Cader Idris

(Written by Neil and Loz)

After a week of “I’m so excited” texts to each other, a pair of childish schoolboys met up for a pre-jangle beer on Thursday night.

The following morning and meeting at Neil’s garage, 10am was not such a good idea given cloudy heads and even cloudier skies. The latter of which may well explain a sudden lack of MOT on Winnie.

The reason for meeting at Neil’s was to try fix No. 328 on Gaz’s SRAD before we set off……….(how about the full story Gaz ?) Needless to say fix 328 was about as successful as the other 327.

Having been convinced by Loz to load a keg / BBQ of beer on the back of the Yella, “those that can“ set off into the drizzle heading for clear blue skies, via the Ponderosa Café where Loz met with some old friends!!

He’s not happy!!!!

With the tummy rumbles removed we rolled on through Bala, Dolgellau, Twyn and onto base camp at Cader Idris (Loz was pleased to note that supplementary oxygen was not yet necessary, so dutifully “rolled one off”).

Base camp struck, its time to open the beer and a merry evening pursues before the munchies take hold again, With Rum in one hand and a virgin cooker to tame , Neil sets about concocting his first Trangia’s gourmet delight (in the traditional fashion…..cooking with Meths) Not like me who insists that gas is the way forward. As I so aptly put it “now we're cooking on gas !!”

Regular readers will be familiar with our previous culinary capers but check out this little beauty.....

Caribbean Chicken with Mediterranean vegetables.

Waking early next morning we prepare to tackle the untamed easterly ascent of Cader Idris. We're obviously in for the long haul so Loz selects his high capacity colostomy sack.

The walk up Cader Idris starts through a woodland area before climbing on large steps to a lake then up the “back wall” to the summit.

Having crested and rested Loz decided it was too far to walk back so opted for tomb stoning (Rather aptly named I thought).

I told him he wouldn’t make the lake

Time to take five whilst Loz extracts his head from the mountain.

Once back at base camp the keg is swiftly recovered from the chiller (stream behind tents) and equally as quickly is emptied, with night and cold drawing in and plenty more “instant idiot tins” to attack, our resident pyromaniac sets about creating the evenings heating before inviting the neighbours round for an evening of fine dining and sophisticated conversation.

Suitably stupor’d in the early hours, all tins, bottles and meths consumed, logs burnt out and conversation exhausted we head to bed. A later start on Sunday before heading home via the local to round off an altogether excellent jangle for “Those that can …..!!”.