Team SPERM, Kings of faff and lamers beyond the call of duty decided they were going to ride to the top of Snowdon, so they gathered a few people from the forum and set off.

This is a particularly long day in the life of one Spermite

There had to be a traffic cone somewhere!

Damn! Woke up an hour too early, can’t get back to sleep, might as well get up.

“We’ve got a bit of a problem,” Bobby tells me as I pull up outside Team Sperm Towers “We don’t know where Boy is”. He who is affectionately known as ‘Boy’ was last seen around 2:30am somewhere in town I am told but we have his bike and all his gear so we start to load up. After trying various phones in vain, Boy suddenly appears as if from nowhere and not looking particularly fresh.

It appears ‘Boy’ and ‘Wookie’ arrived back at T.S Towers around four or five with no keys. After banging on the window trying to wake ‘Trigger’ up they gave up and slept in the shed. When we finally stopped laughing we woke Trig up, then we woke him up again, then we squeezed more faff into the van and left to meet the other guys where we squeezed yet more bikes and faff into the van and hit the road.

Pulled into Llanberis station car park, only 25 minutes late, no too bad by our standards. Boy’s mood on the way there had alternated randomly between delirious and unconscious. Not too helpful when I was relying on him to navigate us onto the coast road and when we started seeing signs to Manchester (where we had just come from) we were going in the wrong direction. Despite our little U-turn antics though we were there and the weather was beautiful, not.

After much deliberation sheltering in the van, surrounded by a variety of bikes in various stages of disrepair, the van rocking in the gusting wind, we decided to chance our arm and see how far up we could get. This is despite the fact that half the local guys had sacked it off and gone to Betws-y-coed saying it would be far too windy etc up top to think of going up. We give Phatboy, Boy and the local lads 15 minutes start to push their full bounce monsters up the hill.

Made it to the first rail bridge, nice and toasty in two pairs of bib tights, three thermal layers and full waterproofs, urinating tricky though. Waiting for the rest of the group behind us we see Boy come into view furiously pedalling his Rotwild downhill against the headwind trying to see through snow covered goggles. Phatboy, Gwyn and Trigger on his singlespeed jump bike call it a day and enjoy the downhill back to meet Bobby who decided sleeping in the van was much more favourable than inclement weather and physical exertion. Despite little sleep and a 40lb bike Boy turns around and starts pedalling up the hill just as quickly as the rest of us, the Redbull’s obviously working then!

The student bar was shut for once.

Little shack appears through mist, this must be halfway house, snow settling now, bemused walkers coming down the hill tell us they made it to the second bridge and turned back, no-one much is going to the top today. We push on.

A bridge too far?

Pushing through snow is starting to drag a bit, getting more and more respect for those guys in the Iditabike and this stuff is only ankle deep. Stop at second bridge to regroup and munch kendal mint cake, can’t see more than a few feet in any direction, considering leaving the bike here and walking the rest of the way. Some of the group turn around and 300m later after passing a group of walkers having a group-hug the group splits again. Simon, Becks, Boy and Me have had enough, the stinging hail being the clincher but Mez, Chris, Grahame, Links and Jeff all carry on to the top. Back past the walkers now and the survival bag is out, word has it a girl has collapsed with hypothermia and we don’t feel so chicken now.

Yards past the bridge beginning the descent and the cloud has lifted revealing breathtaking views of cwms and neighbouring peaks, brakes go on and camera comes out.

Worth it once you’re up there.

Lost loads of altitude in minutes then pinch flatted, sat on arse waiting for Simon and spare tube to come down hill, mountain rescue chopper circling close over head and disappearing into clouds, hope everyone’s OK up there.

Tyre fixed, time to catch all the ramblers that passed me, politely of course. Great descent loads of drop of as and rocks to jump off, a few sphincter clenching moments and an irresistible urge to make motorbike noises (?).

“Braaarp” (politely of course).

Ride into the car park smug, well worth it and the weather didn’t spoil it. Not too bothered about not making the summit but secretly hoping the other guys don’t either, better act like I don’t really care.

The van’s gone with all my nice warm clothes in, arse.

Chopper still making trips up and down from top, hope it’s not for our guys.

Van comes back and then the rest of the group, looking a little cold, turn up. Of course they made it and I’m happy for them, no really I am. More riding round the car park and faffing in the usual style, then get bikes in van, only took about an hour. Sorted.

mmmmmmmmmmm endorphins.

Sat in pub gently drifting off on sofa, post ride weariness mixed with sense of achievement, nice!

8:00pm

Home finally, tired, lots of driving and faffing in last three hours want to go to bed. Mate’s birthday party to go to though, food there, yum, must wash mud off and dress smart.

1:30am

Part finished, bar closed, all back to Rusholme for drinking games and falling over.

Tired, all sources of alcohol exhausted, time to go home, if I can find it.