Retracing Footsteps: A Weekend Scramble on Tryfan’s North Ridge

My first encounter with Tryfan’s North Ridge dates back to the early ’90s when I tackled it with my father. That memory, like so many of our other adventures, stays with me to this day. Whether it was camping in February near Cnicht in my original Terra Nova Voyager (back when they were called Wild Country), waking up to find a sheep lying against me for warmth, or being eaten alive by midges in a bivvy on the Great Moss, these experiences have shaped my love for the outdoors. On one memorable night, I bivvied halfway up Bryant’s Gully, perched on a ledge during Snowdonia’s longest continuous scramble.

My love affair with Snowdonia began during school trips. We’d camp at the foot of Tryfan in a Vango Force Ten tent—cramped even before I hit my teenage years. I vividly recall trying to learn French vocabulary from a notebook while gazing up at the imposing cliffs of Tryfan’s east face, little knowing I would one day climb some of the classic routes on those cliffs during my university days. Fast forward to more recent times, and I found myself retracing these steps with my son, Ewan. We first visited the campsite and scrambled along Heather Terrace a decade ago, and now, we were back camping in the same Quasar tent, reliving those cherished memories.

This weekend was a trip down memory lane, as Ewan and I set out to tackle Tryfan’s North Ridge once again, 30 years after my first ascent. We dashed over to Snowdonia after school and work, arriving just in time to check in at the campsite before the 9 pm cut-off. The campsite, Gwern Gof Isaf Farm, has evolved significantly over the decades. Showers, kettles, and lockers for charging phones were welcome additions that I certainly didn’t have in my younger days! Next time, I’ll remember to bring a padlock and charger.

With the car parked, the tent pitched, and plans made, I sat down with a cup of tea and enjoyed the evening atmosphere. Campsites like this are magnets for interesting people, and we met plenty. Morning greeted us with a stunning view of Tryfan’s North Ridge, and we quickly realized that there was an ultra-running event underway as a stream of runners passed our tent. Throughout the day, we’d bump into these hardy runners tackling either 50- or 100-mile routes.

The wind, ever-present in the Ogwen Valley, was buffeting our trusty Terra Nova Quasar tent as we ate breakfast. With our bags packed, we set off. The first stretch of the day took us past Little Tryfan, where climbers were already scaling its slabby routes. We cut across towards the ridge, with a plan to assess the wind and decide whether to continue upwards or retreat to Heather Terrace for a more sheltered scramble.

The North Ridge of Tryfan is one of the most iconic scrambles in Snowdonia. From the valley floor, it rises jagged and rocky, but up close, the broader ridge provides an engaging scramble with impressive rock features and stunning views. As we climbed the boulder-strewn slope, the first rocky barrier came into view, and we scrambled upwards, mixing hands-on climbing with stretches of leisurely walking. Our aim was to follow the crest of the ridge as closely as possible. Though the polished rock, worn smooth by the ridge’s popularity, did not detract from the thrill of the scramble.

September seemed to be the perfect time to avoid the crowds. We met a few like-minded climbers, and Ewan even found himself showing others how to handle certain sections with his thoughtful, methodical approach. At the Cannon, we braved the wind for a quick photo—a moment we had all to ourselves, a rare treat!

As we approached the Notch, we opted for a slightly easier traverse into it, rather than tackling the steep scramble directly. From here, the route opened up to the North Summit, but with the wind hitting full force, we decided to skip the traditional leap between Adam and Eve this time. Safety first!

With plenty of time left, we descended via Cwm Bochlwyd, traversing over to the South Summit and descending the South Ridge, passing Bwlch Tryfan before cutting towards Llyn Idwal and the iconic Devil’s Kitchen. We dropped down to Ogwen Cottage for a break at the café before rejoining the ultra-runners, still hard at it, making their way towards Betws-y-Coed.

That evening, the campsite was noticeably quieter, with only a Scout Explorer group nearby, likely due to the forecasted rain the next day. We settled in for the night with a plan to visit Penrhyn Castle the next day—a perfect destination for a wet day, with its grand interiors, fascinating servant quarters tour, and a peek inside the roof void to see the grand ceiling from above.

Another adventure in Snowdonia came to a close, but the memories, as always, will stay with me forever. And now, just as I did with my father, I can pass these moments on to Ewan, one adventure at a time.