The Big One(s)

So - it's been a while since anyone stuck anything down here so I'll post a relatively condensed journal of my recent ramblings.

NB - the tone of this post may seem a bit odd. See the last paragraphs for reasoning

The main thing I've been doing is trekking. Seems strange that a biker and paddler should dedicate their training to trekking, but hey. My car sadly died around about Easter time, so I'm biking the 6 miles to work everyday. Sleipnir has been resurrected as a fully rigid road/town bike (she gave up her bits to create Frankenstein, my new MTB). Spent the winter paddling rivers as always, but spring has been mainly trekking. Why? Read on...

The main reason is for charity's sake. A bunch of people from Npower (the people who very kindly employ me and keep me sustained with just about enough pennies to go play at the weekends) were doing the 3 Peaks Challenge for CARE International, and I was asked to be part of the planning committee because, frankly, some of the others couldn't find their backsides in the dark without using both hands. They needed some people with a bit of hill experience, so the drafted in myself, 2 Scout leaders and a TA officer.

I won't bore anyone with the details of the planning, but the hardest part was raising the minimum £5,000 sponsorship (per team - we entered 2 teams. You see where this got complicated?). But, by a combination of corporate hassling, bring-and-buy sales, betting, lotteries, fun days and car washing, we got there - and some. We actually took the prize for the highest fundraisers in the event, handing CARE a very nice cheque for £20,000. Thanks to the guys that sponsored us (those who didn't - it's not too late!!).

We'd done a LOT of practice walks, with various people from the 2 teams and sundry hangers on. We started with the Yorkshire 3 Peaks (which is about the area where I used to work) in the middle of a heatwave: 4 of us completed it in 9 hours, the others crawling in about 2 hours later, killed off by a combination of cramps, dehydration and general fatigue. So it kind of boded well, and kind of didn't.

I then wandered off to New Zealand for 3 weeks. The others had a recce and a practice up Scafell Pike while myself and my Mum had a very pleasant 7 hour hike over the Tongariro crossing in the mist and the wind. Thankyou to W.L. Gore and company for their lovely products on that one.

Not long after I came back it was time for the Big Ones. WE drove from Leeds up to Glencoe and I felt very out-of-place as we spent the pre-race night in a 4-star hotel. I love corporate hospitality... Ben Nevis was first up, after the customary safety briefing, and we set off, team 'Food' first, myself and team 'Urban' 5 minutes behind (names are CARE's radio call signs for each of the teams)

Now - the original plan was that 'Urban' would push hard to make the 3 Peaks in under 24 hours, as is the custom. Team 'Food' would aim just to get all 3 done, hang the time. Somehow it didn't work out like that. Halfway up the Ben you would have seen Phil, the TA officer drop to the back of the group to nurse one team member with cramps up the zig-zags, while I gravitated further forward, with another team member bungeed to me for a tow. He'd apparantly not realised "just how big Ben Nevis was...". So Food pushed for 24 hours and Urban went into survival mode and aimed just to get everyone up everything. Oh yeah, and I bumped into Anna from SALT, walking with her Dad, which cheered me up no end. But anyway, after 5h34mins we were back down and stocking up on food ready for the drive to Southwaite services, where we had a compulsory 'hold' stop.
We arrived, briefed, and headed off for some kip. More like an AR event I ended up in the 'fort' in the kiddies playground (the grass was wet!) for 3 hours, and very comfy it was too. Our support guys woke us at 3:30am with tea and cereal, and we pottered off towards Seathwaite to start Scafell Pike. Food again set off first, Urban 15 minutes back on them. We left the farm and got up past Stockley Bridge when we heard Dave (walk leader for Food) come over the VHF saying they were dropping a team member due to fatigue. We continued on where we found Sheridan, the lass they'd dropped, nearly in tears on the path. They others had been pushing at a pace that she just couldn't sustain, but wouldn't slow or stop when she asked, so she'd left them to it and started to walk off. We called into base and asked if it would be okay for Sheridan to join Urban, since we were moving at no great pace. They consented so the Team Urban roster went up to 7. We bimbled on at our only happy trot up to Esk Hause where we found my old physics teacher marshalling. Afte a quick natter and some food we pottered off to make the summit and met a very dejected and sore Team Food coming back down - Rob had been physically sick on the summit and couldn't keep any food down. Dave was also starting to suffer. So, while Urban were slow but happy, Food were fast but knackered.
We got back to Seathwaite to see not only our support crew, but also my Mum and Dad who'd driven down to see us in.

NB: The support crew seemed amazed that we'd picked up Sheridan and taken her with us, like it was a medal-worthy thing to do. I wandered off briefly to have a quiet word with Dad and he was surprised at their thoughts too. If you saw someone crying on the hill and you knew you could help them, you would. That's the way it works. Maybe modern business doesn't work like that. Is that a sad thought? To my mind, yes. That said, they had nothing but praise for us doing it, so maybe it ain't so odd.

Battering on down the M6 to Llanberis the walkers zonked out. Sleep was very much the order of the day. We got to the car park and prepped for the last time, strapping feet, vaseline-ing the chafed bits, slapping on the suntan lotion for the last grind. We headed out, the last team onto the hill, still as a very happy, cheerful seven. CP1 came and went without a dimming of the humour, a brief stop to buy everyone a choc-ice at Halfway House cafe and then CP2 at Clogwyn station. Then the last mile - the hardest. We were told that "if you can get up the climb from Clogwyn to the plateau without stopping, you'll be fine", so out came the bungee, the poles and on we went. At the summit trig we radioed in:
"Challenge Base, this is Urban, over"
"Urban, this is Challenge Base. Pass your message, over"
" (Cheers, yells, whoops, screams). Over"
"Urban, I'll assume that means you've reached the summit then?"

A photo, a group hug, some Haribo, then head out and off.

We passed 2 teams on the way down, then shocked the assembled crowd at the finish by running across the car park, up the stairs and onto the hotel lawn to the finish banner in a total time of 27:04, then had our photo taken, turned round and stayed put to cheer the last 2 teams home. Food had made 24:20, just missing out on their aim as both Rob and Dave had been sick (again) on Snowdon. Neither had slept, neither could keep food down, and carb drinks and gels won't sustain you for that length of time.

So - why is the tone strange? I guess it's a bittersweet/melancholy kind of thing. I'm really happy with the way our team performed. We didn't make it in sub-24. So? We walked every step as a TEAM. We crossed every start line and every finish line as a ONE UNIT. We joked, and laughed, and called each other "cads and bounders" all the way, and you know what? Sod the pain, we enjoyed it. For 2 experienced outdoors guys and 4 people who previously had no ambitions to climb even the smallest hill, we had an awesome weekend. I can only devote every ounce of thanks to Phil, James, Adam, Julian and David, and to our ever attentive and fantastic support team of Chris, Sarah, Ian and Steve. They went above and beyond the call of duty to ensure we got through it all.

What soured it was the way our other team behaved. Not for dumping a walker on the hill - sometimes these things happen. But for offering neither us, nor any other team in the event any support whatsoever. They'd come in off Nevis strung out, each walker 5-10 yards apart, heads down, hurting and sloped straight off to their vans - 15 yards from, and facing, the finish line. But did they clap us, or anyone else in? No. Two of their team were on a personal vendetta after they failed to make all 3 last year, and it marred the whole weekend. While their support came to the line to see us in, they hid in the vans and tried to pull themselves together. When we finished at Llanberis, only three members of their 10-man team were there to say 'well done' to the slow guys who'd been taking it easy all weekend (thanks Lawson, Laura and Paul) - the others had headed off to the hotel to get a shower and have their dinner. The misfortune for me is that one of these guys is my senior manager...

Thank you for your attention. May the next blog be a happier affair.

(a slightly cheesed off) Pyro