Things to Know Before Climbing Snowdon (and Why We Need to Respect the Mountain)

I used to call myself a hiker.

I’d share posts about climbing the fells in the Lake District and the hills of the Yorkshire Dales, feeling a massive sense of achievement at “ticking” off the mountains.

Now, mid-way through my 40s, that really isn’t where my interest lays.

I’m a wanderluster.

I prefer to meander through woods, meadows, and countryside pathways, exploring the flora and fauna, the trees, and the fungi.

Earthen Roots is all about moving away from the rush and artificial pressure of modern life, and these days, I’d much rather capture the magical beauty nature presents than try to conquer it.

But I still love mountains.

There’s something undeniably magical about standing at the top and looking out at the world below you.

Historically, there’s a deep reason why we love doing this.

It ties into something called "prospect-refuge theory" - meaning our ancestors sought out the highest points to survey the land.

From up there, they could locate the best places for shelter, spot hunting opportunities, find water, and keep themselves safe.

In a deep, DNA-ingrained format, we still instinctively love to be high up looking over the land.

Why Snowdon? (And a Bit of Celtic Lore)

I have no desire to climb Ben Nevis.

Maybe I will, maybe I won't, but I've heard it's a really boring walk, and my life simply has no time or space in it for boring.

Snowdon, on the other hand, is meant to be a beautiful walk.

My mother (who has walked all the Wainwrights six times and climbed the Alps, the Dolomites, and mountain regions all over Europe) still says that Snowdon is one of her absolute favourites.

So, naturally, it became a firm addition to my 40 Things To Do at 40 list.

Being a lover of native and Celtic lore, I looked a bit deeper into the mythology around Snowdon before we went.

Its Welsh name is Yr Wyddfa, which translates to "the tumulus" or "the barrow" (a burial mound). According to ancient Celtic legend, it is the tomb of Rhita Gawr, a fearsome giant who wore a cloak made from the beards of the kings he had slain, until he was finally defeated by King Arthur.

The Reality of Climbing Snowdon in Bad Weather

During the summer holidays, I got the chance to head down to Wales. We parked at Pen-y-Pass and had planned to walk up the Miners Track and back down the Pyg Route. It was hard going, but not ridiculous.

But it wasn’t long before the weather changed.

If you are looking for things to know before climbing Snowdon, know this: the weather at the bottom is rarely the weather at the top.

Everywhere else in the country was basking in 30-degree heat, but up on the mountain, it was absolutely pissing it down and the wind was getting stronger.

We made it to the top. There were zero views. But it didn't matter; I still felt a massive sense of achievement.

However, the weather got worse, and I didn't feel comfortable climbing back down the rocky Pyg Route with zero visibility.

(Rule number one... don't be a hero and know your limits!)

We made the sensible decision to take a different route - the long, slow Llanberis path down the other side.

We were soaked to the skin, cold, and utterly knackered by the time we reached the bottom (where, ironically, the sun was back out!).

Essential Things to Know Before Climbing Snowdon

Our wet descent got me thinking about the modern obsession with “conquering mountains” and how woefully underprepared so many people are.

We’re quite experienced walkers. We had clothes for every weather, plenty of water, high-energy snacks, an outdoor first aid kit, and maps... and we still found it tricky when the weather turned.

Yet, I was passing people on the way back down who were walking in flip-flops.

People with no coats.

People who had started their ascent at 3:00 PM in the afternoon, completely oblivious to the fact that it takes roughly 5 to 7 hours to complete the round trip and they would be coming down in the pitch black.

Walking ANY mountain shouldn’t be done on a whim. If you're heading up, here are a few practical, grounded things you actually need to do:

Check a proper mountain forecast: Do not rely on the standard weather app on your phone. Use the Mountain Weather Information Service (MWIS) or the Met Office mountain forecast.

Understand the temperature drop: As a general rule, the temperature drops by about 1°C for every 100 metres you climb. If it's warm in the car park, it can still be freezing at the summit. Bring layers.

Wear actual boots: The terrain is rocky, uneven, and slippery. You need proper ankle support.

Pack the essentials: Take plenty of water, high-energy snacks, an outdoor first aid kit, and an offline map (or a physical map and compass if you know how to use them).

Don't be afraid: Not to walk up, but to turn back if you need to. The mountain isn't going anyway, you can walk it another day.

Respect the Mountain Rescue: Often made up of volunteers, they are there to help with unavoidable accidents. Going up a mountain in flip-flops at 3 PM is asking for a completely avoidable one.

True Connection Means Respecting the Land

We need to stop blindly following Instagram influencers up mountains without being prepared.

I want to help people rebuild their connection to the natural world, but we have to remember that nature is not just a scenic backdrop for a photo.

It is a wild, unpredictable force.

In my work with Wilderness Therapy Interventions, we talk about something called "Attention Restoration Theory".

The premise is that spending intentional, unhurried time in nature helps to restore our frazzled, overstimulated minds, aiding in deep emotional regulation.

But you simply cannot access that restoration if you are rushing to the peak for a selfie, disconnected from the very ground you are walking on.

True connection requires reverence.

It requires knowing your limits, reading the sky, and understanding that you are a guest on the mountain, not its conqueror.

Yes, climbing Snowdon was another item ticked off my 40 Things To Do at 40 list. But more importantly, it was a profound reminder of why I do the work I do.

We all need space to pause, reflect, and reconnect with ourselves. And sometimes, that doesn't mean conquering a mountain at all. Sometimes, it just means sitting quietly and letting the landscape hold you.

If we want to reclaim our wild instincts and find genuine peace outdoors, we have to respect the land, respect ourselves, and respect each other in the process.