2.5 Solo: This Splendid Defeat
“On this glorious occasion. On this splendid defeat”
Anthony Newley, The Cockleshell Heroes
I definitely moved like this the whole way round the rounds
All images Summit Fever Media
All right, it wasn’t glorious. But there should be a word or phrase for when something is both a failure and a success of sorts – or at least you had The Best Time anyway. Despite having fallen short of my goal, I feel buoyed by Three Solo. Or rather, ahem, 2.5 Solo.THE BIG IDEA
It’s scary to aim big. But thrilling too. I’m 49. It’s such a cliche, but life really is short and I want to do big things, or at least try to do them, while I can. I don’t think it’s arrogance. There’s a high chance things will go wrong and I have to be okay with "failure" (some argue "there is no failure in sports"). In fact if failure is a real possibility, then I know I'm challenging myself in the right ballpark. If everything I do is a win or completion – and my two A races this year couldn't have gone much better – I'm probably not truly challenging myself. To me it’s about curiosity. I’m just deeply curious to see what’s possible. Can I do The Thing? How can I do it? What will it feel like? On this, I’ve been really inspired by legendary, long-distance pioneers Martin Stone, Mike Hartley and my best frenemy, the dastardly John Kelly.I’d long been fascinated by Hartley’s achievements and it’s a good time to plug his insightful book, From One Extreme To The Other (my copy is slashed with pen marks). After setting a record on the Pennine Way in 1989 he still felt it hadn’t pushed him enough, so he turned to “An extended version of the Three British Peaks,” he wrote in The Fellrunner under a title ‘One Round Too Many?’. “Ben Nevis, Scafell Pike and Snowdon – plus 110 tops!”The Big Three fell-running rounds are the Bob Graham Round (Lake District, England, 66 miles, 27K vert), the Charlie Ramsay Round (Glen Nevis, Scotland, 61 miles, 29K) and the Paddy Buckley Round (Eryri, Wales, 66 miles, 28K) and Hartley became the first to complete them consecutively in a total time of 86 hours, 20 minutes (3 days, 14 hours). With a 21:14 Ramsay, a 23:48 Bob and a 33:30 Paddy, his ‘on the hill time’ was 78:32, slowing due to sleep deprivation and injury.Hartley was driven in a car between the rounds. The only other continuous completion of the Big Three is Kelly’s Grand Round, where incredibly he cycled, for an overall time of 130 hours, 43 minutes, also being slowed by injury on the third round. Martin Stone broke lots of records by going solo, often in winter, shunning the benefits of having a team carrying kit, food, navigating and so on. There’s nowt wrong with being supported – I’ve benefitted from that and loved helping others, too. But I ruddy loved my solo winter Paddy in 2020 and always planned to do more solo challenges.I wanted to do something big in my 50th year by way of celebrating my 40s and all they’ve brought me. There are lots of long runs that don’t need interrupting with car journeys though, so I just felt uneasy replicating Hartley's challenge exactly. And while I (gritted teeth) really admire former triathlete Kelly's Grand Round, I just have no history or appetite for long-distance cycling on British roads. As well as simply not wanting to copy him all the time.So if I wasn’t going to cycle or drive, er… public transport? It was a lightbulb moment. That would definitely add complications, such as limiting kit and food, and add potential stress of buses and trains running on time and/or sleeping through my stops. But it’s a low-carbon ethos and an idea that’s more accessible to other people, too. John and Mike had support on the hills (and roads for Kelly) and at self-designed aid stations, but I wasn’t in the mood for getting a huge team together. It can be so ace when you’re out there with your pals, but it’s stressful to organise, I dislike asking favours and it massively reduces the attempt’s flexibility. It’s just more satisfying to do things entirely on your own sometimes, isn’t it? Though it would make things harder in several ways, deciding to go solo already felt much better. NOW I wanted to do it. Three Solo felt perfect. After all, Mike’s time is similar to mine at Italy’s 330K Tor des Geants. It’s basically 3-4 days of going up and down lumps trying to remind yourself you say you love this stuff while secretly hating it. Yes please! 
The Bob Graham is the original round with 10x the completions of the other two
THE PLAN
Though going solo and self-supported gave me freedom, paradoxically public transport limited me and dictated when I could start the rounds. I would need to finish the first two at convenient times for transport and be flexible enough for alternative options if I was slower than anticipated, missed a bus and so on. Also, being self-supported, I could only leave a bag of spare kit and food somewhere that would be accessible to anyone else doing this. That meant my accommodation near Fort William (thank you Glen Nevis Holidays), The Round in Keswick, a deservedly popular burger and cocktail bar right by Moot Hall, the Bob Graham start/finish; and an airB&B booked in Llanberis. I also had to access The Round during their opening hours, twice, and couldn’t collect my bag post-Ramsay until 8am. So it was quite the jigsaw, but I love all that and with the help of www.rome2rio.com, which has been useful for plotting travel to European races, I concocted a cunning plan…
Sorry, not stopping for people with ferrets on their heads who smell like mouldy cabbage
The journey up was a bad omen. Instead of getting from Chippenham to Fort William in one day, a mere 14-minute delay getting to Birmingham meant I only got as far as Glasgow. Luckily I had a day to spare and I soon had another, as the weather forecast –50mph+ winds, heavy persistent rain, -5˚ wind chill – was just too unfriendly to start the next day. Indeed the forecast overall was a bit mixed. I expected to get rained on, but this was my final window of the year and forecasts can be overly pessimistic. It wasn't bad enough to cancel.1 SOLO
Both Hartley and Kelly recorded 21-22hrs for their first round, just under 24hrs for their second and 33-35hrs for their third. I hoped to avoid that decline – and even maybe be close to Hartley's overall time – partly by chilling on the first. Indeed as I couldn't get my bag till 8am and was aiming for a 9.10am bus, there was little advantage to a fast start. The target was to treat the Ramsay like the opening rounds of a World Cup. Just get the result, no need for anything special, save myself, don't get injured.
As I entered the craggy Mamores, I was full of beans. I was cockahoop to finally be out there in the big lumps on my lonesome after all the desk-bound planning, albeit with some close friends tracking (I couldn’t publicly share the tracker for risk of anyone turning up, which would count as ‘support’). It was such fun. If wet underfoot. I broke two poles. It was a bit blowy and moist overnight, but no dramas. I was having a blast. Carrying enough food and kit for 24 hours was slowing me up a little however and a sub-24-hour finish and catching my bus both looked in doubt. The next train was around 3 hours' wait and time was precious as I still had an outside chance of being close to Hartley’s time. As I was rebooking my taxi from the YHA to Fort William taxi, the idea popped into my head that maybe they’d drive me to Glasgow? It’d cost me. But they would! Taxis are public transport, so that's within the self-supported rules, but really, was it in the spirit of the challenge? As a friend pointed out afterwards, you could pay a taxi to drive you all the way, so there probably needs to be a restriction on this. People were hiking up the Ben, which gave me extra things to dodge on a hurried descent, and someone asked "Have you been up to the top?" I didn't have time to explain. I had to push a bit for an exciting 23:57 finish, desperately hoping I hadn’t overcooked things and done myself a mischief. The Ramsay was ace. It feels remoter and kind of purer, fewer actual summits, but they almost all feel big, significant peaks. Lots of rock and no tarmac in sight. I loved it.I switched kit, refuelled hard and even dozed for a bit en route to Glasgow. Caught my train – back on schedule – to Penrith, then bus to Keswick.
When it was good, it was goooooooooood!
2 SOLO
The Round – thank you! – treated me with smiles, encouragement, fries and the most delicious plant burger I’ve ever eaten. So I started the Bob at 2.50pm feeling brill, albeit digesting a belly-full of nosh on a long climb. I was already 20-30mins behind a 23-hour schedule by the first summit, Skiddaw, though and the leg one was the boggiest I’d ever seen it, ankle deep water for long stretches. It got dark, unhelpfully, on the tricky descent of Hall’s Fell, where I'm always careful not to give that name extra meaning.
Leg 2 was claggy and probably here the unchanging monotony of view and time on my own started the slippery slope into insanity. The worst bit was the first half of leg 3. It was the small hours and just so wet underfoot. Splash, splash, splash. Trods disappearing, constant checking I was going in the right direction. I got cragbound once, confused more times than that and feared I was going round in soggy circles. Finally as the day slowly dawned on the long climb up B(l)owfell, the wind ripped into me with a roar and didn’t let up. The repetitive rocky tops of the second half of leg 3 in the windy clag with no one seen, not even on Scafell Pike, began to feel like a prank and again that nagging idea that I was going round in circles.I was cheered though to make it to Wasdale, purchased Kendal Mint Cake and climbed Yewbarrow with renewed determination. I’d forgotten what an epic git leg 4 is and again I didn't see a soul till Honister. Leg 5 I had foolishly dismissed in my mind, but it’s got bite, my pace slowed as I realised a sub 24 hour was well gone, knees and hips whingeing. The Bob had been tougher than I remembered.Not far from Keswick, with patchy phone/internet signal, I checked the bus times onwards and realised it was going to be tight to get the last one to Penrith, to get the last train to Bangor. Yikes. I had to pick up the pace on the ouchy road, which also meant no time for another lipsmackingly good burger. Gutted. Running with my heavy kit bag, I made the bus with a minute to spare. A stopover in Penrith MacDonald’s allowed me to refuel and dry my feet on a towel under a table. I don’t think I smelt too good. Apologies to anyone there at the time and anyone I shared a train or bus with. I was alarmed to see the Eryri weather forecast included the phrases “Very blustery, affecting balance where exposed”, “marked wind chill” and “persistent rain, heavier at times”. I messaged a Mountain Rescue pal about whether it was wise to continue. The answer was (paraphrasing): “Not normally, no – but maybe it won’t be so bad!”I was tired now. I remember being woken on an otherwise empty, stopped, train somewhere in the middle of the night, as I went via Manchester and possibly somewhere else, arriving in Llanberis via taxi (frustratingly the last Bangor-Llanberis bus is 17.42), around 2.30am. Letting myself into my AirB&B, I wanted so badly to go to bed.
I’d much rather the honest pain of rock to all those endless splashy puddles
0.5 SOLO
Instead I packed more clothing, headed into the blustery night and up through the mines. It was, briefly, a beautiful morning across the rocky apocalypse of the Gylders, down Bristley Ridge and my old foe Tryfan. It rained heavily in Ogwen and I wasn't looking forward to getting up high again. Even if, inexplicably, my legs felt simply amazing. I was talking to myself by now too. That's normal. As were the gorilla and the spaceship I saw.
The paths up Pen yr Ole Wen had turned to rivers, but the rain eased and the rest of that leg was fine. I was wobbly however, when I reached Capel Curig, very glad to buy more snacks in Joe Browns (apparently doing a Paddy gets you a discount) and even more so to get tea and cake from Plas y Brenin. Feeling so much better, I saw two hikers on the climb up Moel Siabod. What's it like up there, I asked? "Windy!" They replied in unison. That blowy stuff was fun at first. It was moist too. The next bit is the section People Who've Done the Paddy Don't Talk About. Nope. I won't talk about it. Other than to say, even though I've done it at least fives times before, it still sucked my soul.
I saw one other person up on the hills that day. A lone hiker, coming towards me, well wrapped up in wet weather gear. "Not many of us out today?" I chuckled. He came right up close to me. Looked me in the eyes. "I'm a fookin ghost" he said. I don't know either. It felt real at the time.Over those four hours I was getting slowly, sneakily wetter. I had five upper-body layers, including a very good waterproof, a merino and a thick synthetic one I've used on several Winter Spine Races, plus two full-leg-cover items, too. But when there's strong wind involved too, over many hours, the water just finds a way in, like ivy slowly working its way into all your weak points. I stopped and removed my baselayer as it was wet and making me cold. But as long as I was moving well I was generating enough warmth – and despite the conditions, and with 160 miles in my legs and probably less than two hours sleep, I was pleased with how I was moving. I was too far behind Hartlety's time now, but it would still be a first solo completion and therefore record. I hadn't considered any outcome other than finishing. My tracker had died but I was regularly updating three very experienced mountain pals, including Martin Stone. It got dark as I scampered along the mining track towards Moelwyn Bach. That climb went well, though occasionally the wind would just rip right through me, making me a uneasy. The next climb was less clear in the dark and locating the exact path slowed me up, and cooled me down. Martin volunteering trying to get a tracker to me at the next road crossing was when I started to question whether I was really being sensible.I thought about how I had three big climbs ahead of me, all exposed to the strong wind with nowhere to shelter and I didn't feel safe. I'd come so far. But I still had eight-10 hours to go. I knocked back a couple of gels to make sure it wasn't just under-fuelled thoughts. I kept thinking, "Well, if that's the last of the wind..." But sure enough, like an angry dragon it would return and breathe its cold fire on me. I wanted to go on, because I knew if I didn't get it done this time, I'd have to come back. But I was wet and getting colder and I just didn't feel safe up there in that weather. So I timidly stopped my Suunto, messaged Martin and made my way down to Tanygrisiau, eventually getting a taxi round to Llanberis and into that bed I'd so cruelly denied myself much earlier that morning, grateful of a safe end to a proper adventure.
Some of the Paddy was a bit of a blur
THE WINS
I didn’t get the outcome I wanted. But I did get these wins:
I made a good decision, when very tired. I'm pleased about that. I have started to doubt it a couple of times since, then quickly reminded myself I need to trust myself at that time. It's easy to rethink things when warm and dry.
A proper adventure was had. My number one aim.I did it in my own style. And on my own. And that feels good.I enjoyed the process, the training, the planning especially, and the doing of it.I completed solo Charlie Ramsay and Bob Graham Rounds, albeit the latter outside 24 hours. I've done a solo Paddy before, so it's a hat-trick, albeit an imperfect one.All right, I didn't test it as fully as I wanted to, but after 97 summits, 165 miles and 67,000ft verts, my body didn't break. Thank you Pete Stables, David Roche and Matt Holmes.Did I prove the concept worked? Despite my doubts, the transport worked, albeit with some taxis. If I'd had support on the hill in the Moelwyns a couple of extra layers may have seen me through, so you might argue being solo didn't work. But I'm certain it's possible. All I needed was the weather to be 20% more friendly.My process goal was to be a goldfish, like Ted Lasso says, to forget mishaps and move on, not linger on them punishing myself, as I often have. And I did that, too. Including with 2.5 Solo.Big thanks NNormal for the ace support and kit, especially the Bruts, which were brill. Thanks also Renee McGregor for some great refuelling ideas, and as ever Petzl, Suunto, Leki, 33Fuel and Veloforte.If you've made it this far, have you heard of Into Ultra or The Green Runners?POSTSCRIPT
I got an email soon after 2.5 Solo, which read: “I’m a Green Runner and environmental activist and also have a sight impairment which means that I have never been able to drive. Consequently I’m always reliant on public transport and that can be a monumental pain in the backside. You showed that doing a Grand Round by public transport is in theory possible; but did you also discover that it’s inconvenient, expensive, frustrating and uncomfortable?
Here are some of the systemic challenges I routinely encounter that conspire against the public-transport using trail runner:
Poor rail or bus connections in one or both directions.
Cancelled and late-running services.
Lack of toilet facilities at railways stations and in villages.
Locked waiting rooms at railway stations.
No left luggage at most railway stations.
Restrictive ticketing on trains.
“In the last 15 years, both rural bus services and public toilet provision in England have been decimated, and the cost of flexible rail tickets has become prohibitive in most cases. Folk like me just have to suck it up, but there’s very little here to persuade runners with other options to ditch the car, other than for a novelty experiment to give themselves a pat on the back and something to post to Green Runners. But there is plenty we can get angry and start writing letters about (believe me, I do). I’d love to see 3 Solo acting as a vehicle (ahem) to start an honest conversation about these things.”
I agree public transport was at times inconvenient, expensive, frustrating and uncomfortable. Indeed while during the attempt it mostly worked, 2.5 Solo cost me more than £1k, even without the Fort William-Glasgow taxi (not forgetting the cost of an extra night’s accommodation in Glasgow – I’m still waiting on my refund claim for the delayed train on the way up). And I needed taxis to reach two of the destinations. No wonder if feels so hard to cut down on car use, which would have been much cheaper and more convenient.
Apologies to everyone on this bus