Cadair Idris lies at the southern end of Snowdonia national park, the name translates to ‘ Chair of Idris’ Idris is a giant warrior poet in Welsh legend. The mountain was my grandfather’s and is my own father’s favourite mountain. Cadair is often used as a training ground for climbers planning an Everest ascent. It has claimed the lives of a few that hve climbed it. For me, this mountain sums up the wild spirit of all mountains, it is foreboding, unforgiving, wild and stunningly beautiful. It is glacially formed with the most beautiful of lakes sat in a crater underneath the slate face. My father used to swim in the freezing lake with his father before swimming the ice mile became a thing. I have climbed each of the faces many times and the mountain still surprises me. There is a feeling when the wind blows that the rock could swallow you up, it is as if it is telling you to go cautiously. For me to walk amongst mountains is a privilege, they demand to be respected. The joy of being amongst them is to be exposed to the wild, untamed nature it is not simply to conquer the summit. At the peak of the mountain is a hut, it used to be manned so each day a gentleman would climb the mountain to sell tea to thirsty hikers, what remains now is a stone shelter, a basic Bothy that is filled with cold soaked walkers on a typical Welsh wild wet summer’s day. There is an old legend that claims that if you spend a night on the mountain you would wake up either a poet or a madman, I have yet to test that one.
Llyn Cau is the name of the lake which lies in a deep glacial crater about halfway up Cadair. To reach the lake the path follows a very steep ascent through some beautiful woodland. As a 5-year-old I would get this far and then picnic by the lake with my Mum and my sister Charlotte whilst dad, accompanied by our trusty family dog would climb to the summit and return. The expectation was that Charlotte and I would walk, so we walked. We spent hours playing in the mountains, by streams and lakes. This summer I realised a long held ambition to swim in this lake. Of all the restrictions we have been subject to this year nothing can reduce ambition and connection to nature. 
I have since climbed this mountain many times, it is a fantastically wild place, glorious in the sunshine, but bleak and disorientating in bad weather and it remains one of my favourite places to run in Wales. Great running routes include the classic lines followed by the annual Ras Y Gadar fell race which takes you up and down the pony path from Dolgellau with almost 1000m of climbing in 10.5 miles, the record for this is a mind boggling 1hr 21 minutes. My favourite route would have to be the up the Minffordd path to the summit, down the Pony path and then use the network of footpaths to return via Mynydd Moel, it makes for a varied, tough and long day out.
Our childhood adventure on Cadair Idris taught us to be cautious in our judgement but brave with our capability. We understood that the summit is only halfway the descent were often the harder part of the journey, often made harder by tired limbs and minds. We were taught that often the braver decision is to turn back, it was a life lesson. The spirit of the mountain is humbling, there is no place for ego or self-importance. The path before you is marked by the footprints of all those that have gone before, to walk where my Grandfather found such joy and then my father after him gives a special meaning as if we are all connected through the environment and our experience of one place, of one path. To me the spirit of the mountains is like coming home.