Ten years ago, I took a trip to Snowdonia to mark my 40th birthday. Along with Gerry and Simon, I walked the Snowdon Horse Shoe, a long day in the mountains climbing several peaks including Snowdon itself and crossing some exciting knife-edge ridges. Alison formed the support team at base camp and we had a fine weekend celebration. Ten years and one stroke later, I decided that I needed to do something to mark my 50th birthday which is approaching rapidly. So Alison and I hired a cottage (the same one as 10 years previously) and we returned to Snowdonia.

We had been back in 2007 to walk up Snowdon but this time I planned to do some rock climbing with Simon. But this was not to be the short climbs on rock outcrops that we had managed since my stroke. I don't expect to be able to climb as much or as hard as I used to but I still want to push the boundaries now and again. So this time we were aiming for 300 feet of rock on the side of a mountain called Tryfan. This was completely different in both commitment and stamina because once we'd started, it would be difficult to get off until we reached the top.

The weather was grey but dry when we set off to the foot of the mountain. Before we could even start the climb we had to get from the car to the rockface across a jumble of rocks and boulders. Once I would have taken this in my stride but with residual balance problems, it took time and energy to pick my way through the obstacle course. Once we got to the rockface, we sorted out our gear, tied onto the rope and I set off up the first pitch.

I was heading for a large ledge with a tree about 70 feet up the rockface. The climbing was quite easy at first with plenty of handholds and footholds and regular places to anchor the rope to protect myself in case of a fall. I climbed slowly but steadily, enjoying the movement but slightly anxious about what was still to come. The rock got gradually steeper until the last few feet of the pitch where the handholds ran out. The only way to get to the ledge was to use the friction of the rock. This type of climbing makes me nervous because, since my stroke, I am never quite sure that my right arm and leg will do exactly what I tell them to do. After a few anxious moments looking for alternatives that didn't exist, I went for it and after a little scrabbling, I landed on the ledge where I anchored myself to the tree. I brought Simon up to the ledge on the rope and then it was his turn to lead the next pitch.

As Simon climbed further up above me, I let out the rope while taking in the views across the Ogwen valley. After a while, Simon finished the pitch and shouted down that he was ready for me to follow. Again the climbing started quite easily but steepened as I got higher. I reached a difficult section which threatened to halt our progress. I had to pull myself up on my arms to reach a high foothold but I failed to get it right twice. The rope stopped me from falling but I could feel the strength fading from my right side which has been left weakened by my stroke. Just then, I noticed that by moving back and sideways I could get round the problem section using some holds that Simon had missed. I reached the ledge rather breathless and relieved that we didn't have to make a complicated retreat. We took a long break to allow me to recover, took a few photos and contemplated how few people had ever been to that ledge high on a rock face.

After a while, I set off on the third pitch. I seemed to have got back into the swing of things because this time I didn't have any problems, despite Simon later saying that he thought I had climbed the hardest section of the whole climb. Simon then led the final pitch without incident and we had got to the top of our climb. We felt tired and elated but couldn't get too carried away because we knew we still had to get ourselves back to ground level. We packed up our gear and set off to find the way down.

And this is where we found the sting in the tail. The descent was down an almost vertical gully that was running with water. We decided that it was too dangerous to climb down so we decided to abseil. The dangers of abseiling in the mountains should not be under-estimated. There are no safety ropes or Health and Safety approved anchor points. More people die from abseiling accidents than falliing off climbs. We pushed back the tiredness and concentrated on setting up the ropes as safely as possible. Then Simon went first and I followed when he got to the end of the rope. We both got soaked through by the running water and bruised by bumping against rocks but we were safely down the worst part of the gully and could make our way carefully to the bottom and then back to our starting point.

It was now 3pm, more than 4 hours since we had started the climb. We stopped to rest and eat our lunch (yes we'd forgotten to take it with us) before making our way back through the obstacle course to the car. My energy was fading fast and my legs were almost collapsing with every step by the time we got there. I was exhausted, bruised and soaked through but I felt great. The climb wasn't a high standard for most climbers but it was right on the edge of what I am now capable. It's hard to explain but the exhilaration and satisfaction somehow make up for the pain. Needless to say, I was fit for nothing for the next two or three days.