AT THE ROCK
You begin to understand how long this hike is as you continue to push across and upwards to the last ascent before you reach the waiting area. As you pass markers 11 to 14 the amount of litter on the trail increases dramatically, at least in our experience items of rubbish are piled up at each marker sometimes chest high which is a huge shame. In my own opinion it is completely unacceptable to ever litter on any trail. A person that respects the outdoors, loves the wild and feels most at home in nature does not litter, ever. The reason I have a bad knee is due diving across the rocks into a waterfall near the start of The Watkins Path on Mount Snowdon too grab a plastic cup before it fell down the falls. I have a strange looking knee as the lump that rose as I smashed my leg on the rock has never left, but I did leave Wales a cleaner place.
Reaching Trolltunga itself is surreal, although you have seen many people on the trail you are not prepared for the crowds, for the queue that forms at the base of the tongue or for how much colder and windier it is on the edge. We found shelter to the left on the rock to sit down and eat. John was not happy, he was in pain and knew that we had a return journey, 14km back to the car. As we joined the queue, people holding places for others, running up and down the crude ladder in the rocks, to and from the photography platforms we enjoyed the warm and excited vibe of those waiting their turn.
Photos were taken of us, we too photos of other people and we kept moving to stay warm. I never prepare correctly, take a lightweight down jacket that screws up really tight, the weather changes in seconds even at lower altitudes and the wind coming up through the valley can can get quite bitter. I would recommend gloves and something to keep your head warm, you’ll be standing relatively still in that queue, it’s quite a squeeze and you are standing on the edge of a ledge above a 700m drop. There have been a number of deaths here over the years and some incredibly sad stories can be found, it is a terrible shame, the risk is always present it’s part of why we love it but it is easy to become complacent with excitement.
It all became to much for John who refused to queue and after standing for a little too long in the rain decided to turn back ahead of us, he did miss out on a classic Instagram and Facebook photograph and he didn’t have the chance to experience the feeling of being sat on the edge of The Devil’s Tongue with your legs hanging int the void but he certainly completed the hike.
An hour later, as I walked out onto the rock a feeling of complete awe overwhelmed me. I stepped up to the very edge of tongue and tipped my toes very carefully over the edge, proud that I had achieved my goal I sat down, hung my legs over the side and took it all in. It’s hard to see from the video above due to it being somewhat sped up but as I sat on that ledge Declan ran up behind me and shook me, for a second I thought I might die. He sat down next to me, we put our arms around each other and I got up and left whilst Dale took photographs and high speed video (Why would you speed this up?) from the platform above. You should make sure your photographer knows the shots you want them to take, you won’t get long on the tongue and you have to rely on someone else, unless taking some of the most dangerous selfies you will ever take.
THE WAY HOME
As we began making our 14km return journey back the way we had came, the familiarity of the lumps and bumps in the trail felt good, John had left some time before and was well on his way ahead of us. As we reached the the bottom of the first descent, we took a small detour to check out some roped climbers scaling a wall off of the main track. We could see a cave from here in the distance, it sunk into the side of the adjacent mountain and we had no choice but t explore. Declan began blazing a new trail, this is one of Declan’s special skills, he sent us directly up Snowdon after the path become trite, lead us directly down the hillsides of Dartmoor National Park, which caused me to get infested by ticks, and guided me through the back streets and alleyways of Bangkok both during the day and early morning.
We climbed down the face of a rocky waterfall, my knee at this point had begun to sink into a mortal agony of which I can only describe as being the equivalent to childbirth and I could put almost no weight on my right leg. Wet, cold and in pain, I climbed carefully down the slippery rocks taking the driest path I could find and after half an hour stood at the bottom, on solid ground looking up at the cliffside we had descended. With that in itself being an epic journey, we turned and headed towards the cave entrance that stood 500 yards in front of us.
The cave was blocked by a metal grate, luckily we found a corner loose and pulled the steel mesh up to squeeze our way in, this is when I began to lead the group. Declan’s role is definitely to create the trail, my own role is to take the lead when things get dangerous, Declan argues severely at this concept maintaining that he is the leader throughout but we all have our own strengths. I save the day, I’m sorry Declan but it’s true. I turn on my headlamp (I aways us Petzl headlamps and carabiners, they are amazing quality, reliable, and there is no need to buy the expensive models), and start to move deeper into the cave with Dec and Dale 10 feet behind.
More to come.
I have broken this into two parts, it was getting long and I doubt will get even this far, but if you are still with me, check out the start of this post in Norway, Trolltunga – Hiking to the Edge of The Devil’s Tongue Part 1.