With the best of the day over, we scrambled down the remainder of the path and watched as the golden light slipped away behind the mountains and into the ocean, sore and aching, we wandered back along the dark path, each step a little more tiring, each second a little longer than the ones spent going the other way. The clear sky was quickly filling with stars, appearing like dragonflies, and we hurried back to the car, our empty stomachs desperate for food.
We had decided to climb Snowdon a couple of months previous, after agreeing to spend the holiday period at our home doing mainly nothing other than eating lots of good food, we thought we would probably benefit from a large dose of fresh air and exercise. The boys had all climbed snowdon at least once before, but I had never quite had the guts. I was totally in love with the idea, but in the back of my mind there was a nagging voice reminding me constantly of my fear of heights. Although I definitely wasn't wrong about my fear of heights, the clear day allowed us such an incredible view. It felt like we were in another world, yet here we were atop a mountain just a couple of hours from our home. We made a pact to travel a little further out more often, to discover more of our home and to enjoy it more.
The walk itself was as terrifying as it was beautiful. We had panoramic views for miles, the clear skies allowing us to cast our eyes far into the distance. Panoramic views, however, do come with sheer drops, and finding my footing became increasingly difficult as the path wound on. My friends had to tag team helping me continue on. A fear of heights is such a bizarre thing, I knew that I was safe, Jamie and the boys would never have let me fall, yet there I was, wanting to go on, yet my feet remained firmly rooted to the ground, my hands shaking and my heart beating out of my chest. Standing atop the peak with the people I love the most, drinking a bottle of Asti and taking in the views, however, definitely made me realise that it was all totally worth it.