I hope my life was worth your time
as yours was worth every second of mine.
Excerpts from a climbing journal, 1958
"At last my feet took me away from this enchanted seclusion, and I looked down on the Llanberis pass. My thoughts turned to Snowdon. Suddenly the force of circumstances came upon me. There was snow, a clear sky, a full moon, and I hadn't time to do the horseshoe before dark. Fortune had organised my day and had improved on my plan. I ate a 3 shilling tea - turkey sandwiches and all - at the Pen y Pass (a necessary preliminary, this, for my supplies were short) and left on the Crib Goch path shortly after three.
Then followed a race with the setting sun, for Snowdon's shadow was high on the flanks of the Glyders. I lost the race; the sun had gone when I reached the top of Crib Goch, but there were the reds and pale freens of a wintry sunset and, below them, the black and white pinnacled ridge I was to follow. Here I met two of Scotty Dwyer's guests, the last people I met before descending.
Crib Goch ridge was delightful, and I climbed energetically up Crib y Ddysgl, and, with the last twilight, to the top of Yr Wyddfn.
...
The journey to Scotland was Ron's first experience of hitch hiking, and it was memorable for a very enjoyable lift in a car which was pulling a trailer caravan. We were picked up south of Catterick and taken over the Pennines to Penrith, where we spent the night in the caravan, and then on past Carlisle by 9am next morning. The driver of the car was a constructional engineer on four months leave from East Pakistan, who was on his way to meet drinking friends and a German student girl friend in Edinburgh. Being on leave and affluent he was both friendly and hospitable; we drank, ate and slept at his expense, and hoped that he enjoyed our company as much as we enjoyed his."
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On the anniversary of a very fine man
Excerpts from a climbing journal, 1958
"At last my feet took me away from this enchanted seclusion, and I looked down on the Llanberis pass. My thoughts turned to Snowdon. Suddenly the force of circumstances came upon me. There was snow, a clear sky, a full moon, and I hadn't time to do the horseshoe before dark. Fortune had organised my day and had improved on my plan. I ate a 3 shilling tea - turkey sandwiches and all - at the Pen y Pass (a necessary preliminary, this, for my supplies were short) and left on the Crib Goch path shortly after three.
Then followed a race with the setting sun, for Snowdon's shadow was high on the flanks of the Glyders. I lost the race; the sun had gone when I reached the top of Crib Goch, but there were the reds and pale freens of a wintry sunset and, below them, the black and white pinnacled ridge I was to follow. Here I met two of Scotty Dwyer's guests, the last people I met before descending.
Crib Goch ridge was delightful, and I climbed energetically up Crib y Ddysgl, and, with the last twilight, to the top of Yr Wyddfn.
...
The journey to Scotland was Ron's first experience of hitch hiking, and it was memorable for a very enjoyable lift in a car which was pulling a trailer caravan. We were picked up south of Catterick and taken over the Pennines to Penrith, where we spent the night in the caravan, and then on past Carlisle by 9am next morning. The driver of the car was a constructional engineer on four months leave from East Pakistan, who was on his way to meet drinking friends and a German student girl friend in Edinburgh. Being on leave and affluent he was both friendly and hospitable; we drank, ate and slept at his expense, and hoped that he enjoyed our company as much as we enjoyed his."
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On the anniversary of a very fine man