10 Peaks - The Return

It had been 3 years since I ran the 10 Peaks Long race for the first time. A 24 hour challenge taking in the 10 highest mountains in the Lakes, it was the biggest thing I’d done up to that point and I really enjoyed it in 2013, taking 21hr 30min to finish it in the early morning darkness. It’s approximately 50 miles, but with 15,000ft of ascent and a lot of rough terrain and route finding.

That time I had joined up with two lads who had a readymade cheerleading team and we walked in the last 20 miles or so, which included a long flattish section back to Keswick from Great Gable and a single climb up and down Skiddaw. After a few larger challenges since I thought I fancied having another go and hoped this time to go a bit quicker with the benefit of more experience especially in climbing.

A questionable choice of accommodation overlooking the market square and the Moot Hall at Keswick enabled us to run out on the start of a friend’s Bob Graham on Friday evening. 

Friday night leg stretch ((c) Carol Morgan)

Unfortunately the room's positioning also meant that we were still being kept awake by drunk people in the square when our alarm went off at 2:30am on Saturday morning.

The race starts with a coach drive to the bottom of Helvellyn at Swirls car park and at 4am we were off and heading up and above the midge clouds. As the sun rose behind us and set the tops of the fells out to the west on fire, we got the first peak and 3,000ft of ascent out of the way and then the first bit of route choice arrived.

The race has 2 out of bounds areas and the summits have to be done in a certain order but this leaves quite a few decisions on lines. As many headed off down the tourist path towards Wythburn, I dialled in the bearing Carol had worked out the night before and dropped down the steep Old Counties Tops descent, joined by two Horwich runners who I shared mutual friends with. They got the line spot on; I drifted right slightly but we rejoined the path ahead of those we’d split up from and continued down to the valley and then up the far side, through the area marked on the map as The Bog and on via High Raise to Angle Tarn and Bowfell.

It still early, not yet 8am, but it was starting to get hot. I don’t deal well with heat, but tried to keep drinking plenty and there were plenty of mountain streams to fill up from.

Just after Bowfell, my friend Andy, who was running the Short course, overtook us and yelled encouragement. He had started an hour after us and was flying. He went on to win the short race by 58 seconds!

Beyond Ore Gap, the tops started coming quickly and I skipped over the rocky ground and ticked off Esk Pike, Great End, Ill Crag, Broad Crag and Scafell Pike. At Ill Crag Tony and Albert, who I’d been running with, made the decision to convert over to the short course, so I continued on my own on the long course.

The second biggest route choice comes soon after Scafell Pike, and as I headed over the boulders towards Mickledore I joined up with a guy called Graham from Buckinghamshire. He had done the race once before and had taken the easier but longer Foxes Tarn option to Scafell that time He fancied trying Lord’s Rake though, and I offered to show him the way up. 

Heading across Mickledore for Scafell ((c) Helen Price)

We had a fun time on the rock filled gully and then parted soon after summiting Scafell, as I was opting to drop down into Wasdale whilst he was heading via the Corridor Route to climb Great Gable first.

The glorious sunshine had brought the crowds out, and although my initial drop down the side of Scafell was nice and quiet, by the time I exited the scree run and headed towards Wasdale Head I was meeting tens of tourists starting the climb up England’s highest mountain. A quick stop in the shop for the Coke I’d been fantasising about and I headed up Mosedale towards Pillar. Less than a mile from the hubbub of Wasdale and now there was no-one around.

A steep climb up the skirts of the mountain and I was on the ridge. I soon bumped into Emma on her Bob Graham leg 4 as she headed in the opposite direction towards Kirk Fell, and after hugs and handshakes with her and her supporters I completed the out and back to Pillar. Here I met Graham again. As we were taking alternative routes, we couldn’t work out which of us was ahead and parted in opposite directions with half an expectation of meeting at the next major checkpoint at Honister.

The heat, climb and distance was starting to get to me by now, and the haul up Great Gable from Beck Head was slow and painful. At the rocky top the weather was changing and I had to take a bearing in the mist to find the drop down to Windy Gap and Moses’s Trod. I started the jog back down to Honister, by now knowing I was in need of food and energy. As happened several times, just at the right time I got the perk of seeing someone I knew; Daniel from my running club was heading out to meet some of his friends who were also on the Long course, and a brief chat lifted my spirits.  

   

At Honister, pasta and more Coke awaited. Graham came in just before I left and we chatted before I set off down into Borrowdale. In 2013 I’d instead gone up the suggested route to the col near Dalehead, but Carol had pointed out the night before that there was an alternative route that involved no climbing, along the banks of Derwent Water, and I gratefully took it.

By now there were rain clouds sweeping in. I welcomed the drips of drizzle that started, and then suddenly had to shelter under a tree and put on waterproofs as it turned into a downpour.

I was keeping up a slow jog, but even compared to the walking in 2013, I wasn’t making very quick progress. As it had for the last 5 hours, Skiddaw reared up ahead, the final of the 10 peaks. I decided I couldn’t face the suggested steep route up via Carlside, and planned on the familiar climb up past Latrigg, Jenkins Hill and Little Man.

I’d not taken much food on board since Honister, and after a terrible convoluted journey through Keswick I started up on the last climb.

Time stood still as I trudged upwards, the only consolation the beautiful views across Derwent Water to Newlands Valley and Coledale and beyond to all the peaks I’d been up. 

Consolation view

I pleased myself by forcing a gel slowly down whilst on the steepest part of the climb, but a swig of water afterwards proved too much, and back it all came. Bent double by the side of the path, I checked my watch. 1,500 ft still to climb, and it was obvious now I wouldn’t be able to make it to the finish in daylight. I thought about the option of stopping, but stopping actually still meant 5 miles or so of running back to Keswick. I carried on upwards, and the nausea abated.

As always, the weather on top of Skiddaw was several stages worse than everywhere below, and I headed blindly along the ridge until the trig point and a lone figure appeared out of the mist and rain.

“Simon! Wait there, I’ve got something for you”, shouted the apparition, and I stood shivering as the marshal Paul came back from his tent with some red wine in a hip flask. I sipped it carefully and then it was about turn and back off on the final descent.

Gravity helped my progress and I slowly jogged back the way I’d come, with a brief stop to put on my headtorch, and for another bout of nausea.

The lack of sleep turned ferns into skeletons, roots into polished mahogany table legs, and most bizarrely, a large rock into my blue bath towel that I slowed down to attempt to pick up.

Just over 19 hours after starting I jogged back into the football club in Keswick’s Fitz Park, cheered by several friends who had been watching the tracker and come along once then knew I was on my way. Carol was there too. She’d finished 5 hours before me, and so had had the chance to shower, change and probably go for another run.

My initial reaction was of disappointment, as I’d hoped to take at least 3 hours off my previous time, but I think I’d overestimated the difference between my walking pace and my running pace at the end of a long day out. I also realised that difficult races are difficult however many of them you do. 

A Dales Way Adventure

A Harveys Dales Way map has sat, awaiting its moment of glory, in my running bookcase on the landing of my house for a couple of years now, along with a load of other adventures already had or waiting to happen.

A work initiative reminded me of my idea for attacking this particular challenge. I’d worked out that if I hit the rush hour train crowds, I could make my way up to Windermere by lunchtime and, with a following wind, be back in Otley by the same time the next day.

Diaries were cleared, rucksacks were packed with clothing, running accessories and food, and on a hot, sunny Monday morning, Carol and I made our way to Menston station to stand smugly amongst the commuters.

 Four hours and four trains later, we’d met up with Chris, Chanti and Fewston the dog and with a quick dip of our toes in Lake Windermere we were off up the first hill and away from the throng of tourists in Bowness.

The midday sun was really hot as we started slowly. Fewston, without the option of stripping off, was struggling and it became our mission to seek out streams and pools for him to cool off.

Eventually he picked up slightly as we ran alongside the Kent and into our first stop at the 10 mile point in Burneside. Chris left us as we ducked into the local shop for ice creams and Coke and continued on.

Beautiful low lying country paths though farmland led us to the M6 and as we got over the other side, to a cool box sitting in the middle of nowhere and containing ice cold cans and an honesty box. As we stopped to drink, the gathering clouds and rumbling skies suddenly resolved themselves into a full on summer storm and we sheltered for 15 minutes under trees, enjoying the cooling shower. 

Eventually we had to brave it and ventured out into the rain for a run along the river Lune, enjoying the old Victorian bridges and viaducts down to the outskirts of Sedburgh.

Chanti by now was on her furthest ever run, and as the rain started again with accompanying thunderclaps from nature and from low flying  US and RAF jets, we jogged into Dent and dumped ourselves wetly into the pub for a quick dinner and stacked up drinks. With our support driver Paul arriving just in time to collect Chanti and give us more food and drink we dragged ourselves back into the storm and headed South East down Dentdale.

The rain slowed to a trickle and then stopped and behind us a perfect orange circle slowly dropped to the west as we started to approach our night time section.

I’d planned a schedule based on 4mph with a few breaks at checkpoints and we were going along very comfortably keeping to this schedule as we came to a long road section and decided to stop to put on our headtorches.

I put mine on. There was a brief flicker, then nothing. I played with the switch, turning it on and off, holding down the switch, shaking it, fiddling with the wires, changing the batteries. Nothing. It had served me well in the previous 4 years through some huge, dark challenges, but had chosen this moment to retire from my adventures.

We set off up the road, me running close to Carol to use the light from her torch. We ran in silence, partly so we didn’t swallow too many midges, but also because we were both going over alternatives and inwardly debating the chances of getting through the upcoming section. This was to be the most remote part of the whole route; a 5 or 6 mile off-road run between valleys with no nearby villages. We reached the end of the road and stumbled slowly along a muddy narrow path before realising we had to make a decision now; it was 11:30pm and soon no-one would be awake to help out.

We very reluctantly decided to abort then, and headed for the nearest road, although as the nearest small village was 6 miles away we still had no real plan, and our attempts to contact supporters via mobile were having mixed results.

At just before midnight, we came to the isolated Station Inn pub at Ribblehead, and amazingly the lights were still on. We knocked at the bar door, and after a conversation with an understandably suspicious landlord, we were let in, sold a pint and given a bed for the night. Within 30 minutes our disappointment at having to stop slightly lessened by the shower and crisp linen sheets.

The next morning, waiting for the train at Ribblehead station on the same wet clothes we’d run in the day before, we agreed that this route and time target was definitely an achievable challenge, but that next time we’d test our equipment a little earlier than the second we needed it.

For those that sponsored me and that I had disappointed, I decided to try to make it up to them with the 10 Peaks race on 24^th June; another chance to watch me on a tracker website. First though, I need to head on-line for a new head torch.       

9 minutes in 24 hours

24 hours is a long time to be awake. You can do a lot in 24 hours, but you may not be able to remember it all. Between 6pm on Friday 17th April and 6pm on Saturday 18th April, I stayed awake and ran around the Lake District. These are the 9 minutes I remember out of those 24 hours.

9. Sergeant Man/High Raise

4:31am Saturday - 10 hours 31 mins elapsed

We've just hit the top of Sergeant Man at the second try, and are heading across the boggy ground towards the next peak. Suddenly the nausea I've felt for the last 4 hours that has stopped me eating gets worse.

As I stand bent double over the grass, I think about the normal world 2,000ft below. In that world I would currently be planning a day off work, probably in bed with a possible trip to the doctors needed. Here though, I'm starting to look ahead. I think of people I know who have had to stop their Bob Graham attempts and where they got to. I can't think of any that stopped this soon. Can I make it to Wasdale? Can I make it to Great Gable? If I make it to Honister, I should really continue, but I'll probably be so far behind schedule by then, I may as well stop anyway.

Then I think of a runner I know in a race in Spain last year. At the 10 mile point of a 50 mile race there was a vertical kilometre; a huge climb in morning heat. She was really sick on this climb, and by the time she'd started recovering and moving again she was last. At this point the race had done a circuit and therefore was passing back close to the start, but, despite this, she'd headed out on the rest of the race. At that point she was over 2 hours behind me, but by 35 miles she'd overtaken me and at the end she was an hour ahead. And it wasn't even an important race to her. If she can do that, I think, that's what I need to be doing if I'm ever going to finish anything.

I look up from my fell shoes. Tom has hung back with me. I stand up. The other runners are distant lights ahead in the dark.

In silence, Tom and I start up again on the climb to High Raise to catch them up.

8. Watson's Dodd

11:44pm Friday - 5 hours 44 mins elapsed

I'm getting used to running in the dark now. Since the sun went down on the climb to Blencathra, I've dropped down Doddick Fell, drunk a pint of soup to add to all the rest of the food I've eaten in the first 5 hours of the run, and then climbed up the front of Clough Head.

C is navigating in the darkness. The weather is mostly clear and around us we can see the black outlines of the Dodds against the ultraviolet of the sky. James is keeping up everyone's spirits with his bounciness, but I'm just starting to feel the edges of queasiness. As we head away from the shallow top of Watson's Dodd I try to take a drink whilst running and end up inhaling it. Kev gives me a handful of mixed nuts and I struggle to eat them. My mind is starting to run through the list of foods I know are in the rucksacks around me and struggling to think of any I feel like eating. We lost a couple of minutes on my schedule getting to Great Dodd and C has gone a bit quiet. Cloud is drifting across the path as we run towards the next top.

My optimism is starting to dip.

7. Harrison Stickle

5:07am Saturday - 11 hours 7 mins elapsed

My legs cope best with climbing up rocks rather than grass and picking my way up the mass of boulders to the top of Harrison Stickle I feel OK. When I reach the top, I'm suddenly hanging over the edge of a drop down to Langdale. The land looks like a deep blue liquid and the lakes look like mercury. I can make out Pavey Ark and Stickle Tarn below me and, on the far east horizon, the Howgills and the Yorkshire Dales are outlined with an orange glow.

"Look at...", I start to say to Tom.

"Oi! Come on! We've got a job on here!".

100ft down below, Jarv's headtorch is pointing up at us. He's right. I start to climb back down as he moves away. Either I'll finish this and look at the pictures in my head later, or I won't and I won't want to know.

6. Kirk Fell

12:58pm Saturday - 18 hours 58 mins elapsed

We've come out of the top of Red Gully and Andy is waiting in the sun there. The last "nausea incident" coming off Pillar is forgotten and I now know not to try any more quirky gel flavours.

I know that C is ahead, waiting to meet me on Kirk Fell, and that I'll soon be seeing her for the first time since the darkness of Dunmail Raise. And beyond that is the last big climb up Great Gable. I push on up the slope. Last time I was here we got caught in a snow storm, just two weeks ago. For the first time then, I'd thought about how it would feel to have to ring everyone in the week before to call my attempt off. There would have been no time for a further attempt this year with everything else planned. Making the final strides to the summit and C, the perfect 24 hour weather window turning the Lakes into my personal playground, I've forgotten that now.

5. Skiddaw

7:24pm Friday  - 1 hours 24 mins elapsed

We're at the fence marking the final ascent up to Skiddaw summit. The last hour has been relaxed and fun. Lots of chat and fantastic early evening views across Keswick to Derwentwater and the Northwestern fells.

I haven't looked beyond the next three summits and it really hasn't felt like this is my big day, just a run out with some friends and a dog.

As we hit the summit ridge, Andy looks at his watch.

"1:22. You've got 3 minutes to the summit, let's just walk it."

I've been up here a lot of time, but never with the chance to look at the view. We can see the Galloway hills, the Isle of Man, even a thin line that may or may not be Ireland. It's going to be a fantastic day out whatever the outcome. The sunset is still out there to look forward to and somewhere even further ahead, the sunrise.

I touch the summit, right on schedule and now it feels like I've started.

4. Robinson

3:55pm Saturday - 21 hours 55 mins elapsed

Mark has been navigating me on leg 5, but now, on the final descent off Robinson, he has handed over to Martyn for some of the intricate parts avoiding crags. He and I quickly pick up a bit of momentum and leave the rest of the group behind us trying to follow. Keswick is glistening white in the sunshine ahead.

Soon, the ground levels slightly and the rest of the group catches up and overtakes and suddenly C and I are running together in a little two person bubble.

For the first time I feel like I want to cry. It's not happiness;it's just emotion that I don't know how to handle, like an overtired baby.

"It's so close", I whine.

"No, it isn't" C says, and actually that's what I meant. No-one should fail from this point. I have over an hour left, but what if I have to walk? Would 20 minute miles get me back in time? 30 minute miles? What if I have to stop to be sick again? I can't bring myself to believe I'm going to do it.

Then we round a corner and there's the gate off the fells, and John K, a proper runner, waiting to run with us for the first time. The mood lifts.

3. Lord's Rake

8:45am Saturday - 14 hours 45 mins elapsed

Leg 3 stretches back in time behind me to the dark of Dunmail Raise. Now though, it's light and we have visited the highest point on the round and have the traverse over Mickledore to Scafell to make.

C and I were up here 4 weeks ago, checking my preferred option of Lord's Rake, a steep, rock filled gully, and it had been covered in hard packed ice and snow. The experience had made us promise ourselves a winter mountain skills course for next year.

As we get to it now,though, there is just a little snow remaining right at the top.

Fewston Paul leads the way and we follow in a spaced out line to avoid falling rocks. When he gets to the top of the rocks, Paul kicks into the soft snow and, far from being difficult, it is much easier going than the scree. As I stride up the staircase of ice, I feel a new strength. Perhaps I have been secretly worrying about this, or maybe one of the small pieces of nutrition I've sneaked in has reached my engine, but I look ahead eagerly to the climb to the summit and then the drop of close on 3,000ft in the morning sunshine to the next support point.  

2. Moot Hall

5:37pm Saturday - 23 hours 37 mins elapsed

We've just crossed the suspension bridge and are going through the meadows. I have a big group of runners around me, and also some ahead, shouting at innocent people strolling in the late evening sun that there's a Bob Graham finisher coming through. I try not to look too embarrassed. It's going to happen now; we're just chatting and laughing, but as I come out onto the road into Keswick, the heaviness in my legs lifts and I stop talking.

I up my pace and for a second my running support are surprised and have to up their pace too. Scott and Martyn run to the roundabout and dramatically stop the traffic. I'm running uphill toward the market square with no fatigue and I can feel the smile starting to fix on my face. Past the market traders and I can see my supporters waiting to one side of the Moot Hall.

As I lift my arms above my head (a new habit I seem to have picked up in the last 6 hours) I scan the faces and see people who were with me on earlier legs and some who've followed me around the support points. I really don't think I'm ever going to stop smiling.


There's a van and trailer parked across the green door I need to touch and I hurdle the tow bar and bang my hand against the wood panel. Martyn is right next to me, finger on the master watch.

"23:37!"

1. Yewbarrow

10:32am Saturday - 16 hours 32 mins elapsed

We're at the bottom of Yewbarrow. I've dreaded this for months but everything is different now. 

10 minutes ago I'd arrived at Wasdale to worried looking faces and a Martyn in full motivational mode.  Within 30 seconds I'd been sat down and handed a cup of tea, a bacon sandwich, a drink and a piece of cake. 

This wasn't much use as I still only had two hands and one of those needed dressing from a fall I'd taken at the top of the scree on Scafell. The sense of urgency had me fired up and we'd jogged out of the support point in high spirits.

Martyn takes the lead. "Just watch my heels", he advises, but I'm ready to push on. My legs feel great. I don't know where the power is still coming from, but at least I've managed to eat the bacon from the sandwich. This lot are leg 4 specialists. Generic caffeine tablets, electrolyte capsules, and Linda's special leg 4 liquid power all come out on the climb. 

The morning has fully developed now. Clear blue skies and a nice April warmth. Looking back we have gained ground quickly and the support point is far below us. The group is starting to string out a bit; I'm warmed up and they're straight into this climb cold but it still makes me feel strong.

  

Martyn keeps up the encouragement and we're over the scree and then the ground is starting to level out. I knew I was almost 30 minutes over a 24 hour schedule when we arrived in Wasdale below, and that I have to start making up ground here. My schedule says I have 50 minutes to get to the top. In training I did 45 mins fresh.

Emma has my tracker but has disappeared to take a short cut, so Linda texts C to let her know that we're still going. Everyone is laughing and joking. Even me. I feel brilliant.

I see the top and break into a small jog. Linda gets a text back from C who will be waiting on Kirk fell. She reads the message and we all smile. 

Martyn stands by the summit ready to stop the lap. I touch the cairn. Just under 42 minutes. We all cheer. 

I feel like I could climb like this forever. We turn and start the run along the ridge, Pillar, Kirk Fell and Great Gable ahead and still to be climbed, crisp in the spring sunshine. For the first time I know I'm going to do it.  

Summer to Autumn to Winter.

Suddenly, five months had passed and Simon realised he hadn't actually justified his existence by writing down what he had been doing since the 10 Peaks run finished early one June morning.

So all aboard the Franklin Express, destination November 2013, stopping very briefly at my races and runs on the way.

July 2013

Helm Crag and Steel Fell

The day after my 10 Peaks run I thought I needed to stretch my legs a bit and did a walk that turned into a bit of a jog from Grasmere up Helm Crag and round to Steel Fell, trying not to entertain any ridiculous Bob Graham fantasies.

The Howitzer on Helm Crag. I climbed it, as you have to.

Looking up towards Helvellyn and Thirlmere

The view from Steel Fell

Wasdale Fell Race

In what seemed like a great idea at the time, I foolishly entered the Wasdale race 3 weeks after the 10 Peaks instead of the sensible option of going up to watch and support. A scorching day which saw a large number of DNF's resulted in me deciding I'd had enough at Styhead, after the cutoffs, but before what seemed to me to be an unnecessary 4th ascent of Scafell Pike in 2 months.

Smiling? It's early on. (c) Andy Holden.

Wasdale the day after it broke me.

August 2013

Turner Landscape Recce

After Wasdale I cancelled my plan of running the Borrowdale race and instead spent the weekend at Seathwaite running around the unfamiliar route of the Turner Landscape fell race.

From Seathwaite Reservoir looking down Duddon Valley

The horseshoe including Grey Friar and Swirl How.

Looking towards Little Langdale

The brilliant final section back to Seathwaite

Round Hill Fell Race

The day after this recce I was back in Yorkshire for the Round Hill fell race. I did not enjoy it. I think it shows.

Gargrave Show

Sneaked this in to the afternoon before I went on holiday. A quick trip up to Sharp Haw with river crossings, hay bale jumping and a poorly executed Mobot. 

September 2013

Three Shires

Best visibility of the day (c) Cathy Bradley

On a terrible day for navigating I managed  good climb up Weatherlam, and a perfect descent right onto the checkpoint at the Three Shires Stone (where many others got lost) and then ruined it all by drifting so far off course on the descent from Pike O'Blisco that I was mistaken for the first placed runner in the Langdale Marathon.

Horsforth 10K

Road race. Hated it.

October 2013

Ian Hodgson Relay

Partnered with a runner nearly 30 years younger than me on leg 3, I managed both to slow him down and to offer no help in finding the second checkpoint. We didn't lose any places, but onl because everyone else got as lost as us. Great event though.

The start of leg 1

Our team's leg 4 runners oblivious to the pain ahead for them.

All smiles once it's over.

Langdale Fell Race

Finally a good day in the Lakes, no navigation errors and this time a brilliant descent from Pike O'Blisco to get a new pb on my 4th year running it.

Chasing Martyn to the finish

Heading for the cattle grid

What a car park.

Weekend running on Ilkley Moor

The Burley Moor track in early Sunday morning sunshine

Looking towards Beamsley Beacon

Trail sunset near the Cow and Calf

10 Peaks

Finally my 10 Peaks weekend arrived, and I spent Friday driving up and then registering in the Crossthwaite Centre in Keswick that was also the finish and that would see either my success or failure sometime early on Sunday morning.

I was booked in for the whole weekend at a pub close to the start and spent a while geting all my kit ready for the 4am start the next day:

  

Kit checked and ready. Blencathra from my bedroom window. 

I had my dinner in the bar, being joined briefly by Tom, who'd suggested this as a good place to stay. Map in hand, he took me through all the intricate short cuts and secrets of the 10 Peaks route that he had researched in countless trips up to the Lakes, while I tried not to be distracted by my sausage and mash and pint of Jennings.

Sometime in the hazy early hours of Saturday, and before my alarm went off, I awoke, excited and ready to go. I sneaked down the creaky stairs, met Tom in reception and then we were out trotting in the early morning gloom to the start.

After a brief talk and a queue to register our first 'dib' in the sensors, it was off on the long first climb up to Hellvellyn.



4am climb to the first peak

A few slower walkers had pushed to the front, but it was a good feeling to push on up the hill at a strong walking pace, passing a few of them and stopping once to add a layer when I realised my mistake in starting in a t-shirt.

On the summit it was misty and cold.

Peak 1 - Helvellyn

The mist nearly made me lose my nerve in taking the short cut off the top. Most people were following the tourist path, but I kept to my plan and ran down the grassy slopes of Whelpside Ghyll, getting the line slightly wrong and ending up with a very steep slope and then a climb, but I felt like at least I'd tried to be clever.

I rejoined the main path, jogged down to the first checkpoint on the valley floor at the end of Thirlmere, and then had the long boggy climb up Wythburn.

Wythburn Valley looking back to Helvellyn.

At the end of the valley, the extra peak of High Raise was the next place to dib. From here you should be able to have a view of the whole route, but the clouds were drifting around, making it atmospheric but not great for long distance vistas.

Leaving High Raise

By now the second peak was in sight, and a grassy descent followed by a cut across to Angle Tarn got me to the bottom of the descent. A large number of runners in front of me had disappeared at this point. I got excited about finishing positions at this point, but they all turned out to have taking an alternate route and arrived at the summit just before me anyway.

I overtook a runner on the climb up to Bowfell who was obviously unhappy. I knew exactly how he felt; at this point I was feeling good, but on a race this long there is an ebb and flow, and sure enough when I saw him later he'd perked up.

View to the Langdale Pikes from the climb to Bowfell 

Peak 2 - Bowfell

I reached the top of Bowfell at the same time as a couple of strangers. We said 'hi' and checked in then went off separately. More of them later though...

A rough run over Esk Pike and another check in on a peak that wasn't one of the 10, and it was down to my old friend Esk Hause, starting point of the climb to the Scafell Massif. After a brilliant piece of clumsiness with my electrolyte tables and water, I checked the time. It was just after 9am. I'd been going for 5 hours, whereas normally on a Saturday I'd only just have got up. More importantly though, I was well within the target time I'd mapped out the day before.

Climbing away from Esk Hause

Buoyed up by this I started off up Great End and quickly checked into the closely packed 3rd, 4th and 5th Peaks.

Peak 3 - Great End

Peak 4 - Ill Crag

Peak 5 - Broad Crag

It may seem a bit like cheating that the first two peaks take 4 hours to cover while these three are a stone's throw from each other, but a lot of stones have been thrown around here and it is hard going as I head on to Scafell Pike for the third time in 6 weeks for the literal but not metaphorical highpoint of the day. 



Peak 6 - Scafell Pike

By the time I get there it is very misty, but typically for me and my fragile self esteem, I don't want the many walkers up here to think I don't know where I'm going so I head off along the wrong path without checking map or compass. Embarrassingly the leader of one of the walking groups points me on the right path towards Scafell, but this turns out to be the turning point of the day. 
Back on the path to Mickedore, the huge gash between Scafell Pike and Scafell, I link up with Luc and Dave, two guys from Reading. This turns out to be very lucky for me on three points.

One, they were great company. I had wondered before the race how I would manage through low points if I were on my own as on the Fellsman and the Old County Tops I needed someone to help me through my weak patches. Selfish? Me?

Two, it turned out they had their own brilliant cheerleading team of friends and family who took me on board as if I were one of them. I hadn't really thought about what an anti-climax it would be to finish early on Sunday morning with just the marshals there. I didn't find out..

Three, and most importantly at this particular time, they knew the way up Lord's Rake.

On this race there are two options to get from Scafell Pike to Scafell. One is via Foxes' Tarn, which I had done before, but which is longer and less convenient for the rest of the route than Lord's Rake.

However, Lord's Rake is a narrow chasm full of scree with a finely balanced chock stone at the top.

Lord's Rake from the top

And once you get up that, there's a tricky downhill, and then another uphill scree slope.

Lord's Rake part 2. More scree

With Luc and Dave's guidance we found the rake and I actually enjoyed it; the concentration involved made the ascent seem less about actually trying to go uphill and more like trying to avoid injury. It was great and we were soon at Scafell.

Peak 7 - Scafell

Then it was back down Lord's Rake in reverse which was almost as exciting.

Scafell done.

We had a very brief discussion about whether to drop down to Wasdale and then attempt the ridiculously tough steep climb up to Pillar, or take the sensible option of the Corridor Route to climb Great Gable. I think this is how I may have phrased the choice at the time and unsurprisingly we soon set off contouring around the cliffs below Scafell Pike and then up to join the Corridor Route, the rocky path that connects Scafell Pike to Styhead Pass. There was a brief hiccup when I tried to take up on a short cut, but we just managed to avoid the fate of the runner we saw looking forlornly across at the correct path from the other side of the abyss of Pier Gill.

A long climb up Great Gable and we were at Peak 8. Again the top was misty, and a couple of degrees off the true bearing took us and all the people around us onto the shocking unstable scree that J and I had been on on our Wasdale recce.

Fantastic Wasdale view appearing out of the cloud

I finally managed to get across to a piece of scree with smaller stones and it was like a down escalator as I jumped down towards the third checkpoint at Beck Head.

The Beck Head checkpoint. So near, yet so far.

Off towards Pillar with Ennerdale behind.

We now had the tedious contouring round Kirk Fell before the climb up to peak number 9.

The view towards Yewbarrow from the route to Pillar. 

Peak 9 - Pillar

After checking in at Pillar we had to retrace our steps back down to Black Sail Pass, but at this point I actually tried to finally make a contribution to our group by pretending that Tom's clever route across Ennerdale to Honister was a personal idea. We dropped down to the valley, I crossed several streams more than I needed to, and after a long climb out of the end of Ennerdale we rejoined the race route, and seemed to have made up some places.

Up to now Luc had shown his obvious fitness, gained from running ultras in the south, and had had to spend large periods waiting for Dave and I, but at this point started to get pain in his knee which would start to slow him down as we went on.

Looking into Buttermere from the route to Honister

Into the Honister checkpoint and the team supporters were there (and had been waiting 4 hours) and were ready to cheer us up. After a refuelling session on chicken pasta, hot tea and Coke, and a chance for Luc to change into new socks AND shoes, we were off on the climb up towards Dalehead, forking off before the summit and following the path down into the Newlands Valley.

The start of the descent into Newlands

Looking back at the Newlands valley.

For various individual reasons we took it slowly on the rocky descent and then to long flat section back to checkpoint 5, which cruelly was also going to be the finish everal hours later. Hearing the news that Tom had won the race in record time gave me a boost as we set off for the final peak.

It was now late evening, but warm and light as we crawled slowly up Carl Side on our way to Skiddaw.



View back to Keswick from the ascent of Skiddaw.


The climb went on and on, first on a rocky winding path, then a ruler straight path heading up to Carlside Tarn. We had to put our headtorches on and started off on the next climb up to Skiddaw, but the conditions had suddenly changed entirely. The cold gales buffeted us as we trudged upwards, blinding us as it blew the clouds across our headtorch beams. Occasionally there would be a gap and the orange glow of the sunset would briefly appear. All that was missing were flashes of lightning and a soundtrack of Death Metal. Ahead of us, it was impossible to see if the shapes were a 100,000 foot mountain 100 miles away or the top we were waiting for.

Finally we reached the top and had a brief view of the trig point and headed off to it to get our final checkin. Heading back along the hell of the ridge we met a slightly scared solo runner (probably just reflecting back our expressions) who asked us to wait for him while he went to the summit. We huddled in a stone shelter, wondering what we'd do if he didn't reappear, then, when he did, set off shivering down the tourist path.

All we had left was the descent I had done in 40 minutes on a sunny July day two years ago when I ran the Skiddaw fell race. Today was different though and it took us two and a half hours to drop down to the lights of Keswick and back to the waiting supporters and the race team.

We got back in 21 hours and a half hours in joint 54th place. This was pretty irrelevant to me as all I had wanted to do was finish within the 24 hours limit and to enjoy the experience. Next year however....