Snowdon - part 2

So, yes it was drizzling, yes the visibility was poor, and yes we did appear to be the only people going up the mountain, but we were not deterred! Oh no!

We passed several people going down the mountain (hats were tipped when greetings were exchanged) all of whom stared at us with a mixture of bewilderment and incredulity. Admittedly we were carrying a folding camp table, a union jack and we did have some one with no waterproofs with us. The rain had by this point soaked through my trousers and whenever I leaned forwards a small dribble of water did spill from the rim of my bowler hat. That said the going was reasonable, even when we passed the snow line.
We proceeded up the pig track for an hour, happy as Larry (assuming that Larry is a] quite happy and b] a little bit damp) until we ventured over a pass into the neighbouring valley. As we reached top the pass the wind suddenly stepped up. Previously there had been only a little wind but now it cut through us like something that's very good at cutting. A sabre, or an industrial laser, perhaps. We were unsure of which way to proceed but could not stop at the pass, so we pressed on hoping the wind would be less vicious away from it. However, the wind was only slightly calmer as we proceeded. This high wind was making things difficult as the table I was carrying was effectively turned into a small sail, sometimes pulling we backwards, other times pushing me forwards, and leaving me with very little choice in the matter. The rain was starting to soak up my cuffs and my coat (though "Waterproof") was starting to become sodden with the rain. I turned to Mr Bridges, a small stream of water flowing from my hat.
"This is ridiculous."
"Yes, yes it is" he replied.

We continued onwards.

It's very difficult to convey the conditions. I can see how you may think it tempting for me to exaggerate the conditions for dramatic effect, however I'd like to inform you that in this case, it's simply not necessary! In short the conditions were foul.

As time went by my boots joined my trousers which had been soaked for some time. The forearms of my shirt, jacket and coats soaked through entirely, and eventually the onslaught managed to soak through my bowler hat. Lord only knows how Mr A. Booker was coping given that he failed to bring a waterproof. In truth, everyone was soaked. It was at this point we had a rather discordant but non the less rousing chorus of "Rule Britannia" to lift our spirits. With the fire of patriotism burning in our chests and the Union Jack flying strongly in the wind we screwed up our courage to the sticking place, watched it fall off, realised the rain had washed off all the adhesive, then picked it back up and put it in our pockets.

We pressed on, the wind still vicious, the rain getting heavier, and the visibility worse. We staggered along the rain swept, stony path, trying to avoid looking down the steep fall to the left and trying to imagine what beautiful vistas were concealed behind the squally clouds.

"You know something?" said Mr Bridges.
"What?"
"This is officially the most stupid thing we have ever done."

For those of you that know us, you'll realise that's saying something.

The two of us the fell about in bouts of, slightly manic, laughter. For the reality of the situation was so comical that we couldn't help ourselves. Here we were, on a barren, windswept, rain soaked mountainside climbing up a mountain that you can climb by railway, purely so that we could take tea and a spot of cake on it! The humour of the situation was lost on Mr Munns who presumed that we had gone mad from exposure.

We carried, on at one point unknowingly leaving the designated path, as it was lost under the snow. We rejoined the path later and it was only then that we realised our error. The path was climbing steadily to the ridge that would lead us to the peak and with it the wind and rain were, somehow, intensifying further still.
"Guys, this is getting stupid" said Mr Munns.
"Yes! We know!" I replied cackling in a manner that must have been slightly disconcerting.
"No, this is getting really stupid, as in dangerous. I think we should turn back."
You know The fellowship of the ring? Where Gandalf is trying to lead them across the mountain? It was like that. Only minus the battling wizards. And with the addition of bowler hats.

And so, like Gandalf, I cried
"No!"
And we tried to struggle on against the elements.