I was rather hoping for some better weather today and stood in the valley, you’d easily think that I was being a bit ambitious as I set off upwards with ice axes strapped to my rucsack. However, sometimes available time and perfect forecasts don’t always align. I was pretty sure I’d find some winter up in the clouds and although the visibility was very poor, I was certain that recent conditions should have produced some interesting ice formations.

I soon disappeared from the green of the valley and found snow laying as I gained height.

I’d walked almost directly uphill, past the reservoir and up to the col, where the ground was now frozen hard, and as hoped, the moist easterly winds had produced delicate and elaborate ‘feathers’ of rime ice over everything.

The higher I walked, the better the formations became as the temperature dropped lower and lower. The winds remained light, but visibility was down to about 10m so I had to keep a check on my navigation. I was almost certainly the only person on the mountain and it felt like I was walking across an ice field in Patagonia or on a remote Peruvian mountain, where this type of ice is more common.

Without any contrast from snow to sky, it was hard to take a good photo – I added my walking poles into this one for scale.

Although formed on a strong cold wind, and being able to stick out unsupported for 40cm or so, the feathers are incredibly brittle and crumble to nothing when touched. I managed to delicately hold this one (after trying several times) to show some scale!

It was mesmerising to walk on…

I had set out with the hope of climbing one of the long snow gullies on the summit east face of Carnedd Llewellyn from Ffynnon Llyffant. Ten years ago on a glorious blue sky morning, I had followed the same route and traversed into some excellent Neve climbing right up to the summit. Today things were slightly different.

I got geared up and gave it a decent try, but a ferocious easterly wind was whipping up the headwall, threatening to freeze me to the spot! Even with goggles on and hood up, any progress was difficult. I battled on for a bit, then thought better of it and traversed back out to the plateau. The wind was being forced up the gully and straight up into the air, so strangely the summit wind was much less just a few paces back from the edge.

With or without the considerable wind chill, it wasn’t the place to linger for too long, but while I was up there, I decided to do a bit of winter navigation practice, before my eyes froze shut!

Everywhere I looked there was another interesting and unique formation.

I wished I knew how to get a better photo of the detail…

Having my goggles on gave a little respite and felt warm to wear, but with icicles hanging off my eyelashes, it didn’t take long for my goggles to steam up and render them useless.

I followed a compass bearing on a triangular route across the summit plateau for a few hundred metres with the scantest of features visable. Happily, the summit cairn loomed up out of the mist just as I was beginning to wonder if I’d got things right!

I retraced my steps from the summit and with the thought of The Cottage warmth, set a good pace back downhill…

On the way down, it turned out I wasn’t the only one on the mountain. I didn’t see them, but I passed the tracks of a fox, some mice/shrew?, sheep, a wild pony and this unknown bird…

A magnificent outing…