Climbing Snowdon, getting home and The Burrito Challenge

I didn't have a very good night's sleep as there were a few midges that had found their way into the toilet causing me to continuously have to swat them during the 3 hours that I was in there. Despite this I was up and raring to go when the 3.00am alarm woke me up, knowing that this was the last push, and that I couldn't afford to snooze or take my time. It was dark when I set off - thankfully the lower sections of the path were easy to follow despite the terrain being a bit inconsistent (mostly path but with some sections of large boulders/rocks where I had to watch my footing). There was a group of 3 guys I remember running past lower down. Daylight greeted me about halfway up - I was very grateful for this as the path became increasingly hard to make out. This made me feel a bit better about not attempting the climb last night as trying to navigate up here at night would have been extremely difficult and slow, if not impossible. The weather wasn't too bad (cloudy and a bit damp) with some mist as the altitude increased. I remember having to stop for a couple of minutes at one particular point as the path ahead met a large smooth sloping rock section, and spotting where the path continued after the smooth rock was tricky. I certainly didn't want to go off piste and get lost. Taking my time paid off and I was soon a stones-throw from the summit. I needed a poo by the time I reached the top. Under normal circumstances I may have been able to gingerly walk back down holding it in until I reached the toilet at the bottom. However gingerly walking down would have taken too long, so I had to squat down and have one up there. It was the quickest poo ever - the cold misty wind made sure of that. I reached the summit at exactly 5.30am - 74 hours and 29 minutes after starting Ben Nevis. The 'challenge' was over but the race to get back in time to catch the coach wasn't. I'd really been pushing myself to get up as quickly as possible as time was so tight. The descent was completed significantly quicker than the ascent (remembering path and improved light helped). This meant that it wasn't too much of a rush packing everything up from the disabled toilet, and I even had enough time for a few photos. The weather had deteriorated on the final stages of the path (foggier and wetter). Cycling downhill in this was horrible not helped by the fact that I wasn't able to clip in with one of my cleats (the irrational running uphill last night had ruined it). Also my hands were suffering (I'd developed Carpal Tunnel Syndrome in 2012 whilst doing my Land's End to John O'Groats cycle, and it's been a recurring problem since). This time it was a combination of getting too cold at the top of Scafell Pike as well as the past 3 days relentless cycling that triggered it). Anyway I struggled down and felt slightly more comfortable when I eventually reached the bottom and was able to pedal more to warm up. The one dodgy cleat was annoying just resting on the pedal above where it was supposed to clip in, and this slowed me down. Hunger and low energy levels were setting in just to add to the predicament. I didn't have a computer so was unaware of how far I had to go/how long I had to get there, but knew that it was close to the wire. Thankfully the Caernarfon coach station was easy to find and arriving with about 10 minutes to spare was a relief. Just enough time to grab some food before boarding :) . I ran to the nearest cafe and ordered two sandwiches. Then had to run to a cashpoint as they didn't accept cards. I could see out of the cafe window that my coach had pulled up as I took my sandwiches. So ran back over the road to the coach. The driver was very nice and thankfully in no rush to leave. He even helped me bungee the bike securely to the side of the bag storage hold. Once onboard I could finally relax. The sandwiches were demolished within the first 5 minutes. Post eating I gave my parents a quick call and did a quick Facebook update before messaging some friends back in Reading about meeting up for a Burrito Challenge (a mega-calorific huge triple burrito - the kind of thing you would see on Man vs Food) at Mission Burrito in town later. I was must have burned somewhere in the region of 40,000 calories and hadn't consumed anywhere near this amount so the excessive quantity of burrito would help to balance the deficit. It took me at least 30 minutes to calm down and start snoozing. The coach back to London took all day and was pretty uneventful (all I remember was buying sugary food at a shop in Wrexham (allowing some for now and some for tomorrow's lunch, and resentfully having to pay to use the toilet at the Milton Keynes Coach Station). Once we were in London it took ages to get through the afternoon rush hour finally arriving in Victoria about 30 minutes behind schedule. Thankfully my connecting coach between London and Reading was also behind schedule (had it been on time I would have missed it). Then of course getting out of London involved more traffic and I didn't get back to Reading Calcot until about 8.00pm. I was originally planning on nipping back home for a shower before the burrito but there wasn't time for this. I got to Mission Burrito at about 8.40. Within 10 minutes one of my housemates Colm had arrived with his D-lock. After locking the bike up we went inside. After I'd gone to the toilet to make some space I went up and got the ordered 'El Triple'. The girl at the counter was very generous with the portions and I was presented with a beast along with the obligatory jug of water. I started tucking in at about 9pm giving me one hour to finish before the restaurant closed at 10pm. I was shortly joined my other friends Matt, Ben, Lucille and Nik. None of them were here to eat - they came for moral support/to find out about the trip. Matt/Colm were timing me/filling my cup with water whilst the others were asking about the trip - not easy trying to have a conversation whilst trying to demolish the burrito within the hour. I ate over half of it easily, then it started to get harder. The last 10% was particularly difficult and I had to sip a tiny bit of water before each bloated mouthful. I didn't quite manage to finish it all by 10pm - thankfully the staff could see that I was almost there and were happy to let me finish. Eventually at about 10.10pm I was done :) . After getting my t-shirt (presented to anyone who successfully finishes 'El Triple') I had to walk home with the bike as was too bloated to cycle. A great way to conclude the trip.

Day 3 - Lancaster to Snowdon

I woke up at 5 not feeling too bad. The fact that this was the last day combined with the fact that it wasn't dark helped psychologically. After packing up the tent it was back to the petrol station shop for a poo and a meal deal before setting off. The first part of the day involved making my way to Liverpool (via the A6 to Preston and then the A59 after Preston). Just as I began my route along the A6 the tent slipped out of where it had been wedged between the top of my pannier bags/underside of my saddle. It landed in the road behind me - thankfully the road wasn't too busy this early in the morning and there weren't any cars within close proximity. This was the first time that this had happened (I'd had this exact same setup the last couple of days without any issues). Anyway I retrieved the tent, re-wedged it, stretched the bungee back over it and pedalled on. After this glitch I made it to Liverpool without any issues and in good time (another meal deal was quickly consumed en-route somewhere along the A59). I pulled over for a pee by the side of the road as I was approaching Liverpool city centre. After a couple of minutes I noticed a difference with the handling of the bike. I pulled over and confirmed what I'd suspected - the tent had fallen off again. I promptly backtracked to where I'd pulled over and sure enough the tent was on the floor at the point that I'd bumped down a small kerb to get back onto the road. I needed to prevent this from happening again. Without having another bungee so had to improvise with something else. Luckily I spotted an offcut of rope tied to a building site's barrier fence barrier fence, so took this and used it to tie down my tent more securely. Job done :). The next hurdle was crossing the River Mersey. I'd looked at Google maps before which seemed to show 2 bridges where I'd be able to cross. However after asking some locals and getting to the waterside it became apparent that these 'bridges' were in fact tunnels which bicycles weren't allowed on. Bugger. The solution: to wait 30 minutes for a ferry that would take me across to Birkenhead - another delay. I used my time on the ferry to refuel - some warm stew from the ferry cafe with a big flapjack. I was eager to make quick progress from Birkenhead to Snowdon as it was now early afternoon and didn't want to be climbing Snowdon in the dark. This didn't happen. Navigating in Northern Wales proved challenging, and my very fatigued, sleep deprived state didn't help matters. Shortly after crossing the border I was kicked off a dual carriageway by the traffic police. I was totally in 'The Zone' and didn't want to deviate from my route/take a slower or more indirect route. The officer was very nice and advised me of a safer way to get to the next town of Mold en route to Snowdon. Of course this slowed progress down again. After eventually getting to Mold I found a pub so walked in with the intention to try and get wifi so that I could plan the rest of my modified route. There was a big group of middle-aged folk celebrating one of their birthday's. I got talking to a couple of them who were extremely helpful showing/explaining to me the best way to get to Snowdon. Seeing my fatigued state they invited me to sit down and very kindly gave me a couple of bits of cake to boost my ever-diminishing energy levels. I jotted down some new direction notes to stick to my handlebars and refilled my water bottles before waving goodbye to the group and continuing my ride. This gave me a boost and I started to feel a bit more hopeful about being able to find my way to Snowdon easily. If only. I rode to the next small town of Pontblyddyn as they'd told me to do and took the turn off at the petrol station. Within about 20 minutes things didn't seem right - the road pattern didn't correspond with my notes. I'd taken a wrong turning somewhere but wasn't sure where. I ended up having to knock on someone's door and them for directions. The lady that answered was very helpful and got out her A-Z to show me where to go. It turned out that I'd gone around in a big circle having taken the wrong turning at the petrol station thanks to an unclear road sign. So back to the petrol station I went. I was now seriously struggling for energy (the 5-meal-deals-per-day/copious Mars Bars weren't providing me with enough calories to replace what I was burning off). So I opted for a big calorific pork pie as well as a pasty and coke, and bought another big pork pie and a packet of cookies for later. I knew that it was now impossible to get to Snowdon before nightfall, but psychologically I knew that getting out of 'the zone' and slowing down would have been catastrophic at this point, and I didn't want to be cycling in the dark longer than I had to. Now taking the correct turning at the petrol station along the A5104 I pedalled onwards. The going got very tough as the afternoon progressed the pork-pie-boost had long since worn off. There were some especially tough hilly and windy sections. I resorted to singing at one point - a coping mechanism I employed to keep my brain active trying to remember song lyrics whilst distracting myself from the neverending pedalling. Thankfully I'd made decent progress during the remaining hours of daylight, and managed to reach Betws-y-Coed (a town approx. 10 miles from Pen-y-Pass at the base of Snowdon, and the first town I'd come across since Pontblyddyn) by nightfall. There was another petrol station here. I was craving sugar so went in and got a couple of Mars Bars and 2 bottles of Coke. This was a very brief stop and I was battling my way up the hill out of town into the dark within 10 minutes of my sugar boost. It had started raining too - great. 'Only 10 miles to go' I kept telling myself. Just concentrate on getting to Pen-y-pass for now - don't even think about Snowdon at this point (another coping mechanism I'd used in previous events (mentally breaking the race/challenge down into sections, and focussing on getting to the end of each section rather than looking at the entire distance left to go). Chrissie Wellington (one of my heroes) talks a lot about this in her autobiography and the importance of being mentally strong. There was another small town (Capel Curig) en route to Pen-y-Pass. The rain that had started off as drizzle had now developed into a significant downpour by the time I'd reached Capel. I had to knock on someone's door to make sure that I was taking the correct turning from here towards Pen-y-Pass (after the significant Pontblyddyn delay earlier I wanted to be 100% sure that I was going the right way). A man answered the door and gave me clear directions. After what seemed like the longest/darkest road ever I eventually got to a hotel. I asked a couple of guys were smoking outside - I asked them where the hostel at the base of the mountain was. They pointed up a slope and said 'it's just up there' Great I thought - I've just got to wheel my bike the short distance up this slope and I will be there. However I walked up the slope and couldn't see anything, not even any lights on the dark horizon. So like a man possessed I irrationally started running up the road with the bike still wearing my cleats. Surely it must be just up here? Where is this bloody hostel? What must have been about 10 minutes later I saw the light in the distance. It was very reminiscent of one evening during the 'Wainwright's Coast to Coast Walk' I did 3 or 4 years ago with my friends Chris and Tom where we could see the light of 'The Lion's Inn' pub in the distance whilst walking through the wilderness. Anyway the walk up the hill turned into a run when I saw the light and it wasn't long before I arrived at the door of the hostel. It was now around 11pm (approx. 4 hours until my 72-hour target time was up). The sign at the start of the path said it was 3.5 miles to reach the summit. Definitely doable. I went into the hostel to get some advice on the path to the top. There was a group of walkers having drinks around a table in the reception area. They strongly advised me not to go up now as the conditions/lack of visibility would make it too dangerous. I really wanted to do it within my given 72-hour timeframe but opted to take their advice and wait until first light tomorrow before attempting the summit. A sensible moment or a moment of weakness? I'm still asking myself this as I write this blog several months later. What if I'd given it a go? Could I have succeeded? Anyway the 72-hour challenge was over. All I could do was try to make it up and down Snowdon in the morning before cycling the 13 miles to the nearby town of Caernarfon in time to catch my 9.00am coach back home to Reading. I spoke to the guy working at the hostel and he explained that it was predominantly downhill to get to Caernarfon. So if I started climbing at 4.00am and was back down by 7.00am that would in theory give me enough time to pack my stuff up/cover the 13 miles to Caernarfon, and get to the coach on time. I was certainly going to give it a go - I'd not been able to climb Snowdon within the initial timeframe - if I wasn't able to make it up Snowdon at all I would have been devastated. Back to the current predicament - there weren't any rooms available. The hostel guy suggested putting the tent up on a patch of grass by the car park. I wasn't going to do this. I ended up laying down my sleeping mat in a disabled toilet/outbuilding with the bike and everything squeezed in with me. It seemed almost like luxury just having a toilet, tap, light and ability to stand up in the place that I was sleeping. Once settled I set my alarm for 3.30am and went to sleep.

Day 2 - New Cumnock to Lancaster

The start of day 2 was a real struggle. A combination of not having had any dinner the night before (or 4.5 hours earlier)/not having any food for breakfast, having to pack up everything and start pedalling at 4am in the dark/rain, not having a toilet, sleep deprivation and fatigue from yesterday meant that morale was at a low. And I still had 2 more huge days to go. I got to a petrol station just after 6am. After having a poo and cleaning my teeth in their toilet I bought a load of food. The choice was very limited and it was overpriced but I needed refuelling urgently. After spending over £10 on sandwiches/chocolate and coke(for the caffeine) I stood outside eating quickly. I really wanted to sit down but there weren't any chairs inside, so I found a crate outside, turned it upside down and used this as a seat. After about 5 minutes it was cold so I got up and walked around briefly in an attempt to warm up. This didn't really work so I went to sit back down only to find one of the women that worked there had put the crate back and replaced it with a broom preventing me from doing it again. Bitch. So I ate the rest of the food walking around the shop as it was warmer in here than it was outside. I left at approx. 6.45am. I still felt tired and devoid of energy at first, but slowly started to felt better as the morning progressed. As I neared England the weather improved which helped psychologically. There were two things that stuck in my mind from crossing into England and The Lake District - a nice cycle path between Gretna and Carlisle and it being very windy in the small town of Bothel. The Lakes were mostly a pleasure to cycle through with good roads winding their way through some stunning countryside. There was however quite a lot of below-par tarmac which made for an uncomfortable ride. This combined with a noticeable wind slowed progress significantly. I reached Keswick at about 1pm and stopped at another petrol station for more food. Whilst there I got some directions to Grasmere (the closest notable town to Scafell Pike). I was expecting it not to be too far from Keswick to Scafell Pike. I was mistaken. It took a while to get to Grasmere with some rather big hills to accompany the bad tarmac and wind. Once finally in Grasmere I asked someone how far it was to get to Scafell Pike. I was shocked when they replied with '20 miles'. With this longer than expected distance ahead of me I decided this justified more food. There was a nice-looking traditional bakery over the road - sorted. Pastries demolished I got pedalling again. It wasn't long before a long, very steep (25% incline) and stoney hill presented itself. I just about managed to pedal up the initial steep bit, but due to the lack of traction and my fatigue I had to walk up the rest. This was the only time during the 3 days that I was forced to push my bike up the hill. There were a few more ups-and-downs to get to the bottom of Scafell and progress was pretty slow, but on the plus side it was much less than the '20 miles' that I had been told. I arrived at a pub which marked the start of the walk and wheeled my bike around the back to lock it up. Somewhere along the poorly tarmacked lake district roads my key for the bike lock had fallen out (I'd left it poked in the lock keyhole which I assumed would have stayed in). To make matters worse I hadn't used the lock at all and it was oddly positioned between my tri-bars meaning that I couldn't get it off. So I'd been carrying this 2kg D-lock for the last 200+ miles, and would have to continue to carry it for another 200+ miles. Great. There was no option but to use a tarpaulin that I had at the bottom of one of the pannier bags to cover over my bike next to some railings to give the impression that it was locked up before starting the climb (I was pretty confident that it would be safe). It was a warm day so I opted just to leave my jacket with the bike and just wear my tri-suit. The path started off flat and followed a stream for maybe a couple of km's before I started ascending. It wasn't long before I had a quick chat with a coupe of guys that were on their way back down. They explained the path ahead and told me I was brave going up with just the tri-suit on as it was much colder at the top. They weren't wrong. After the lengthy path to the top involving lots of ups/downs, scaling over some tricky boulders and finally some steep scrambling I was only able to enjoy the stunning panoramic views for a couple of minutes due to a severe wind-chill. All the other proper walkers were equipped with their Helly Hansen/North Face jackets, hats and gloves, walking trousers, boots and poles. And then there was the idiot running around in a tri-suit. I had to get down quick to warm up - I had lost virtually all dexterity in my hands by this point. I was also keen to get back to the bike asap. The descent was significantly quicker than the ascent. Nobody had stolen the bike :) . After a quick snack and refilling my water bottles in the pub I got pedalling. It wasn't until Grasmere until I had any phone signal. I'd been messaging this girl on Warmshowers (like Couchsurfing but specifically for cyclists) about staying with her in Lancaster that night, and wanted to let her know that I wouldn't be able to make it as far as Lancaster today. After texting her I pushed on with the initial intention of just getting as far as I could before darkness set in. With the speaker on to help with motivation I made it through the town of Windermere and virtually out of the Lake district before it was pitch black. There was a town signposted not far ahead so I thought I'd get there and then stop. When I got further along the road it turned out that this town would have meant taking a relatively significant detour. Not wanting the detour I decided to power through in the dark until Lancaster. I knew that there were unlikely to be any shops open until I got there, so promised myself a big, greasy takeaway pizza upon arrival. This was a horrible ride with energy levels very low due to lack of food, and not really being able to see where I was going on most of the unlit rural country roads. After one of the longest 2-3 hours of my life I eventually made it to Lancaster in one piece just before midnight. There was a 24-hour petrol station shop by the bridge into the town centre. I'd had my heart set on the greasy pizza but after crossing the bridge and not seeing any sign of takeaway pizza I went back and got a couple of meal deals. There was a park right next to the petrol station - this would have to suffice as a camp spot for the night. After food/popping up the tent I went to bed with the alarm set for 5am (4 hours away).

Day 1 - Ben Nevis to New Cumnock (167 miles cycled)

I managed to get up alright at 2.30, forced down a muffin and peanut butter sandwich and started the climb at 3.01am. I'd brought my free 'Reading Bicycle Kitchen' bike light with me as didn't have a headtorch. Unsurprisingly the cheap free light didn't do much to improve my view of the path so it went back in my pocket. I was wearing my trail-running shoes, running tights and cycling jacket over the top of one of my tri-suits with my Camelback backpack on. Conditions were pretty good to start with - dry, virtually no wind and the moonlight was allowing me to see the path ahead. I was able to run on some of the flatter sections of path (the ascent consisted of a lot of steeper sections lower down before flattening off to an extent, and then piles of rocks marked the path higher up). The temperature dropped, wind increased and fog came in as I neared the summit making running impossible. The only option was to walk quickly whilst concentrating on the piles of rocks ahead. There were a couple of snow patches just before the summit that I had to walk across (I didn't know it was possible to find snow in the UK in August). It reminded me of being in Iceland and walking over the glacier. Anyway very shortly after the snow I came across what I can only describe as an old abandoned stone hut and small concrete pillar on top of another pile of stones. I wasn't 100% sure that this was the top as there wasn't any plaque or anything denoting this. I got my phone out with the intention of googling 'Ben nevis summit image' but of course there wasn't any signal. Of course nobody else was silly enough to be up there at this time so I couldn't ask anyone. After about 15 minutes of dithering and walking around trying to spot higher ground I concluded that this must be the top. I was now cold and needed to get down quickly to warm up. Shortly after I started the descent the first light appeared - unfortunately it was cloudy so it wasn't as spectacular as it could have been. Progress (at least initially) was much quicker on the way down than the way up with the improved light and gravity on my side. I had to reduce to a walk about halfway down as started to need a poo. Having overtook one group on the way up on the way down I ran into several people/groups making their way up. I stopped for chat once or twice, keeping it brief not wanting to lose too much time. Thankfully I was just able to hold the poo in until getting back to the campsite toilet. The sign at the bottom said to allow 7 hours to get up and down the mountain - the running and minimal stopping allowed me to do it in about half of this. Packing up wasn't much fun with the midges now out in force - it was a case of throw everything on the bike as quickly as possible and get going. After eating as much as I could comfortably manage and ruthlessly throwing away any uneaten stuff (not wanting to carry any additional bulk/weight) I got pedalling at approximately 8am. I was wearing my tri-suit with cycling jacket over the top (I had thrown the tights into one of the pannier bags). The weather was great in the morning (cool and cloudy with the odd outbreak of sun). Progress was rapid (there was no navigating required as there was only one main road (the A82) to follow). It also helped that I'd cycled along the A82 previously during my Lands' End to John O'Groats ride in 2012, so I knew what to expect. I'd forgotten how beautiful Glencoe was - this was one of the very few times I stopped to take a photo. Another highlight was a small lake just north of Crianlarich - very reminiscent of Lake Myvatn (again Iceland). Remembering a pub by the side of the road just south of Crianlarich I opted to bypass the town (which would have meant deviating from the A82) and stopped at the pub instead. It was sometime between 12.30 and 1.30 and I'd covered well over 60 miles - on course for my 165 mile daily target. After a swift hot chocolate, food and Facebook update I got going. It wasn't long before the weather took a turn for the worse - there was a heavy downpour halfway down Loch Lomond. I pulled over, put my tights back on, put my exposed trail running shoes into a plastic bag to stop them getting wet and battled on into the rain. Thankfully this didn't last long and it brightened up soon after. The A82 into Glasgow (which I was unfamiliar with) was fine - other than an increased volume of traffic it was straight forward. I finally came off of the A82 at the Erskine Bridge just before the city centre. Progress between here and Kilmarnock was a bit slower with navigating taking a bit of time (I had my notes taped to my tri-bars tucked inside a clear oyster card wallet so that I could see them whilst cycling) but it wasn't always obvious which road to take. I stopped at a big Morrisons supermarket in Johnstone for food. I went straight for the meal deal section (the first of many over the next few days) and was stuffing my face within 10 minutes. After Morrisons I opted for the cycle path that followed alongside the sketchy dual carriageway that I'd been on for the last few miles. This was much more pleasant, but as tends to be the case with cycle paths it wasn't long before progress slowed - this time navigating being the issue. There were a few duff turns and asking people for directions along this bit and it took a bit of time before I was back on the road I needed to be on. A pretty sketchy dual-carriageway section around Irvine was next. I was relieved by the time I got to Kilmarnock with the much nicer A76 road south towards Dumfries ahead. Just before embarking on the A76 I got another meal deal, this time from a petrol station. I was struggling with fatigue (it was probably around 8pm at this point) so got the speaker out and cracked out the tunes. This helped massively and the speaker stayed on for a while. I remember a group of kids walking up to me at one point when I pulled over briefly and praising the music. It was just a case of getting as many miles under my belt as possible before stopping. Darkness properly kicked in at 9.45-10pm. I pushed on until about 10.30pm having pedalled 167 miles and found a decent wild-camp spot in a school. The school was in a small town and everybody had gone to bed. The school gate was open so I stealthily wheeled the bike around the back and popped up the tent on the smooth/mellow concrete ramp to one of the back doors. Stupidly I didn't buy any food at the petrol station for later, so I had to make do with a Mars bar before tucking into my sleeping bag for the night. I did a quick Facebook update before going to sleep, the alarm set for 4.5 hours later.