A Triumphant Weekend

AKA

That pub was very nearly TOO far

I think it was G.K. Chesterton who once said, 'The follies of our youth are, in retrospect, glorious compared the follies of our old age.' And so it appeared as we undertook the National 3 Peaks Challenge.

 The boys left Nantwich in a hired minibus driven by the newest member of our merry band Ken, a jovial hirsute bespectacled Murray Walker lookalike (see his Biog here) and headed north.  Last stop was Glasgow for a final carb load and meeting up with the final member of the gang Tim who had been working in Scotland.  The final leg of the journey was undertaken in high spirits but heavy rain northwards towards Ben Nevis.

 Suited and booted still in heavy rain, radios were checked and timings reconfirmed and at a little after 7PM the challenge began…

 Ben Nevis.  Heavy rain and a pretty stiff early stint in hot and humid conditions soon made everyone aware we were in for quite a stiff challenge.  After a half an hour or so the rain slackened and with the increasing altitude temperatures dropped to a more comfortable level and on wards and upwards we went.  The waterfall at half way was made in good time and trudging continued upwards into the fog and snow.  We were continually passed by a stream of happy folk, most of whom were also to doing the challenge, on their way down the mountain.  They regaled us with encouraging, if largely inaccurate, estimates of how close to the summit we were.  The summit was made in 3 hours and Andrew our resident barman rustled up small glasses of delicious hot Gaelic coffee (complete with floating cream) by way of celebration.  After a quick swig, photo and radio conversation with the support vehicle it was back down to the car park.  Kilby in a move of exquisite planning had chosen a night with an almost full moon for the descent (God is, after all, in the detail!) but his good intentions were scuppered by low clouds and more rain.  A torchlight descent was made, albeit more slowly than we would have liked, but everyone made the Youth Hostel car park in one piece to a delicious meal of hot lamb stew, tea and coffee made by that man Ken.  Quick scoff and swig, random packing of bags in the dark and underway to Scafell before 1AM was a pretty good start and on schedule.  Ken piloted the restricted van through the darkness while people sprawled and snatched what sleep they could get.  A 4AM stop at a closed “24 hour” service station caused much mirth, but to save the blushes of the employees and in case any members of the Law Enforcement community read this account I will draw a discreet veil over the proceedings.  On return to the van it was discovered that the bag packing had not been so random as all that and that one Mr Kilby was ensconced, hamster like, asleep amidst a nest of bags and rucksacks.  On to Scafell.

 Scafell Pike.  Arriving just after 6AM in sunny weather weary legs stretched and boots retied the second climb was started before 6:30 and we were soon reacquainting ourselves with the steep climb up Lingmell Beck and finding it no more pleasant than the first time.  Some rain (for a change) high winds and fog made this harder work than anticipated and at the plateau we had our first (and only really) piece of bad luck – Simon had a problem with a hip injury sustained during training and needed to take a break and take on some pain killers but they would take some time to work – time we just didn’t have, so he sportingly urged us to make the short stiff final climb to the summit without him while he waited it out on the plateau beneath.  At the summit Andrew rustled up a glass of Pimms  No1 cup complete with vegetation (much to the bewilderment of 2 ladies also at the summit)  to celebrate making the English leg of the challenge. Quick photograph and all back down to the car park to be met by Ken’s bacon and sausages with coffee and tea.  Though the newest member of the team Ken was certainly making a good job of climbing the popularity tables!!!  Packed and away by 11:30 onto Snowdon.

 Snowdon.  The drive from Wasdale Head back to the M6 was interminable – why would you put a mountain in such an inaccessible place?  Eventually back on the M6 and heading south and through thunder storms and sunshine up to Llanberis.  Ken dropped us off at Pen-y-Pas for the final push.  We were pretty much on schedule but there was the small matter of the final peak to be negotiated.  We followed the gentle miner’s track around the lake and a bit of flat walking seemed to do us all some good.  Simon’s painkillers had kicked in and he was striding out again, not quite pain-free, but making a decent fist of it.  Naturally the rain was torrential, but nothing more than we had come to expect.  The climb up to the railway line is very daunting but was undertaken by almost everyone with surprising ease.  Maybe it was the much cooler temperatures, maybe the proximity to the end, maybe the sustained effect of Ken’s cooking, who know.  Whatever the cause progress (and altitude) was made rapidly and it was soon clear that that we were going to make it, but would we be inside the magical (if completely arbitrary 24 hours).  Descending climbers gave us progress reports and with 12 minutes left of the 24 hours we made the railway line.  It would be untrue to say that the dash to the summit cairn that followed was reminiscent of Eric Liddell as portrayed in Chariots of Fire, but there was a certain poignancy in the sight of 11 old balding geezers wheezing upwards to the finish.  Backslapping, hugs, kisses and possibly a tear or two (so difficult to tell in the rain) followed and opinion is divided on the actual timings but somewhere between 23hrs 55 minutes and 24 hours dead is about the best we can do.  The “official” time is 23:55 but nobody really cared too much by that time.  By now it was terribly windy and very cold, so a glass of champagne was conjured up by Andrew and we toasted the successful completion of the mission and a final wet and weary photograph in our now sodden charity T-shirts.

 No trains down were running so our final act was a trudge down into Lanberis for the most welcome shower in a decade, enormous mixed grills, pints of foaming ale and much banter.  The quality of the pool was at an all-time low but that can be explained away by the absence of chalk and as the end of the evening approached unsteady legs carried weary walkers upwards to bed and to dream.  Actually to bed and to  fart and snore would be more factually accurate but not quite so poetic.

 And so ends our adventure.  Arduous and difficult but also uplifting and worthwhile.  Training, planning, fundraising, commitment and finally some good luck in the execution.  No serious injuries sustained, almost everyone did almost everything and we all made it through to the end.  It just shows what can be achieved when you try.  Really really really hard.

Photos available via Flickr here.