The Yorkshire Three Peaks. November 2019.

My trusty walking companion John in one of his more subtle photographs.

Its took me a while to write this. Its now June 2020 and we have all found ourselves in a unique situation caused by the global pandemic that is popularly known as Corona virus. A lot has happened since November when myself and John took on this challenge. I had initially intended on writing this post in the days that followed, but I was still emotionally sore with a battered pride, I wanted to forget the ordeal, then as time passed by along with the end of the year, I got a taste for the hills again in January but that came to a plummeting end when covid 19 crossed the globe. Again I put off writing up the ordeal of the Yorkshire three peaks. Until now.

Since climbing Ben Nevis in August, John and myself managed to to find ourselves at the highest point in England on a blistering hot day at Wasdale. We took on Scafell pike with relative ease, enjoying almost every step both up and down, spreading our good mackem joy to other hikers on the mountain that day. We spoke of future trips and Snowdon was an obvious choice for out next one. In hindsight, that’s what we should have done.

Scafell pike summit, we had crossed paths with these two hikers numerous times on the ascent, a group picture was appropriate.

The plan was to do Snowdon late October. Yet I was seeing a number of people heading to Yorkshire to do the Y3P challenge. I’d spend some time in the Yorkshire Dales earlier in the year and had fallen in love with the place. I also wanted to do something to raise money for WWT where I was volunteering at the time so I rang my trusty hiking companion to suggest the Yorkshire three peaks. “When?” He asked. Obviously it was going to need a full day to cover the 24.5 mile trek over Yorkshire’s three most prominent peaks, daylight was always going to be a problem so the sooner the better. We cancelled the Snowdon plan and agreed upon the first week in November. Days where getting shorter but we figured we had just enough time as long as we didn’t leave it any longer in the year.

On the morning of the hike we set off early, arriving in Horton-in-Ribblesdale at approximately 6am, still in complete darkness. Parked and kitted up with head torches, we made the short walk through the misty village and onto the track that ran along a river that we couldn’t see but here. It was the only sound we could hear beyond out boots hitting the floor and our laboured breathing. We knew from the start we were on the clock so had started with a good pace. We crossed a field or two as we begun to see the sun rising in the distance. It was still quite hazy and visibility wasn’t great but it wasn’t long before we were treated to a handsome view of out first mountain, Pen-Y-Ghent.

Pen-Y-Ghent briefly popping its head out from the mist.

We took this opportunity to take a drink and a few pictures, rested out legs for a few moments, only to stand up a moment later to see the mountain had now been swallowed up by the environment and was again, out of sight. We pushed on.

I don’t know why I assumed it would be a clear and straight forward walk up a path to the summit. I’d read plenty route descriptions and watched Y3P vlogs on you tube and not once had I seen the steep rocky scramble up to the summit of Pen-Y-Ghent. John was as surprised as I was and he decoded this a good time to tell me he gets dizzy when near the edge of a steep drop off. “Don’t look down” was the only advise I could offer as we made the climb. Despite the damp morning mist that clung to the rock surface over the drop to certain death, this was the most enjoyable section of the entire challenge. We kept moving, at a good bit careful pace, constantly checking we are both happy with the situation. Which John regularly replied that he wasn’t despite grinning ear to ear. We made it to the top of Pen-Y-Ghent both feeling exhilarated with that new experience of scrambling. We took our summit photos and had a joke about how dangerous it could have been and how we were now elite climbers risking life and limb to reach the top, them along came a morning walker from the same place we had came from, with his little terrier dog looking like he was out for a casual stroll in the park. “Morning gents” he greeted, clearly and cheerfully and in full control of his lungs. Maybe we weren’t quite mountaineers just yet.

The scramble up Pen-Y-Ghent to the summit

There is a long way to go between summit number 1 and summit number 2. A long slog across the country which at points can become tedious and its hard to stay motivated with a constant featureless landscape, so we just put our heads down and pushed on, luckily John is a unique guy and has a personality that keeps morale up and always has something fun and interesting and often completely random to say or do, so that long slog across the featureless landscape wasn’t so bad after all and once you reach the Ribblehead Viaduct, the scenery becomes interesting again.

Making the most of the featureless landscape

After passing the ribblehead viaduct you begin the long ascent to the summit of Whernside. The highest of the Yorkshire peaks at 736 meters above sea level. Although its a long walk from the viaduct, the scenery is ultimately more interesting, running along side a railway track for so long before you cross and are greeted with a number of aesthetically pleasing water features from the Force Gill aquaduct including the Low force waterfall which was a good place to stop and have a snack and of course, take photographs.

Force Gill, Low Force, before the ascent really gets going.

Although its beautiful to watch, you can see beyond the path that you have to follow in order to reach the top of Yorkshire, and its Steep with a capital S. For the first time ever, i had brought walking poles and decided now was a good time to use them, I didn’t take to them too good so handed them to John to try, he too wasn’t keen so they want back in the pack and we continued without. We saw very few people on the trek, the guy on Pen-Y-Ghent and his dog. A couple fell runners in the space between summit 1 and the viaduct and a few families parking up at the viaduct to do not much more than relax and enjoy the scenery. It was on Whernside where we saw most other walkers out, maybe three groups in total and none of them seemed to be doing the full three peak challenge when we asked. Maybe no one was as foolish as us to take on such a task at this time of year with such conditions. It was now I started wondering if we would actually make it.

Anyway, we plodded on, constantly thinking we must be close to the summit now, but it seemed to take forever and despite the relatively comfortable and kept footpath upwards, I was silently getting anxious. Not about Whernside, but about Ingleborough, the third of the three peaks. After what seemed like a lifetime, we reached summit number two. Having to squeeze through a tiny gap in the drystone wall, that was a push for my short and round frame to fit through, to get our trig point photos. 2 down, 1 to go.

Although the stepped path down was obvious and well kept, the steps were steep and John was having trouble with his knees, I wanted to make good time as daylight was running out but I couldn’t race ahead either. John found the poles much more useful for coming downhill and we still made a decent effort to descent the highest peak in the Yorkshire dales. Despite the comstantly changing weather, coming down from Whernside also offers some decent distant views of the same viaduct we had passed not a million years ago. We spent little time admiring them however as we were eager to make the next hill and still hadn’t stopped for lunch, even though it was well into the afternoon. We ate back at the vase of Whernside but pushed on quickly. The sky was somewhat clearing and I suddenly felt a little optimistic about our chances. We met a road with a pub that was at the base of Ingleborough, we joked about having a pint there and sacking the rest off, but the sky was still relatively clear and we had more than an hour left of daylight. We were going to do it. We could make it, we can, we will, we must. At the beginning of the ascent, its very pleasant, with fields filled with sheep and cows and other livestock and a pleasing amount of limestone outcrops lining the upper edges of the sloping meadows. Before long, you reach a boardwalk that serves visitors of the Ingleborough nature reserve. Usually I’d like to take my time here and spend some time wildlife spotting, but no time for that today, we have to reach the summit, we can we will we must.

We finish the boardwalk section and the mist is coming back. We can feel the moisture in the air clinging to our skin, we wrap up warm as the temperature has dipped rapidly, woolly hats, scarves and gloves, the full grandma knit kit. We navigate through mini undulating boulder fields as it gets slightly darker but we are ok, I can see in the distance the ridge that leads to the summit. We are so close, we can make it, we can, we will, we must.

Before we know it we are standing not 100 meters away from the final climb to the summit, its getting colder, its getting wetter, its getting darker. I can see the gradient of the ascent and the nature of it, and so can John. We are almost there. At the top of that ascent is the summit of the third and final peak. I can hear Johns reluctance despite him not speaking, I turn to him.

“What do you think buddy?” He looks at me, something in his eyes told me exactly what he though, and as much as I’d love to deny it, I felt exactly the same. Without words we turned and looked again at the final ascent, except it was no longer there. It had been replaced by a wall of fog. Along with the dark and the drizzle of rain that kept switching on and off, we decided that this was the end of the line. It had became dark as we made our descent back the way we came. In complete silence. Not long after we re-crossed the boardwalk it was pitch black. Our headlamps lit the way back over the farmers field and we used the lights from the road and pub down at the base of Ingleborough. I guess we would have that pint after all.

I don’t want to go to much into detail about how I felt coming down, failing to complete my challenge so close to the end, but I know I remembered thinking to myself I would have gone to the top if I was in my own. That’s not me blaming John, that’s me thanking him. His reluctance to take on a steep and rocky ascent in the darkness, in the slippery and wet conditions was enough to remind me that when in the mountains, regardless of how big or small they are, you have to give them the respect they deserve. Nature is a powerful force, stronger than any living thing on earth, sometimes you just have to accept it, learn lessons about yourself and move on. In this instance it was a case of wiping those silent tears away and head to the nearest boozer, literally. As we sat in that pub, awaiting out £25 taxi to take us back to Horton-in-Ribblesdale where we had parked, drinking our pint (of coke) I thought to myself how thankful I was on this occasion to have John with me. I might have made it on my own, ill never know, but I might not have made it, and the consequences of that are way worse. After all, Ingleborough, or the rest of the Yorkshire three peaks aren’t going anywhere, and we can always go back, we can, we will, we must.

Ben Nevis and Steall Falls 2019.

I’ve always had an interest in the mountains. From the geology of how they where formed and what they are formed of, to the amazing views they give from whichever angle you look at them. Wether from a distant skyline, a roadside view whilst driving by or from amongst them. However, up until recently I had never really spent much time amongst them.In November last year (2018) I had a rather big operation to fix an illness I’d been suffering with for in excess of ten years. Not that id ever let it hold me back but I do feel I am able to spread my wings a little more and take a fresh approach towards my fitness. So in Mid January when I got back on my feet, I began running to improve my cardio and took up walking again. However this time around I swore it would be amongst the mountains.My first real uphill test was Roseberry topping and captain Cook’s Monument in the North Yorkshire moors. A whopping 320 m above sea level. It was an icy day and I was still a very much out of shape with a unnecessarily heavy backpack and fully kitted with warm clobber. The straight forward uphill path to Captain Cooks Monument was a case of dodging the snow and ice patches but easily manageable if you watched your footing, however, the path leading to the summit of Roseberry topping was caked in solid ice. My only way up was to struggle through the muddy banks along side the pathway. A messy clarty climb, but worth it.

The trig point at the summit of Roseberry topping.

My next trip out less than a month later was again in the North Yorkshire moors doing the Wainstones Walk. An 8 mile circular route from the village of Chop Gate (chop yat, as the locals inform me is its pronunciation). This route takes you up to the edge of Cold Moor. 370 meters then across the spectacular Wainstones, down Hasty bank and onto the lower reaches of Urra Moor (the highest summit in the North Yorkshire moors). I was blessed with a beautiful sunny day this time around and bimbled happily in shorts and t-shirt for the full route.Soon after I returned to Cold Moor via the Lord Stones route, again not reaching anywhere above 370 m. I was enjoying the North Yorkshire Moors but I needed to go higher.It just so happened I was off on a field trip for my university course to Malham Tarn soon after and took advantage of the splendid hill that is Great Close Scar that overlooks the tarn. A 465 meter summit that doubles up as am ancient Roman burial site.This was however, the extent of my hill walking for the year before I decided Ben Nevis was to be my summer adventure.Although I still was suffering the after affects of my recent surgery and I was fairly out of shape. I was confident I was fit enough for the challenge. The date was all set, I was running and hitting the gym regularly. I’d managed to lose a little weight although I was still rather heavy for my short frame. Ill be fine (so I told myself).A chance encounter about a month before the trip with an old school friend who I’d not seem or heard from in almost 15 years ended up being my companion on the adventure. John, who grew up in the same street as me as a toddler and young kid, we where good friends way back, plahing football in the garden and so on, but as people do we lost touch after school and had both moved away and followed our own paths, only to reconnect, to climb the highest mountain in the UK.

John, exploring the area near Steall falls with rather damp feet.

We met up for the first time the week before to discuss the logistics and equipment needed. While I had very little recent experience of mountains and camping, I still had my past knowledge and skills learnt in the Army. Even if it was a long time ago. John, had no experience at all. This certainly added a slight worry to the trip. I knew I could be determined enough to make the summit, no matter how difficult I found it, I knew very little of how John would react if the going got tough, and I certainly wouldn’t leave him behind, or go ahead on my own. Who would know how this would turn out now. Since my surgery I’d been struggling with my self esteem and all round mental health, I needed to complete this challenge.It was to be a two day trip, drive out to Fort William, find somewhere to camp, wake up the next morning and climb Ben Nevis, driving back home that evening.4am, day 1.I pull up outside John’s house ready for the 6 and a half hour drive to Fort William. He is up, ready and raring to go. Car loaded up and off we go. We arrive in Fort William about lunch time having stopped a couple times for breaks and photos. Including a brief stop near Loch Lamond and a quick photo coming through Glencoe, I am already in love with the highlands. An absolutely beautiful, powerful and inspiring place. This may have been my first visit, it won’t be my last.

Stob Dearg (Buachaille etive mor) Glencoe.

After a quick bite and a few photos around Fort William, we made a short drive to a car park that was a 2 mile hike away from out intended camp site, Steall falls.

Kitted up in full waterproofs to ensure we stayed dry in the fine Scottish weather, we headed along the trail to Steall falls, met with a rather bleak warning sign before we even really got moving.

The warning sign as you set off on the path to Steall falls.

It did not phase us, nor did the weather. Full of excitement, we pushed on. Taking out time and enjoying the scenery, the walk took us approximately one hour, although we could have gone faster if needed, arriving at Steall falls in the middle of a brief dry spell. Seaching for a good place to pitch our tents, we, for some strange and random reason, decided the other side of the river would be best, so we waded through up to knee depth like pure amateurs getting feet and socks and boots drenched as if we had a tumble dryer in our backpacks. What on Earth where we thinking? Once it occurred to us how stupid we had been, we decided to cross back immediately in order to give our kit and feet the full night to dry so that we need not wade back over and get wet again in the morning. Silly mistake, lesson learned.

Once pitched up and had a brief explore of the area, I set the stove up and knocked us up a boil in the bag meal and a cup of tea each but we could sense the weather about to turn so we quickly cleaned everything away and settled into our own tents, doors open watching the waterfall and listening to the gentle patter of raindrops on the canvas.

The hike to Steall falls along the Nevis gorge.

John looking the part, despite this being his first real hiking experience.

Airing my feet and admiring the waterfall, before the rain came.

As darkness came I thought I’d struggle to sleep, I thought with my current state of mind, being a little less than confident lately and this being the first time I’d camped out since my army days, I was sure I was going to toss and turn through the night. I did not, I slept better than I do most nights in a bed at home. I woke early with the sun beginning to penetrate the thick clouds, fresh and alive, I was ready for the mountain.First things first, you don’t take on the UK’s highest peak without breakfast. Stove back out for some fried egg sandwiches. Once fed, watered, cleaned up and packed up (ensuring we left no trace) we set off back along the same path we came from yesterday. We saw an active dipper on the river as we set off and watched for a few moments as it hopped from rock to rock before disappearing into the water in search of its own morning meal. Then as we walked on we met a rather grumpy red dear who seemed displeased to see us. We took quick photos and quickly moved on, weather relatively dry so far.

Look at that face, us being the only humans in her patch she had every right to give us that look.

Back to where we parked, we took the short drive to the Glen Nevis visitor centre and parked up. Arriving around 7.30am. We waited till 8am to set off. As that’s when the visitor centre toilets opened and we certainly did not want to be caught short on the hill. Once we took care of business, we headed up.

Waterproofs on as the rain was coming in just as we started.

It felt good to be heading up and before long the visitor centre was just a cluster of tiny dots. Wow we must be half way right?It was about 90 minutes in when we decided to take our first breather. At this point I was confident we both had what it took to reach the top, the weather had been kind enough and so far it seemed rather quiet, with that said, we could see masses coming up behind us, soon we would be amongst them all.We continued up the mountain path, meeting people from all over the country and some from other countries too. Families with children as young as 8, dogs, guided groups, experienced hikers, solo walkers plus one or two crazy people who where dressed up as runners who came bounding past us like Mo Farah with enough oxygen in their lungs to pleasantly greet almost everyone they glided past. Despite the crowds that where now building up, this was nothing like the crowds of a busy city scene. All in all, every single person was kind and friendly, all from different places with different backgrounds and different futures but all united on this day by this one common goal, to reach the roof of the UK.We reached the Lochan Meall An T-suidhe in good time and without really feeling any extreme difficulty. A couple of water breaks and breathers had kept us rather fresh by this point and it also felt rather warm, the sun was trying to come out. We took a bit of a break at this point. We had previously pencilled in this section as half way-ish. We were more than happy with our progress. We had a good chat with a family from London who had two kids of approximately 10 and 8 and another group of 4 young lads, early 20’s maybe, on their first mountain experience too. It was nice to chat with people who on any other day, you might have just ignored. Suppose these adventures just bring people together.

Still fresh, not long into it at this point.

As we moved on it became really clear….. that the summit would be in poor visibility. Not too long after we left the lochan, we where amongst the clouds and what seemed like a lifetime after that, we arrived at the famous zig zags. At this point we where starting to feel it. Taking more regular breaks, often overtaking, and then being passed by the two groups we had made friends with on our last mid way break. Exchanging pleasantries each time. We took a few minutes break after every zig and every zag, I’d had people tell me about the zig zags, they would tell me how tedious they could be, but they way they had told me the stories, it was as if at the end of the zig zags, was the summit, so I was eager to get through them.Anyway,it turns out there is still some way to go once the zig zags are done. Every time you think you can see the summit, you are wrong, just a ridge of false hope, we heard a teenager cry out to her parents “if we turn back now nobody will know” to which John and me had a giggle, not at the girl, but at how we could do the same and tell nobody. We pushed on.It was hard going now, we no longer walked on paths, we aimed for cairn after cairn over loose stone following the crowds hoping that the summit was soon, visibility was really poor now, we were almost in silence as we continued with our heads down, we almost did not realise when we where upon the summit.

The ground changed, the sky changed, the desire did not.

Our heads lifted as we realised we had made it, the crowds around us were becoming excited, the energy was changing amongst the hoards, people moved faster, laughed, smiled, cried, cheered and sighed with relief, I think I done all of those in the same 60 seconds.

Scary looking drop off, I dare not get any closer to the edge

Neither did John. Or anyone else for that matter

Another happy face. What an achievement for his first ever attempt at any mountain.

Soon after we arrived. Our friends we had made on the ascent arrived, the family first, then the group of young lads. All with big accomplished smiles on their faces, another goal achieved for another few people.After 9 months of recovery from surgery, fighting back to something I could maybe call a level of fitness and battling with the demons in my mind, I finally felt like I’d took a significant step in the right direction. My mind was clear for the first time in a while as I breathed in the cool mountain air. They say that you get that sense of freedom when you finish a journey, and that’s exactly what I felt, not from anything in particular, for a brief moment at that summit, I felt insane freedom.Yet the journey was not over, in fact, this is only the half way point. I’ve got to be honest, coming down isn’t as much fun as going up. ‘But surely its easier coming down’ I hear people say, NO. Knees, thighs, feet, shins, the fact that the summit is behind you and what is ahead of you is civilised life, work, bills etc etc, nothing exciting awaits at the bottom of the hill and your legs are taking a battering to get you there. Its a quieter journey, not just for John and me but for others coming down. We tried to make good time on the descent but John was having issues with his feet on the loose stone and I was needing regular loo breaks (a side affect of last years surgery) It was tough going I can’t lie. Yet once the haze cleared as out altitude lowered, we instantly picked up some energy. Before we know it, the clouds dissipated and we had a good hour of sunshine. We managed to arrive back at ‘our’ half way mark and decoded to have another rest here and have a snack before making the rest of the descent. Not long after the half way down mark, the heavens opened. The rest of the journey down was in the worst rain we had experienced on our entire trip. Between us we slipped a on our backsides about 4 or 5 times but we kept moving. Eager to reach the bottom now. Once we could see the tiny dots of the visitor centre car park we moved faster and faster, almost turning into those fell runners we had encountered on the way up. We found the crowds where not as dense now but everyone we noticed where heading in the same direction, down.

It brightened up a little once we got below the fog. I even took my jacket off for a little while.

John enjoying an apple half way back down. I honestly think we of could slept here at that moment.

Except 2 gentlemen who, fully kitted out with camping kit in huge backpacks, where beginning their ascent, at 3pm. Of course we said hello and had a little chat.Turns out, they where camping overnight, then one of the men was to embark on the challenge of crawling up to the summit of Ben Nevis to raise money for charity. He had already completed the challenge on Snowdon and Ben Nevis was next on his list. All to raise money for a good cause. (You can search the Snowdon crawl on facebook for further info on that). What a legend, and me and John barely made it walking.Back on the ground, it took us just over 7 hours in total up and down. We did not hang about. A quick change in the toilets, a brief visit to the shop to grab a gift for my wife and children and we were back on the road for the long drive back to the north east of England.I lay in the bath longer than I needed to that night. Trying to gather my feelings. I’d had an amazing trip from start to finish, even the rain and pain and the mean glares from the deer and the wet feet and intense rain on the descent. I’d accomplished a goal I hadn’t even considered whilst lying in hospital 9 months before hand with some of the darkest thoughts I’d ever had floating around my head. I’d achieved something big, its no Everest, but to me, that day, it was exactly that for me. At that summit I felt confident, happy, fulfilled, I’d reconnected with an old friend, made new friends on the mountain and generally felt good about myself but now I was back home, back to life as it was, I felt lost and lonely once again.I love my family very much, I need them in my life. Yet at the same time, I need the outdoors, the mountain air, the weather, the water, the kind strangers from around the world, the encouragement from the person next to me and the inspiration I get from others doing amazing things for amazing causes and the hope that I might just be inspiring someone else. Above all, I need the freedom that is offered by the wild.I need to plan my next adventure.

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Ups and Downs of 2016

I suppose its been a good year in the end. I started off 2016 with one goal in mind, to walk the length of hadrians wall, carrying all my own equipment for the journey. A lot of planning took place, a lot of training too. I was going to be well prepared. What could possibly go wrong?……

Initially there was to be three of us doing the walk. I had discussed it with a work collegue for a while and when we decided to book our time off work and set dates to go, another friend fancied the journey too. Now there was three.

Almost a month to go, I get some disturbing news that my work collegue had taken ill and was currently in a coma in hospital. Shocked was not the word I would use to describe how I felt when I heard the news. Only days before we had been out on the running track together and now he had taken seriously ill. It just goes to show how quick things can change no matter how fit and healthy you think you may be. Alway listen to the body.

After the shock of the news it occured to me that Darren would no longer be able to join in on this adventure. It was sad news for us all but most so for Darren who had been a major influence on me even considering it from the start. Health comes first.

Nathan and me was still set to go ahead, date was set, kit was sorted arrangements had all been put in place. All that was left to do was the actual walk. We had planned four days to cover the 84 mile journey, averaging 21 miles per day. Sounds simple enough, it was well within our capabilities, we had all done enough training in the build up so there was nothing to worry about.

I had took two weeks off work, week two was the walk, the first week my family and i enjoyed a few days in Carlise, mainly taking in the sights and kind of got me in the mood for the week ahead. The real problem began when i ate something in the hotel restraunt that did not agree with my stomach. As much as i enjoyed the week away with the family, im sure it would have been better if i wasnt constantly looking for the nearest toilet.

We came home at the weekend and i had two days to pull myself together. I spent most of the saturday between the bed and the toilet, not eating at all and not drinking much, at least not anything that wanted to stay. Sunday morning i woke up and felt great and tested the water with a small lunch which settled well. Had a larger evening meal which agred with me also. I text Nathan, told him i’m ready to go, bring in the wall. I was fit to go, so I thought.

The Walk.

As per arrangement, Nathan picked me up 7am and we drove to Wallsend metro station which was only a short distance from the beginning of Hadrians wall path. Here we were on our way. We picked up a decent pace and followed the well marked out pathway that was at this point silent except our footsteps on the tarmac. Occasionally a cyclist would ring from behind and disappear ahead as quickly as they had approached. After a short while the enclosed footpath opened up and we found ourselves on the high banks of the river Tyne. This was, in my opinion, the first instance of beautiful scenery we came across.

So far we had not seen any sign that there was once a Roman wall along the path we where walking, we had that to look forward to.

Not much further on the way we got a glimpse of Newcastle and its Tyne bridge and its prettier, smaller sister, the Millenium footbridge. With this in our sights, we took our first break, about an hour into the walk. The quayside was beginning to come alive with monday morning Workers making their daily commute while we sat on a bench, massive backpacks dumped on the ground, and supped tea from our flasks. It was here when we forst realised just how hot a day was ahead. I removed the jacket i had been wearing to discover how much i had been sweating so far, my undershirt was saturated. I had made my first error.

We continued to follow the path along the edge of the Tyne river heading inland to greener pastures. Past commuters, dog walkers, early morning joggers and whoever else was around this time of the morning not many paid us much attention at this point. Some would greet us with a polite good morning, others would bypass our greeting with their heads dropping further in ignorance or whatever they felt if a stranger said good morning.

Most of the way along the riverside i felt great. Full, energetic, hydrated. It wasn’t until we stopped at the Boathouse pub by the riverside and i had a pint of Coca Cola (possibly my second mistake) that i started to feel a little off. I spent a few minutes in the bathroom before we set off again l, telling myself theres nothing to worry about and soon after we set back off on our way, i felt fine again. (That did not last).

We passed through a fun looking park with a little something for everyone before we came upon a rugby feild that we considered stopping at to cook some lunch on our portable stoves, however we passed on this opportunity for a number of reasons I don’t recall but I do know that by this point i was feeling a weakness i was not used to. I kept this to myself for now and plodded on through the Rugby pitch and what turned into the longest, steepest bank i had ever seen. (Or so it felt at the time). We passed a golf course at the bottom of this bank and again pushed on rather than stopping to fire up the stoves and eat. It was past lunch time at this point so we tild ourselves when we get to the top of this hill we would stop and eat. It never seemed like it was going to end, just when we thought we were reaching the brow, it would bend off another direction and continue on the incline. It was something I would usually ignore but I was feeling very unwell at this point. We took the opportunity to sit on a bench that was nicely placed on the edge of a steep village that kept the hills scenery changing. We again contempleted getting our food on the go but it was right by the roadside and although it was not exactly the M25 motorway it was still not ideal to be cooking up a treat. After a five minute rest we where greeted by an elderly couple (who made walking look simple) who kindly informed us that the small village of Heddon on the wall was literally just around the bend. With that we gained a burst of energy and sure enough, the top of the hill and a small communtiy was upon us. It took us no time at all to find a little deli and purchase the finest hot beef sandwiches in the world. We had a good rest and filled our water bottles before setting away. We where informed that about 5 miles further on the route, we would find the Robin Hood Inn. A pub with a large campsite where we could pitch up for the night. Sounded perfect, we set away in a hurry, eager to get to our destination to end day 1. All we saw on this last leg was hills. We walked roadside mostly on the edge of farmers fields which where worn from the thousands who trek the route every year. Every half hour or so we would stop for a quick drink. Yet every time we stopped i felt weaker and weaker. I had stopped sweating and was gulping down water to try rehydrate myself as fast as possible. Every break it was harder to start going again. At this point Nathan was getting ahead of me to see if we where close to any kind of civilisation while i was shaking and starting to feel cold despite the hot sunshine above us. My head barely looked further up from where my toes where landing after each step. I can not recall whatnwas going through my head at this point all i knew is that i could not stop or I would not start again. After what seemed like a month, we reached the top of a hill which waa hidden by a bush, and just behind the bush, was pure joy and excitement, just behond the bush, was the Robin Hood Inn. Providing for the needy.

A quick check in, a quick glass of Cola, we set our tents up outside and preparred our evening meals. A preprepared tub of chicken Fajita mix which we devoured with joy. The sun was setting and it the beautiful tranquility of the area was regularly disturbed by the approach of airliners making the final approach to Newcastle Airport. Great. Not that the peacefulness would have helped, soon after i was being sick at regular intervals. I truly felt awful as the night set in and a part of me believed that if i fell asleep like this i may not wake up again.

I did eventually drift off but not for long. I woke up to bring up the contents of my stomach, which was practically nothing at this point. Nathan was asleep for most of this although i occasionally disturbed him and rightfully apologised for doing so. I did find some peace that night. In the silence of the night and the lower volume of air traffic, while i had my head out of the tent i lay on my back for a while and just looked up. I saw a beautiful clear night. A sky full of stars. Hundreds of them twinkling from millions of light years away. Distant Galaxies in our Universe and i had the pleasure of them all to myself, at least for this moment.

The morning came quickly, we woke later than planned and i had managed to get a decent rest. Opening my eyes i felt great, ready to take on the next day of hiking, yet as soon as i stood, my legs where like jelly and my head was weak and fuzzy. I was done.

Nathan being the amazing bloke he is, happily delayed the the mornings hikes to knock up a few top notch bacon sandwiches, he also set about packing the tent and other kit up ready to go. His and mine, while i tried to gather some strength. After a long delay i decided i would be risking it to go on. I managed to get a friend of mine (who happened to be a raxi driver, to do the 60 mile round trip to pick me up and take me home for a discounted rate. The staff in the pub where helpful and kind while i awaited my ride, providing me with water and juice and waiting on me while i felt sorry for myself for quitting.

The ride home was quiet as I now felt id let Nathan, my family and friends who had supported me, and myself down. On top of that i felt truly devestated that i could not complete the callenge i had been looking forwars to for so long. I think now i had a rough inkling of how bad Darren felt when he realised he could not make the trip either.

Despite now being alone, an inexperienced hiker with basic equipment, Nathan bravely plodded on, competing his journey to the end, he was also kind enough to contribute to this blog which will be the basis of the next few chapters.

Day 2: We woke to a chilly morning but with the sun breaking out, the potential of a beautiful day ahead, weather wise that is….. unfortunately my walking pal Anth seemed not all himself very pale, quiet and seeming as though sickness was upon him, chances were bleak of him continuing. After I set up the portable stove and knocked up bacon sandwiches and a cup of tea each, still no improvement to my walking partner and unfortunately for his own safety had to take the decision to take an rely taxi home. I was devastated for him as I knew the planning and preperation he had put in, being 100% would be very hard to do this trek so any format of illness would only be a danger to himself so the right decision was certainly taken, sdly he went off home.

I was then hit with a stark reality that I had 63 mile left of this walk, alone, never in my life had I trekked or even camped out, now I would be doing it alone and hitting a route that I’d very briefly researched as anth was the brains behind the whole operation.

I left the Robin Hood pub where we camped and had breakfast which was around the 21 mile mark of 84. About an hour on I found a lovely pub on the route where I sat and got a pint of coke and planned my route and distances I’d try and hit daily.

Having already reached the 25 mile mark I aimed for once brewed as there was a campsite called Winshield farm where there was a 10 pound fee but you could pitch, shower, there was plug sockets to charge phones etc. … it was luxurious as far as campsites could go. That was a further 18 mile to what I had reached, so at tough ask.

I did manage that gruelling trek, a lot of very steap hills, boggy terrains, warm conditions, sun beating down… but on that route I finally saw some big peices of Hadrian’s wall! At plaintrees.

I took my bag off whig felt like the weight of a small car had a drink then got back on my way as I knew I couldn’t risk being out too late alone.

I was around 10 mile from my destination of once brewed hotel which was 200 yards away from Winshield farm campsite, when I reached the chesters roman fort at Chollerford a beautiful stone bridge and quaint little village greeted me, the first real bit civilisation I had encountered for a long lonely 3 hours…. I found a deli and had what I thought at the time was the most beautiful cold sandwich and can of pop I’d ever tasted, not sure If it was the pure exhaustion that made me think that…. fully fuelled again I got up put my heavy bag on and continued passing chesters roman fort obviously stopping for photos

but I knew I had to carry on just under ten mile to go already around one in the afternoon.

After what seemed days of walking through farmers fields, avoiding cattle, over fences up hills, down hills I reached once brewed pub, I could not get my bag off quick enough and order a glass of coke to get some sugar back in me after an hour or so of sitting in the beer garden reflecting on what I’d achieved I made the short journey up the road to Winshield farm. I could not wait to pitch up and get some rest which is exactly what I did. After meeting the owners of the farm and paying my pitch fees I grabbed some snacks and pitched my tent had a change of clothing and a wash and was set for the night.

A massive feeling of achievement was over me and I could not wait to sleep even though I knew when I woke up I had another 26 mile to reach my day 3 target of hitting carlisle.

Super noodles on the stove and a can of pop and some crisps for tea, then it was time to sleep.

Being woke up at around 3 in the morning cause of a light drizzle and winds I was relieved I’d already thought ahead and put some rocks on the sides of my tent to keep it secure took me almost 2 hours to get back to sleep, I was just thankful I did.

Day 3… 0600 on day 3 waking up to a damp field and damp tent but still the look of a potentially beautiful day in the countryside, sun was up usually meant I should be up.

To my suprise at around the 40 mile mark which I was at still had no aches pains and most importantly no blisters, I did have a stomach bug that morning but luckily the local village had a pharmacy which was sharply cured and I could get on my way after a beautiful warm breakfast and cup of tea made in the canteen by the farm owners

..I was sat out the back of re farm building all alone looking into this huge valley of vast fields watching some gentleman chase all the sheep into the neighbouring field, the mind frame I was in this was very very entertaining.

Feeling back to all close to fully fit and fresh and rsady to go I got my bag on, thanked the farm owners and began my 3rd day of walking. 22 mile to carlisle centre was my aim and that would leave a casual 13.7 mile on the final morning from Carlisle to bowness on solway, this was the plan!!!

The first 8 mile on morning 3 was a lot better than any other area of land I’d walked, within a 2 hour period I’d saw steel Rigg, housesteads roman fort, Vindolanda, Roman army museum and Birdoswold roman fort… pretty action packed in comparison to the hours and hours of farmers fields I was used to.

Once I’d passed all these attractions there was a lot more wall present to see which was a bonus and helped spur me on along the way. Jut a mere ten mile from Carlisle still managing around 4 miles each hour, which was pretty impressive due to the vast amount of rain that had saturated the earth the previous night.

Finally I see a sign to Carlisle, a massive confidence boost as I was beginning to feel very heavy legged and mentally weak. Walking through countryside gives you so much time to think and reflect and really makes you miss family back at home, not having anybody to talk to was such a strange feeling, always being surrounded by people and talking was something I’d came to miss on this long long walk, only the odd fellow walker in the opposite direction was my only communication.

Until I finally had the beautiful Carlisle castle in my eye line, a massive boost and an overwhelming boost of happiness, joy and excitement, I could list more and more adjectives to show how I felt at that moment but it was a huge boost that sticks out for me along the whole walk, knowing I only had 2 mile left on a long 3rd day.

I was now in the centre of Carlisle and I had a genius idea, knowing I old had 13.7 mile to do to reach a seemingly impossible 84miles finish line, I decided I would not stay in a shabby cheap tent from asda but I would treat myself to a hotel stay for my last night. I sat and had a coffee and searched for any format of room I could stay and there was literally not one room for me to stay, as you can imagine I was completely devastated, never really felt low along this walk as something had always kept me going.

So I sat and searched for anywhere I could stay in terms of camp sites, I found one…… a further 5 miles away, I could not even begin to describe my devastation it was more of a psychological blow as I had shut off for the day only to realise I had almost two hours of walking to do again.

With the sun beginning to set I was again trudging along country lanes making my way from Carlisle to the Monkhill area where there was a small field to which you could pitch a tent for a mere 5 pound. I had to walk down a 1 mile stretch of road that cows were just roaming free cars had to give way to them never mind me as a walker, it was pretty daunting to be honest, but knowing I could pitch my tent very soon was a massive factor pulling me through it. So I got through unscathed the cattle allowed me through and I reached my destination at last, I whipped my bag off threw it to the ground I could have slept on the damp grass I was that drained.

Pitched up my tent, I was the only camper in the field that night all alone in a field miles from home, but that wasn’t going to beat me, i had a freshen up and I couldn’t face any tea I was so exhausted and had a horrible sick feeling off taking in all the countryside smells and enduring the heat. I did however manage to walk just passed the church and found a nice little pub where I charged my phone and grabbed a coke and sat and spoke to 4 or 5 of the locals who were amazed at my 3 day achievement of almost 76 mile… to be honest so was I, how had I made it this far, alone, not knowing what to hit next, where I was going how I was going to get there but I knew in just 9 mile I had done it, I’d be at bowness on solway and on that bus back to Carlisle then on the train home to my wife and baby girl!

I walked back to my tent for the night and lay back and set an alarm which I had never done so far, I wanted to be up early and get this final distance over with. There was only one thing for it… sleep.

Day 4: the final trek!!! Up I rose at crazy o’clock sun still not quite up but I was, up bright as a button ready to dispatch this last 8/9 mile.

Packed my tent and other camping items and decided to part company with and stick them into the bin on the camp site as I knew this tent would no longer be needed and was only weighing me down, my bag now feeling as light as a feather in comparison to the previous day, off I went.

Cold and damp but I was well wrapped up and the excitement of getting to this finish line was like no other! It wasn’t long before I was greeted with what seemed like the greatest sign I will ever see “bowness on solway” I was walking adjacent to port carlisle which no matter how I was feeling physically and mentally was still absolutely beautiful you could see for miles across the port to the opposite side to which more shore was there it was a beautiful morning and in the not to near distance but in my eye line was a small village which I knew 100% would be where this trek would end, and I could not wait for that moment!!!!! Finally my wife and daughter was coming into my head for a good reason this time not for missing them like mad but knowing it wouldn’t be too long before I see them, that was the ultimate spur throughout this journey!!!!

Closer and closer and closer legs getting heavier by the step I marched slowly but surely towards this tiny village knowing that everybody would probably still be sound asleep.

My excitement began greater as I saw the wooden sign that I’ve been following for the last 4 days and it read “finish line” I again was hit by a massive confidence boost to carry me on, I cut right through some houses and I was back on the coast but up at a height a, left turn and I saw the wooden statue that was created on the finish line I felt like I was running but I assure you I wasn’t….. I’d made it!!!

I sat on the bench which had all the history of Hadrian’s wall and all assure but Romans etc, none of that mattered at this point I was just too exhausted to think I took photos I signed the book I stamped it for me and anth had he had taken part amd got me here without physically being by my side, I was overjoyed, I’d did this, the over riding sense of achievement was immense! After such as sure out blow of loosing my walking partner then being hit by some of the obsticles I’d came across but it still didn’t stop me, the people who raised money and believed I could do it… I relayed them with all my efforts over that 84 mile walk.

I then peeled myself back onto my feet to walk back into the village as I had a bus to catch back to Carlisle train station…. if I was a second later I’d of missed it… I sat on that bus and what seemed like a 2 second journey back to Carlisle I was really enjoying transport again! Straight into the train station I went and a swift good riddence to Carlisle for having no rooms for me the previous night, I was on the train and headed back home, I could have quite easily slept the whole way but somehow I decided not too.

Great time to reflect and realise just quite what you can put your body through and achieve without you really believing yourself that it’s possible. It’s always possible. I’m not going to say I enjoyed much or even any of it but I did it and that will stick with me forever!!

(Italic section by Nathan Hudson).

Nathan did it. Its one think to complete this for a few weeks after, maybe even months, i was still disgusted in myself that i had let myself down and not finished the challenge but ive learned from the experience. One, is that poor preperation leads to failiure, knowing i was ill just days before inset off into a hot summer challenge was mistake enough, has the challenge been in more remote places, i could have been in real trouble. Two, listen to your body, i felt signs of heat exhaustion, dyhadration etc from well before halfway. I should have went home then really but i told myself it would pass and id make it i was wrong. It was a while before i recovered fully. And three, its great to have friends who are there for you when you really need it, Nathan was more than helpful when it came to making the decision about home, he did not make comments that would have made me feel guilty or bad for leaving him when i decided i would go, he even signed my name in the book at the end of the walk and if it had not been for Nathan my tent would probably still be pitched at the back of that country pub this very day.

Looking back, i’ve had a pretty insuccessful year. I failed to enter any Judo contests which i had vowed to do. I managed to crash and write off my car and I spent so much time concentrating on the wall, i missed out on lots of gym time. But in contrast, i still managed to be promoted to 3rd kyu in Judo. I adapted well to public transport, its not as bad as i remember and helped keep me fit since id missed the gym. And i enrolled and begun studying for a degree in environmental science, i even competed in a cheerleading competition with my daughter of all things. Basically ive grown this last 12 months and will continue to do so it 2017. My final thought is that while i always work hard, i will go forwards working smart too. Looking forward to some acheivements and adventures and hope to take you all along with me.

Much Love and have a prosperous 2017.

Anth.