The call to conquer Crib Goch
It was a cold and wet November morning in the stark, natural glamour of Snowdonia, which I ecstatically greeted after awakening to the grey-hued sunlight rudely invading my uncomfortable slumber in the back seat of my 2003 Ford Focus which I had pulled over at the side of a country road lay-by for the night. I’d prematurely quit my “prestigious” apprenticeship working for an offshore wind turbi...