It’s a Saturday afternoon in mid-February, and halfway up Wales’s highest mountain the weather has taken an apocalyptic turn. A gusting wind flings billowing sheets of rain across the craggy terrain and stirs the water of the glacial valley lake below like a giant ladle. Hikers loom out of the deluge, hoods pulled into tight circles around expressionless faces. It seems a curious time to be out on Snowdon, or Yr Wyddfa. In their defence, it wasn’t like this earlier in the day. It wasn’t like this 20 minutes ago.
There’s a crackle on the Land Rover’s radio and the phones of the three members of the Llanberis Mountain Rescue Team’s Mobile 2 unit ping in unison: 3pm on a Saturday is dubbed “work o’clock”
