“The first quivering word he [the writer] puts to paper is the word of the wounded angel: pain. The process of putting down words is equivalent to giving oneself a narcotic”
– Henry Miller
I was reading Miller in between writing this and it struck me as terribly appropriate, for between the humour and beautiful landscapes there’s often a more melancholy feeling that tinges race accounts. Writing for me at least is certainly a reflective process and this has probably been the hardest for me to write. What my first attempt at the BGR showed was that it is a challenge unlike no other, there is simply no room for error and you can quickly see it slip away if you don’t keep your wits about you. On paper, with a number of ultras under my belt and in the best shape I have been in years, I should have made this. I’ll discuss where I think the main problem lay further on.
I’ll start at the beginning, the same beginning I expect many people share. Five years ago I read the book ”Feet in the Clouds” by Richard Askwith, my copy has long since disappeared, lent to someone that never gave it back, so I hope it got passed on to inspire others at least! I was at this point gearing up to my first Lakeland 50 and the Bob Graham seemed a distant dream living in Cornwall with the massive amount of ascent and descent on some tremendously technical terrain and the lack of local support and knowledge that is crucial to completing a successful round. So for years it remained just an idea. In 2017 I relocated to Darlington in Co. Durham and made it my first order of business to find a fell running club, since I was finally in the land where proper fells existed! The fell running community is sometimes seen as slightly elitist in its attitude to the hills in the south of the country, but once you are surrounded by the hills of the north it’s easy to see that there is unfortunately no comparison in terms of the technicality and ascent that you get in the Lakes, Pennines and Dales. Fell running is not like trail running, it’s often off piste over seriously challenging terrain and it might entail a lot of hands on rock action to haul you to the top! It’s an incredibly rewarding and testing sport, with a phenomenally welcoming and supportive community of which I am proud to call myself a member. At the pinnacle of fell running achievement towers the Bob Graham Round. First completed by a Keswick man called of course, Bob Graham in 1932 with a pocket of boiled eggs to celebrate his 42 birthday it involves covering roughly 66 miles, 27000ft of ascent and descent over 42 summits within 24hrs.
Wordsworth country…..
There is no set pattern to take on the Bob Graham, some people will come at it from a fell running background of shorter fast races banking on their speed and technical skill, others from an ultra distance background hoping that endurance and ability to dig deep will see them back to Moot Hall. All of the decisions regarding the round rest in your own hands, you choose the date, the time and those who will help you make it a reality. The ubiquitous waterproof map is the surest way to spot a runner out on the Bob Graham recce and knowledge and routes are shared freely. Fell running does not follow set routes in general, you must visit summits or checkpoints but you are free to choose your own lines between these, so navigation skills and local knowledge are often the difference between a respectable finish and finding yourself very lonely indeed! The Bob Graham has a general trod which is become increasingly well worn in places, but Scafell alone has three routes which you can choose to the summit each one presenting it’s own challenges.
There are five legs that make up the round and they are all completely different:
- Keswick to Threlkeld
- Threlkeld to Dunmail Raise
- Dunmail Raise to Wasdale
- Wasdale to Honister
- Honister to Keswick
Moot hall the beginning and end of the BG and Chris (l) and Brian (r) my leg 1 team
Leg 1. is often cited as people’s least favourite – it comprises just three summits; Skiddaw, Great Calva and Blencathra and between Skiddaw and Great Calva lie a couple of miles of fairly unrelenting boggy terrain which means wet feet are all but certain within about 7 miles. I actually like the leg, the climb up Skiddaw is long but fairly straightforwards and on a good day the views are phenomenal from the top. For my Leg 1 I was joined by two Durham Fell Runners; Chris and Brian. At 10pm we were off! A somewhat inauspicious sprinkling of rain saw me being somewhat indecisive at the start, putting on then taking off waterproof trousers. We were greeted with snow, spindrift and freezing winds on the summit of Skiddaw, the drop down was positively alpine and we were having great fun in the snow and made superb time to the summit of Great Calva in spite of the boggy underfoot conditions of Candleseaves. Chris managed a superb job of navigation hitting every trod on the nose, I can’t even manage that in the day! The slog up Blencathra was made tougher by the ankle deep snow and almost complete whiteout towards the summit, we were constantly checking back for one another, it was certainly not the conditions I had anticipated for May!! We made great time down Doddick Fell, into Threlkeld, just a couple of minutes down on schedule. I took about 5 minutes less break at Threlkeld, had some food from my Sister and Bernie and picked up Paul and Meghan also from DFR who would accompany me on Leg 2.
Leg 2 conversely is often cited as a favourite, it starts with a fairly brutal climb straight up Clough Head and then rolls along the Helvellyn Ridge which is to the side of Thirlmere. Navigationally it can be challenging because some of the summits ‘The Dodds’ are not the most distinct and the well worn tourist trails make it easy to follow along to the side of them. So hats off to Paul for his phenomenal navigation in what were doubtless the worst conditions of the day, by the time we reached the summit of Clough Head the fog was all enveloping and the wind was howling, Paul didn’t miss a beat, I don’t know how he did it, but I am so glad to have had him there!
Leg 2 may have been the point where smaller issues started to join into a river of problems and what would become the end of the round. Although I was warm in my core my hands were freezing cold, Meghan had sacrificed her own warm fingers to lend me her mittens which were a saving grace or I expect I would have struggled to eat anything at all. I managed to maintain a reasonable pace, although looking at Strava retrospectively, I was down on previous times for this leg so perhaps a more modest pace on leg 1 might have benefited me, it’s a bit difficult to say as leg 1 felt perfectly comfortable at the time. By Helvellyn we had partially frozen water and shoelaces and eating had become challenging due to the issue of getting cold hands out of gloves. When your outside is cold and you are fighting the windchill to stay warm I can safely say drinking water slush puppy is not appealing. I was glad to put Fairfield one of the three climbs I had been dreading into my rearview mirror, the terrifying strong tailwind on the scree descent was probably the low point of the round for me! Seat Sandal done and it was just a matter of a short sharp drop down to Dunmail Raise.
We’d made great time into Dunmail raise just a few minutes down in spite of the weather but I was aware that dehydration from Leg 1 & 2 was catching up on me, I drank a flask and a half of water at Dunmail, ate a quick sandwich and took four flasks for leg 3. I had a great crew supporting on Leg 3, Tom and Al. joined from DFR, Chris Knight who I first met whilst I was stumbling along Haweswater (who long time readers may recall from the 2016 ‘Once More Unto The Breach’ blog!) during LL100, Kev Easley who I met supporting Chris’ BGR attempt last year joined and we rounded out by Simon a friend of Chris with his eye on a BG attempt too! A merry little band! Out of Dunmail and straight up to Steel Fell marks the start of what is probably the toughest leg and ultimately the one that will make or break most attempts (spoiler: my dreams were no exception dying a death in the Leg 3 grave yard). It was somewhere between Calf Crag and Bowfell whilst crossing the umpteenth bog that we decided that ‘Bog Graham’ might be an appropriate nickname, I am sure many a fell runner has sunk in here with a misplaced foot! I can’t really say when I first became aware that I was struggling, I never really hurt that much, my stomach felt pretty rough and I wasn’t eating, so it became a slow process of attrition as I simply gassed out and then let my mental focus dissipate. None of this was helped in all likelihood by me chronically worrying about everyone worrying about me, due to the lack of phone signal in Wasdale. By the summit of Scafell Pike I had 40 mins to stay on plan into Wasdale and I’d started to do the maths as an almost constant, I knew I would be slow up Lord’s Rake, I knew the descent would be unpleasant and likely slow as I felt a bit woozy from the lack of calories and my foot placement had become sloppy. I worked out if I had 9 hours in hand I could probably make it, with 8, I would likely only get slower and fail. My problem is that once I have run all of the figures I start to panic, I usually put music on to take my mind off things and give me a lift, but you can’t really do that on a BGR, so I need to master my mind some other way.
For much of the leg I kept my head down and simple trucked on so in spite of it being quite drawn out it went in something of a blur. It was punctuated with some joking that perhaps I needed to crank out a few spotty dogs, but that in the absence of our illustrious master of warm ups Mark Bevan it simply wouldn’t be the same. Then, lo and behold who should appear but Mr. Bevan himself! Ask and thou shalt receive, by sheer coincidence Mark and James were out for an Old County Tops recce! Spirits buoyed by the ensuing banter and we pressed on in opposite directions, BG bound for Scafell Pike and the most hectic summit in England! A drop of Scafell Pike and we were on to the bit I had dreaded just a tad more than Fairfield, the ‘Rake, for my attempt it was specially covered in ice and snow rendering some of the hand holds and step ups useless, and meaning busting some yoga worthy moves, not ideal on 40 mile legs! I was relieved to reach the summit but painfully aware that time (even though my watch had reassuringly died) was ebbing. The scree descent was as a fun as ever, although once off the top my gortex jacket did its best boil me alive!!
I had determined to leave for Leg 4 regardless of the fact I was unlikely to be able to complete the round to my mind. This was partly because it was a nice day, partly because I didn’t want to let people who had come a long way down and partly because spending a day on the fell with friends is still better than pretty much any other activity! So I smashed back soup, coke and some biscuits and washed it down with as much water as I could manage, gave my parents a hug, hugged all of the leg 3 guys good bye and set off. I left the same shoes on as I had managed to avoid wet feet and we headed out to the dreaded Yewbarrow climb. I was joined by Ellen and Andre who I met during Monte Rosa back in 2016 and Martin and Patrick from DFR. Stu Ferguson our esteemed coach had turned up, offered me a few sage words and sent me packing up the hill!
L-R Patrick, Me, Martin and Ellen
Our time up Yewbarrow was certainly not record setting but I was feeling better in the stomach department and our bright chatter certainly lifted my spirits, punctuated on occasion by Ellen’s enquiry as to whether I would like a banana, I took this as karma for a previous round I supported where I persisted with offering the beleaguered runner a tangerine for roughly two hours. I was delighted to hear during this leg that the cake I had painstakingly baked and iced Friday morning had been a hit!
Unfortunately as I was starting to feel a bit more perky and the possibility that if I could keep feeling better I kicked a rock and split the same knee that had been my undoing in the 2015 Grizzly (yes dear reader, correct, my very first blog!). It hurt, it really hurt. I had also hit my hand. I didn’t have time to nurse a bum knee and when I stood up the pain was fairly sharp, I remembered it well from the Grizzly, it eased then and I suspected it would now, but this was a time issue. I didn’t have 15 mins to lose. Blood was oozing out of my leggings. Shit. If I felt it had died on leg 3, the nails were hammered into the coffin here. Patrick patched me up and gave me some paracetamol but it was hurting and with Red Pike towering ahead it suddenly became insurmountable. By the summit I called time on it. We were in shade but I kept my sunglasses on because the tears were stinging my eyes and I didn’t want anyone to see. We skipped out Steeple marking the end of the day and pressed on to Honister via Moses Trod. It was a stunning evening and Ennerdale looked as beautiful as ever, but inwardly I was crushed. (And to Gail, I am sorry you never even left Keswick, next time!)
If you don’t deal well with emotional honesty you may not like what comes next, but that’s exactly why I am writing it, it’s hard for me, even as brutally open and honest as am already, but it serves a purpose on which I’ll elaborate. For those who have read my blogs for a while you will know that I have been through some real highs and lows both during and before races from my mum’s SAH during LL50 to the passing of my grandad shortly before UTMR, but I have faced in the past several months what I can safely call the hardest of my life. I don’t ever write looking for pity, I’m far too tough for that, although there is an element of catharsis to my reflections as said earlier. What I mainly want to capture is how psychological state plays a huge role in long distance running and move away from it being somehow taboo to admit why we were not in the right place and then try to make other reasons up, in order to prevent people from feeling awkward. That shouldn’t be the case and I suspect for men it’s even worse. If you’re in an enormous amount of emotional pain it can only impact negatively on your performance and there should be no shame in an open honest dialogue around that. 2018 saw the end of my marriage, and as such the BG was the first really important event that I would tackle knowing that Duncan would not be there, he has seen me through key lows at the Arc, LL100 and UTMR and we were married in the Lake District as regular readers will know. I mentioned in my previous blog that I had sacked off a number of races late last year and this was the reason. I had thought that I was ok, but like all grief sometimes you are hit when you least expect it, for me that came at 7pm on Friday, three hours before I started the BG. I can only describe how I felt as it being as though a dam had broken, I was simply overwhelmed. Like everything, once you have faced it once it is unlikely to feel as bad the next time, but it was probably at that point I mentally folded if I am completely honest. My point here is that we are human, we are fallible and we have emotions and they play an enormous role in our success or failure and it should be ok to admit that. Buddhists call it dukkha – like a wheel out of kilter, I am not religious but I understand the point, if one wheel is off then your whole cart will not work. It’s a good analogy for long distance running, when one thing is out of balance you can begin to fight battles on all fronts. We then beat ourselves up relentlessly over failure when we should instead be kind to ourselves when it goes wrong, take time for deep reflection and draw upon it for future.
So my first BGR attempt was not as I had planned, but I’ve charted a course and I intend to see it through. I can’t afford to not bring my best mental game to this one, I know that now, but here’s a quote from Churchill that sums up my resolve……
“Success is not final, failure is not fatal; it is the courage to continue that counts”
– Winston Churchill
The final thing I should mention is the spirit of all of this, each and every person who gave up their time to support me, it means the world truly. Days in the fells are never days which are badly spent and in spite of my concerns that I am used to spending long periods alone when training and racing it was an absolute joy to spend time with friends on the day. I have since supported two rounds – Chris Bird completed in a staggering 18hrs55m the following weekend and Tom Dobbing the weekend after in 20hr33m, both stunning efforts and utterly well deserved (although I have probably seen enough of Lakedistrict carparks for a few weeks at least!!!).
Jess the Running Lynx 