Making it real
I finally came clean, unlike my shoes and formerly announced my intention to attempt the Bob Graham Round: anyone looking at my training on Strava knew I was up to something with all the hill repeats and as a result of my training going well, I thought it was time to commit and to start assembling a crew.
In terms of training, I'd managed to push out my biggest hill repeat session on Parlick to date: twelve repeats on a moody Wednesday morning gave me a total of 8,410ft of elevation gain... almost five hours on feet, fuelling every 20~30 minutes... everything felt good and I came away feeling encouraged by the session.
Several weeks prior, during yet-another-hill-repeat-session-on-Parlick, I had bumped into someone also doing hill repeats... there was the first awkward pass, including the knowing nod of acknowledgment shortly followed by the second pass, this time accompanied by the audible recognition, "Good effort, mate..." and then the final, convenient meeting at the bottom of the hill where we we able to get chatting.
Mark was lovely. I explained I was training for the Bob Graham Round, he nodded knowingly so I asked if he had done it. He had... without pause, I posed my standard question which I've been firing at everyone who admits to having done the round, "So how did you know you were ready?".
Mark replied with this gem, "If you can do two of the longer legs in one push and feel like you could go on... that's a good indicator". His wife joined us at that point and added, "Just wait for a good weather window and go for it!". I really liked these responses!
The fear
Conscious that I still hadn't recced the entire Bob Graham Round route, I set off one Wednesday morning with the intention of working my way back to Pike O' Stickle from Wasdale as an out and back. I had recced from Dunmail Raise to Pike O' Stickle as an out and back a couple of weeks previously, so I just had this last section to recce to complete the route.
As I left the National Trust car park at Wasdale, I gazed East and can remember thinking how gloomy it all looked, so grey, with low cloud... exactly the same weather I had had on so many occasions recently. Undeterred, I felt strong heading up the scree between Rakehead Crag and Black Crag before finally being enveloped by the cloud... it turned out to be a thoroughly uneventful climb to Sca Fell.
Turning at the summit of Sca Fell, I realised just how little visibility there was: my steamed up glasses (a problem I really needed to sort out) and the dense cloud meant I could hardly see the ground beneath my feet... paying extra attention to the route on my watch, so as not to get lost, I spotted a hard left down what appeared to be a sheer-drop gully...
"Holy shit!"
The words had escaped me before I'd even realised I had opened my mouth... that can't possibly be the route?
"Hello?", a voice called out...
I peered around in the gloom... "Er, hello...?"
The silhouette of a figure came into view... it turned out to be Claire, a friendly lady from Boston, USA with map and compass in hand. She had also reached the top of the West Wall Traverse moments before me and had likewise concluded it "sketchy". I apologised for my language... and she admitted to having had the same reaction!
Claire was also aiming for Scafell Pike and together we hunched over her map for a few moments to consider the alternative routes: I knew of Broad Stand but quickly added I didn't think the conditions were suitable for down climbing it without gear and Foxes Tarn... I'd never been either way... she informed me that she had come via Foxes Tarn. I edged towards the gully in an attempt to get a better view of just how sketchy it was and snapped a photo but it does it no justice whatsoever!
Getting cold, we exchanged a few more words before Claire concluded that she would return the way she had come and that I would attempt a slow and steady descent of the West Wall Traverse.
Cautiously inching my way down, I managed to pick out tiny protrusions here and there for hand or foot but nothing felt safe. Try as I might, I couldn't keep my arse out of the trickling streams of water running down the gully... the wet arse was the least of my problems as I tentatively eased my way down to the steep boulder field below the gully. As the solid rock walls rose either side of me, the sense of impending doom also grew... I suddenly felt very, very alone. I was very, very alone!
I carried on down, slipping and sliding for what seemed like an eternity to Lords Rake. I finally got the sense that the gully was opening up, I still couldn't see anything at all and decided I was better off without my glasses. By now, I was really struggling mentally. I longed for some assurance from my watch that I was on the correct route but within the deep gully, the GPS signal was completely erratic: one moment I was on route, the next far off it. What on earth was I doing here? This was a terrible idea and now I was out of my depth! I wanted so badly to close my eyes and find myself at home.
I finally made it to Mickeldore and then up to the crowded summit of Scafell Pike... Moments before, I had felt so alone and here, moments later, crowds of people were talking loudly, they were laughing at ridiculous jokes and moaning in disappointment at the lack of views that they'd worked so hard for. They were just talking... but it all felt so abrasive to me. I squatted down in angry silence... huddled behind a rock a short distance away, observing the scene.
I had covered less than four miles yet felt terrified at the thought of continuing... I had let the fear take hold, I had to face it, there was no way I was going to make Pike O' Stickle today. Should I take the main path back to Wasdale? That felt like complete and utter defeat... the whole purpose of this outing was to join the dots, to have finish recceing the entirety of the Bob Graham Round route. Maybe I could trace my steps back... but I couldn't help thinking about how scared I had felt in the gully. Perhaps the climb up would be easier than the climb down?
It was... it was much easier but in my fear, I was panicked and I just wanted to be off the fells as quickly as possible. I made it back to Wasdale and although I was so glad to see my car, I felt so defeated inside at only having achieved just over seven miles with 5,000ft of elevation gain.
Oddly, the section from Pike O' Stickle to Great Gable has become my favourite stretch of the Bob Graham Round route since. It can be dicey, of course it can but honestly, it's a great section! It just goes to show, to me at least, how real the mind games can be and how important it is to train the mind... not to be stupid and take silly risks, not to ignore danger but to assess it and make good decisions.
Connect 5!
A week later, I managed to connect 5! Parking in Langdale, Andrew and I made our way up to Pike O' Stickle before heading over to Rossett Pike, Bowfell, Esk Pike, Great End, Ill Crag, Broad Crag and finally to Scafell Pike (crowded). It felt so good to stand on the summit this time knowing I'd covered the entire route... I'd seen it all and I felt like I knew just what it would take to get round.
We had a great day, Andrew showed me The Band on the way back to Langdale... it was wonderful running, opening up the stride and winding our way down and down and down and down. We dipped in Great Langdale Beck. The perfect end to a perfect day.
Hold my poles
The very next Friday, Simon, who I had met briefly on Andrew's round, was making his attempt and was looking for support on section 1 so naturally I offered assistance. Parking at Threlkeld, I got a lift to Keswick were I met Simon once again. I really like Simon. He's such a super-positive person and so easy to get on with. As I squeezed into the back of the VW Transporter with him, he made a comment about my (supposedly fancy) Black Diamond running poles and how his were "cheap and cheerful but reliable". We sat counting down the minutes and figuring out how to turn the tracker on before heading to the Moot Hall. It felt so good to be heading out into the night with him and Ali, another chap who I'd also met on Andrew's round.
At 22:00, to the sounds of cheers and clapping, we set off in the rain! Less than a mile in, at the bottom of Spoonygreen Lane, Simon reached for his "cheap and cheerful but reliable" poles... one of them literally fell apart in his hands! It was quite a moment after the earlier comments... I passed him my poles and told him to keep moving as I gathered up the pieces of his poles which I tried to secure in my waist-belt.
We went on to have a wonderful night... that is until we reached the summit of Blencathra and started descending Halls Fell Ridge: we ended up far, far off to the West of the ridge and despite our repeated efforts to course-correct that early mistake by traversing East, we just couldn't seem to get back to the ridge! My God, it was sketchy, steep and as rough as hell... half on your arse, then feet suddenly finding unexpected purchase and the horrifying moment when your upper body gains uncontrollable momentum away from the hill but your feet are stuck fast... then, if you're lucky, you're back on your arse... rocks and bracken and sharp, slippery rocks. I had the additional fun of the bits of Simon's poles pinging out all over the place, fishing them out of the bracken, I have no idea how I managed to get down with all the parts but I did!
Reflecting afterwards, I knew exactly what had gone wrong: whilst waiting at Threlkeld Cricket Club car park for my lift into Keswick, I had sat staring up at the awful conditions enveloping Blencathra. It was gloomy-dark and as I gazed up, I grew increasingly anxious, "Shit, we’ll be in the midst of that in a few hours time trying to find our way down the ridge…". But then, before we set off, I'd heard a comment made by someone on the support crew, "at least you'll be fine coming off Halls Fell Ridge, you've got Ali with you...". In fact, the comment had been made twice and on hearing it, I had unconsciously relaxed. So, on reaching the summit of Blencathra later with Simon and Ali, I had all but switched off!
That's extremely irresponsible on my part and it's not a mistake I will make again. Ali is a fantastic navigator, runner and all round good egg! He did brilliantly... we all did brilliantly in the terrible conditions but it proved a valuable lesson to me in that it really does take the input and attentiveness of every single person on the team to safely deliver a contender to the Moot Hall!
Simon went on to have an amazing day and somehow seemed to nail his schedule perfectly all the way round, returning to the Moot Hall in the very fine time of 22h 30m!
Picking my poles up from Ali's house a few days later, I smiled at the thought that they'd now been part of a successful Bob Graham Round! Well done, poles. Well done, Simon!
As the dust settled after Simon's round, I realised I was a soft flask down: I knew that I'd had it at the top of Halls Fell Ridge and concluded that my success at getting down with all of Simon's pole bits down was at the cost of losing a soft flask! I was unhappy at the thought of it being litter but was also convinced I had little-to-no chance of finding it... and neither would anyone else, given the unique route we'd taken down four days earlier. But I couldn't let it go... I at least had to go up as a token gesture, to say that I had been to look for it and so it was, I took a slow walk up from Threlkeld, retracing my steps as best I could, zig-zagging in places, calling out, "here, here blue soft flask" to amuse myself. To my complete surprise, 100m below the summit, there it was.
The two BIG ones challenge
Finally, to finish July off in style, I decided I was ready to test myself by taking on the two big ones challenge choosing to do section 3 and 4...
We'd booked to stay in Blanton House (opposite the Sun Inn at Pooley Bridge) the last week of July and I'd all but forgotten it was the weekend of the Lakeland 100. I'd got my kit prepared the evening before and tried to relax before heading early to bed but I lay awake the entire night, all manner of worried thoughts racing through mind.
Finally forcing myself out of bed in the early hours, I felt sick and dizzy as I shuffled into the kitchen and opened the blinds only to see the unmistakable Sabrina Verjee go bobbing past the window! She was so close, I could have passed her a cup of tea if I had one ready! It was such a surreal moment in the half-light... and I took it as a good omen. Sabrina went on to smash it, she won the race (coming 11th overall). Go Sabrina! Absolutely incredible!
I set off from Dunmail Raise at 08:00, full of trepidation: the weather was closed in all day with very poor visibility and it was really windy to boot. I had a bit of a low point at Great End, sheltering from the wind and rain behind a rock, I managed to get some much needed food in and was soon on my way before reaching the crux of section 3, for me at least, a very wet and eery West Wall Traverse.
Mike had left his car at Honister and had hiked over to Wasdale to meet me. We were lucky enough to arrive there just as National Trust John was shutting up the visitors centre and was about to empty out the last of the coffee which he was happy to let us have for free. Thanks John!
Mike and I did section 4 together and arrived at Honister feeling tired but importantly, I felt like I could go on Keswick if I needed to. It was a grim day in pretty horrendous conditions but a really good test with just over 12 hours on feet, 28 miles with 12,500 ft elevation gain. I had successfully ticked off the two big ones challenge!
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