This is how I felt about a walk I did in Wales with my husband. Unfortunately, I found it terrifying! I've never been back since, and my walking (which I love) has tended to be more lowland. Heights are not for me!
I'd looked at pictures of Crib Goch on the Internet, and knew that its savagely narrow rocky ridge was not for me. But Paul felt that if I did only fourteen of the fifteen 3,000 ft peaks, it would niggle me. So, as it was a wind-less day, he talked me into swapping our intended Glyders walk for the nasty one, so that I could get it out of the way before my fear made
it an impossibility.
It's a day I will remember for the rest of my life, because I feared for my life for most of the climb, which took hours and hours. It was not only a rocky ridge at the top, but a steep rocky climb up to it, necessitating levels of strength and skill which I don't have. I was terrified: I clung on, I scrambled, I clambered, I cried, and I fought panic as I reached places where I felt I could go neither forwards nor backwards.
We sat on a ledge so that I could calm down, and I wished, oh how I wished, that I'd stayed at home. I couldn't see any way of getting down safely, I couldn't tell what was horizontal and what was vertical, and every muscle I had was complaining and weakening. I was dizzy with fear.
I'd looked at pictures of Crib Goch on the Internet, and knew that its savagely narrow rocky ridge was not for me. But Paul felt that if I did only fourteen of the fifteen 3,000 ft peaks, it would niggle me. So, as it was a wind-less day, he talked me into swapping our intended Glyders walk for the nasty one, so that I could get it out of the way before my fear made
it an impossibility.
It's a day I will remember for the rest of my life, because I feared for my life for most of the climb, which took hours and hours. It was not only a rocky ridge at the top, but a steep rocky climb up to it, necessitating levels of strength and skill which I don't have. I was terrified: I clung on, I scrambled, I clambered, I cried, and I fought panic as I reached places where I felt I could go neither forwards nor backwards.
We sat on a ledge so that I could calm down, and I wished, oh how I wished, that I'd stayed at home. I couldn't see any way of getting down safely, I couldn't tell what was horizontal and what was vertical, and every muscle I had was complaining and weakening. I was dizzy with fear.
My left leg was too weak for some moves I needed to make, and Paul's hand or foot helped. But I disabled myself by leaning into the rock, so that my own movement was restricted. I just couldn't free myself sufficiently from the terror to enable me to move properly. So we crawled along, my bouts of panic forcing me to tears, though I knew I had to keep going. The only way home lay ahead, and my logical mind recognised that the safest route was along the trodden "path", however difficult it was. Everything else was impossible.
Finally, we came down off the precipitous rock ledge. We inched around the last pinnacle, descended to a grassy saddle, and slogged up the very friable Crib y Ddysgl, accompanied by more tears and frayed nerves. Then we had a heavenly, simply wonderful picnic on top of Garnedd Ugain before skipping happily down to the Pyg Track, thereafter following the Miners' Track back to the car.
Finally, we came down off the precipitous rock ledge. We inched around the last pinnacle, descended to a grassy saddle, and slogged up the very friable Crib y Ddysgl, accompanied by more tears and frayed nerves. Then we had a heavenly, simply wonderful picnic on top of Garnedd Ugain before skipping happily down to the Pyg Track, thereafter following the Miners' Track back to the car.
I comforted myself with a sausage roll and Earl Grey tea at Pen y Pass, examining my bruises. Glad to be alive, I want to stay that way, and I will never go to Crib Goch again.
