It was disappointing to read that last year (2025) there were 9 deaths on Yr Wyddfa (Snowdon). Aside from the fact that any death is, of course, immensely sad, it doesn’t help to convince or persuade others that essentially the mountain is, for the most part, a safe place to be.
Statistically, people are more likely to die at home, at work, travelling, doing sport or DIY, or just walking generally, than they are in the mountains.
Equally disappointing was hearing that the year’s mountain rescue call-out figures, for both the Llanberis and Ogwen teams, were at an all-time high. (Not that every call-out request resulted in a team deployment.)
These figures reflect the ever-increasing popularity of the mountains and, it must be said, the attraction to novice hill or mountain walkers (often originating on social media), who simply underestimate what walking up a mountain requires.
But for everyone who goes up the mountain unprepared, there are far more who have prepared well.
The other day (mid-January) I was on the mountain with a couple of friends, and we knew there was a fair bit of ice and snow still on the upper part of the mountain. To us, this is a real attraction. At one point I asked one of the others if he had told his new partner that he was coming out with us that day. Yes, he said, but he’d not told her that we were going up Yr Wyddfa because the previous week when he had also been out with me (again in severe winter conditions), he had really got it in the neck from her; she couldn’t believe that he had “been so stupid as to go up in such dangerous conditions”. Despite him wearing/carrying full winter gear and equipment, despite him being with others who were experienced, if he were to twist his angle at the summit “it could quickly lead to death from hypothermia”. How could he risk his life like that? How could he be so thoughtless? One day, I’m sure, she’ll know to trust his judgement.
To non-mountain people, their perception of mountains is often rather different to the reality. They think of mountains as mostly having narrow paths with steep drops around them, so that any slip will invariably result in falling hundreds of feet, when that really isn’t the case. Their perception of weather is that a sunny day can instantly turn into a blizzard without warning, when we know that modern weather models are incredibly accurate. Their perception is of poor visibility leading to getting lost, when all of us in the group might know the terrain like the back of our hand, and anyway we all have the technology to show us where we are in relation to the paths.
By contrast, some would dismiss unrealistic, perceived dangers, only to succumb to others, as deaths have shown. (I should add that most of last year’s deaths didn’t result from ‘normal’ mountain walking; they included falls from Crib Goch, drownings and suicide, and some were also the results of health issues which might otherwise have occurred climbing up the stairs at home.)
I’m not being blasé or disrespectful here; I realise that accidents can happen to anyone, and even the best qualified or most experienced can find themselves in the wrong place at the wrong time. But most accidents are the result of a chain of errors — small, avoidable mistakes and poor decision-making that pile up on top of each other (as, incidentally, happened in the case of the Titanic). But by stripping away the Hollywood-style fears and focusing on preparation, fitness, knowledge, navigation and weather-watching, the mountains can actually become a place of sanctuary rather than a place of peril.
I fully believe in the mitigating of errors and accidents by drawing on experience and an awareness of actual danger. Ironically, though, you don’t get experienced by sitting at home (or in some other dangerous place) reading about it. You have to get out there and actually do it the hard way. Just make sure you do it with care.