Stories From the Mountains, Trails, and Tanzania

The forecast said clear with increasing cloud and snow, so I set off expecting the unexpected.

I left the car a little behind schedule. The plan was simple: reach a small flat spot I’d scouted on a previous trip — a shelf just beneath the Snowdon summit, above Glaslyn — just big enough for the Nevis 200. I arrived around 13:30, checked sunset times, grabbed my pack, triple-checked the snow pegs, and headed up.

Not long after reaching the snowline, the first warning sign appeared. Weeks of continuous rain had stripped the lower slopes almost bare. Maybe an inch of snow remained. For this particular winter camp, that was the first tick in the “potential no-go” column.

That wasn’t good news. The spot I was aiming for sits on a very uneven plateau. In summer it’s unusable for a tent, but in winter — when it’s buried under firm snow — it’s flat as a dinner plate. Without that snow, the pitch simply doesn’t exist.

Doubt crept in, but I kept moving. Conditions deteriorated further. A storm front was pushing in from the north-northwest. I’d hoped the snowpack would thicken with altitude, but it didn’t.

I stopped for five minutes to assess the situation and refuel. With the storm incoming and daylight fading, I needed clarity. I wasn’t worried about the storm itself — I’d packed the extra gear to handle bad weather — but the bigger question was forming: If the main spot isn’t suitable, what’s my fallback?

The planned pitch was about 30 minutes away. Sunset was 45 minutes off, with maybe 30–40 minutes of twilight. I had a couple of alternative spots noted, and some were usable year-round, but the nearest was another 20 minutes beyond the original target.

Turning back would take around an hour and a half. As I stood there, the storm arrived. Darkness dropped fast. The wind picked up. Spindrift everywhere.

In that moment, the decision became obvious. With unstable conditions and melted snow, there was no guarantee any of the backup spots were reachable or safe.

This one was a no-go. Too many variables. Too many unknowns stacking up.

Why tell this story? Because the moral is simple: never be afraid to turn back. The mountains will always be there. If every sign is telling you to stop and you push anyway, you can end up in real trouble.

Good judgement is the skill that keeps you coming home.