A.K.A. the kit-killer trip.
I had the pleasure of meeting Lannyman of this forum this weekend and of doing a weekend winter camp with him in the Black Mountains, the western Brecon Beacons. He provided the incentive to get me off my backside and go and do some physical exercise, and I provided transport and a companion since his other half wouldn't let him out without company.
We drove up onto the Hay Bluff and parked, and set off up the road to the Gospel Pass, the high point of the road through the mountains.
The view from where we parked.
The Gospel pass summit. We were first there, as it was pristine.
We turned right and set off up the hill, rapidly losing the path completely and discovering that up to a foot of snow was normal on the sheltered slopes, with deeper drifts over concealed potholes that were invisible until you stepped in them and your leg disappeared. There were some comedy pratfalls.
We reached the first summit, the wonderfully named Lord Hereford's Knob, and this is the view looking back the way that we came. Make a mental note of that block of conifers on the hillside, as it gets mentioned later.
The view forward. The plan was to descend from this summit, cross the saddle, and then go up the highest point on the bluff, Pen Rhos Dirion, and descend into the next valley and find a camp spot, returning the following day.
The descent was fine, as the exposed slopes (that last shot was taken into the wind, which was considerable) were stripped free of snow and were just icy, but on reaching the bottom the drifts just got worse on the ascent. About two thirds of the way up my total lack of fitness and generally being a fat bloke caught up with me, and I felt it would be foolish to press ahead as I was really struggling. The wind was fierce and the spindrift was covering everything, filling in our footprints as we went. We stopped on the slope with just our packs for shelter. I pulled out a plastic groundsheet so we wouldn't have to sit on snow, and the wind promptly tore it to shreds. By this point my cheap Aldi walking poles has already come apart twice and the snow basket on one of them had frozen solid and snapped off, and my gaiters has been destroyed by the undersole strap freezing to the snow at every step. I put on my thickest gloves, and adjusted the velcro wrist seal, which promptly snapped off as well, the stitching having frozen.
We changed plans and decided to do an about face and return to the Gospel pass, and aim for the block of trees mentioned previously, and camp there. As a plan this worked well enough, though I struggled massively on the climbs, and discovered that one of the thick metal eyelets on my expensive Lowa boots had snapped off as well. I'm really not pleased by that one.
We got to the spot just before dark, and set up our tarps and bashas respectively. I discovered that as I had suspected I had removed all the guylines from my tarp and hadn't checked before setting off. Luckily I had some dyneema in my pack and there was enough for my needs, just. Then I tripped over a tent peg (I'd brought the plastic ones as they give better grip) and snapped it. I had no spares, so had to use half a peg. Still, we got our stoves out, and had some hot food. Lannyman was impressed with the performance of his multi-fuel stove (rightly so) and I was delighted that my little gas stove seemed impervious to the low temperatures. Some hot food and drinks and we felt much better, and had a wander about and looked at the stars, observed the comet that is currently showing, and then had another brew.
My camp, by torchlight.
A bit of bushcraft tv. Lanyyman brought three stoves. He used the jetboil when out on the hill (it struggled a bit), the multi-fuel at camp, so it seemed only fair to get the hobo stove out as well. He then suffered a minor weld failure on a Tatonka kettle, presumably again due to cold.
Eventually we went to bed. I slept fairly well although I was slightly colder than I had expected. This turned out to be because my inflatable mat deflated during the night. Another kit failure. The wind turned round too in the night, blowing snow into our faces briefly and snapping another of my tent pegs. The wind then died away completely.
The morning was gorgeous. Some mountain ponies woke me by neighing at us for intruding on their territory. They came pretty close to investigate us, but fled when I greeted them. Well If I was the first thing you saw in the morning, you'd run screaming too!
The views from our camp spot at about 10.30am, once the sun was mostly over the hill. No wind at all. If only saturday had been like this.
We packed up. I was pictched in the clear space to the right of shot.
We considered going up over the ridge, but I didn't feel up to it, so we retraced our steps. This is the view as we emerged from the trees.
Back to the Gospel pass summit. This is the view outwards, looking north-west.
A view back up the road. Some intrepid folk in 4x4s managed to get up here, plus at least one cyclist.
Lannyman taking a shot of some mountain ponies. Many thanks to him for his company, good humour, and for putting up with the fat unfit bloke who scotched his plans, not to mention his generosity. Thanks mate, we will do something like this again if we can.
I stopped off on the way home to pick up some sirloin steak to keep my wonderful wife happy and thank her for letting me out this weekend. I had a great time, although I am now officially completely shattered.
I had the pleasure of meeting Lannyman of this forum this weekend and of doing a weekend winter camp with him in the Black Mountains, the western Brecon Beacons. He provided the incentive to get me off my backside and go and do some physical exercise, and I provided transport and a companion since his other half wouldn't let him out without company.
We drove up onto the Hay Bluff and parked, and set off up the road to the Gospel Pass, the high point of the road through the mountains.
The view from where we parked.
The Gospel pass summit. We were first there, as it was pristine.
We turned right and set off up the hill, rapidly losing the path completely and discovering that up to a foot of snow was normal on the sheltered slopes, with deeper drifts over concealed potholes that were invisible until you stepped in them and your leg disappeared. There were some comedy pratfalls.
We reached the first summit, the wonderfully named Lord Hereford's Knob, and this is the view looking back the way that we came. Make a mental note of that block of conifers on the hillside, as it gets mentioned later.
The view forward. The plan was to descend from this summit, cross the saddle, and then go up the highest point on the bluff, Pen Rhos Dirion, and descend into the next valley and find a camp spot, returning the following day.
The descent was fine, as the exposed slopes (that last shot was taken into the wind, which was considerable) were stripped free of snow and were just icy, but on reaching the bottom the drifts just got worse on the ascent. About two thirds of the way up my total lack of fitness and generally being a fat bloke caught up with me, and I felt it would be foolish to press ahead as I was really struggling. The wind was fierce and the spindrift was covering everything, filling in our footprints as we went. We stopped on the slope with just our packs for shelter. I pulled out a plastic groundsheet so we wouldn't have to sit on snow, and the wind promptly tore it to shreds. By this point my cheap Aldi walking poles has already come apart twice and the snow basket on one of them had frozen solid and snapped off, and my gaiters has been destroyed by the undersole strap freezing to the snow at every step. I put on my thickest gloves, and adjusted the velcro wrist seal, which promptly snapped off as well, the stitching having frozen.
We changed plans and decided to do an about face and return to the Gospel pass, and aim for the block of trees mentioned previously, and camp there. As a plan this worked well enough, though I struggled massively on the climbs, and discovered that one of the thick metal eyelets on my expensive Lowa boots had snapped off as well. I'm really not pleased by that one.
We got to the spot just before dark, and set up our tarps and bashas respectively. I discovered that as I had suspected I had removed all the guylines from my tarp and hadn't checked before setting off. Luckily I had some dyneema in my pack and there was enough for my needs, just. Then I tripped over a tent peg (I'd brought the plastic ones as they give better grip) and snapped it. I had no spares, so had to use half a peg. Still, we got our stoves out, and had some hot food. Lannyman was impressed with the performance of his multi-fuel stove (rightly so) and I was delighted that my little gas stove seemed impervious to the low temperatures. Some hot food and drinks and we felt much better, and had a wander about and looked at the stars, observed the comet that is currently showing, and then had another brew.
My camp, by torchlight.
A bit of bushcraft tv. Lanyyman brought three stoves. He used the jetboil when out on the hill (it struggled a bit), the multi-fuel at camp, so it seemed only fair to get the hobo stove out as well. He then suffered a minor weld failure on a Tatonka kettle, presumably again due to cold.
Eventually we went to bed. I slept fairly well although I was slightly colder than I had expected. This turned out to be because my inflatable mat deflated during the night. Another kit failure. The wind turned round too in the night, blowing snow into our faces briefly and snapping another of my tent pegs. The wind then died away completely.
The morning was gorgeous. Some mountain ponies woke me by neighing at us for intruding on their territory. They came pretty close to investigate us, but fled when I greeted them. Well If I was the first thing you saw in the morning, you'd run screaming too!
The views from our camp spot at about 10.30am, once the sun was mostly over the hill. No wind at all. If only saturday had been like this.
We packed up. I was pictched in the clear space to the right of shot.
We considered going up over the ridge, but I didn't feel up to it, so we retraced our steps. This is the view as we emerged from the trees.
Back to the Gospel pass summit. This is the view outwards, looking north-west.
A view back up the road. Some intrepid folk in 4x4s managed to get up here, plus at least one cyclist.
Lannyman taking a shot of some mountain ponies. Many thanks to him for his company, good humour, and for putting up with the fat unfit bloke who scotched his plans, not to mention his generosity. Thanks mate, we will do something like this again if we can.
I stopped off on the way home to pick up some sirloin steak to keep my wonderful wife happy and thank her for letting me out this weekend. I had a great time, although I am now officially completely shattered.
