The Three Peaks Challenge, September 2013
A bit of a marmalade revival so I've got somewhere to share the write up of my latest adventure. For general background, see my story on http://www.justgiving.com/Amy-Wackett
Ahead of the challenge, we spent a night (reminiscent of a year 7 residential) at a Welsh youth hostel close to the foot of Snowdon. Then, well stocked up with toast, radioactive jam and individually wrapped weetabix, we set off in the pouring rain up the Pyg Track via the Miners Track. It was pretty standard Wales, with the very occasional rain let-up and brief opportunity to take my hood down and get some relief from the rustling.
Unable
to tell whether the rain had seeped through all the Gortex, or it was
just cold against my skin, I powered on, determined to catch up with the
speedy guys at the front. Whilst I could match their pace from a
distance, actually reaching them became futile so I soothed my
competitive side by remaining in the top third.
Down
and down, it felt twice as far as up. I found someone who just about
matched my pace, but we'd completely lost track of who was ahead of us.
We did pass a couple still on their way up, which was a bit a concern if
we were planning to complete the challenge in 24 hours. I finished in 3
hours 20 for that one, including some extended stops at the
beginning, before attempts to stay together were abandoned. It turns out
that only two had been ahead of us!
A
quick group shot at the summit, lit by head torches and rain
reflections, and we headed back down, staying as a group so as not to
rack up the missing persons count. There was no sign of the Two, but we
got word that Mountain Rescue were on the way up (one of the guides
being ex Mountain Rescue and one being current).
Now, sleeping on a minibus is not ideal. Neither is finishing your second mountain climb at midnight with no epic pub meal to fill your boots, or shower, or even reclining seat. But I was elated from the dark mountain adventure (and being the fastest Scafell climber!) and endured the six bumpy hours under a fleece blanket.
Amazingly awake at 5 or 6, or whatever it was, it was a case of cramming in some fruit/nuts/whatever else was around, toggling up and heading off from the car park at Glen Nevis just as it was getting light. Our final climb was relatively uneventful but equally rain-free and we were rewarded with a stunning view for most of the way up before hitting the clouds, not before spotting a few ptarmigans (I'd first casually dismissed them us funny looking mountain pigeons until the people behind me started getting excited).
The
barren, rocky summit was eery in the cloud. Stone constructions loomed
out of the white mist, each cairn appeared to float in to sight until we
found the highest point.
The
descent seemed to go on for ever. More and more walkers, many
very inappropriately dressed, were heading up, giving as admiring looks
for being so far ahead so early. And as we got closer to the end, it
felt further and further, pain mounting in my toes, ankles hips,
shoulders and rucksack chafe points.
If you'd like to support me, I'll be massively grateful, and I promise that if I do a similar write up of the half marathon, it won't be nearly as long.
A bit of a marmalade revival so I've got somewhere to share the write up of my latest adventure. For general background, see my story on http://www.justgiving.com/Amy-Wackett
The
Three Peaks is seen as a ‘well trodden’ very achievable challenge. And
it is, but as some of our group (me plus a group from a law firm that
supports Aspire) discovered, it isn’t quite a walk in the park. On top
of the walking, there is also the sleep deprivation, weather conditions,
travel sickness (hurtling around the winding Lake District roads will
turn even the strongest of stomachs) and a good few hours of walking in
darkness.
Ahead of the challenge, we spent a night (reminiscent of a year 7 residential) at a Welsh youth hostel close to the foot of Snowdon. Then, well stocked up with toast, radioactive jam and individually wrapped weetabix, we set off in the pouring rain up the Pyg Track via the Miners Track. It was pretty standard Wales, with the very occasional rain let-up and brief opportunity to take my hood down and get some relief from the rustling.
Unable
to tell whether the rain had seeped through all the Gortex, or it was
just cold against my skin, I powered on, determined to catch up with the
speedy guys at the front. Whilst I could match their pace from a
distance, actually reaching them became futile so I soothed my
competitive side by remaining in the top third.
Our
summit was brief. It was cold, I'd foolishly neglected to put gloves
on, and you couldn't see a damn thing. So back down again, gloves
perched on the ends of my claw hands until they loosened up enough to
get my fingers in to the... fingers.
Down
and down, it felt twice as far as up. I found someone who just about
matched my pace, but we'd completely lost track of who was ahead of us.
We did pass a couple still on their way up, which was a bit a concern if
we were planning to complete the challenge in 24 hours. I finished in 3
hours 20 for that one, including some extended stops at the
beginning, before attempts to stay together were abandoned. It turns out
that only two had been ahead of us!
A
minibus, a dry top and socks, instant coffee and a hot sandwich and I
was a new woman. Adorned with hanging wet stuff, the minibus gradually
filled up with group members as my body heat returned. We set off for
the Lakes rather late- about 2 hours behind schedule; damp and sleepy.
The roller coaster ride through the winding Lake District lanes was a
bit if a wake up call, and made for some slightly green faces.
When
we finally piled out of the buses, it was starting to get dark. Despite
severe warnings against it, we faffed extensively. The public toilets
were closed, walking poles were required and needed some adjusting. By
the time we set off we caught only a glimpse of the view behind before
we step-stoned across a river and focused on the ascent.
Visibility
was very low by the time I relented and switched on my head torch. Some
steep climbs and wet rock scrambles later, we were on the loose rubble
that surrounds Scafell's summit. It must have been around 10pm by this
point and I'd reached that strange, imaginative state when you've been
in your own head a bit too much.
"Hey, this is what it would be like to walk on gravel if you were really really tiny", and so on.
We
were met by two men who had lost the other two in their party but were
assured that the lost pair had phone signal and were not in danger. Eyes
and ears open as much as they could be in those conditions to listen
out for them.
A
quick group shot at the summit, lit by head torches and rain
reflections, and we headed back down, staying as a group so as not to
rack up the missing persons count. There was no sign of the Two, but we
got word that Mountain Rescue were on the way up (one of the guides
being ex Mountain Rescue and one being current).
Meeting
a very happy search and rescue dog was a highlight, as was having a
stand off with a Scafell mouse that clearly couldn't see past my head
torch to establish that I was something to run away from.
An article later turned up that detailed the not-so-dramatic rescue that night... http://www.grough.co.
Now, sleeping on a minibus is not ideal. Neither is finishing your second mountain climb at midnight with no epic pub meal to fill your boots, or shower, or even reclining seat. But I was elated from the dark mountain adventure (and being the fastest Scafell climber!) and endured the six bumpy hours under a fleece blanket.
Amazingly awake at 5 or 6, or whatever it was, it was a case of cramming in some fruit/nuts/whatever else was around, toggling up and heading off from the car park at Glen Nevis just as it was getting light. Our final climb was relatively uneventful but equally rain-free and we were rewarded with a stunning view for most of the way up before hitting the clouds, not before spotting a few ptarmigans (I'd first casually dismissed them us funny looking mountain pigeons until the people behind me started getting excited).
After
about three quarters of the distance, the group had spread out so much
that our guide, Zac, waited to gather members in the middle and three of
us continued to the cloud covered summit alone.
"Don't fall off the North Face!" Zac called.
When
we reached it after a couple more steep climbs, it's sharp
drop, obscured by cloud, was tantalising. I have to go back and see that
view on a clear day...
The
barren, rocky summit was eery in the cloud. Stone constructions loomed
out of the white mist, each cairn appeared to float in to sight until we
found the highest point.
It
was cold up there after a very warm, sunny climb. Fleeces, gloves and
hats on, chocolate consumed and we were off back down. Our speediest
member decided to run it, and quickly disappeared leaving Phil (seasoned
hill walker and bird enthusiast) and I to skip, hop and jog our way
over the rocky 'path'. After an hour or so, every impact was bone
shaking. Ben Nevis had been making me increasingly aware of my
own skeleton as the aches seemed to reveal the position of every bone
from hips down.
Some
ran the last bit but I couldn't even manage a jog. It's not quite the
glorious finish line of the London Triathlon, a couple of blokes with a
minibus, but it was better- personal, like they were with us all the
way. A big congratulatory hug from driver Simon, a freshen up and change
of clothes in the visitor centre toilets. Fatigue, relief, elation.
People
arrived in quick succession. Having missed our Scottish breakfast, the
only option to re-fuel was a McDonalds take away, after which I suddenly
couldn't keep my eyes open.
It's
a strange, sleepy end to such a challenge. Everyone anxious to get home
(and Glasgow is a long way from it). The exhaustion hit hard and didn't
really let up for three days.
So
I'm proud to say that my individual times were well within the required
14 hours to qualify. I can cross two more mountains off the list
(although Ben Nevis will need a re-match on a clear day).
Thank
you all for the support, it's what made the challenge happen, and will
make it possible for someone with a spinal cord injury to buy vital equipment to give them their independence back.
And
I'm on to the half marathon, my biggest challenge yet. Fuelled by
coconut water and Swedish House Mafia, training is going well. Just over a week to go. £250 still to raise. It's not over yet!
If you'd like to support me, I'll be massively grateful, and I promise that if I do a similar write up of the half marathon, it won't be nearly as long.
Donate online at: http://www.justgiving.com/Amy-Wackett
