The following are some of the ways to get in touch with each otherAfter a difficult scramble up Rhinog Fach we gaze down into the deep valley containing the cold waters of Llyn Hywel. We then look west over several miles of heather and bilberry, before reaching the Welsh coastline. Turning my gaze north, there is the entire Llyn peninsula leading east to the peak of Yr Wyddfa (Snowdon), no doubt weighed down by thousands of visitors. Up here there are just two of us in an utterly peaceful landscape. There are no clouds in the distance. No surprises.
I lay down for a couple of minutes and can feel my mind drifting away. Only birds can be heard. The summer has arrived early in these mountains, and I would not be anywhere else to enjoy that tranquility found under a clear blue sky.
The mountains were not always considered a place to unwind on a hot summer day. Those lofty, mist-wreathed realms held surprises, most of them nasty, such as trolls and demons. Maybe a few ancient folk knew perfectly well that mountains in summer were wonderful, but they weren’t the sort to publicise the fact: the solitary shepherd, gold prospectors not yet consumed by gold fever, and the workers who put up drystone walls – they all must have known the joy of lazing on a summit, perhaps seeing shapes in clouds.
Changing culture and taste took a revolution led by artists and poets, men such as Nicolas PoussinIn the 17th Century, tried to convince people by painting mysterious peaks and epic scenery. Unluckily, he could not resist adding a Grecian fallen column and a wispy nymph. It was another 150 years until the German artist Caspar David Friedrich relocated the wispy bits to the mountain tops, evicted the nymphs, and added one rugged poetic type, gazing out over the towering tors with a vaguely proprietorial air. His Wanderer above the Sea of Fog 1818 (now in Hamburg, at the Kunsthalle), remains the most evocative portrayal of the ideal romantic.
After this painting, summer in mountains was de rigueur, but it turned out that Friedrich’s sturdy 19th-century mountaineer was actually looking for a place to build a man-shed. Rich romantics began funding dormitories that were perched on precarious cliffs. These mountain refuges were vital in allowing people to access the peaks, and became a huge part of my own enjoyment of the mountains.
The first building to be constructed was Refuge des Grands Mulets Mont Blanc, 1853. A hut, which has been rebuilt several times, is perched on a hill at 3,051m (10,09ft) above the Bossons Glacier. My personal favourite. Rifugio NuvolauBuilt in 1883, this period classic is an oasis of solid carpentry and hearty food, with stunning sunsets. Not all antiques are old: Monte Rosa near Zermatt is an aluminium solar-powered box that sits above the Gorner glacier and requires ropes and crampons in order to reach it.
The huts in this picture are quite high. Margherita At 4,554 m, Monte Rosa in Italy is the tallest building in Europe. Sweden’s Låktatjåkko It is 155 miles away (250km) from the Arctic Circle, and it’s often covered in snow even in summer. The waffles served with cloudberry jelly are worth the effort of digging up to the door.
These huts have a charming and helpful staff. Some guests are not so nice. “There was one British visitor who, during the course of the night, pushed all the other sleepers along the dormitory bench,” complained one French guest after staying in Refuge de Ciottulu di i Mori Corsica. “He left a huge empty space behind him and we were all squashed up in one corner.” (I’ve no idea why I rolled like that. I was fast asleep.)
Reserving one of these gems may require some persistence. There are many popular huts that are always booked, but I have listed some nearby alternatives.
A tent isn’t always necessary when there are no mountain shelters. In Romania’s Carpathians I slept in hay-ricks following a merry evening of plum brandy drinking with farmers. Hay ricks have disappeared as the agriculture has modernized, but Carpathians remains a great mountain destination.
Then, you can easily get in touch with us. a local hunter persuaded me to go on a bear hunt No guns were involved. We climbed through shady pine forest and golden flower-sprinkled meadows to warm rock and vast vistas. The hunter described a recent incident when he was chased up a tree by a bear. He proved it by showing his rucksack, complete with claw marks. On our descent, we stumbled on a fresh bear track and, for a second, the idyllic evening was shot through by lightning bolts of adrenaline.
Mountain life can bring abruptly an end to moments of blissful arcadia. The sun shines on you as you climb, but the storms that descend are wild. Unpredictable events are to be expected. Helm Crag in the Lake District was a favourite of Romantic poet William Wordsworth and for that reason many go to commune with nature.
One blustery lunchtime, I was sitting a little below the craggy summit about to enjoy a picnic when a group on the top suddenly flung their grandmother into the air. The wind blew the old woman sideways, down and into my sandwich. Ceremonies of ash-spattering should be conducted with greater care. Branston pickle was used to contaminate the final resting spot of an ancestor.
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The British mountains don’t have European-style huts but they do have bothies, camping barnsYouth Hostels AssociationYHAThe list is long, and includes a variety of good cottages For hire. To climb the Rhinogydd (often anglicised to Rhinogs), I based myself at the off-grid retreat of Garth Gell farm, all lovely hand-worn woodwork, flagstone floors and dusty books.
The Rhinogydd are often touted as the most rugged mountain chain south of Hadrian’s Wall, which is a bit hard on the North Pennines and Cheviots, but the paths are certainly steep and challenging, deterring many visitors. The chain stretches for about 13 miles, with the highest point at Y Llethr (756 metres) where the 360-degree panorama is really special. Of course, the view is a major part of what makes this place so special. We go up so we can see farther.
My companion interrupts me as I am snoozing on Rhinog Fach. “Look!” “Look!” The best summer mountain experiences always have that unexpected moment: the bear jumps out and claws your rucksack, human remains land in your picnic … that kind of thing. I am suddenly alert and sit up.
On the wall. “Down there.”
A bird is mobbing a smaller bird. Its tail is fanned in anger. It calls.
It is 600 metres high on a Welsh hill. I had never thought the cuckoo was a mountain bird. The haze is lifting a bit to the west and the blue horizon is puckering behind the last part of Wales. The Blackstairs Mountains in Ireland are now visible. Enjoying a day of summer in the mountains.
Accommodations are provided by Garth Gell. Kip hideaway, which sleeps six from £240 a night
