"Each step forward has a sacred meaning of its own"   Sri Chinmoy

14 Peaks Ultra - June 22nd 2024 - Eryri/Snowdonia

Years ago - I think it was 2004 - I did the short course Welsh 1000M Peaks race, from Ogwen to the summit of Snowdon. I was keen to come back and do the full 21 mile route, with all the 1000M Peaks (there are 5 of them) instead of just the last 2. Of course, these plans don't always come to fruition and various life-things meant that race never happened for me. Then, when scanning possible UTMB-point races that would qualify me for the Mount Olympus Marathon, I noticed the 14 Peaks Ultra. Not just 21 miles and 5 x 1000M Peaks, but 32 miles with 14 x 3000' Summits. That would be a challenge and a half!

Having done the Dartmoor Winter Traverse in just over 7 hours, I noticed that this race had about four times as much climbing, a massive 3900 metres, so I had a vague idea of it taking me over 9 hours. That was a massive underestimate, as the winner did it in around 7 or 8! But that all became obvious on the day. There were cutoffs for the finish and also the two check points, but I didn't really have those lodged in my mind, as I inexplicably felt confident they wouldn't affect me. Hovering in the foggy areas of my mind were an idea that the overall cutoff was 14 hours and you had to be at the Nant Peris checkpoint no later than 4pm. Or was it 5pm? Anyway, as I've said, I was foolishly confident I wouldn't be chasing either.

The race was pricey, but came with free camping at the finish, so I spent a soggy night in an inadequate pop-up tent before rising early to meditate in the passenger seat of my car and get my kit together ready for the 6am bus to Aber. Despite being in a car seat and not having had a shower (there were only portaloos and a water tap at the camping field) my meditation went pretty deep and I felt great as we boarded the bus. Was that the sign of my soul being happy to be back in the ultramarathon world again?

At Aber, the drizzle came and went, but we were soon off along the lanes, then on to a track, then the mountain path that winds slowly up on to the Carneddau.

To start with I was running with my waterproof on, but as I warmed up I found I was happy with my Sri Chinmoy Marathon Team T-shirt and Tri shorts, arm warmers, a light windstopper gilet and a buffs in readiness on both wrists - that was enough to keep warm and dry but also easy to adjust when the temperature changed or I got properly warmed up. As the day wore on I was pretty happy with my kit, as it seemed to adapt to the myriad changes as we nipped from sheltered valleys on to windswept ridges and back again all in the space of a few minutes.

The trail became boggy and we all got our feet wet within that first hour or so, though fortunately my feet never blistered, which was great news. The climb to Foel Fras was soon behind us, the runner ahead of me pausing for a selfie on the summit, then the route carried on, with mixed terrain, to Foel Grach and then on to the rough and rocky Carnedd Llewellyn. After that one we turned sharp right, following flags as we did for the whole day (when they were visible) on to a single track out-and-back to bag the peak of Yr Elen. This was stunning mountain scenery - I was being caught by some slower starters, having been mid pack, but I felt as though I had the pace about right. My HR was up around 150-160 on the climbs and never really went down below threshold levels, but I felt as though I was going at a slow and sustainable pace. Dodging runners coming the other way, giving way to them where I could, I made my way back from Yr Elen and contoured along the flank of the ridge to Carnedd Dafydd. The terrain got progressively tougher, and I was starting to doubt my goal of getting to the first control in 4 hours, then taking 2.5 hours for each of the other sections. I was right to doubt it! I scrambled over Pen Yr Ole Wen and started to feel pretty wiped out on the descent, coming in to the control at just over 4 hours. I didn't ask about the cut-offs, maybe at this stage I should have. I ate and drank what I could get down me, having already binged on most of my gels on the Carneddau, then filled both my 250ml bottles thinking my 1L reservoir still had a fair bit in it. The sun was breaking through quite strongly and I was able to blag some sunscreen for my neck and face. I forgot my legs though, and I now have a classic Tour De France tan that covers the section between tri-sorts and calf-guards and was pretty sore in the shower when I made it home - definitely borderline sunburn.

I'd had my first sight of Tryfan from Pen Yr Ole Wen on the way down, and it had looked pretty intimidating - a sheer rock face, or so it appeared, billed in the race info as a scramble. I knew that Skyruns were big on rocky terrain and exposure but I have to admit, I didn't appreciate just how much rougher it would be than the south Wales fell races I'm used to. From Ogwen layby, the flagged route led us over and under van-sized, angular boulders in the growing heat of the day - this was arduous and time-consuming and the only relief, which was no relief at all, came when the proper ascent of Tryfan began. It was incredibly steep and barely walkable let alone runnable. Step by step I kept moving forward, feeling weaker than I had hoped to feel at this early stage of the race. I began to wonder about the cutoff at Nant Peris, which I still thought might be 4pm and which started to feel a bit too close for comfort. Steeper and steeper, with more and more hand-holds, big haul-yourself-up steps and climbs, the ascent went on. We took a path called the heather terrace at one point, but at each turn more forbidding rock face presented itself and there was no let-up. I was still in a pack of heavily-breathing runners and between us we were able to spot the flags and stay on-route. False summits abounded, each one sapping more energy mentally as well as physically. I was breathing hard and right on the limit when I finally got to the summit, 1 hour 21 minutes after leaving the control at Ogwen Valley. My legs were jelly now and I felt light-headed, both of which meant I had to take the slowest, hardest route on each technical section as I wasn't in any shape to keep my balance and jog across the top of a knife-edge ridge or skip down a boudlery descent. I was soon getting low on water too - having budgeted for a couple of hours over the Glyders but now being on course for a much longer stint between refills.

After

After Tryfan came the Glyders, more relentless screes, boulder fields and ascents/descents where the flagged route was merciless. The course never took a trail where a scree or boulder-strewn technical section could be used instead. I was starting to question the motives of the sadistic course designer. Was this the standard 14-Peaks, or a toughened up version with extra torture thrown in? Pushing these fatigue-driven thoughts aside, I tried to stay focused on the stunning beauty of the mountains and the good fortune we were having in terms of the weather - if I just kept moving forward, the miles would come. That cut off did nag away at my mind though - was it 4pm? Or maybe later? I should have known this, as the uncertainty was probably slowing me down. Once over the Glyders the lovely, grassy slopes of Y Garn towered ahead and promised something like Fell Running Normality after the endless rocks. By the time I got to the top it was after 2.30pm and the long loop out to Elidir Fawr was still between me and the Nant Peris oasis. Elidir was rocky again after that brief respite on Y Garn and the long descent would have been runnable usually, but I was too jelly-legged and had to walk-jog it. Giving it all I'd got, I made it to the control at 4.26pm, glad to discover that the cutoff was definitely not 4pm as there were plenty of cheery ultrarunners lounging in various states of exhaustion or staggering to the water containers to refill. I had been seriously short of water on the Glyders so I made an effort to fill up everything, drink tea and coke, munch my way through warm soup and 2 cheese rolls, basically make up for being in massive hydration and calorie deficit on that long and arduous haul from checkpoint 1 to checkpoint 2.

With 9 and a half hours already gone and feeling deeply fatigued and slow despite the refuelling, I headed out on to the road towards Pen Y Pass to take on the last challenge of the three - the final section over the Snowdon Massif, starting with another scramble like that on Tryfan, this time the north ridge of Crib Goch. I was hoping it wouldn't be as tough as Tryfan, as that had just about finished me. To even get to the start of this epic challenge took ages - a slow and painful ascent following the beautiful stream up Cwm Glas Mawr, where I felt I was at least making reasonable headway and keeping pace with the others I could see. Then as we came together into a pack, for safety in numbers and mutual encouragement, we were again spotting elusive flags to take ourselves up the steep ascent to the cwm of Llyn Glas, a shining mountain lake that we traversed round to arrive at the foot of some intimidating screes. It was 2 steps up, one slide down, repeat ad infinitum, as I tried to breathe slowly and deeply with each small step and pace myself for the climb. I stopped to pull on my jacket as the wind got stronger and colder while the afternoon transitioned into evening. By now I can clearly remember the battle going on inside me between that creeping despair that always accompanies exhaustion, and the determination to finish. Helping the positive side was the inspiration of being out there, in the glorious mountains of Snowdonia, with dramatic ridges and cliffs filling the horizon. After the scree came the scramble, a blade of a ridge where I followed a local, a teacher whose name I now forget, who helped a few of us find a safe route for our fatigued legs. The exposure was pretty full-on, the danger felt real because of my depleted state, so I took the cautious approach - 3 points of contact on the rock, stopping to survey the route ahead before taking it, not jogging the narrow spine of the ridge just because others were - and bit by bit the scramble surrendered. It took a while though - there seemed to be several summits and I wasn't sure which one was the last we'd see of Crib Goch. The actual top, wherever that was, came a shade under 2 hours after I'd left the control at Nant Peris. By now I was pretty much finished and doubting if I would be able to finish in 14 hours, my revised target since the toils of the Glyders.

Coming down off Crib Goch we traversed an exposed section around the left side of the ridge and were treated to more climbing, scrambling and struggling on exposed, rocky slopes. I just kept taking the next step, finding the next hold, moving my body forwards. A couple of people asked me if I was OK - that's always worrying! I confirmed I was just about OK, consciously going slowly as I had overcooked things on the Tryfan section. They understood. An hour passed and I found myself alone on the mountain in gathering mist and the poorest visibility of the day. I was uncertain about where I was. A trig point came into view - someone was taking a photo on the summit - was that Carnedd Ugain? I was following a ridge, rocky and difficult underfoot, mostly walking purposefully but jogging a little and very happy to be on my feet rather than using my hands. Suddenly out of the swirling atmosphere of mental and physical fog I came to the fingerstone - a landmark I remembered - just one summit to go then down hill to the finish! My watch had run out of charge and my GPS too - I didn't want to wrestle my phone out of my pack with my numb and clumsy fingers, I might just lose it. Was I going to make it by the cutoff time? At least I had company, in the shape of a helpful marshal who told me to head up to the top of Snowdon and then back to that same point. I began the ascent on a motorway of a path, built from huge stones, seeing other runners passing me or coming back down from the final summit. Just before the peak I came to 2 marshals at a turnaround sign so I asked what the deal was. They confirmed it was the turnaround and I could now descend, or if I wanted I could do the last few metres up and over the rocks to the summit cairn. No thanks, I told them, as I was focussed solely on finishing the race as soon as I could, without risking further attrition on my body or more minutes stolen from the cutoff. I was here to qualify for Olympus rather than bag a peak I had already bagged several times.

I was hoping I'd be able to run the ranger path down from Snowdon, but my legs were only capable of a jog, a shuffle, occasionally a short run. Again a few runners passed me, but I was happy to have the climb behind me and to be making steady progress. Without my watch I wasn't sure how long I had to go - scanning the horizon I couldn't make out where in the landscape Rhydd Ddu was,so I just followed the flags, down the ranger path to where it hit the flat ground then out over a marshy expanse on a path that seemed to lead nowhere. The flags kept coming though, and I came over that plateau to the final downhill, where I could hear the sound of runners being enthusiastically cheered over the line. I wasn't able to muster much of a finish, but at least I ran the last bit. Well, shuffled. I was relieved and happy to cross the line and receive the massive medal, reassuring me that whatever the cutoff was I had made it. Mission accomplished. What an experience.

My final time was 13.56 and I was well inside the cutoff. After a pizza, a wash of sorts with wet wipes and a brief meditation, I was crashed out in the damp tent and being woken every so often by the cheers as runners kept on coming in. I think it was 18 hours - 1am - that the last person crossed the line. I was 115th out of 156 finishers and there were another 30 or so who abandoned or got timed out. I'm more than happy with the result. It was a struggle but I hung in there and beat the doubts. I think that's the reason I'm out there, aged 56, trying to start again as an ultra-runner.

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