Snowdon adventure


12th September 2004

The best day of the summer holidays



The rocks fell from under my feet; they tumbled down the long
winding path until coming to rest at the bottom. With each step,
another collection of rocks came loose. Mum warned me to be careful;
on each side of us was a two thousand foot drop. I paused a moment
to admire the view, in front of us were miles and miles of mountains
and valleys, each one different and unique. I was walking up the
largest of them all, Snowdon. Mountain sheep were visible on the
closer ones; they were little specks
of white moving around.

The path flattened out, it was quite well made. Fences covered the
drops on either side. However, the steepest part was still to come.
Although the summit was in sight, there was still some way to go.
The cafe on the summit was visible; however long we walked it never
seemed to get closer. Thinking about food kept my mind off walking.
The path became rocky, soon we were scrambling over jagged rocks,
the path had disappeared, and we had to follow the rocks which had
been worn down by the thousands
of mountain boots.

At last the path reappeared, guiding us to the summit. One last steep
climb stood in the way of us and the summit. This final push was the hardest,
but the last. Finally we had reached the top of Snowdon. We were standing on
the highest point in England and Wales at 3560 feet above sea level. The views
were spectacular; seeing the views were the reason I had put all this effort in.
It had been worth it, seeing the mountains fade into the distance, the green
valleys carving their way through the landscape. Sea birds hovered overhead,
looking for food from the walkers who obliged
by feeding them with scraps
from the cafe.

Sheep also took advantage of the situation, they would pester the walkers until
they were fed, then of course the sheep would come back for more. The cafe on the
summit was very busy; we managed to arrive just before another train load of people
arrived so the queue was short. I thought that a hotdog was called for; queuing for
the hotdogs, I discovered that they were running out. When I came to the tin, there
was one left, the last hotdog on Snowdon for that day, and I had it.
This was certainly the best day of my
summer holiday.

CJ aged 13, September 2004.