Name: Club Climbing Night
Start: 2026-09-03T18:00:00+01:00
End: 2026-09-03T21:00:00+01:00
Location: Dalkey Quarry

Snowdonia Log – Travels with Charlie’s Angels

(by Gerry Moss, November 2011)
The annual North Wales trip, action-packed despite the weather.

Twenty signed up for the trip and, in the end, eighteen made it over. They came from far and near: Catherine travelled from Mayo; Kryzs from Galway; Christy from Tipperary; James from London, but pride of place goes to Martina, who came all the way from Germany, especially for the weekend. Last year, the weather for the weekend was unusually calm, dry and settled – very pleasant, but not very challenging, inasmuch as you could climb or scramble anywhere you pleased. This year, conditions were more typical for the end of October: quite mild, quite windy and, sometimes, quite wet.

I was one of four passengers in the only car to take the early morning sailing on the Friday – a day of bright sunshine and fresh winds. The other three were Mags (the driver), Martina and Jane. Feisty females, they might well be described as a latter day version of Charlie’s Angels, which is appropiate enough, as I have often been described as a proper Charlie.

Gogarth, being just a five minute drive from the ferry terminal, was our choice to kickstart the weekend, with Lighthouse Arete on Castell Ellen (which has the best rock on Gogarth) the target as our first route.

A long, committing abseil of 55m deposited us in a small, inhospitable niche, just out of reach of the lively seas (with the belay stances not really large enough to accommodate the four of us at any one time, you could say I was boldly going where no man has gone before …). The route then gave us steep, exposed and juggy climbing, against a magnificent backdrop of rough seas and a rugged coastline. While the climbing is mostly pleasant, there is the odd awkward move to add a little excitement to the occasion.

Then it was on to Ty Powdwr, the commodious and comfortable hut placed at our disposal by The Karabiner Mountaineering Club, where the girls, mindful of keeping all of our strengths up for the following day’s proceedings, laid on a splendid meal.

The strong winds played havoc with the ferry sailing schedules that night, and several parties didn’t reach the hut until the wee small hours of the morning. Nevertheless, everyone was up bright and early, and all rearing to go, even if some were a little bleary-eyed.

Standing in the doorway of the hut that morning, prospects looked bleak. Strong winds and driving rain were sweeping across the valley below us. But the hut lies in the rain shadow of Snowdon, and it is worth remembering that the three areas with the heaviest annual rainfall in Britain are the areas around Snowdon, Scafell and Ben Nevis – in other words, mountains make their own weather.

By travelling a bit further afield when cloud is clagging up the high tops, reasonable conditions can often be found. Therein lies the challenge. For the mountain mass of North Wales is so large and diverse that there will nearly always be somewhere that offers tractable rock, if time is taken to suss out the options. Finding these locations requires a close scrutiny of the maps, careful perusal of the guidebooks and a keen awareness of the weather forecast. All habits worth developing and essential ones for anyone heading regularly to the hills.

Willie, Cearbhall, Christy and Matthias drove down to the Moelwyns and had a pleasant day, knocking off several routes at Craig-y-Clipiau. Kryzs and Áine opted for the sports climbs in the slate quarries, which dry quickly after rain, while several parties settled for the ever-reliable sylvan delights of Tremadog, an area boasting its own micro-climate.

Tremadog is a place I never tire of: not only has it several different crags, all offering multi-pitch climbing on good, clean rock but, as an extra bonus, the drive down to it from Pen-y-Pass takes you through scenery that is particularly beautiful in late Autumn. There are mountains, crags, lakes, waterfalls and rushing rivers on either side of the road as you go, and the whole area is covered in oak trees at their best, showing off their autumnal coats of rich, warm colours.

Scrambling up through the oaks to the foot of the climbs, the carpet of acorns crunched beneath our feet while squirrels and the odd woodmouse scampered about feasting on this bountiful harvest, taking little notice of us climbers as they did so. There is usually a marked contrast here between the initial pitches and the final ones, as the routes often start by working their way up in the shelter of the trees, before leading the climber out onto the more exposed, and sometimes windswept, rock.

We started our day with the five-pitch Poor Man’s Peuterey, moving slowly but steadily up the route as the winds strengthened and the skies grew darker, with Dave, Brian, Peter and James hot on our heels. Then it was down to Eric’s Café for a quick snack, before gearing up for our second route. But as we approached the foot of the crag the rain arrived, a little earlier and somewhat heavier than forecast, causing problems for those who were still up on the crags. We decided to opt out while we were still dry and headed to Llanberis to check out the gear shops.

Sunday again looked doubtful, but this time the bad weather was moving up from the southwest. So, one party, having headed down to the Moelwyns, and discovering it wet down there, travelled back up to the Idwal Slabs where they found fine weather and dry rock. Others opted for the excellent scrambling to be found on Tryfan’s N/E ridge, while more went scrambling on the Glyders.

The three parties climbing at Tremadog had summer conditions, with good sunshine and temperatures in the high teens, and a number of fine routes were accounted for. We, having the luxury of being the first climbers at the crag, started off with the popular four-pitch Christmas Curry, retrieving some of Joe’s gear left behind the day before on the Micah Finish.

Meanwhile Rob and Willie were ticking off routes for fashion, while, over on Poor Man’s Peuterey, Joe, Kieran and Catherine were involved in an epic ascent of the variation pitches (at one stage they even contemplated sending a porter down to the valley to bring up fresh supplies) but they prevailed in the end, finishing before darkness arrived.

Having refuelled at Eric’s café, we stopped to exchange pleasantries with the man himself (he told me about a new type of walking poles that had come on the market – I was feeling a bit affronted until he explained that he used them all the time himself, and found them great – well, if they’re good enough for Eric, then they are certainly good enough for me. Trouble is, I can’t remember the name of the blooming things.).

Feeling refreshed after our cuppa, we then went on to do One Step in The Clouds, one of the jewels in the crown of Craig Bwlch-y-moch. It’s a number of years since I last did this three-pitch route so I was pleased to find that it was every bit as delectable as I remembered it, the exposure and the delicacy increasing with every move up the crux pitch. Sitting on the comfy belay ledge above, I was joined by a young lad from Sheffield Uni, he having led up Joe Brown’s classic E2, Vector, one of the finest routes in the whole of Tremadog. He confessed to me that this was his second time to lead it that day – he enjoyed the first lead so much that, when an opportunity arose to lead it again, he jumped at the chance. His enthusiasm was such that I wished I could have bottled it, brought it home and sprinkled it about on a club meet.

Monday’s forecast was for early morning rain to clear by ten o’clock and our plans allowed for this. But, alas, our plans were scuppered when we got a text from Irish Ferries informing us that, due to high winds, our 17.15 sailing had been cancelled, and our booking transferred to the earlier sailing of 14.15. Nothing daunted, we opted to get the driving over early, while the rain was still falling, and go walking along the rugged and beautiful coastline around Rhoscolyn, only a short drive from the ferry, doing a recce of the climbs there at the same time.

The rain stopped shortly after we alighted from the car and we enjoyed a pleasant walk, pummelled by the strong winds, but impressed by the huge waves crashing against the rocks of the indented coastline. At the end of an action-packed weekend, I was beginning to feel a bit frayed about the edges, run ragged trying to keep pace with these three young Amazons, but they are nothing if not all heart, and they obligingly propped me up long enough to record a final photo.

The following day I received an email from Martina, safely back in Germany, saying she had enjoyed every minute of the weekend, had found it well worth the journey and asking to have her name put on the list for the 2012 October meet to Snowdonia.

With a hut already booked, her name is on top of the list.
Snowdonia Log – Travels with Charlie's Angels

(by Gerry Moss, November 2011)
The annual North Wales trip, action-packed despite the weather.

Twenty signed up for the trip and, in the end, eighteen made it over. They came from far and near: Catherine travelled from Mayo; Kryzs from Galway; Christy from Tipperary; James from London, but pride of place goes to Martina, who came all the way from Germany, especially for the weekend. Last year, the weather for the weekend was unusually calm, dry and settled – very pleasant, but not very challenging, inasmuch as you could climb or scramble anywhere you pleased. This year, conditions were more typical for the end of October: quite mild, quite windy and, sometimes, quite wet.

I was one of four passengers in the only car to take the early morning sailing on the Friday – a day of bright sunshine and fresh winds. The other three were Mags (the driver), Martina and Jane. Feisty females, they might well be described as a latter day version of Charlie’s Angels, which is appropiate enough, as I have often been described as a proper Charlie.

Gogarth, being just a five minute drive from the ferry terminal, was our choice to kickstart the weekend, with Lighthouse Arete on Castell Ellen (which has the best rock on Gogarth) the target as our first route.

A long, committing abseil of 55m deposited us in a small, inhospitable niche, just out of reach of the lively seas (with the belay stances not really large enough to accommodate the four of us at any one time, you could say I was boldly going where no man has gone before …). The route then gave us steep, exposed and juggy climbing, against a magnificent backdrop of rough seas and a rugged coastline. While the climbing is mostly pleasant, there is the odd awkward move to add a little excitement to the occasion.

Then it was on to Ty Powdwr, the commodious and comfortable hut placed at our disposal by The Karabiner Mountaineering Club, where the girls, mindful of keeping all of our strengths up for the following day’s proceedings, laid on a splendid meal.

The strong winds played havoc with the ferry sailing schedules that night, and several parties didn’t reach the hut until the wee small hours of the morning. Nevertheless, everyone was up bright and early, and all rearing to go, even if some were a little bleary-eyed.

Standing in the doorway of the hut that morning, prospects looked bleak. Strong winds and driving rain were sweeping across the valley below us. But the hut lies in the rain shadow of Snowdon, and it is worth remembering that the three areas with the heaviest annual rainfall in Britain are the areas around Snowdon, Scafell and Ben Nevis – in other words, mountains make their own weather.

By travelling a bit further afield when cloud is clagging up the high tops, reasonable conditions can often be found. Therein lies the challenge. For the mountain mass of North Wales is so large and diverse that there will nearly always be somewhere that offers tractable rock, if time is taken to suss out the options. Finding these locations requires a close scrutiny of the maps, careful perusal of the guidebooks and a keen awareness of the weather forecast. All habits worth developing and essential ones for anyone heading regularly to the hills.

Willie, Cearbhall, Christy and Matthias drove down to the Moelwyns and had a pleasant day, knocking off several routes at Craig-y-Clipiau. Kryzs and Áine opted for the sports climbs in the slate quarries, which dry quickly after rain, while several parties settled for the ever-reliable sylvan delights of Tremadog, an area boasting its own micro-climate.

Tremadog is a place I never tire of: not only has it several different crags, all offering multi-pitch climbing on good, clean rock but, as an extra bonus, the drive down to it from Pen-y-Pass takes you through scenery that is particularly beautiful in late Autumn. There are mountains, crags, lakes, waterfalls and rushing rivers on either side of the road as you go, and the whole area is covered in oak trees at their best, showing off their autumnal coats of rich, warm colours.

Scrambling up through the oaks to the foot of the climbs, the carpet of acorns crunched beneath our feet while squirrels and the odd woodmouse scampered about feasting on this bountiful harvest, taking little notice of us climbers as they did so. There is usually a marked contrast here between the initial pitches and the final ones, as the routes often start by working their way up in the shelter of the trees, before leading the climber out onto the more exposed, and sometimes windswept, rock.

We started our day with the five-pitch Poor Man’s Peuterey, moving slowly but steadily up the route as the winds strengthened and the skies grew darker, with Dave, Brian, Peter and James hot on our heels. Then it was down to Eric’s Café for a quick snack, before gearing up for our second route. But as we approached the foot of the crag the rain arrived, a little earlier and somewhat heavier than forecast, causing problems for those who were still up on the crags. We decided to opt out while we were still dry and headed to Llanberis to check out the gear shops.

Sunday again looked doubtful, but this time the bad weather was moving up from the southwest. So, one party, having headed down to the Moelwyns, and discovering it wet down there, travelled back up to the Idwal Slabs where they found fine weather and dry rock. Others opted for the excellent scrambling to be found on Tryfan’s N/E ridge, while more went scrambling on the Glyders.

The three parties climbing at Tremadog had summer conditions, with good sunshine and temperatures in the high teens, and a number of fine routes were accounted for. We, having the luxury of being the first climbers at the crag, started off with the popular four-pitch Christmas Curry, retrieving some of Joe’s gear left behind the day before on the Micah Finish.

Meanwhile Rob and Willie were ticking off routes for fashion, while, over on Poor Man’s Peuterey, Joe, Kieran and Catherine were involved in an epic ascent of the variation pitches (at one stage they even contemplated sending a porter down to the valley to bring up fresh supplies) but they prevailed in the end, finishing before darkness arrived.

Having refuelled at Eric’s café, we stopped to exchange pleasantries with the man himself (he told me about a new type of walking poles that had come on the market – I was feeling a bit affronted until he explained that he used them all the time himself, and found them great – well, if they’re good enough for Eric, then they are certainly good enough for me. Trouble is, I can’t remember the name of the blooming things.).

Feeling refreshed after our cuppa, we then went on to do One Step in The Clouds, one of the jewels in the crown of Craig Bwlch-y-moch. It’s a number of years since I last did this three-pitch route so I was pleased to find that it was every bit as delectable as I remembered it, the exposure and the delicacy increasing with every move up the crux pitch. Sitting on the comfy belay ledge above, I was joined by a young lad from Sheffield Uni, he having led up Joe Brown’s classic E2, Vector, one of the finest routes in the whole of Tremadog. He confessed to me that this was his second time to lead it that day – he enjoyed the first lead so much that, when an opportunity arose to lead it again, he jumped at the chance. His enthusiasm was such that I wished I
could have bottled it, brought it home and sprinkled it about on a club meet.

Monday’s forecast was for early morning rain to clear by ten o’clock and our plans allowed for this. But, alas, our plans were scuppered when we got a text from Irish Ferries informing us that, due to high winds, our 17.15 sailing had been cancelled, and our booking transferred to the earlier sailing of 14.15. Nothing daunted, we opted to get the driving over early, while the rain was still falling, and go walking along the rugged and beautiful coastline around Rhoscolyn, only a short drive from the ferry, doing a recce of the climbs there at the same time.

The rain stopped shortly after we alighted from the car and we enjoyed a pleasant walk, pummelled by the strong winds, but impressed by the huge waves crashing against the rocks of the indented coastline. At the end of an action-packed weekend, I was beginning to feel a bit frayed about the edges, run ragged trying to keep pace with these three young Amazons, but they are nothing if not all heart, and they obligingly propped me up long enough to record a final photo.

The following day I received an email from Martina, safely back in Germany, saying she had enjoyed every minute of the weekend, had found it well worth the journey and asking to have her name put on the list for the 2012 October meet to Snowdonia.

With a hut already booked, her name is on top of the list.
Snowdonia Patrol

(by Gerry Moss, October 2010)
We struck it lucky this time, with some glorious weather and, with almost a score of members on the meet, the good times were grasped with enthusiasm.

Always blessed with a keen sense of self-preservation, I had the good fortune to find myself under the care of Margaret and Martina and was looked after right royally for the weekend. In return I introduced them to some of my favourite outings in Snowdonia. We travelled over on the early boat on Friday morning, and with rain promised for the afternoon, what better plan than to climb on the seacliffs of Gogarth, only minutes from the Holyhead ferry terminal. And what better introduction to the famed Gogarth Grip than The Dream of White Horses?

As we progressed across the route the winds steadily increased and there were a fair few white horses on show. While belaying on the first pitch we heard a shout from above and Padraig and Alan came to join in the fun. By the time I launched out on the last pitch the wind was playing havoc with the ropes and they were jumping all over the place like whirling dervishes. The rain had arrived too, first in short bursts, then heavy and more prolonged, adding a little frisson of excitement to proceedings, with Alan finishing the route in a downpour.

But all’s well that ends well.

The scene at Tremadog the next day was entirely different, with blue skies, sunshine and a strong IMC contingent.

This time the girls did all the work at the sharp end while I followed at leisure. A rake of routes was produced, with Poor Man’s Peuterey, Christmas Curry, Grim Wall, Striptease, One Step in the Clouds and The Plum being just some of the lines tackled.

Sunday was another good day, pleasantly warm in the sunshine, though decidely cooler in the shade. It was an ideal day for being out and about, and everyone took full advantage of the conditions. We three headed for the early morning sun on Tryfan’s East face, choosing the marvellous outing of Grooved Arete to lead us to the summit via eight pitches on rock that was dry and clean, albeit a little polished at times. Although early at the carpark below the mountain, we were dismayed to see the line of people winding their way up the track ahead of us. Luckily, they were all headed for the North East ridge and we were pleasantly surprised to be the first to arrive at the start of the climb.

High up on the route we lost the sun and entered the shade, …

… where temperatures were a good deal lower, but the weather remained fine and the summit, when reached, was in glorious sunshine.

After the traditional, death-defying leap across the awesome gap between Adam and Eve, we scrambled back down the NorthEast ridge to bring a great mountain day to a close.

Meanwhile, as we were on the sunny side of Tryfan, Donal, Eric, Joe and Peter were on the cooler Sub-Cneifon Rib, another mountain route, on Glyder Fawr, while Alan and Padraig were on the even colder long route of Slanting Buttress on Lliwedd’s north face. Across from us as we climbed, we had a fine view of the sunny Carneddau summits, where Debbie and Solvig were stepping it out. Not to be outdone, Aileen and Allister climbed Snowdon via the airy Crib Goch, while Eoin explored the region closer to the hut. Kieran, Declan, Tim, Rob and Terrance opted for climbing further south, on the sunny Moelwyns, where the routes climbed included Slack, Slick, Pinkie and Kirkus Direct.

Monday brought even better weather, with unbroken sunshine, and from the South Stack carpark on Holyhead mountain the Wicklow mountains could be clearly seen on the horizon. In typical IMC fashion, we were returning home on several different sailings, so while some opted for climbing on Holyhead Mountain or Gogarth, more were active on Braich Ty Du and others managed a bit of shopping for gear before catching the early boat.

We rounded off a great weekend with a pleasant and atmospheric climb up Lighthouse Arete on the Castell Helen seacliffs. Only a ten minute drive from the boat terminal and a three minute walk-in, this is ideal for a short day.

A committing 60m abseil down to the water’s edge is followed by some delightful climbing back up the cliff to the ab point.

We were based in Ty Powdwr, the Karabiner Mountaineering Club’s hut, just above Llanberis, for the weekend. Commodious, clean and comfortable, its proximity to the mountains makes it an ideal base and it was a big hit with our members. Our thanks to them for allowing us the use of this fine hut.
Lakes Log

(by Gerry Moss, July 2009)
The 2009 Lake District meet.

Just like the blackbirds in the Song of Sixpence, we numbered four-and-twenty but, unlike them, we basked rather than baked, in four days of glorious sunshine. In typical IMC fashion we approached The Lakes in a multitude of ways: some flew in to Leeds, some in to Liverpool; some sailed to Holyhead, some to Birkenhead; others came by train and bus and one hardy soul came by train and bike.

But all were united in their determination to make hay while the sun shone, and took advantage of the settled conditions by visiting some of the more remote mountain crags.

Routes were climbed on such jewels as Bowfell Buttress, Gillercombe Buttress, Dow Crag, Gimmer Crag and Pavey Ark.

Nor were the local crags neglected. With Castle Rock, Shepherd’s Crag and Langdale’s Raven Crag receiving plenty of attention.

For a number of members the occasion was made more memorable by recording their first leads on Lakes rock and, for some, their first lead on a multi-pitch route.

Though the crowd was large the hut coped admirably, and it was a well-satisfied bunch that headed for home at the end of a great weekend.
Food for Thought

(by Gerry Moss, October 2008)
October weekend in Wales – eating, drinking, and climbing.

You know how it is yourself. You wait ages for a bus, then two come along together. Well, similarly, an age-old IMC custom lay languishing in the doldrums, in danger of becoming nothing more than a folk memory, consigned to the scrapbooks of yesteryear. Then along comes a most unlikely white knight to recapture the glory of earlier days. Slim, slight, petite even, someone you would consider more suited to the haunts of the café latte clientèle, rather than the abode of the brash and brawny. Someone you could knock over with a feather. And therein lies the nub of the matter.

Saturday got off to a cool, windy, but dry start, and the early birds got some climbing in before the rains came, and come they did, and on rising winds. So the rock was abandoned for the N/E ridge of Tryfan, on the summit of which our heroes were tossed hither and thither, buffeted and bossed by the gales. Picking herself up for the umpteenth time, Aileen decided enough was enough, and vowed to take evasive action. Back down in Llanberis, she marched into Pete’s Eats, slapped her money on the counter and demanded that he hit her with everything he had. Obliging as ever, Pete staggered out some time later with not one, but two Big Jim Specials, one for her and one for Pádraic (and we’re not talking greasy spoon scenario here, rather something more on the line of a greasy shovel). Then under the watchful eyes of Allister, Peter and Margaret, the two of them set to work. Matching each other bite for bite, belch for belch, they continued the heroic struggle until the two extra-large dishes were wiped clean, thus taking their rightful places alongside such former stalwarts as Joe Hobbs and Brian Searson. Where do they put it all – listen, forget your carbon footprint, we’re talking carbohydrate footprints here, and of gastronomical proportions. I have it on good authority that Pádraic survived for the rest of the week-end on tea and dry toast.

Needless to say, there was an eagerness to work all of this off on the Sunday, and twelve of us, more dirty dozen than apostle-like, headed up to the Idwal Slabs.

Operating within our own time zone, we were the first to arrive at the foot of the gleaming sheets of rock, and if the gleam was due more to dampness than sunshine, sure wasn’t the dust kept well at bay, and the sunshine appeared later.

With Genevieve and myself in the van, closely followed by Conor and Jane, who were just ahead of Cearbhall and Martina, shadowed in turn by Allister and Aileen and, last but by no means least, Peter, Pádraic and Margaret bringing up the rear, we polished off pitch after pitch of sometimes dry, sometimes damp, but always clean, rock. The whole ensemble being ably directed from base by Liam.

It was at the top of the slabs that the newcomers discovered the truth of the old saw that it’s not all over until the fat lady sings, and in fact the old dear hadn’t even begun to clear her throat. In typical Celtic fashion, the descent began with a stiff and steep upward climb, that went on for quite some time, to be followed by an even steeper section of backclimbing that led, eventually, to the gully bed and the downward path.

In addition to Tryfan, Snowdon was also accounted for, with Allister putting his mountain skills to good use. And what would the October week-end be without putting hand to rock. We climbed in The Pass, Ogwen, Idwal and Holyhead.

Our thanks to Gwydyr Mountaineering Club for the use of their well-appointed and well-positioned hut, it provided cosy accomodation at a modest price. Perhaps the fact that the hut was formerly a chapel had something to do with the gods looking kindly upon us.

We had good weather, bad weather, wind, rain, cloud and sunshine and, as usual, we coped with it all. We gathered in the evenings around the blazing fire in the cosy bar attached to the local hostelry, Tyn-y-Coed Inn, for sustenance, refreshments and chat about the day’s escapades.

Bara Brith is a well known, and popular, traditional Welsh cake, but Snowdonia is your original cut-and-come-again cake. Any wonder we left with sharpened appetites – like young Oliver Twist, we’ll be asking for more.

Snowdonia Log – Travels with Charlie’s Angels

Snowdonia Log – Travels with Charlie's Angels

Snowdonia Patrol

Lakes Log

Food for Thought