Above and beyond the sleepy hamlet of Croesor rise three parallel ridges which once dipped their toes into the tidal flow of Traeth Mawr, reclaimed in the early 1800s by the construction of ‘The Cob’ at Porthmadoc. Of this trio, the ridge most often climbed is that of Cnicht, as honest an ascent as could possibly be conceived; bottom to top in one elegant sweep. Today, we forsake Cnicht for its two neighbouring ridges which are similarly uncontrived, loftier and relatively unpeopled. Curiously passé, these western spurs afford simple ‘hands in pockets’ walking where roving eyes are free to survey an exceptional vista of mountains and the glittering sea beyond. That is not to say that this walk is in any way dull; the descent of Moelwyn Bach requires care while the umbilical ridge of Craig Ysgafn is a fine, quartzite-flecked arete which presents optional scrambling above the dark waters of Llyn Stwlan. The best, however, is saved for last as Moelwyn Mawr’s trig point is stumbled upon. Small in extent, this peak is remarkable in its position and outlook. One might never want to leave, were it not for the irresistible call of the narrow summit ridge to come.
I ought to get down there again, Nicholas. I was still at school when, along with some mates we got the train and headed over the Moelwyns (and Cnicht) to a hostel somewhere and then on towards Snowdon/Eryri. Just the other day I drove with my Mum through Ogwen Valley and I hadn't been that way for almost fifty years.
Nice one Nick. Love the west ridge of Moelwyn Mawr, and should we ever get a decent winter again, I look forward to negotiating the impressive cornices that form on it.
> That sounds like a wonderful youthful adventure.
> I am quite incredulous that you have managed to avoid the area for all those years!
> There is so much here in North Wales for you to discover and enjoy. What are you waiting for?
Yes, it is a bit of a mystery. I had several hostelling trips in North Wales as a school kid - with mates, not under adult supervision. I wonder if today's young people are given the kind of leeway we enjoyed back then? As Mum and I sat in Caffi Siabod (a nightmare if you have a phobia of yellow) I was telling her about Moel Siabod which I think was the first mountain I climbed in Wales aged about 14 or 15 - we don't count the one with the train. Because I lived within sight of the Pennines that became the main focus, followed in short order by the Dales (caves!) and the Lakes. Scotland became another big draw, especially when Munro bagging loomed over the horizon. I've always associated heading north with going in the 'right' direction since it always seemed like moving away from the crowds.
Thanks for this write up. It looked so good I went to check it out on Wednesday but combined it with Cnicht as well for a long day out. Excellent views all round and a combination of firm moorland, boggy ground and easy scrambling
