It was now 4.15 am Lees and an advance party drove a Land-Rover up the rough track from Aber to the radar station on the top of Drum.

The search started at 6.0 am. There was moonlight behind the cloud and snow underfoot. There was a strong north-east wind blowing, and visibility gradually improved with the dawn so that the sweep search was extended to include both sides of the ridges between Drum and Foel Fras, but concentrating more on the eastern slopes, that is, the slopes dropping into Cwm Dulyn.

By 9.0 am the wind had increased to gale force, whipping up the powdered snow so that it was impossible to face it, but visibility downwind was still good. Later the cloud came down and a blizzard developed. Visibility fell to five yards and it was no longer possible to stand against the wind screaming across the ridge. The team was most impressed by the local village constable, PC Pritchard of Tyn y Groes, who, although no mountaineer, held his position on the crest of the ridge for the duration of this first search.

It was known that a second party would be starting out to cover the mountains on the Bethesda side, and it was hoped that they could be stopped, but radio communication was impossible in such a gale. Lees had wanted to warn them of the conditions on top, and also to inform them of the area already searched, so that they could go elsewhere and, perhaps, search with a tail wind.

This second party turned back at 1.0 pm, about the same time as the first party retreated from the tops. At 1.30 pm transport was sent back to Valley to collect dry clothes. (The men normally carried a change, but when they were called out, they had just completed a weekend exercise in bad weather, and they had left their wet clothes to dry on the camp).

A base camp was established on the coast at Aber, and the St. Athan team arrived from South Wales at 2.45 pm. That afternoon the teams went round to Bethesda to search the side of Moel Wnion where a farmer had reported wreckage. They searched for three hours with the only result that the 'wreckage' was identified as a line of rocks and their fresh, dry clothes were drenched again.

The first I knew of the missing Canberra was on the morning of the 11th when I heard the eight o'clock news on the radio. At that time we were living in a farmhouse above the Conway valley. I took our daughter down the mountain to school, bought a paper in the village shop and read the accounts of the previous searches.

I was torn between the urge to help and the fear that my help might be refused. Lees would want me out but I didn't know how to contact him. Police and Air Force officials would reject me - a woman on the Carneddau searching for a Canberra when two teams and police were there already! But I knew the Carnedds better than Lees... I would go alone and look in the odd corners, the places they might be expected to miss, particularly in cloud. With this visibility no one would know I was out. If I found nothing I needn't contact them and no one could laugh or be shocked at my presence. If I found it my presence would be justified. In any event I couldn't stay indoors with the thought that two injured men might be waiting for rescue.

I rushed home, changed into my warmest winter climbing clothes, packed a rucksack with food and spare sweaters, seized binoculars and ice axe, and started up Drum.

The weather had improved considerably since the previous day. The cloud ceiling was about 2,700 feet and already the Ansons and the helicopters from Valley were out searching. They droned back and forth below the cloud and above the Drum-Foel Fras saddle. I watched them intently as I came up the long shoulder of Drosgl, alert for any sudden change in direction. Occasionally I stopped to focus the glasses on the slopes of Llwydmor and the cwm below - even studying the surface of the lake - and then sweeping back to Tal y Faen behind me. There were pylons and broken walls, but nothing like wreckage. Of course, I remembered, it Continue to page 3