O’s 40th in Eryi/Snowdonia: 14-17 March 2025
It was my good friend O’s 40th birthday over this weekend, so a group of us assembled at Hendre Isaf Bunkhouse in Eryi (a.k.a. Snowdonia) for a weekend of adventures and celebrating.
Side note, I didn’t know the Welsh called Snowdonia anything other than Snowdonia before this trip, but the Welsh name of Eryi translates to ‘abode of eagles’ (like the eagles nest ‘eyrie’), which is a bit more poetic than the literal ‘Snowdonia (from the Old English elements ‘snāw’ – snow and ‘dūn’ -hill). The actual mountain Snowdon is called Yr Wyddfa in Welsh, and legend goes that the giant Rhita, who had a penchant for killing kings and using their bears to make a cloak for himself, was killed and then buried by King Arthur here. I.e. it’s actually a giant burial cairn. (Huge appreciation to the Welsh contingent who bubbled over with Welsh language, tradition and knowledge throughout the trip.)
We left the dead giant alone though, and spent our first (glorious) day climbing Tryfan and the two Glyders of Fach and Fawr instead. Here’s (roughly) our route:
It was an absolute beaut of a day to be out on the hills, feeling like the first day of Spring aggressively asserting itself.
At the top of the mountain are two stones, nicknamed ‘Adam and Eve’ (or, given as we’re doing Welsh now, Siôn a Siân). Apparently if you jump from one to the other you attain the ‘Freedom of Tryfan’, but with a pretty hairy drop in case of failure, and frankly a lack of clarity about the benefits accorded under said ‘Freedom’, we gave it a miss.
So far, so stunning, but my favourite part of the walk was yet to come. Once we got up on to the plateau between the two Glyders, the landscape became otherworldly. Shattered rock extruded and assembled out of the reflective snow in bizarre formations. (Think if Game of Thrones had a love-child with a paleo-alien civilisation.)
From there, it was a pretty steep decent, stopping half way at Llyn y Cŵn for a moment of Zen…
…before the landscape switched from a Game of Thrones to a more Lord of the Rings vibe.
And then back to the car and done, a very happy bunch of walkers.
The next day started with a proper birthday breakfast and celebrations, before we headed out to visit Coed Felenrhyd & Llennyrch (‘Coed’ meaning ‘wood’ or ‘trees’.) This is a rare, Atlantic oak woodland and full of rare lichens, mosses and liverworts (I didn’t know the latter was a thing before this trip). Apparently, whilst they are both non-vascular plants (bryophytes), liverworts have either flat, lobe-like structures (called a thallus), or leafy structures, whereas mosses have distinct stems and leaves arranged around a central axis.
The woods were simultaneously beautiful, damp and epic, in a Jurassic kind of way.
And here are a few of my favourite trees:
And at the waterfall B and C taught us (well, taught the children really, but we all got involved) how to make miniature boats out of reeds, which we then set sail down the river.
The final evening was spent with P teaching us how to sing Bulgarian folk songs. I mainly sat out and listened, because it was stunning and I didn’t want to ruin it! Video below:
And then we were heading home, all too soon. High hopes for a re-run at some point though!
It feels only appropriate to finish with a Sonnet, written by PJ, in honour of the occasion:
Upon the hills where ancient Georgia sings,
We climbed through mists to Tryfan mighty crown,
And Glyders watched us, bold with winded wings,
As laughter echoed, never tumbling down.
The lakes lay silvered in the spring light,
Reflecting joy upon each smiling face,
While hearts were full, and spirits lifted bright—
Each step a gift, each breath a kind embrace.
With hummus, feasts, and bananas by the pile,
We dined like kings beneath the mountain skies.
Old friendships warmed, new ones began to smile,
And love shone clear in children’s gleaming eyes.
So cheers to Ollie, and to Becky too—
And Wales, we thank your hills for all they do.
Ar fryniau hen lle cana tawelwch clir,
Dringasom ni i ben Tryfan yn y gwynt,
A’r Glyderau’n gwylio’n dawel, llawn o dir,
Wrth i’n chwerthin gerdded gyda’r awyr hynt.
Y llynnoedd ddisglair dan y bore’r wawr,
Yn adlewyrchu llawenydd ar bob grudd,
A’n calonau’n llawn, ein hysbryd heb ei fraw,
Pob cam yn rhodd, pob anadl llawn o hud.
Gyda hummus, ffrwythau, bananas mewn torf,
Bwyd fel brenhinoedd dan y nef Eryri,
Cyfeillion hen yn cwrdd mewn llawen gorf,
A rhai newydd, arbennig, gyda chariad pur i’w rannu.
Felly diolch Ollie, a Becky’n wir hefyd—
A diolch i Gymru am ei mynyddoedd cain a hedd.