I was undecided on where to walk this weekend, knowing the Lakes would be packed with Bank Holiday visitors. I took a gamble on a brand new walk on the Carneddau, collecting four new summits over 3,000 feet and leaving just four of the fifteen to do. The remaining four are Tryfan, Yr Wyddfa / Snowdon, Carnedd Ugain and, finally, Crib Goch. I'm in no rush to complete them, but it will be nice to have stood on all fifteen peaks over 3,000 feet one day. Today's plan was to start bright and early, leaving my car at the rear of residential housing on the outskirts of Bethesda. The village sits west of the Carneddau range and, geographically, it's the obvious starting point for visiting Carnedd Gwenllian or Yr Elen. But Bethesda is small, with narrow lanes, and it goes without saying to park respectfully and be considerate to residents.

I left home around 4:30am and arrived in Bethesda at 6:15am. Having already laced up at home, I'd driven in my boots ready for the off. It was a fairly mild start with no direct warmth yet, but the sky was cloudless and the heat would come soon. Nevertheless, I still threw on a softshell to take the edge off, although I must admit it was more through habit than necessity. With the car locked, I threw my pack over my shoulder not quite believing how heavy my pack felt thanks to the reservoir of hydration I was carrying. The last thing I needed was to run dry in searing heat while out on the hill. I turned left onto a narrow walled lane, then left again following a permissive footpath through two farmers fields before arriving at Tan-y-garth Farm.

I crossed over a wooden stile and bore slightly right rounding the side of the slope until I found myself looking down on a modern barn with extensive views towards Y Garn, Foel-goch, Mynydd Perfedd and Carnedd Filiast above the Ogwen Valley. The trouble was, I couldn't see a thing as the sun was shining directly into my eyes.

I de-shouldered and packed away my softshell jacket, instantly feeling a cool breeze blowing over my sweat-covered head and arms, which was blissful. Re-shouldered, and with a pair of sunglasses now donning my face, I continued towards my next objective of Gyrn Wigau where I passed herds of wild ponies grazing in the morning sunshine.

I left the head of the valley behind and began gaining ground on the ridge linking Foel-fras with Carnedd Gwenllian. I was surrounded by the unfamiliar sound of dozens of seagulls squawking noisily overhead, though I suppose it's only right being just four miles from the coast. I linked up with the path and, despite boasting about how good the crossing of the valley head had been, it was nice to have a proper path underfoot again. I swapped grass for boulder as I gained height towards the summit, where the path flanks a stone wall. At times the wall was shoulder-height, and the thought of walking in shade was tempting - but I was put off by thousands of daddy-long-legs protesting my presence.

At one point I swear my vision turned black; there were just so many of them. I made a hasty retreat and headed instead for the summit trig point, where I found a chap with his dog taking in the coastal views. This was the same walker I'd seen ahead of me earlier, who had headed straight for Carnedd Gwenllian rather than crossing the head of the valley before making the out-and-back to Foel-fras. It turned out he was walking the same route as me and, like me, had decided to add Foel-fras on as an afterthought, seeing as it was so close. I didn't say owt, but it felt like we'd read each other's minds. After a quick chat, the chap got up and left me with the summit to myself.

While enjoying the coastal views I was joined by a group of five young walkers, four lads and a girl - all dressed in the latest walking fashion: bright yellows, blues and oranges, lightweight hoodies pulled over baseball caps, and top-of-the-range outdoor sunglasses. They looked like they'd just stepped off the front cover of a walking magazine, tapping the trig in silence as they passed.

I got the feeling we were on the mountain for different reasons.

The young group had left before me and I allowed a good five minutes before I left Foel-flas sighting the group as they joined the slopes of Carnedd Gwenllian. I crossed the grassy ridge and began the steady slog up Carnedd Gwenllian where I found I had the summit to myself. The group where nowhere to be seen so I presumed they descended west towards Bera Bach.

Carnedd Gwenllian was formally known as Carnedd Uschaf until September 2009 in an effort to rename the summit Gwenllian who was the only daughter of Llywelyn ap Gruffudd, the last Prince of Wales. The campaign sought to place Gwenillian alongside her family, as nearby peaks are already named after her father (Carnedd Llewelyn), her mother (Yr Elen), and her uncle (Carnedd Dafydd)

I swapped the smooth grassy ridge for rough boulder and a narrow trod that weaved its way over the summit shoulder, where I passed another solo walker and a quick "hi" was shared across thirty feet of rock. Looking back, the group I'd left on Carnedd Gwenllian were gaining on me, possibly only a hundred yards away now. I crossed over the shoulder and spotted the summit cairn about eighty yards ahead. By now the mid-morning heat was pushing into the low twenties, and I don't mind admitting my breathing was laboured through combination of heat and exertion.

By the time I reached the cairn I was more composed, arriving at the same time as a young lad who had ascended via the Ffynnon Llugwy Reservoir. I was distracted by the sound of what was clearly a mountain rescue helicopter somewhere over the Ogwen Valley, the noise from the rotors punctured the silence but I couldn't see it. I noticed the young lad was looking too and when it finally came into view over Tryfan I walked over. He seemed genuinely concerned as we both watched the helicopter descend from Tryfan into the valley, the thump of the rotor blades sounded like the helicopter was much closer than it actually was.

With the noise of the helicopter still carrying across the range, I left the summit cairn, taking long gulps from my bite-valve when I noticed pockets of air seeping through, a sign my hydration was running low, I de-shouldered, unclipped the lid straps and pushed my hand into the bladder pocket. There was still a good handful of summer fruits left probably close to a litre. Panic over, I muttered. I'll be fine.

By now the group had stopped behind a large boulder and were taking their packs off. Blimey, I thought, these young 'uns like their breaks! I re-shouldered my pack and began my descent before crossing a grassy plateau to the very edge of the escarpment, from where I'd get the best view of the ridge.

I managed to keep ahead of the group, but instead of heading straight for the summit cairn I climbed a grassy knoll that I knew marked the head of the north-east ridge and in doing so managed to reopen the two healed blisters on my feet, the very same ones my new work shoes had caused. The same two I'd felt last weekend walking with David and Rod above the Swindale Valley. The same two I'd chosen to ignore. Damn and blast.

The group followed me onto the knoll, thinking I assume it was the summit, even though the actual cairn lay about fifty yards to the west. I tried to save their embarrassment by saying, "What a view this is from the top of the north-east ridge," but it didn't quite click. After a few minutes they headed off.

I eventually left the top of the north-east ridge, crossed the summit plateau and tapped the tip of my walking pole on Yr Elen's summit cairn. It was 11:10am and although I only had a three mile walk back to Bethesda, I still had to descend Yr Elen which during my research I'd read that it was "a bit tricky" A narrow trod leaves the summit cairn down the side of a scree slope where, although the path is easy to follow, it is incredibly steep and eroded. I was in good stead during the first part but after continuous descent I needed to stop and kick my feet into the backs of my boots which had been pressed hard against the toe-cap but I'd forgotten about the blisters. The moment I did it I winced, followed by a quiet "holy fuckerty fuck" under my breath, before composing myself on a level section.

I continued my descent, sighting the new barn at Tan-y-Garth over three miles away. Eventually I swapped rock for the steep grassy slopes of Braich y Brysgyll where I considered breaking into a trot which isn't uncommon on solo walks but with the combination of rough, uneven ground and the blisters, I thought it best not to do myself any more damage. At some point the noise from helicopter faded, replaced by gulls, ravens, and eventually lapwings. The heat was searing as I continued down, walking in and out of heat-pockets that felt like opening a giant oven door, only for the heat to fade as quickly as it came. On the opposite side of the valley I spotted the path that would lead me back to Tan-y-Garth Farm but first I had to cross Afon Caseg (River Caseg). Nearing the end of the ridge I veered right and descended over grass and boulder onto dried marshland.

Persevering through the marshland, I reached the river about a hundred yards short of the weir marked on the map and decided that if anywhere was good to cross, it was here. Unbelievably, I stumbled across a woman with her two Collies having just crossed from the opposite bank. One dog was still in the water, and we shared a wave before I sighted what appeared to be stepping stones - their tops proud of the water and covered in sun-dried weed. I crossed Afon Caseg and joined the opposite bank, where I was faced with a short but steep climb up to the valley path, and I don't mind admitting I wasn't looking forward to it. I more or less stumbled onto the path, expecting it to be further up the slope for some unknown reason and joy was instantly restored. The new barn was less than a mile away, Bethesda a little further. With the sun beating down, I passed the barn which had been in my periscope since leaving Yr Elen summit before passing through a metal gate into pasture, then a second gate onto Tan-y-Garth Farm. Overhead, a glider caught my eye as it soared above Y Garth, but as quickly as I'd spotted it I'd turned my back on it to pass through the two fields that would, within minutes, lead me back to the village of Bethesda.