A snow capped Brecons trip
With the UK currently in isolation due to the COVID -19 outbreak. I took some time to look back on a trip in early March to the Brecons. Having spent a large proportion of childhood holidays in Wales and Scotland. I have always had an affinity to hills, mountains and a rugged landscape. Climbing Pen y Fan, whilst not the toughest of hill climbs has always been on my tick list. Not necessarily for the climb itself, but the resulting view from the summit. Committing to a sunrise climb will normally always result in success or failure.
I spent some time in South Wales during the last few days of February and with snowfall forecast, I took the opportunity to climb Pen y Fan in search of the ultimate snow covered landscape. What started off as a positive summit attempt, quickly turned into a different situation as a weather front rolled in and a near white out occurred close to the summit. Despite sitting it out and waiting for a break in the weather. It just never materialised. Having to eventually call it a day, I chose to head down, feeling somewhat underwhelmed. I still grabbed a few frames on the day, that left me with a feeling that at least I had something to show for my 5am start. These can be seen below.
A week or so later in early March, I saw a period of clear mornings was approaching and despite not having the snow from my recent attempt I took the opportunity to climb a second time. I set off from the Pont ar Daf Car Park and what started off as a climb through the clouds, resulted in potentially one of the favourite landscape photos I've taken. The walk from the car park is a steady climb to the summit and as the low lying cloud thickened, I feared my early start could not quite result in the desired outcome. Seeing only a hand full of walkers on the hill, filled me with optimism that I may have a quiet summit experience. Bypassing the Corn Du summit and heading straight for the Pen y Fan peak, by the time I reached the summit shortly after sunrise, I was left with very low visibly and the prospect of being the only person around. Despite poor conditions, I set up the camera gear overlooking the summit of Cribyn, where I knew the sun was rising and then the waiting began.
After about 25 minutes of hand warming and patiently waiting, i noticed a glimmer of light, revealing itself though the low lying cloud. From there, the light that developed over the composition I had earlier set up, provided a beautiful rich tone contrasting against the deep shadow formed by the Cribyn peak. Leaving me with a resulting image, which I could never of imagined would unfold, just half an hour earlier, climbing through a dense fog. When you achieve an image that you feel supersedes your expectations, the early morning start feels all the more worth it and the walk down all the more enjoyable, back at the car before breakfast.
Above are a couple of images from my first summit, which didn't quite pan out as I had wished. Whilst being pleased with some of the images captured, the poor weather conditions and lack of visibility eventually put an end to the prospect of the shots I had hoped for on the day.
