This really wasn’t the adventure I planned.
I was going to spend a couple of weeks bicycling out to Wales and climbing Mount Snowden. I had everything ready. My bags were packed, maps ready, and it was going to be a lot of fun.
Then I got a call from Canada. My grandma, who had raised me from the age of five, had a stroke and wasn’t expected to make it. I had lost my grandpa in England only a year or so earlier.
The trip was scrapped as I flew back to Oshawa to say goodbye. I wrote about the experience, but that’s a story I won’t be sharing without a damn good reason. I’m a very open person, but even with me some things are personal.
After she passed away and I flew back to England, I decided there was still a good reason to salvage at least part of the trip. I had the time off work already, I needed to unwind and find something positive in the world, and I needed to do something to honour grandma. She always wanted to visit her Celtic heritage in the UK, so I decided to take her in spirit to the top of Mount Snowden.
Gillian joined me on this trip. I no longer had time to bike out there, so we took a train to Bangor and then on to Llandaris. Snowden is England’s biggest mountain – but that’s not saying much (Scotland has much bigger ones). They have a train that reaches the top, which Gillian took to meet me up there. It was a good hike, though not challenging like Fuji, but picturesque and enjoyable. Grandma would have liked the view.