicopter…

GPS track and graph. X-axis is time. Purple line is elevation, and green bars are speed.

I was unsurprisingly exhausted after all the excitement / worry, and with a cruddy weather forecast I made my way home via the magical keeping-you-awake powers of sweet, sugary mini eggs.

Sunset over Derwent Water. © Haydn Williams 2013

Bon Jovi jetty. © Haydn williams 2013

Sunset over Derwent Water. © Haydn Williams 2013

After a night at the Borrowdale Youth Hostel (bringing back memories of at least one Ramsoc trip from a worryingly long time ago), I set off to Seathwaite nice and early to try and catch everyone at Sprinkling Tarn before they struck camp.

Moon over Seathwaite Fell. © Haydn Williams 2013

I ran up Grains Gill, hitting the first of the snow not long after the little stone bridge. There was no sign of MPS at Sprinkling Tarn, but a chap who was there suggested that he'd seen some lights at Styhead Tarn the previous evening. A quick blast down to the col revealed nothing, so I abandoned any hope of finding them and instead climbed Great Gable.

Great End and Scafell Pike from Great Gable. © Haydn Williams 2013

The descent to Styhead via Windy Gap necessitated the use of axe and crampons, and then I climbed back up to Sprinkling Tarn and Great End. Having seen all the snow on the Scafell range from the summit of Great Gable, I gave in and went for a play on the steep snow up to the bottom of the routes proper. I kept the crampons on for a bit, enjoying the seemingly disproportionate levels of extra security and speed they imparted on the return down Grains Gill.

After a bit of food I snuck in a quick nap in the car whilst I gave MPS a chance to return to their bus. Fortunately they arrived back from what sounded like a very fun overnight trip shortly before I got bored, and we retired to Ben's cottage for tea and cake. Well done the Lake District.

I hadn't realised it was such an organised event, but in total thirteen of us arrived at Beudy Mawr on Friday evening and subsequently set off from Abergwyngregyn at 07:20 on Saturday morning. We all walked up to the summit of Foel Fras together, hitting both the cloud and the snow level in the process. Greg and I started running at this point, along with new acquaintances Rob and Kate.

Still smiling, but it's only the second summit (Carnedd Gwenllian). © Haydn Williams 2013

The snow was wet and often quite deep, so we made moderately slow progress over the bulk of the Carneddau. The first half of the day consisted of half walking and half running along bearings with no visibility, which is always good for sharpening the senses.

Greg along the top of Ysgolion Duon. © Haydn Williams 2013

Snow conditions improved along the top of Ysgolion Duon and Carnedd Dafydd, and the descent from Pen yr Ole Wen was slippery but fairly quick. As we dropped out of the cloud, Rob and Kate went off to Cwm Idwal while Greg and I pondered the best way up Tryfan.

Pointing out the summit of Carnedd Dafydd. © Haydn Williams 2013

We decided on Heather Terrace, which proved do-able but decidedly exciting where some of the steep gullies cut into the snowy path. The fun bit really started at the bwlch between the main summit and the far south. The snow was just soft enough to kick up in fell shoes, and gave great sport to the summit. As we approached Adam and Eve, a view of the main Glyderau opened up behind us, highlighting the way ahead. We soon re-traced our steps and started the slog up the screes to the east of Bristly Ridge.

Finally, some visibility! The Glyders from Tryfan. © Haydn Williams 2013

Emerging onto the Glyder plateau at about 15:00, we pushed hard to make the most of the remaining daylight. Visibility was good by this point, meaning navigation between Glyder Fach and Glyder Fawr was the easiest of the day. At the summit of Glyder Fawr we once again were enveloped in grey, and dropped quickly to Llyn y Cŵn (our running/skidding/sliding/falling technique being described as "elegant stumbling" by one person we passed!).

That's right, summit number nine (Glyder Fach). © Haydn Williams 2013

We unexpectedly came across Gareth at the lake, who was on his way back to the hut and gave us a status update on everyone else's progress. Y Garn had obviously been extended since last time Greg and I ran up there, because it took an age to slog up to the summit. Fed up of the niceties of stopping for photos by now, we ran straight across the summit  and down towards Foel Goch. Complacency set in as we approached the final peak of the day with only the scrambly section of Bwlch y Marchlyn left to negotiate, and we soon found ourselves on a steep slope with no path. A quick and efficient correction raised our spirits again, and we broke out the headtorches on the final climb up the rocky ridge of Elidir.

The last one – approaching the summit of Elidir Fawr. © Haydn Williams 2013

No-one had been up the path I intended to use for descent, so it was invisible under the snow cover and darkness. Once again we found ourselves plodding along a bearing, which worked out quite well when a fence with a stile appeared out of the darkness. With the last of the navigation complete, and the lights of Nant Peris appearing through the cloud, we followed the path to the village and a pot of tea waiting in the hut. Everyone else had a decent day out too, with lots of ground getting covered (and rumours of sunshine somewhere near Carnedd Dafydd – we saw very little of it!). A fantastic dinner in good company finished the day off rather nicely.

The plan for Sunday was to complete the final three peaks, but aching limbs and pouring rain (and a boring work deadline) meant that I scarpered home early instead. The final tally for Saturday was 21 miles and 2900m of ascent over 12 hours, and all organised by a thoroughly nice bunch of people. An excellent trip.

If the embedded video above isn't working for any reason, you can view the video directly on Vimeo here: https://vimeo.com/haydnwilliams/shortwalk

As the contents of the cwm melted around us on the walk back to the car, we quickly considered our options and decided to make a dash home. We weren't, however, aware of the severe weather warnings which had been issued for snow, and so the journey took seven and a half hours instead of three. Nevertheless, we kept ourselves amused by using snow chains in Stoke and did eventually make it back to Burton. Most exciting.

I duly arrived at Pen y Pass at 14:00, and set off up the Pyg Track assuming that it would be well-trodden and nicely compacted. However, with half the population of the country confined to their homes it turned out that there was still a lot of powder floating around. Nevertheless, I made it up to the obelisk where the Pyg meets the Miners' in under an hour, and then returned the same way to pick up the mitts I'd dropped somewhere on the ascent. Running downhill through 18 inches of powder in crampons turned out to be the most fun thing ever, but I'm afraid I forgot my camera so couldn't capture my look of glee.

This morning I met Gary bright and early, and we set off on one of my favourite walk/scrambles, Daear Ddu ridge on Moel Siabod. As usual, it didn't disappoint, with plenty of wind-blown snow drifting all the way up the ridge.

Finding the fun bits on Daear Ddu. © Haydn Williams 2013. Photo by Gary Mirams

A single axe was sufficient, along with the ability to swim up particularly deep sections of powder.

No "Was it in condition?" debates here, thank you! © Haydn Williams 2013

A waltz along the top of the main ridge saw us descending to the car, and onwards to the cafe at Bryn Glô where I had a frankly amazing fish finger sandwich. A great pair of snowy excursions, good company, and fantastic cuisine – an excellent way to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat.

The picture below should expand in an impressive panorama style when you click on it. Hopefully.