Wales Below

08/01/2025

I stand upon the peak of Mount Snowdon.

All of Wales is below me. We are in a café, right by the peak. Compared to Scafell Pike, I'd have said this feels like cheating, but the relentless rain and wind we endured all the way to the top has washed away any idea that a step has been skipped in climbing up and down a mountain.

The lack of wipers on my glasses meant all I could see for three quarters of the hike were rain droplets half a centimetre from my eyes. The terrain became more unstable as we approached the summit so I had no choice but to take my glasses off. I may have had to squint and battle headaches, but it was better than not seeing at all.

Unlike Scafell Pike, I can't see anything. We are in the clouds. For all I know, I could be in heaven, though I doubt Heaven has a gift shop.

On the way down my legs were red-raw, no part of me was dry, and I discovered my bag was not waterproof. The view we had in mind was still non-existent, which made finding an abandoned paintbrush even more amusing. Had the artist traversed up the mountain that day hoping for a break in the clouds, just for the view they were hoping to paint to be hidden by Mother Nature herself? Or had the artist managed to capture the scene another day, and the paintbrush had simply been forgotten? I wonder if I may see that landscape one day.

Up Scafell Pike, the distinct lack of strong elements allowed for thinking — mainly reminiscing (see England Below). If I have learned anything from Mount Snowdon, it is that the best way to avoid thinking is to be distracted by something else — a realisation so fundamental to the human experience, but so forgettable. "Exercise battles depression", "having a hobby battles loneliness". Yeah, yeah. Whatever. One mountain, clear skies, thinking. Another mountain, incessant downpour, no thinking. A rudimentary, unreliable science experiment, but interesting nevertheless.

The rogue paintbrush, optimism in the face of uncertainty, reminds me of my recent trip to the USA. Politicians wage war on anyone and anything. The media make sure politicians wage war on anyone and anything. That is the only version of the USA we are allowed to see.

Whilst it is true a lot of people are terrified of what their future might look like, the overall feeling I found was one of determination. The America I know is found in my friends, who are kind, generous, and intelligent. In the face of adversity, the Americans I know know who they are and are proud of it. The "American dream" is complicated, but the simple idea of liberty, whatever that word means, seems to provide optimism that many Brits could use. Granted, our weather doesn't help our case, though Oasis and the Lionesses have shown we do have it in us to be joyous.

What is our identity? Seeing someone being so wholeheartedly themselves is, more often than not, inspiring. After the mountain, we spent the evening at Llangefni FC — a game which had an attendance of two hundred people and was busy. A true community. As stupid as it may seem, hearing a Welsh person screaming at another in Welsh filled my heart with joy. The Welsh are reclaiming their identity. I do believe, as an island, we are slowly, very slowly, learning to enjoy each other and ourselves.

I like to think the artist who lost a paintbrush on the mountain did paint a beautiful landscape — not whilst the view was clear, but whilst the clouds embraced them, painting with optimism in the face of adversity. Optimism when it is hard, not just when it is easy.