I couldn’t see where the cries for help were coming from. The rocky hulk of Tryfan was almost black in the twilight and was shrouded in cloud. I could tell the shouts of help were definitely coming from high on Tryfan’s west face, but they were just disembodied voices in the growing dark.
I was in a group that had climb Tryfan earlier in the day before moving on to climb Glyder Fach next door. It was November and we had decided to head down by the Y Gribin ridge as the light dimmed. Cutting cross-country to get back to the cars, we heard cries of “help!” and headed in their direction to see what we could do. Read more