Snowdonia

This post is ages overdue. It was almost written many many times, but then I always never got around to doing it. So for some reason now, something like 2 weeks later and when I'm sitting in a hotel room in Linz, Austria, I am determined to actually write this damn thing. Perhaps it's because I'm agitated over my mum pressurising me about tenancy issue from my old flat (yes, I admit I went into self-denial and she's right to do it, but that doesn't make me respond in a more reasonable manner), and just like how some people go running, I angrily pound out words on the keyboard.

That and I've been crazily busy since that time period.

So anyway flashback to the last post(s): I didn't get the part in the performning group, and was absolutely gutted. Developed something close to an associated-panic attack to swing that was thankfully adverted. Went back for swing class on the day we (WR, JK, Tiff) left for Snowdown to find that Tom had learned my name. Sue says (very nicely) that's because he and Cici were debating about whether to let me into the performing group. Sue also said that the reason why I didn't get in was probably because they needed someone to pair a short guy and I was too tall. Sue is really too nice. ANYWAY SNOWDON.

So afterwards, Tiff and I left to meet JK and WR at Euston station around 10:30pm. Tiff bought some really nice fries from Burger King. We arrived at Birmingham New Street around 1am and we settled into the 24h Mcdonald's next to the station to be like hobos. We encountered an interesting mix of people there, I must say.

First was security man, who I couldn't decide whether he was creepy or not. He was inside Mcdonald's and was standing near the door when I popped out for a bit to feel the cold outdoor air. On my way in, he smiled and said that I looked very pretty. Which was alright, but then afterwards he kept looking at me and watching me through the class, perhaps hoping to catch my eye and garner a smile for me or something. I don't know. Then was outright creepy dude, also of a vague central Asian origin, who sat in the adjorning booth and kept half staring at us, prompting Tiff to put her coat on even though it was warm inside. The last was outright WTF, a legit high hobo with shoulder length ratty orange (?!?!?!) hair who came right up to our table and kept saying something that sounded like "an-ya-se-yo" (hello in Korean?) for a good 2 minutes while we attempted to ignore him.

Around 5am we left the Mcdonald's to catch our next train towards Holyhead, getting off at Llandudno Junction. Essentially once we got on the next train, we all crashed and slept, getting up only near our stop. While we're sitting still, half waking up and waiting for our stop, Tiff got the idea to go wash up. As she walked by, the pessimistic thought occured to me, "Hmm, what if...?"

Well let's just say true enough, it happened. Tiffany was still in the bathroom as the train pulled into the station, JK shoved WR and I off the train, with all our stuff, while Tiff was still nowhere to be found. And while JK was walking inside the train, WR and I followed him on the outside. Then just as the train made a funny sound, I sprang forward to try and press the train door open as JK was becoming frantic on the other side. The door did not open. According to WR and JK, my first reaction was to raise up my right hand and wave to him as the train pulled away. Funnily enough, I don't remember doing that although it does sound like something I'd have done. Instead what I remembered the most was JK's face as it slowly dawned on him the that the train was about to move off with him and Tiff in it:- a mix of disbelif, horror and dawning anxiety, as he kept pressing the button to open the train door. It was at the point that I wished I had the presence of mind to take out my camera. Anyway his eyes were a bit like Munch's The Scream, if one can imagine that IRL. JK's mouth was a bit more of the open-in-disbelief sort.

WR and I walked off the platform, and I immeditately went to the train station attendant and explained our predicament to him, framing it more along the 'so, when's the next train from Bangor due?' line. Somehow, I found the whole thing insanely funny. Which I guess it was. Even though I was very tired and usually extremely irritable. WR and I ended up stoning in silence in the small waiting room, listening to the local yobs waiting for their train. Was amusing. When Tiff and JK finally came, we ended up walking to the local Aldi and Iceland, before ending up at another Mcdonald's when we found the KFC closed. The next train was 4 hours later. Tiff bought breakfast for all of us, as penance.

By the time we got to Betws-y-Coed, it started raining a bit. Deciding we couldn't ditch our bags at the tourism centre, which closed at 5pm, we ended up carrying the whole lot of it to our trek in Snowdon. Anyway it was pouring like fuck when we got to Snowdown. It was Singapore-monsoon rain style. But we were there, and had endured so much to be there, so we started climbing anyway - against all common sense. We were quickly drenched to the bone. When I climbled, my jeans actually turned shiny for a moment as all the water got simply wrung out by the action of my leg pulling my body up.

On our way up, we passed 3 groups of men coming down. They all looked like the real deal too: proper gear, mid 20s to 30s, all fit men (in the literal and not British sense). They all said they tried going up, couldn't, almost got blown off, and decided to turn back. To this we went "ok! We'll try anyway", and then they gave us the most amazed looks ever, a combination of 'wow, you've got guts/you're nuts/what's the number of the welsh moutain rescue team?'. After a while Tiff and WR called it quits, but JK and I wanted to push on. After leaving Tiff and WR for about 20 minutes, we finally turned back after having to stop multiple times because we almost got blown off the mountain. There is nothing quite like carrying 15kg on your back, weighing almost 55kg, and feeling yourself get blown off a mountain because of gale force winds (which we were warned off before, in case our foolhardiness needs more highlighting).

Somehow, JK and I made it off the mountain in one piece. We spent the rest of the time in the poor cafe at the base, sopping off water everywhere we went. I discovered everything in my bag was wet, but my worn clothes were somehow the driest since my hair and torso were spared (thanks Karrimor 3-in-1 jacket!) We somehow made it to the town area, and found a lovely discount store (Rock Botton, by Cotswalds I think) where the staff were really nice. They allowed us to hide there till our dorm opened, while hogging the heater. At the same thing, they even nicely lent WR a jacket that was defective because hers was all wet. I managed to buy a 5 pound pair of pants to replace my sopping wet ones. WR later bought a box of cabury celebrations for the staff from a local food and wine store.

The rest of the time was considerably more normal. Dinner we had to drag our asses out, and we had it in a small restaurant bar while being served by a spritely old man. There was a jukebox and WR was very thrilled. WR and Tiff were telling ghost stories, and Tiff died because she was super scared, changing beds with me. The next day I felt like dying, and went to rest after breakfast. We took a bus to Swallow Falls, then walked to the Ugly House and took a nature ramble through fields on the way back to town, some 6km away. Lunch was at a local chip shop where all the locals stared at us, and JK accidentally dumped a whole large shaker of salt on his food because he knocked the cap off.

Back in London, after more Monopoly Deal, WR went home and JK, Tiff and I went to Euston Chinese to grab dinner. Then, Tiff went home to run and I went home to die.

The end.