That said, the path up Elidir is far from obvious, there's frequently a Force 9 gale blowing and the mountain often seems to possess its own personal black cloud. Even on sunny days. But if that black cloud does clear and you can stand up on the top without blowing over, the views are quite something else. Anglesey is laid out flat before you; beaches frilling out like a jellyfish's nerve net. Also in the palm of your hand, on a very good day, is Ireland. Meanwhile, you're up there with the Carneddau (more 3000-ers) and you're looking across at Snowdon as an equal.
Except not quite. Because if Elidir does fall slightly short in terms of height compared to Snowdon (there's 500 feet difference), it falls off the map in terms of name-recognition. Telling the folks back home "oh yes, we went up Elidir Fawr" doesn't have quite the impact of saying "we climbed Snowdon". So, quelle surprise, that's what people want to do when they come here: go up Snowdon. And in order to do so, they'll endure the queues (I was once persuaded to make the ascent on an August Bank Holiday with two friends whose city lives have obviously persuaded them that crowds are normal wherever you go). They'll suffer conditions that can be quite as horrible as Elidir Fawr (it's worth trotting out that health warning about the quantities of people who die annually on Snowdon).
But again, it's hard to argue with the power of Snowdon. Snowdon's not just famous because it's got a railway on it. Or because it's higher than anything in England (or Wales, naturally: we conveniently leave Scotland out of this one). No, there really is something special about Snowdon. For a start there's the fact it's a perfect, mountain-shaped mountain, the kind of thing they'd use in Lord of The Rings (and which is framed perfectly by the dining room window at Tan Y Fron, by the way).
But there's also something else about Snowdon, something harder to put into words - though plenty of people have tried. I was stultified with embarrassment when a friend announced in a no-frills climber's caff (Pete's Eats in Llanberis) that she'd been inspired to create a haiku by being on the summit of Snowdon. Then proceeded to deliver said haiku to the entire cafe. But she's not alone: Wordsworth got there first, poetically speaking. Not many people are aware that the climax of The Prelude is set on Snowdon's summit: perhaps because few people have ever got past the first few pages. The Romantics all get read about more than they get read these days, but Wordsworth gets read the least (hmm, maybe a tie with Byron actually). It's worth reading that bit of The Prelude though (http://www.lcc.gatech.edu/~broglio/1102/snowdon.html). People outside of cults don't talk much about transcendence these days, but the right day on Snowdon can make you want to do just that. Quietly. To yourself.
