What happens to a Crib Goch day if the weather is bad?
I’ve had Crib Goch days where we’ve done Lliwedd and Yr Wyddfa instead, and others where we’ve chosen a much smaller objective. On one particularly rough day, Gallt y Wenallt, at a little over 600 metres, was quite enough. That was the mountain day available to us in those conditions, and it still made us work.
When you book a Crib Goch day, that’s the route we’re aiming for. I won’t promise the ridge regardless of the weather, and I don’t want to arrive with a group who think changing the plan would mean the day had gone wrong. We start talking about the forecast beforehand, so everyone has some idea of what we’re likely to find.
The decision at Bwlch y Moch
Some forecasts rule Crib Goch out well before we leave home. On more marginal days, Bwlch y Moch is often where I make the call. It’s the pass where we leave the Pyg Track and head towards the East Ridge, before we get committed to the climbing.
It can also be an extraordinarily windy spot. I’ve known it to be blowing considerably harder there than at Pen y Pass, and sometimes harder than on the summits themselves. That doesn’t make it a reliable prediction of what’s happening higher up, but it gives us something real to assess alongside the forecast.
I carry an anemometer because people are surprisingly bad at estimating wind speed. Having an actual reading helps, and it’s quite interesting to compare what the wind feels like with what the instrument says. It’s also rather good at taking the argument out of a conversation. The wind meter has no interest in how long someone’s been waiting to do Crib Goch.
In my own decisions, readings around 30 mph are already a reason to think very carefully about whether continuing is appropriate. At 35–40 mph or more, I’m generally finding it very difficult to justify taking my group onto that ridge. Those figures sit alongside everything else I’m seeing; a lower reading doesn’t give us permission to ignore wet rock or a group struggling to stay balanced.
What I’m looking at
The steadiness of the wind matters, as does its direction. Rain changes how the polished slabs feel, and poor visibility makes route choice more involved. I’m also watching how the people beside me are moving. Are they comfortable in the conditions we’ve already got? Are they getting cold while we stand here? How much more difficult will this become when we’re climbing somewhere exposed?
A lot of that feels like instinct when I’m doing it, because I’ve spent so much time there. If something feels wrong, I’m happy to act on it. I don’t need to get onto the ridge first to prove that the concern was justified.
If we change the route, the alternative gets the same attention. Lliwedd isn’t automatically suitable because we’ve ruled out Crib Goch, and a lower summit can still be a serious undertaking in strong wind. We choose something appropriate for that group on that day, or cancel if there isn’t a suitable day to be had.
I know people can have a lot invested in this particular ridge. Some have travelled a long way or spent years thinking about it. I’ll explain the decision properly, but I’m not going to let that weight of expectation make it for me.
