Extract from: The 1033 High Hills of Britain
Number: 1973
Height: 944.1m
Drop: 62.8m
Hill area: WN04 Llewelyn-elen
Location: SH 6961 6812, Map 115
Author: Alan Dawson
Date: 14 June 2017

I must have read something about Pen yr Ole Wen being steep and arduous, because I remember thinking it was not so bad. All you had to do was take your time and keep going. What made the walk memorable was what happened on the summit. There were four of us, a group of men in our twenties and early thirties from the Computer Laboratory at Liverpool University. We tended not to say much on the way up, not because we were breathless but because we did not have much to say. We stopped for a rest at the top to peer into the mist and mumble nothing much.

The mist began to change character, to swirl and sway in the wind and form into vast sheets and ripples. Gaps appeared between the sheets and snatches of something else popped into vision and popped out again. We stood and silently watched as the show developed. Some of the sheets of grey blew up and across and vanished into nothing. Pale colours appeared beyond the grey. They faded and then brightened and sharpened. The greens and browns seemed to be moving too, like fields from a train window, then suddenly there was blue at eye level and above. Within a couple of minutes the whole curtain was swept away and intensity of vision replaced sensory deprivation. We stood around open-eyed and said nothing, more deliberately than before.

I had climbed a handful of hills before and seen a few views, but this was the first time I had seen a view conjured into existence out of nothingness. I had no words but I may well have thought that I would not mind seeing this kind of thing again. In the many years since I had seen many wonderful sights, but it was this first revelation that made the greatest impression.

We eventually moved on and made our way toward Carnedd Llewelyn, but we failed to get as far as Foel-fras. When I did climb it two years later, it left barely a trace in memory. I gave little thought to Foel-fras for over thirty years until I noticed an entry on the Hill Bagging website that referred to a two-metre high rock spike. Surely I would have remembered that. It seemed likely that I had reached the trig pillar but had not been to the rock spike seventy metres away. If I had not bagged the hill properly, I would have to return to Foel-fras to stop it from nagging like a guilty secret.

When I put a stop to the nagging, in 2017, I found that the two-metre rock spike did exist and was indeed higher than the trig pillar. However, it was difficult to bag it. The wind was severe, but even without the wind I would have had no chance of standing on the top. This was not a blocky thing like the top of Tryfan or the In Pinn, this was a blade. I could not climb it so I had to work out how to measure it.

I set up my equipment near its base by jamming a pole into a crack between two large rocks and piled small rocks around to hold it steady in the wind. Even with the extension and the pole at full height, the antenna was 9cm below the top of the blade. If anyone believed that you had to sit or stand on the top of a hill to bag it, I would invite them to demonstrate on the pinnacle on top of Foel-fras. The summit became my new benchmark of baggability. I could get my head above it while touching the top and that would do. I did manage to touch the top with my foot but it was a glancing touch, for entertainment not necessity. Standing or sitting on that pinnacle was beyond me and everyone else I knew. Hand on the top, head above it, job done. However, what if you had been to the trig pillar and not the pinnacle? That was one for the ethics committee and personal reflection. If you did not know about the pinnacle there was no problem, but once you did you had to decide whether you were a hill bagger or a hill walker. Walkers would not care but baggers had to go back. It was part of the job, part of our nature, and you never knew what else you might see and feel on the way there. It was a great reason to go back and find out.