SNOWDONIA Flora & Fauna NATURE AND THE ENVIRONMENT The park's entire coastline is a Special Area of Conservation, which runs from the Llŷn Peninsula down the mid-Wales coast, the latter containing valuable sand dune systems. ​ A large proportion of the park is today under designation (or under consideration for designation) as Sites of Special Scientific Interest, national nature reserves, Special Areas of Conservation, Special Protection Areas, Biosphere and Ramsar sites. WILDLIFE Snowdonia's importance in the conservation of habitat and wildlife in the region reflects in the fact that nearly 20% of its total area is protected by UK and European law. Half of that area was set aside by the government under the European Habitats Directive as a Special Area of Conservation. TREES ​ ​ The park's natural forests are of the mixed deciduous type, the commonest tree being the Welsh oak. Birch, ash, mountain-ash and hazel are also common. The park also contains some large (planted) coniferous forested areas such as Gwydir Forest near Betws-y-Coed, although some areas, once harvested, are now increasingly being allowed to regrow naturally. ​ PLANTS ​ ​ Northern Snowdonia is the only place in Britain where the Snowdon lily, an arctic–alpine plant, and the rainbow-coloured Snowdon beetle are found, and the only place in the world where the Snowdonia hawkweed grows. ​ One of the major problems facing the park in recent years has been the growth of Rhododendron ponticu. This fast-growing invasive species has a tendency to take over and stifle native species. It can form massive towering growths and has a companion fungus that grows on its roots producing toxins that are poisonous to any local flora and fauna for a seven-year period after the Rhododendron infestations have been eradicated. As a result, there are a number of desolate landscapes. ANIMALS ​ MAMMALS ​ Rare mammals in the park include otters, polecats, and the feral goat. ​ BIRDS Rare birds include raven, red-billed chough, peregrine, osprey, merlin and the red kite. Another of Snowdonia's famous inhabitants is the Snowdon or rainbow beetle. ​

UK EXPEDITIONS SERIES City Mountaineering bringing Expeditions to The UK Skye Trail 2 - _1 IMG_9840 Mountain Views Skye Trail 2 - _1 1/5 Expeditioning should not simply be limited to the High mountains and remote places around the world. City Mountaineering is leading the way in opening up UK destinations to multi-day, expedition-style adventures. Whether you want to train for the more extreme expeditions around the world such as Kilimanjaro, Aconcagua, Denali or one of the many Himalayan Peaks, or simply want to adventure in the UK, we have designed these expeditions to suit everybody, whatever your intention. We have picked the best areas, the most rewarding hikes and we travel to the most remote areas that the UK has to offer, from The Skye Trail in the summer, to traversing The Cairngorms in the heart of winter, with many other multi-day expeditions in all mountainous areas of The UK. ​ With such a variety of options, every trip is different and the chosen routes will depend on the group and the weather. We will journey through the lesser hiked, but no less spectacular areas of The UK ​ We will hike off track to avoid the crowds and to truly explore the UK Wilderness. You don't need to have any prior experience of remote hiking and the small group size will enable us to give you our full attention throughout the trip, ensuring your safety and enjoyment is our number one priority. Cost of Expeditions includes: - Pre/post-expedition accommodation - Use of all camping kit when necessary (e.g. Tent, sleeping bag, roll mat, water filtration, stove) - Use of technical kit when necessary (e.g. Pulk/sled, Snow shoes, crampons, helmet, ice axe) - Guided hiking by a highly experienced experienced and qualified mountain leader - Breakfasts, Lunches and Dinners when in the wilderness - Logistical support and transfers ​ From £795 multi days Introduction to multi-day hiking: - Traverse The Lake District Scottish Island Hopping: - Hike & Island Hop The Small Isles ​ Are you fit enough?: - Hike The Bob Graham Round VIEW OTHER TRIPS REQUEST MORE INFO SKYE TRAIL Expedition Series Hike The Skye Trail - 04 May Price £795 Expedition Series Hike The Skye Trail - 25 May Price £795 Expedition Series Hike The Bob Graham Round - 22 June Price £895 Expedition Series Traverse of The Lake District - 27 July Price £795 Expedition Series Hike The Skye Trail - 24 Aug Price £795 Expedition Series Hike The Little Western Isles - 07 Sept Price £795 Assynt & The North Coast 500 - 20 Sept Price £945 Expedition Series Winter West Highland Way - 07 Feb Price £895 Expedition Series Winter Traverse of The Cairngorms - 21 Feb Price £1,245

Menstruating is a bore at the best of times. How often have I done the math on my cycle and groaned? Of course it would have to come during that hot date/board meeting/galactic battle/City Mountaineering adventure. This is partly about mood, partly about movement (I find I’m strangely uncoordinated in the first days of my period), partly the sore heaviness in the body. Of course it will fall at inconvenient times: it happens every bloody month. But look, the wild is not a bad place to have a period. Mountains are moody too – you can lean into it. I find long walks do as much good for cramps (I get them bad in my lower back) as pain killers. The problems to solve relate more to hygiene and privacy, and, women, there are solutions. In fact, trying to solve these problems for trekking is what led me to the greatest discovery of my menstrual life: the menstrual cup. I made the switch from tampons and pads because I got sick of packing them out. But really, I always found tampons and pads uncomfortable and inconvenient, and I sometimes literally forget the menstrual cup is there – which is about as strong an endorsement as I can give it. Here’s what I pack: - Menstrual cup: mine is a Mooncup, but there are several reputable brands on the market; - Pre-moistened wipes: period or no period, I always have these; - A small, reclosable freezer bag for waste*: I line mine with a dog poo bag for opacity and convenience (can easily throw away liner and reuse main bag) but you can line it with kitchen foil or put gaffer tap around the outside (this weighs more), or do whatever suits you; I also sprinkle some baking soda into my waste bag to absorb any odours; - Hand sanitizer: always, always within easy reach; - Ibuprofen and/or paracetamol: tossing and turning on your sleeping mat all night is no wilderness heaven. *If you use tampons/pads, you just need a bigger waste bag. And here are the logistics when modern conveniences are not available: - Dig a cat hole as you would for other toilet requirements - Clean hands with sanitizer - Remove cup and empty into hole - Clean cup with wipe - Replace cup - Put used wipe in waste bag - Clean hands with sanitizer I keep a small stuff sack with all my toilet things together – toilet paper, wipes, waste bag, extra hand sanitizer (see picture). Much easier to grab one thing from the rucksack and be sure you have the full kit. The menstrual cup does take some getting used to. I had a few awkward moments with it in the beginning, including one that left my trousers stained for a few days on a trek. (This is the worst that can happen! And it was barely noticeable.) So, if you’ve never used one, and you want to, give yourself a few months to get used to it before taking it into the wild. I find that stigma and squeamishness around periods is fast disappearing from trekking culture. It is extraordinary how, even five years ago, there was so much reluctance to acknowledge it as something to deal with, and much harder to find or share information on practicalities. Strange for that to be true in an environment where other bodily functions can be breezy conversational currency. I wonder if mountain guides (Stu?) keep tampons in their first aid kits for emergencies nowadays – or if they should. I’m not sure it would have occurred to me to ask, if I were caught out. I was joking with Stu on the Cape Wrath Trail recently (part of the expedition series, and totally freaking amazing) that woe would befall those who annoyed me on Day 1. It turned out that the midges took most of my temper, which may or may not have been related to hormones at all. I did burst into tears when Stu said we had 5k more of mountain bog to hike before we could camp, but then everyone did (just kidding, it was GREAT). Stu said: you should write a blog about it. Here you go.

How do I get fit for the mountains? This is, without doubt, one of most frequently asked questions we receive here at City Mountaineering. And it’s understandable; climbing mountains is seen by most as a gruelling physical activity. In fact, the very act of climbing a mountain is often used as a metaphor for doing something really hard. So, it stands to reason that some people want to know how to prepare themselves physically before they head to the hills. Let’s first tackle some misconceptions though. In the context of City Mountaineering trips at least, hiking in the mountains is not intended to be some gruelling feat of endurance, leaving all but the very fittest heaving for breath on the lower slopes. As trite as it may sound, first and foremost we want everyone to enjoy themselves. That won’t happen if we are pushing everyone to their physical limit. It is true that some of our trips are “harder” than others but, for the most part, we want you to ‘enjoy, not endure’ and the chances are you're probably fit enough already. Let’s not forget, after all, that we are in the business of selling trips and experiences. We won’t sell many if people don’t enjoy themselves! That said though, it’s fair to say that the fitter you are the more likely you are to enjoy the whole experience. And sometimes it’s just the knowledge of having trained and prepared for something that helps people push themselves that bit further in the moment (the reverse is also true: if you haven’t prepared for something, when the going gets tough you can often find yourself questioning your own ability to cope with it, not because you aren’t actually fit enough but simply because you know you didn’t prepare). Now, of course, fitness and the advice surrounding it is a huge (and actually quite fascinating) subject. Sports scientists and personal trainers make a career out of it. I am neither, and so the following is just some general advice and ideas based on my own experiences on how to get mountain fit. If you are preparing for something bigger, like a trip to the Himalaya or up Kilimanjaro, the following is also broadly applicable and hopefully useful. However, for some tailored advice and/or a specific training plan including guided trips to the UK mountains, please get in touch (between us we have both a wealth of experience in fitness and in climbing at high attitude). Walking Let’s not overcomplicate things. We’re not trying to run a four-minute mile or break the hour record. We simply want to be able to hike up and down mountains reasonably comfortably in order to maximise our enjoyment of it. Hiking is, well, walking. OK, so it’s walking up things a lot and often it's walking for several hours at a time, but it is still just walking. So, one of the best things we can do to prepare ourselves for heading into the mountains is to go walking (it’s also a great way to break in those new hiking boots). Grab a rucksack, pack a lunch and head out for a day. There are loads of great places to spend a day walking near to London. There’s the North Downs Way in Surrey, the Severn Sisters down in Sussex or the Chilterns to the west of London. All of these places are reachable by train from London and they all have the benefit of having a good few ups and downs. If you want to stay in London, Richmond Park is a fantastic place for a day’s walk. There’s a few inclines and you’d be surprised at just how wild it feels in parts. Try getting off the main paths and onto the less trodden trails. There’s also a couple of cafes to keep you motivated. Staying in London, you don’t have to walk somewhere green. Why not spend a day walking around the tourist attractions or up and down some of London’s hillier streets (legend has it that a certain Stuart Shipp trained for Aconcagua by walking up and down Telegraph Hill in Brockley with a few bowling balls in his rucksack!). Also, try walking up the escalator or taking the stairs instead of the lift for an easy win. Finally, don’t be a fair-weather walker. Head out on the windy and rainy days too. One of the key differences about being in the mountains is that you’ll be hiking in all weathers, experiencing all the elements (this is also one of the best bits about being in the mountains). So, getting used to walking in the wind and rain will prepare you for that unavoidable mountain weather. It’ll also give you a chance to test those waterproofs! Cycling There are some striking similarities between cycling and hiking in the mountains. Firstly, your legs bear the brunt of things in both activities. Secondly, apart from on the steep bits, you are unlikely to be significantly out of breath during the course of either activity (unless, of course, you are particularly serious about your cycling and like to push hard). For the sport scientists amongst you, both activities broadly keep you in the Zone 1 to Zone 3 heart rate zones. Like hiking, when you’re cycling you can hold a conversation with your fellow cyclists, until you get onto the hills… Cycling is then, for my money at least, one of the best things you can do to get fit for the mountains. And certainly I have felt at my most “prepared” for the mountains when I’ve been cycling a lot. You don’t have to go full Lycra, carbon fibre either. Any bike will do. Richmond Park is, again, your friend here. In London, it really is one of the best places to cycle and even has a few – albeit small – hills (try doing hill repeats to train your climbing lungs). Do be prepared for the pelotons of Lycra and carbon fibre though! Slightly further afield, the Surrey Hills are a truly beautiful place to cycle and are easily reached from south London (or jump on a train to Dorking and start from there). My final point on cycling is that commuting by bike can be the easiest of easy wins. In the time it takes you to suffer a commute on public transport, you could have cycled instead. You’ll have done your training for the day without having to make any extra time for it. You’ll also save money, help the planet, feel happier…don’t get me started on the infinite benefits of cycling as a means of transport but, suffice to say, it is the answer to most of our problems! Anyway, if you find the distance to work intimidating, try thinking about it in terms of time instead. For instance, a five-mile cycle might only take you half an hour. Or perhaps just cycle to and from a train station. In any case, if you’ve cycled to work every day for the few weeks leading up to a trip to the mountains, I guarantee you’ll feel well prepared. Running Running is a difficult subject to tackle in this context because how far and how fast people can run is very dependent on individual fitness levels. It is no doubt a very good way to get fit and to stay fit though and it can be a great way to prepare yourself or the mountains if you enjoy doing it. Consider again the type of activity hiking in the mountains is though. It is one in which your heart rate remains relatively low. Because running is an impactful activity, and simply because it can be hard, it’s likely that your heart rate will be higher when you are running than when you are, say, cycling or walking. The other effect of that is that you’ll probably be able to cycle and walk for far longer periods than you could run for. And as we discussed earlier, hiking is, if nothing else, an activity that takes several hours. One way to get around that, of course, is to run slower for longer. If you have a heart rate monitor, aim for running in Zone 2. That can be a very slow pace for some people so, to make it more interesting, try trail running. The North Downs Way offers some great trail running, as does Richmond and Bushy Park. The added benefit of running on trails is getting used to travelling on rough terrain (and trails are generally hiller than roads). Lots of people don’t enjoy running. Regardless of why that might be, the only way you are going to stick to something is if you enjoy it. In my view, walking and cycling are far better ways to prepare yourself for the mountains so, if you don’t enjoy running and your goal is simply to get fit for the mountains, don’t do it and don’t feel as though you have to. Gym The gym is a dirty word to Stu. You won’t ever find him in one. In fairness to his view, hiking is an outdoor activity and there are few things that you can do in the gym that translate even marginally to climbing mountains (the Altitude Centre is an exception to this, of course, and there is much to be said about the benefits on training in high altitude conditions). However, sometimes in the midst of a busy working week, the gym is the only thing some of us can squeeze in (another reason to cycle to work). So, what can you do in the gym that will help prepare you for the mountains? Well, the treadmill is surely a good bet. Set it at a low pace and at an incline, strap on a rucksack filled with kit and start “hiking”. The rowing machine also offers great cardiovascular benefits whilst placing an emphasis on leg strength/endurance. As far as weights go…well, when it comes to mountain climbing, they don’t. You could make an argument for supplementing your training with squats, lunges and leg press to build leg strength, but I think it would be a fairly weak one. The movement of hiking up a mountain slope is more comparable to walking up stairs than to doing a deep squat. If you do use the gym to prepare for the mountains, do so with caution and take heed of this fable: Many years ago, I attempted to climb Aconcagua in the Andes. It was on this trip, in fact, that I first met Stu. Anyway, as it happened, in the months leading up to the trip I met my now wife. So, whilst Stu was hiking up Telegraph Hill with bowling balls in his rucksack, I was in the gym working on my biceps to impress my new girlfriend. Guess who summitted that mountain and who had to turn back? In reality I was probably fit enough to summit but, as I alluded to earlier, I knew my training had been entirely inappropriate for my goal and this played on my mind as soon as I got out of breath and my first altitude headache set in. So, rather than see these as the normal effects of being at high altitude, I convinced myself that my lack of proper training was to blame. There was no way I was summiting that mountain. If you'd like any further advice on anything discussed in this article or on getting fit for the mountains in general, please don't hesitate to get in touch.

Birds can be a bit of a mystery to people. That flying habit of theirs makes identifying them difficult for the uninitiated and it’s easy to be overwhelmed by the amount of species you see when you open a field guide. However, knowing what you’re looking at can really enhance your enjoyment of being in the mountains, just in the same way that it’s nice to know the name of the mountain you’ve just spent three hours hiking up. The best advice I can offer for getting to know birds is to have a good idea of what species commonly occur in the habitat you’re about to go into. That way you can narrow things down a bit (and it stops you from making outlandish misidentifications). Luckily (or unluckily depending on what point you're trying to make), there aren’t that many commonly occurring birds in the mountain landscapes of Britain. I’ve picked five species that you are very likely to see when hiking here in the UK. Get to know these and the other, scarcer species will stand out too! Meadow Pipit Let’s start with the archetypical LBJ ('Little Brown Job' for those unfamiliar with birding vernacular). LBJ is an umbrella term that tends to get used pejoratively, as though these types of birds are so bland and uninteresting that it's hardly worth giving them their own names. This really only speaks of the laziness of the observer though as a closer look at any LBJ often reveals a nuanced and complex plumage, and each LBJ species has its own fascinating ecology. The meadow pipit is no exception. Its plumage is a cacophony of browns paired with a streaky buff front (other things to look out for are its upright stance and white outer-tail feathers). All of which serve to conceal it amongst the brush in which it skulks. More often than not then, you’ll hear a meadow pipit before you see it. That being the case, it’s worth having a listen to its call. If you’ve spent any time in the mountains it’ll no doubt illicit a response along the lines of: ‘ahhhhh so that’s what it is!’. It's fair to say that the meadow pipit is a fairly ubiquitous bird up in the hills and, if you see an LBJ fly up from the brush, the chances are it’s a mippit (more birding vernacular!). Like anything ubiquitous though, it tends to become so familiar that it fades into the background, which might explain why the meadow pipit features on ornithological writer Stephen Moss’s list of least favourite birds. But I would urge you to pay this bird a bit more attention when you’re next in the hills, especially in the spring when you might be treated to a performance of its parachuting display flight, perfectly choreographed to impress lady mippits and hikers alike. Common Raven Many people think they have seen a raven; they probably haven’t. Unless you are in the right sort of habitat, you are very unlikely to see a raven these days (they used to be far more widespread in the 19th century but numbers dwindled as a result of persecution by gamekeepers and famers). Instead, it’s much more likely that you have seen one of the raven’s less impressive cousins, the carrion crow or rook. That is, unless you are in the mountains, where you’re every bit as likely to see a solitary raven appearing ominously out of the clag on a summit, croaking as it keeps a watchful eye on you, as if waiting for your inevitable demise. Ravens are enormous, impressive birds and to confuse them with the crow is to do them a disservice. They are a true brute of a bird with a brutish bill to match, and if seen up close you’ll never forget them. However, if you’re unsure that you’re looking at one, have a look at the bird’s tail. The raven has a diagnostically diamond shaped tail in flight. If you’re still unsure, listen out for its call. Like most corvids (members of the crow family), the raven’s name is onomatopoeic. If you listen carefully to its croaking kronk – and use your imagination - you can just about make out the word raven. Essentially, it calls its own name so you really can’t go wrong! Common Buzzard Buzzards are a bit of a lesson for birding in general: if you learn the most commonly occurring stuff, the rarer stuff will stand out when you do see it. Buzzards are the most commonly occurring bird of prey in the UK so they are definitely worth getting to know. If you are in Snowdonia or the Lake District and you see a large bird of prey soaring above, it will more than likely be a buzzard. If you are in the Cairngorms or the Highlands, it is still more than likely going to be a buzzard but, if you’ve got to know your buzzards, the golden eagle will stand out like a sore thumb! Looks wise, the buzzard can probably be seen as the blueprint for bird of prey design, its lack of notable features being notable in itself. Its plumage can also be confusingly variable with various different iterations of browns, buffs and whites. You’ll often see buzzards perched on fences or telegraph poles, but when soaring in flight look for its broad wings, short neck and medium length tail. Listen out too for its mournful, foreboding mewing call. There are of course other birds of prey to look out for when you’re in the mountains and I’m not saying you won’t see a hen harrier or a white-tailed sea eagle, but it’s good to know what you are really looking at so that it’s even more exciting when you do see those scarcer birds. One more thing whilst we’re on birds of prey: not everything that soars is one. Corvids and gulls have a habit of soaring on thermals too so don't be fooled! Red Grouse The red grouse is about as British as it gets when it comes to birds. Not only does it invoke the thoughts of tweed and whisky, it is also an endemic species which it means it only occurs here in the UK and Ireland (it is a sub-species of the willow grouse found in mainland Europe). Its gobbling call will be familiar to any hill walker. Often, you’ll see a whirring blur of a bird after inadvertently flushing one or two from the heather. The red grouse is arguably one of the most important birds in the UK. That is because red grouse – or more accurately the people who rear it to shoot it (think tweed!) – have changed the landscape of much of the uplands in England and Scotland. Much of our moorland only looks the way it does because it is managed to produce and sustain maximum numbers of red grouse to be shot at by paying clients. Many upland birds of prey, such as the hen harrier which preys on red grouse chicks, find themselves persecuted as a result too. This is an inflammatory topic though so I will leave it there. If you’d like to find out more though (if only to understand why the landscape looks like it does), I recommend Mark Avery’s book Inglorious, named after the Glorious Twelfth, the name given to the start of the grouse hunting season on the 12th August. Wheatear First things first, the wheatear is a summer migrant so you’re only going to see this bird between late March and August. It breeds in west and northwest Britain but spends its winters in sub-Saharan Africa. These days it favours upland habitats and you’ve a good chance of encountering one of these striking birds whist hiking in the summer, particularly in Scotland. Generally seen on its own, the first thing that you’ll notice is its incredible posture, it having a remarkably upright stance. Its bandit’s mask eye stripe will also likely catch your eye as it hops along the ground. But perhaps its most striking feature is that which gives it is name: its white T-shaped rump. This flash of white on its behind is as diagnostic as it is eponymous. It's why in times gone by people called it the ‘wheteres’ or…white arse! Acknowledgements The meadow pipit photograph is by Ben Andrew, an award winning UK based wildlife photographer. Check out other images by Ben here. All other photographs are by Daniel Trim, double winner of the British Wildlife Photographer of the Year award. Check out other images by Dan here and @danieltrimphotography Many thanks to Ben and Dan for letting me use their images.