What would you do if your work colleagues said they were walking up Mount Snowdon in a week’s time, and asked if you wanted to come along?!  All in the name of charity, of course, and it’s not something most of us do just for fun on a Saturday!

Readers, I did not do what you did and politely decline – I jumped in without thinking or checking whether I could touch the bottom!

I rarely make hasty decisions – the opposite, in fact! – and when I do, there’s a price to pay somewhere along the line.

However, as I’d paid £30 for my coach seat, t-shirt, and medal, and we Yorkshirewomen don’t like wasting money, I stuck to my guns and set my alarm for 4am last Saturday (oh, foolish girl!).

Four of us went in one colleague’s car from Huddersfield to Bradford, and then on a coach from outside the Gurdwara.  The hike up Mount Snowdon was the 11th run by KhalsaAid, an international NGO aiming to provide humanitarian aid in disaster areas and conflict zones around the world.  They are guided by the Sikh principle of “Recognise the whole human race as one”, and I’ve rarely felt so welcomed by strangers.

A few hours later, we all hopped off the coach in the beautiful village of Llanberis, at the foot of Mount Snowdon, were given our t-shirts, offered fruit and water to get us going, and off we set, everyone at their own pace.  Simple, yes…?!

It’s a hill, a flipping big hill, approximately 30% gradient most of the way up, and you feel that almost instantly with the first pull of nearer to 40%!  

I am terribly unfit and overweight, and within ten minutes I thought ‘what have I done?’, in between pausing for breath.  (Bad that I couldn’t think AND breathe at the same time…)  Given that I work in a GP practice, and that two of my colleagues on this hike are clinicians who look after themselves, this did not bode well…

The weather was good for walking, mild and cloudy, not hot and sunny like it had been last year according to my friends, although a bit misty for taking many photos (I fondly thought that I’d be taking shedloads of photos to document my epic journey…!).

There were a few points where the hill levelled off to a mere 20% gradient, and my friends did keep stopping to wait for me, as I was always at the cow’s tail.  After the best part of two hours we stopped for a pit stop, bit of a sit down and picnic amongst other hikers, before hauling ourselves upwards and onwards.

The mist/cloud started to come down thicker, almost like rain, but everyone we met on the way up or down seemed cheerful, almost like it was a pilgrimage of sorts.  Trail runners marched uphill or ran downhill past us, part of a 24 hour endurance race – imagine going up and down that mountain several times over a day!! – and sheep dotted the landscape almost everywhere you looked.

I struggled so much to keep up, I was stopping every 10 mins or so to let the aches in my legs subside a bit, and to catch my breath.  When you’re going upwards only, there’s no relenting, seldom any levelling out to catch your breath, you just have to keep going as best you can.

There’s a little railway running up and down the mountain, you can buy tickets at the bottom (but they were sold out), and the trains passed us regularly, those not too exhausted waving at the passengers, very ‘Railway Children’!  Around 2K or so from the top is a slight tunnel, more of a single arch really, that carries the railway above the ground for several metres, and beyond this arch the valley opens up.

Even in the slowly-clearing dreich mist the views were out of this world.  As shattered as I was it was amazing!  Once through the arch, the mist really came down, as if it was raining heavily, and the gradient towards the summit steepened even more, the loose shale underfoot a little dicey in places.

My legs were seriously wobbly and aching by this point, cramps in my calf and the beginnings of shin splints, too (I’m not selling this as an ideal weekend activity, am I?!), but we trudged on, me still firmly behind everyone else.  Half a kilometre up the hill, I asked someone coming down how much longer until the top.

“Oh about 1.5 kilometres, a good 45 minutes including the queue to the actual summit”, she ruefully said, after asking whether I wanted honesty from her.

I caught up to my friends, but each step was an effort I’ve never had to make before, and nearly fell several times because my legs were refusing to cooperate.  I confessed defeat, said I would never make the summit (this time) because of the pain in my legs, and let them continue without me – hoping they’d take a picture when they got to the top.

I turned back to the tiny tunnel and huddled there, cold and shivering, until the mist vanished.  The view was even better when the mist went, such stunning landscape, and I realised just how far we’d climbed (the equivalent of nearly 180 floors according to my Fitbit!).  The top of the mountain stretched a above me, and the valleys plunged greenly below, awe-inspiring in the real sense of the words.

My friends came back down, photo duly taken and no mishaps for them, thankfully. After a short sit down for them to regroup we set off again, downhill this time, and a much easier hike.

The views going down were superb, well worth the hike and waiting for the mist to clear, and I got chance for some great shots to add to my memory banks.  At some points we were almost marching, grateful to not be climbing any more.  Our feet, legs, and joints were letting us know how abused they were by this point, blisters forming very nicely, empty stomachs and full bladders also protesting the long day.

The final tarmac stretch approaching Llanberis was excruciating: toes stubbing into the front of walking boots, pounding the hard road surface was almost too much to bear – I think we could all have crawled or rolled down this bit!

Never been so grateful to be on horizontal ground as when we walked into Llanberis village!  After a much-needed loo stop, we received finishers’ medals, and delicious food, drinks, and ice creams provided by the fabulous KhalsaAid volunteers – what amazing human beings they are!

Eventually set off just after 7pm, our fellow coach passengers much quieter than the morning journey, and I think everyone kicked off their boots to relieve their poor, aching feet!  

Two days I was still aching and limping, as I’m sure my friends were, but I’ve done something big I’ve never done before, a bucket list thing I wasn’t planning if you like – proving that being courageous is never in vain!  Something that’s stuck with me is that all those we travelled with, and other hikers supporting the charity, gave everything they had, stopped to offer support to anyone who needed it, and shared so much of themselves through the day – it’s reignited my faith in other people.

Do let me know if you’ve climbed Snowdon, or done something equally hard and outside your comfort zone – post a comment here or find me on Instagram, Facebook, or LinkedIn.

If you’d like to know more about KhalsaAid, please find them here, and consider offering them any support that you can.