Marathon Eryri isn’t for another 12 hours but I seem to be running the gauntlet of a last-ditch training session as I make my way to the loo. The corridor ascends and dips downward again, and I’m not entirely sure it’s stationary. I’m staying at the Pen y Gwryd, surely Snowdonia’s most famous hotel, where the first-floor hallway resembles the distorted corridor of a fairground fun house. It’s fitting, as Eryri is the epicentre of adventure. Navigating a 90-degree swerve back to my room, I’m all in.
My room is Tryfan, a cosy single at the top of the stairs. It’s a good omen as she’s my absolute favourite mountain and the bed is supremely comfortable. Three sumptuous bathrooms are opposite but the toilets are a fun-house trek along the hall, past the Glyderau and Carnedd Ugain. It’s quirky, for sure, but what the PYG lacks in en-suite convenience it makes up for in character – and then some.
The Pen y Gwryd, of course, accommodated the Everest party before its victorious ascent in 1953. Edmund Hillary, Tenzing Norgay and their expedition teammates trained extensively on Y Lliwedd, and the nearby inn made the perfect basecamp at the head of Nant Gwynant. Today the bar stands still in that time, with pairs of hiking boots dangling from a ceiling beam, black and white photos of the pioneers framed on the walls and a trophy haul of climbing equipment preserved behind glass. The residents’ games room is a tranquil treat, with squashy leather sofas, a log fire and bookshelves crammed with a holiday blend of worthy old tomes and throwaway reads for guests to borrow. I settle, predictably, on John Hunt’s The Ascent of Everest, and wonder for the umpteenth time at the skill, planning and sheer stiff upper lips relied on to achieve such a feat without today’s technology.
My little room is the perfect hideaway to mentally prepare for the marathon away from the busyness of Llanberis, and to rest and recharge afterwards. Talking of recharging, I find only one single socket, tucked low under the dressing table, but it’s plenty to fire up my phone and battery pack. The window is single-pane and, try as I might to air the room, the sash won’t budge, but later on in the cold October evening, the small radiator is mighty. There’s a clever nook of a wardrobe behind a heavy curtain and a sink in the corner that does the job just fine. The slightest gripe is that there’s no kettle – tea and coffee need to be ordered up – but Tryfan is clean, comfy and surprisingly quiet, given the bathroom bustle on the creaky corridors outside.
The Pen y Gwryd is perfectly located between Pen y Pass and Capel Curig, with the southern flanks of the Glyderau rising beyond. It’s about seven miles from the marathon starting line and directly on the route, and I wonder fleetingly if I could just have a lie in and pop out the side door once the first wave of runners have zipped past and casually join the back of the pack. But this probably isn’t in the jolly British spirit I’m surrounded by and I make my way into Llanberis nice and early to watch the sun strike out over Llyn Padarn and eat my porridge in the car.
Meals at the Pen y Gwryd run on a strict timetable – hence my picnic breakfast, as I’ll never get parked if I amble downstairs at the assigned 8.30am and tuck into a hearty fry-up. But the staff are kind enough to switch my breakfast for a packed lunch, which is waiting in the fridge when I creep out of the hotel in walk-of-shame darkness, and my turkey sandwiches are utterly delicious 26.2 miles later. On the Sunday morning, post-marathon, I take full advantage of a huge veggie breakfast and swathes of tea poured from a silver pot, wonderfully warming after half an hour standing on the roadside, breathing in another clear, crisp sunrise over Moel Siabod. It’s not cheap to dine here in the evening, and there’s no bar meal option, but I decide that next time I must experience the five-course set menu in this most original of settings.
Next time… yes, there’s going to be one, as I’ve gained a place in this year’s ballot and have 49 seconds of unfinished business to knock off my time. Homeward bound, I drive down Nant Gwynant and through the ridiculous autumnal lushness of the Aberglaslyn Pass. My legs are aching but the stillness of my room and the laid-back vibe pervading those wobbly corridors stay with me all the way home. It’s a genuine privilege to stay at the Pen y Gwryd. Just pack your sense of adventure and possibly a crampon or two, and I know you’ll love it as much as I do.
Pen y Gwryd Hotel / 01286 870211
