The Welsh 15, Leg 3: Into the Carneddau – Automatic Mode and the Void

bootsandbanter
Jul 17
6 min read

Updated: Oct 1

The last push: torch failures, wild ponies, rain from hell, and learning how far the mind can actually go

👢 Pen yr Ole Wen – Straight Back Into It

The stunning Tryfan from the way up Pen yr Ole Wen

We crossed the A5 and began the third and final section: The Carneddau.

We had just descended from Tryfan (918 m) down to about 300 m, and were now climbing to Pen yr Ole Wen (948 m). Another savage yo-yo of elevation.

The ascent was hot and humid — and for the first time that day, I stripped down to just my vest.

Poles in hand, sweat running.

I stayed like that until the peak.

It was that kind of humid where every step felt like it steamed off the mountain itself.

And for some reason, it broke me in a weirdly productive way.

I genuinely believeI gave birth to a second personality on the way up. Something primal. She took over.

Halfway up, we paused to look back. Amazing views of Tryfan and the Glyders!

Our guide was notified that one of the men in the

group at the back with the other guide is dropping out at that point. Second casualty.

Just like that, we were down to seven.

🌄 Sunset Light and Wild Ponies

As we moved on towards Carnedd Dafydd, the light changed.

The sun was dipping behind clouds, casting golden light in the sky.

At this point, my patella straps came out. 🥴

The pain was just in my right knee, but I wasn’t taking chances.

I strapped both knees as a precaution. One less thing to think about while keeping up with the pace.

We saw wild ponies in a few spots — just standing there, in that quiet evening light. A weirdly peaceful moment in the middle of the madness.

By the time we reached Carnedd Dafydd, the temperature had started to dip. The views were still there, but they were softening. Dimming.

Wild ponies right next to the path, somewhere between Pen yr Ole Wen and Carnedd Dafydd

🌠 Carnedd Llewelyn – Headtorches Out, Torch Drama Begins

By the time we hit Carnedd Llewelyn, the light had properly gone. Headtorches on.

And that’s when the drama started:

My first headtorch didn’t turn on. 😬
Absolute shocker moment. I couldn’t believe it.
I got my second torch out on the way towards Yr Elen. Thankfully, it worked.

🔥 Yr Elen – Darkness, Fog, and Torch Fail #2

Approaching Yr Elen, it was complete darkness.

We stopped briefly so I could sort out my second headtorch — and it turned on. Massive relief. For about 30 minutes.

Then it died. Fully charged and just… gone.😱

One of those moments so bad it’s almost funny.

I stood there in the dark, torch dead on my forehead, thinking: Of course. Of course this is happening now.

And what really got me? I’d originally packed three torches.

Because obviously — classic me.

Over-packer, spreadsheet brain, backup queen.

But no. Right before we set off, I’d had a sensible moment and thought, Don’t be ridiculous, take one out. 😅

Well. Look at me now. Standing in the middle of the Carneddau at midnight with dead batteries, absolutely fuming at past Mira for trying to be reasonable.🤯

Thankfully, one of the women in the group had a spare. She handed it to me with a shrug:

“Don’t know how long it’ll last.”

Did I care? Absolutely not. At that point, I would’ve hiked behind someone carrying a candle.

☁️ Fog, Clouds, and Following Rusty

The fog and clag came back around Yr Elen. The light from our torches just scattered off the mist. Visibility was terrible.

From this point on, everything blurred. I stuck right behind Rusty (one of the guides) at the front. His torch was stronger than mine. I was too worried about my borrowed one running out.

His pace was fast, but I had no choice. I locked into it.

Eyes on Rusty’s feet. Nothing else.

And here’s the thing people don’t tell you about hiking in the dark up there:

It’s not like walking on a path. It’s not smooth. It’s grass, hidden bumps, stones everywhere. And all you have is that small circle of light from your torch.

You can’t see properly — not really. You just move and hope.

At some point, it stops being about conscious effort and becomes muscle memory.

Trusting your legs to do what they’ve always done. Hoping they’ll catch a slip. Hoping your foot will land where it should, because your eyes can’t really help anymore.

I don’t remember much else clearly.

It was full automatic mode. Walking. Moving. Not thinking.

🌄 Yr Elen, Foel Fras – Time Lost

From total darkness until the last peak, Foel Fras (942 m), everything felt like one long blur.

We reached Foel Fras at 1:00 AM. That was the final summit.

But it wasn’t over.

We stopped for a quick final group photo — tired faces, torches glowing in the mist, barely able to muster smiles. While we were up there, we also picked up a couple who had just finished their own challenge. They joined us for the descent, but honestly, between the dark and the clag, everyone was slightly lost as to exactly how to get down.

The wind had picked up again too — cold, sharp, straight through your jacket kind of wind. No time to hang around. We just pointed ourselves downhill and kept moving.

🛣️ The Final Descent – 7 km Left

From Foel Fras, there were 7 km still to go — all downhill, from 944 m.

And it felt like too much.

My torch was fading again.
I could barely make out shapes underfoot.
The pace was even faster.
Rusty and I stopped a few times so the others could catch up. There was a mountain guide at the back.
While we were waiting, it was actually kind of mesmerising to watch — just little lights slowly coming closer out of the nothingness. Tiny headtorches floating in the fog and dark, appearing like fireflies from some other world.

And the only thing I could see ahead: the lights of Bethesda in the distance. They looked so far away.

☔️ The Rain from Hell

With about 20 minutes left in the descent, it started.

Not drizzle. Not a polite mist.

Torrential rain. 😭

That bouncing-off-the-floor, fully horizontal kind of rain.

We were absolutely drenched in seconds.

I couldn’t believe it. After everything — the fog, the darkness, the torch drama, the endless miles — the mountain still had one final kick left for us.🙈

It was awful. But there was no stopping. There was no choice.

We needed to finish this.

When we finally hit the end point, three of us went into the support car. We didn't see the lights from the others. I guess they were quite further back.

We went inside the car soaked, dripping wet, head torches still on, looking like ghosts pulled out of a river. The car took us back to our parked cars and went back for the others.

And that was it.

Body finally stopped moving.

Absolute craziness. And absolute awesomeness.