Yorkshire 3 Peaks Challenge

I know I bombarded social media with selfies and updates whilst I was taking part in the Yorkshire 3 Peaks Challenge last weekend but I thought you could do with a bit more info...

The day started early, a 03:30 alarm call to get to Horton in Ribblesdale for a 6:30 start. I could have stayed in bed for a bit though, as we didn't actually leave Horton until around a quarter past 7.  The massed walkers, all raising money for St George's Crypt and St Patrick's Mission, were split into two groups of varying walking ability and after a blessing from one of the Monks from St Patrick's we were off.  But rather than sticking with the other walkers and participating in a group challenge, I had decided that I wanted to try and run the 3 peaks.

As I trotted off from the groups I fiddled with some of the extra kit that I had with me. Come race day I normally set out in the bare minimal. Vest, shorts, shoes, possibly some gels to help along the way.  But as this was the 3 Peaks and I've spent half of the last 3 months either injured or recovering from injury I wasn't taking any chances.  I had a pack full of water, gels, tissues and wipes. A full change of kit, walking poles, and my ipod.

I've not run with music for years but there wasn't going to be any race side spectators to cheer me on and there wouldn't be a random band playing ELO just at the right moment.  As I passed the school leaving Horton I popped my headphones in and the opening strains of Car That Sped by Gene came on.  Martin Rossiter sang the opening line "You have to do it on your own..." and I got goosebumps.  The ipod was filled at random and was set to shuffle!  I was off.

I passed my first of many walkers on the road out of Horton and, entering the first field, took my first walk. I had 24 miles to cover including 5000ft of elevation and I didn't want to burn out too soon. As the field levelled off I jogged on. This was my plan for the day, run when I can, walk when I have to, and don't push too hard.

Even walking I was passing people and running up to the first trig-point at the summit of Pen-y-ghent felt incredible. 40 minutes gone and I was well on my way.  On the way off PyG I crossed paths with another runner, a hi-five would have been perfect but neither of us offered. He did notice my bib number and asked if I was part of a race, "only against myself" was my reply, and on I pushed.

The walk between PyG and Whernside is long! It was this long walk at my last attempt that made my mind up to try and run the 3 Peaks. If I could cut hours out of this section then my time would be so much faster than my original 9+ hours.  The runner caught me back up again and slowed to jog with me for a chat. He agreed that "running" was better than walking as the walk takes too long.  He pushed on (not attempting the 3 hills) and left me to my thoughts.

I got to the first check point at High Buckwith to find no check point.  This didn't surprise me as I was always under the impression that the volunteers were marshaling the walkers not the fool who had decided to run.  The Support crew did pass me in their minibus however, on the road to Ribblehead, en route to set up check point 2.  I met up with them as they were still pulling tables and chairs out of the bus.  It turned out that CP1 never existed.  The new owners of a farm on the route weren't happy with the bus going down the lane to the proposed marshal point.  The previous owner hadn't minded at all but these things happen.

Feeling good at Check Point 2 at Ribblehead

 I'd covered 10 miles in 2 hours and was feeling good.  I downed a very welcome bottle of cold water (the water I was carrying was already warm) and set back off to let the volunteers finish setting up the check point for the walkers who were already some way behind me.  I had to stop almost as soon as I  had set off as I got a stone in one of my shoes and didn't fancy carrying it for the next 14 miles.

With the boulder removed I cracked back on with the challenge. I ran along the side of the railway for a couple of miles before the path crossed it and Winterscales Beck and turned left towards my second summit of the day, Whernside.  When I started walking on the climb up Pen-y-ghent it was because I knew I should, however I started walking going up Whernside because I had no choice. Each foot step was harder than the last.  I could happily have ran on flat for miles but I had nothing for climbing.

I eventually stopped to take stock of my situation.  I was short of breath, the heat and humidity were making breathing hard, and my legs were wobbly.  I took my second energy gel of the day (earlier than I wanted) and broke out my walking poles.  I had brought them with me in case my ongoing knee issues flared up again but it wasn't the injury that was my problem, it was my lack of fitness from being on the injury bench for such a large part of the last three months.  It took a while to get used to walking with them but I soon found a rhythm and finally made it to my second trig-point of the day.

I took 5 minutes break to sort myself out in the lea of the breeze at the summit of Whernside.  It had taken me much longer than I had expected to get to the top and I still had the two bits of the walk I was dreading most to contend with.  Having scaled the stone wall up Ingleborough before I knew that was going to take everything I had left, but first I had to get down Whernside again.  The path down is a steep flight of bright blue boulders but with two functioning knees and a set of walking poles I got down them with no problems, I even passed people on the way down.

Back on the flat (ish) I tried running again.  It felt much better than walking but the poles, which were so helpful moments earlier, were getting in the way.  I thought about collapsing them and re-strapping them to my bag but I knew I'd need them again as soon so I ran on as best I could.  I passed a Swales Dales Ice Cream Van, and bemoaned my lack of planning to carry cash with me.  An ice cream would have been very welcome!

With thoughts of ice cream behind me I kept plodding on towards the short road section passing the Old Hill Inn, and another opportunity to curse my lack of cash. A pint would have been even more welcome than the ice cream I didn't have.  I climbed the stile from the road into the fields at the foot of Ingleborough and noted the "Danger Bull" sign.  I was in no fit state to out run a bull so when I crested the first slight rise to find myself face to face with cattle, my heart stopped.

It wasn't a bull!  It was a cow with calf.  I kept a wide berth and made sure not to get between them.  I like this field section of the route.  It's lush and green, speckled with limestone and is one of the few sections that haven't been paved, or eroded from decades of ramblers/walkers/runners taking on the challenge.  It's mostly clear of even the faintest desire lines.  But eventually the slabs are back, replaced by duck-board, as the fields are replaced by bog.

The going was again in an upward direction and I was again struggling.  I cleared the boards and got to the foot of the near vertical stone stairs that I had been dreading from the moment I had signed up to the Challenge.  There is a well worn rock here that many a walker has rested upon before climbing Ingleborough and I added my mass to the eons of erosion.  I had another gel, and then drank the last of my water.  I had no idea how much I'd consumed but with the extra from the check point it was over 2 litres.  It wasn't enough.

Just the steps to go

I was 5 hours in with only the final trig-point to touch before I was on the home straight.  I had hoped to have finished in around 5 hours but that hope was long gone.  I started climbing and met a couple coming down, struggling with the steep decent.  We stopped to chat and they asked about the number pinned to my chest.  I told them about the walk for The Crypt and my own personal challenge, despondent that I was well behind my target.  But wonderfully they shook me out of my despondency.  They were stunned that I had got so far in 5 hours, and then, so was I.  The 3 Peaks Challenge is to complete the route in under 12 hours and I was well under that.

I pushed on, refilled with self-belief from my good Samaritan strangers, and although it was slow and a struggle, I made it to the final trig-point of Ingleborough in 5 hours and 31 minutes.  All I had to do now was make it back down the hill and back into Horton.

It was 4 miles.  Only 4 miles.  Just 4 down hill miles.  I could do this.  It was only a shade further than a parkrun.  I could run sections of this if I was sensible, the bits which weren't littered with lose rock or jagged limestone.  But then I remembered my lack of water.  I was already thirsty and even a 40 minute parkrun would leave me gasping for a drink before the end, so I decided to walk the final section of the day.

Horton comming into view. The home straight.

It took an hour and a half to get back into Horton in Ribblesdale.  Even a slow run would have pulled that back to 40 minutes and shaved a chunk off my finish time, but I'd done it.  I had completed the Yorkshire 3 Peaks in 6 hours and 58 minutes.  The pain of Whernside was behind me and I could finally stop, and feel proud of my achievement.

All of this was done to raise money for St George's Crypt, whose volunteers supported the walkers throughout the day.  One of the other walkers needed assistance getting down from Ingleborough after rupturing their Achilles.  If you would like to make a contribution to my fund raising, no matter how small, please click on the below link. Thank you.

https://www.justgiving.com/fundraising/Ewan-MitchellY3P

Yorkshire 3 Peaks.

There is an old proverb: Before you run, first you must learn to walk.  At its heart is the message that you should master a basic skill before you move onto anything more complex.  Well, with my knee preventing me from running I thought that a good walk would be no bad thing, a way to keep moving and keep flexing my aching joint without the strain of pounding the pavements for mile on end.  I suppose if I had followed the teachings of the proverb fully I would have started my forays into walking with a nice gentle stroll but no, that's just not me.

On the 23rd August, a couple of weeks after getting injured, I signed up to walk the Yorkshire 3 Peaks with a group from South Leeds.  In the back of my mind I knew it would be a long walk.  Of course it would be hilly, but I didn't really stop to think about the scale of the challenge.  I now know that Whernside, Ingleborough, and Pen-Y-Ghent, make Churwell Hill look like a billiard table.

Ribbleshead Viaduct

This Saturday our group of 30 set off from the car park of the Station Inn at Ribbleshead.  This in itself is unusual as it meant we were starting with the second peak.  The rationale behind this was that not everybody on the trip was going to be able to complete all 3 peaks.  Starting at Whernside gave people the chance to attempt 1, 2, or all 3 peaks.  This suited me down to the ground as to be honest I had absolutely no idea if my knee would be up for it.  I had heard that walking poles could halve the strain on knees so I borrowed a pair for the day, just in case.

I'll be honest, I had very mixed emotions.  I was excited at the challenge, race day nerves and adrenalin kicked in, our bus couldn't get to the start fast enough, but at the same time I was scared.  I was trying to stay calm, trying to be sensible, trying to remember at all times that I am technically injured.  The problem is my knee feels fine unless I'm running and as I've not run in about a month I had no idea if it was better, worse, or still just as bad as it had been.

The first climb was fine.  I started using the poles straight away so that I could get used to them.  Our pace was good and we passed a load of other walkers, but our group was already fragmented.  One team set off straight to Ingleborough, aiming to climb 1 peak then have an afternoon in Horton-in-Ribblesdale.  The Majority of us had come up Whernside, but at varying speeds.  We had agreed to stick with Ed, one of the walk organisers, who was intending to stick at the front, so we took our first break at the summit while he and the rest of the fast group caught up.

The first decent, in fact the first couple of steps of the first decent sounded alarm bells.  I soon realised that I lead with my right foot, leaving my left leg to support my weight.  With every step twinges became aches and aches soon became pain.  I had to remember to lead with my left leg and keep it as straight as possible but that proved harder than learning to walk again.  For the first time, and not for the last, my two walking companions (Debs and Mike), left me behind as momentum and a pair of working knees each carried them down Whernside.

They did wait for me at the bottom, and we in turn waited for the rest of the fast group at the brilliantly placed "tea room" nestled in a barn at the foot of the hill.  It was during this stop that I started to seriously consider what I was doing.  One peak down, two to go.  My knee felt fine again but I now knew what to expect on the next decline.

The steps of Cirith Ungol

"I'll get up and down Ingleborough and call it a day. I don't want to do any lasting damage.  Everybody knows I have a knackered knee.  There is no shame in only doing 2 peaks when injured." I told myself.

Unlike Whernside going up Ingleborough was hard work.  The initial walk through cow fields was fine.  We had lost the rest of the group by the time we came to the single file stone causeway across the bogs at the foot of the hill.  Then we came to the steps.  If you have never climbed Ingleborough I can only describe the way up as being akin to the steps of Cirith Ungol, the route that Smegol took with Sam and Frodo into Mordor.  Steep doesn't really come close.  Any steeper and you would need a harness and crampons.  The knee was still fine but a month of relative inactivity, give or take the odd swim, began to show.

I was thirsty, hungry, short of breath, and my head was starting to swim.  I needed a breather.  I had no idea that my fitness level had dropped so much, but I was close to the top of peak number 2 so I pushed on to the second trig point.  I turns out that my lack of pace was a blessing as I was the only one of the three of us who noticed the signpost for the path back to Horton during the climb.  I took on fluids, ate one of the nicest bananas I have ever consumed, re-adjusted my walking poles and set off again, knowing that the next section was going to be painful.

I was right, coming down from Ingleborough was bad.  Worse than the first decent.  The miles were starting to take their toll and I was still forgetting to lead with my left foot.  Debs was knocked off her feet while she was adjusting her footwear by Bailey, an over-friendly chocolate Labrador.  Mike fell over trying to get past a group of Sunday-walkers.  But camaraderie kept us going.  That and peanut butter sandwiches.

Mike, Debs, Sancho at the top of Ingleborough.

As we closed in on Horton we started to discuss the third peak.  We had come so far and, like me, Debs is very self competitive.  It's not about beating others, it's about completing what we set out to achieve.  We had come to walk the three peaks after all.  The plan set out by the organisers was to all meet up in the car park and anybody who wanted to climb Pen-Y-Ghent could do so and then come back down into Horton having climbed all 3 peaks.  We were at the car park early, having left everyone behind and the decision was quickly made by my companions that they were going to climb Pen-Y-Ghent and carry on back to the Ribbleshead Viaduct to complete the 25 mile walk.

I was not staying put.  My head was telling me that I should stop.  One climb left.  One more trig point to touch.  Just one more hill to come back down.  I was still concerned that I my knee was just going to pop and leave me stranded, or worse, tumbling down a sheer drop.  My heart however wanted to finish the challenge and wanted my head to shut up.  We tried to contact the other walkers, leaving texts and voice messages, and set off for the final 9.5 miles.  We calculated that we had just enough time to complete the walk before sunset at 7pm.

Most people I have talked to about the 3 Peaks have told me that Pen-Y-Ghent is the best hill because it's quite short.  I can guarantee with almost 100% certainty that these people have only ever walked up Pen-Y-Gent as the first of the 3 peaks.  Doing it last sapped what was left of my energy.  True to form Mike and Debs waited at the top.  As I pulled myself towards that last trig point they were sat in the lea of the wind, tucking into dried fruit and nuts, as if they had just stepped out of the house and were waiting for a bus to take them shopping.

All that was left was the final decent followed by a 7 mile slog back to the start.  It didn't take long before, in true Top Gear fashion, I was left behind like Richard Hammond, with my aching knee, being taunted by a back-up car of dubious prospect.  I hobbled down the shale path as fast as I could but there was no way I could keep up, not until the gradient levelled out.  Then, from nowhere, I ran using the poles as propulsion.  I must have looked like a cross between a red setter and one of the Wheelers from Return To Oz.

The finish in sight

Reunited we crunched, chatted, and laughed our way back to The Station Inn.  We were not 100% sure we were heading in the right direction as our maps were low quality copies and lots of the sign posts had missing arrows.  Around every twist and over every crest the longed for sight of the viaduct was acting as our chequered flag.  Every now and then we would catch a glimpse of a far off bridge and it gave us hope.  Just as the sun slipped behind Whernside we made it back to the pub, where we waited, celebratory beer in hand, for the mini-bus to carry us home.

Against my better judgement, relative lack of fitness, and gammy knee, I had completed the 3 Peaks in just under 9 hours.  The poles were a Godsend at all times.  They were like I had my own personal banisters.  I could pull myself uphill and steady myself going down, and of course they helped me keep up with my more able walking mates.  I honestly don't think I would have made it around without them.  However, as glad as I am that I completed the challenge, I now know that I am still on the long road to recovery as far as running goes.

It's still a couple of weeks before I see a physio but I've waited this long so I'll just keep up the swimming until then.

Massive thanks to Ed and Mark for organising the day out, to Al for lending me the poles, and to Debs and Mike for getting me home in one piece.  This was my first attempt at the 3 peaks, I had no idea what lay in store.  Once my leg is in better nick and I have built my fitness levels back up, I will head back to Horton-In-Ribblesdale, clock in at the cafe and tackle them again.  Only next time, I'll be running!