Walking into the Clouds: My Welsh Three Peaks Challenge

Friday the 13th of June, 2025. I picked up the camper van with the kind of naive optimism that makes horror movie characters head into the woods with no signal. What could possibly go wrong?

My destination: the Pen-y-Pass car park, base for the legendary Snowdon. I’d pre-booked, so despite the late hour (11:15 PM), I was allowed on site. I parked up, made a quick bed setup, and grabbed what sleep I could – just under 3 hours. The alarm ripped me out of dreams at 3:30 AM to a world of driving rain, cloud, and wind. Welcome to Wales.

The Morning Fireball (Also Known as Breakfast)

I needed coffee. I needed porridge. What I didn’t need was a live-action fireball show at 4 AM. In my bleary state, I hadn’t connected the gas bottle properly. I clicked the ignition, and whoosh – an 18-inch jet of flame exploded directly from the bottle. Half-asleep, I instinctively tried to blow it out like it was a birthday candle. Realising just how ridiculous (and dangerous) that was, I quickly turned off the gas. Crisis averted, eyebrows intact.

After a speedy breakfast with just a hint of burnt ego, I suited up in full waterproofs – the Pyg Track was calling, and the weather wasn’t joking around.

Peak 1: Snowdon (Yr Wyddfa) – The Thunderous Giant

Starting the climb at 4:45 AM, visibility was down to 30 metres. I was unable to post my live link to my social channels as there is no phone signal which was disappointing. A few night hikers passed me heading down – we exchanged rain-soaked pleasantries. As I climbed higher, thunder began to roll over the mountain like a warning drum. Lightning forked in the distance. Not ideal, considering I had two more mountains to climb that day.

Snowdon, the highest peak in Wales at 1,085m, carries a rich history. Its Welsh name, Yr Wyddfa, means “The Tomb,” supposedly the final resting place of the giant Rhitta Gawr, slain by King Arthur. The mountain is steeped in myth, and that morning it truly felt like I was walking through a realm of legends.

After 2 hours and 20 minutes, I reached the summit – grey, misty, howling – and snapped a few quick photos before retreating. Thunder was getting closer. I descended via the Miner’s Track, now drenched and already feeling it in my legs.

Total time: 4 hours 35 minutes. One peak down, soaked to the soul.

Peak 2: Cadair Idris – The Chair of the Giant

After a soggy change and a strong coffee, I drove the 70 miles to Dolgellau, the starting point for my second climb: Cadair Idris. I began around 1:00 PM, taking the Pony Path into more cloud, more rain, and even less visibility, and again no phone signal to offer my social channels the chance to follow me live.

Cadair Idris translates to “Idris’s Chair,” named after a legendary giant who used the mountain as his throne. Folklore warns that anyone who sleeps on the mountain will either wake up a poet… or mad. Luckily, I wasn’t planning an overnight stay – just a determined trudge up a soggy trail.

Despite the weather, the route was eerily peaceful. Fewer hikers attempt this mountain unless they’re doing the Welsh Three Peaks, so for much of it, I was alone with the wind. Two hours in, I reached the summit. Wind screaming, rain sideways – a true test of determination.

But just as I neared the car park again, something miraculous happened. The rain stopped. The clouds parted. The sun lit up the landscape like a curtain had lifted on the most beautiful stage Wales had to offer. It was a small reward, but it felt like a sign: keep going.

Peak 3: Pen y Fan – A Sunset for the Soul

With two peaks down, I drove towards the Brecon Beacons and my final climb of the day: Pen y Fan.

Arriving at the Pont ar Daf car park at 7:40 PM, I was hurting. My knees and legs screamed with every movement. But I kitted up, grabbed a celebratory cider, and started up the “motorway” route – the most direct trail to the summit.

At 886m, Pen y Fan is the highest peak in southern Britain and was once a Bronze Age burial site. It might not be as tall as Snowdon, but it holds a commanding presence, especially after the day I’d had.

Every step was a battle of my knees screaming "enough already". I spoke aloud:
"Come on, Brecon Beacons. I've been good all day. I'm doing this for charity. Just one view – one reward."

And then, at the summit, magic happened.

The clouds lifted. The wind stopped. And before us unfolded a sunset so rich, so golden and dramatic, it stopped everyone in their tracks. We stood there – strangers now bonded by awe – in silence. It was a theatrical finale, a curtain call on the hardest but most rewarding day of my life.

I opened my cider. I drank in the view – and the drink – in deep satisfaction.

Reflection: Peaks 8, 9, and 10 of 25

The descent was almost a full on jog for the entire descent – adrenaline still pumping. The round trip took just 1 hour 45 minutes, the fastest I’ve ever completed Pen y Fan. At 11:00 PM, I finally arrived at the campsite, made dinner, and collapsed into the camper van.

Completing peaks 8, 9, and 10 of my 25 Peaks in 2025 challenge, raising money for charity, felt monumental. Not because I’d conquered the mountains – but because I’d conquered my own doubts.

Two years ago, I couldn’t have imagined doing this.

Three peaks. One fireball. Countless puddles. And a sunset I’ll never forget.