John's Account of his Bob Graham Challenge.
John Rowe
story of my BG attempt on 15th and 16th June 2007
"The rain auditions at my window………..its symphony echoes in my mind"
I doubt if Fish out of Marillion was thinking about my BG attempt back in 1983 when he put pen to paper on that line. But as anyone based in South Yorkshire will confirm, the rain was auditioning flipping loud at the window on both the Wednesday and Thursday before the big day (Friday 15th).
It is all Andy Plummer's fault. The whole BG thing and the rain. When he finally got round in 2005 and there wasn't a dry eye in the house I thought I fancied a bit of that. He tends to go into raptures when talking about the BG and I fancied a bit of that as well. Fast forward two years via HPMs, Fellsmens, 15 trigs, numerous long races and long days in the fells of the Dark Peak, Lakes and Snowdonia to Tuesday night training and Andy announced "as you know, Ian and John are having a go at the BG this weekend- lets keep our fingers crossed for the weather". A bit of the old Andy Plummer BG magic there then because the storm clouds gathered over Penistone immediately.
It rained so much on Wednesday that Ian said the unthinkable: "I wonder what it would take for Dark Peak to call it off?". We consulted the Penistone Oracles (Andy, Martyn Goodwin and Nicky Spinks) and they answered as one: "shut up and get on with it". So that was that then and we started building the ark.
Friday arrived and I loaded my boxes of lovingly prepared food and nearly all the running gear I own (just to be on the safe side) into Nicky's van. I noticed that the door sills were at about 40 cm from the ground so I would probably stay dry as we negotiated the newly created canal where the Woodhead pass used to be. But as we passed Crowden the rain just stopped. By Oldham I needed sunglasses- this was more like it.
When we got to the campsite at Thirlspot there was no rain and some of the tops were even threatening to peek out of the clag- superb. Lots of tea and pasta later and we were ready to go to Keswick. There were seven of us setting off at 1845: me, Charlie, Russ, Ian, Mark, Steve and Toby. We got to the Moot Hall at 1820 and made the place look untidy until an eternity later Richard Hakes whispered "off you go then". No one moved. He whispered it again but with the same response. Finally someone else said go and we were off.
Skiddaw, Great Calva and Blencathra were a dream. Everyone was in high spirits. A bit of a gale on Skiddaw- ha ha ha what jolly fun. Martyn whined about carrying my stuff so I tried my best to eat and drink everything I had brought. Hawes Fell came and went without incident. The pace was good and I was happy as we dropped to Threkeld.
At the road stop I was tended to by three angels who gave me stuff to eat and drink and I changed into warmer clothes- it’s a long time since I had that much female attention! Everyone seemed fine and we were 15 minutes up on the 23.5 hour schedule as we set off up Clough Head.
BANG! The weather gods remembered this was the Lake District and sent us some rain, wind and cold which lashed us all the way through the night. In full waterproofs, with fleece hat, tights and a buffalo underneath I should have been warm enough for an English June. It still felt good though even over Fairfield, until we lost a bit of time sliding through the boulder field dropping off Seat Sandal and onto the path. Respect to the Dark Peak lads who navigated in crappy conditions and kept us going so that we were still 10 minutes up. A special nod to Ashley who carried my stuff and put up with anti Sheff Utd jibes.
It was dark and cold and wet at Dunmail but Martyn G sheltered me and Russell Beresford under an umbrella (bless him) whilst I shovelled pasta in. Sadly we lost Ian Winterburn whose guts had been complaining since Blencathra. All too soon we were off up Steel Fell but with the knowledge that there was nothing too difficult until Bow Fell, I gritted my teeth and climbed.
I tried to keep eating and drinking and thought I was doing ok with my plan of 'eat every 30 minutes'. Why then did my stomach start rumbling when climbing Bow Fell? I had to make everyone stop at the top so I could have a decent feed. This was starting to get harder, a fact reinforced by another team of BGers dancing to the summit and then dancing past me again as I dragged my hungry legs up (they could have told us at the time that they were taking part in a flipping BG relay!).
Dr Who has The Master. Batman has The Joker. Sherlock Holmes has Moriarty. I have wet rock as my nemesis. From Bow Fell it stretches in front of you all the way to Wasdale; horrible sharp, slippy stuff. I inevitably slowed down until by Sca Fell we had split into two groups: me and Steve were bringing up the rear. A slight navigational contretemps around Lords Rake meant that by Wasdale I was 30 minutes behind schedule. The first negative thought formed in my mind- maybe I was not going to get round.
Still, friendly faces, clean socks and couscous do wonders for morale and I climbed Yewbarrow in good order, with Nick Whittingham and Nicky Spinks doing a magnificent job of cheering me up by just being there. At Pillar I made a big mistake. I should have just got on with getting on. Instead I made Nick and then Nicky tell me where I was against the schedule- they told me I was 30 minutes up. In my addled state, I thought 'Wow, 30 minutes down to 30 minutes up in the space of a couple of hours- I must be really flying!). An hour later and I was 30 minutes down again. Those maths do not work for me now and I should have realised that there was a 'glitch' in the schedule.
24 hours is a long time to be left to your own thoughts and people who know me would agree that I tend to think about things a bit too much- I felt as if someone had dangled the prospect of getting round in front of me as a joke to then snatch it away. As I descended into Honister, I felt myself giving up and I fully expected to be timed out.
Instead, Richard Hakes, Bernice Nixon and Geoff Dimelow said 'straight through John, no time to stop'. The words did not quite make sense as I was expecting a sit down and a leisurely cuppa. I spent most of the climb up Dale Head arguing with Bernice and Geoff that I should be dropping out (in between Geoff spoon feeding me green jelly). It was a total waste of valuable energy and Russ, who had just been in front, soon pulled away from me on the climb. Anyway, no one argues with Geoff so I had no choice but to reluctantly get on with it. The sun came out and we had a view for the first time since Keswick had disappeared in the clag at seven the previous day. Not for the last time, Bernice told me how pretty this valley was- 'Yeah Whatever……….' (soz for swearing at you Bernice!). We were joined by Ashley and Tom who looked a bit too fresh after the night section.
As we approached the top Bernice said something that actually connected 'If you do give up now how are you going to feel tomorrow?' I thought about the pint I had promised myself in the Huntsman and how much better it would taste if I knew I had given it my all. I thought about my lad and how I wanted to bore him with stories of getting round the BG. Something clicked on in my head and I managed to strike up a reasonable pace on the flats and down hills. I even ran some of the up hills. Hindsgarth and then Robinson felt a doddle. I slid down the descent of Robinson on my bum and probably saved a minute (the importance of which will become apparent).
I hadn't gained any time against the schedule but I had not lost any either. To finish within 24 hours I was left with making up about 10 minutes against the schedule in the 4 and a half miles back to Keswick. Phil Walters and Andy P appeared as if by magic. Andy was going to take me through the woods as he was convinced it was quicker than the road- but he looked a worried man so he dashed off and stayed 50 metres in front. I struck up what felt like a 10 km race pace and finally managed to quieten Bernice as she lost the Penistone ladies special ability to run and jabber at the same time. The supporters took it in turns to draw breath and shout at me. Any time I slacked they all shouted at the same time. Agonisingly slowly we got nearer to Keswick. More people joined us- I think they were along for the shouting.
As I ran into Keswick, I had about a minute to get up the high street to the Moot Hall. In front of me was an advance party to stop the cars and clear the shoppers and drunks out of the way. I found a sprint finish from somewhere and touched the Moot Hall with 40 seconds to spare. I felt I needed to emphasise how hard it had been so I collapsed onto the steps for effect. A can of beer was stuck into my hands and friends and strangers kept congratulating me. Andy P started crying which is where the whole story started.
In the end four of the original seven who started got round: we lost Steve and Mark somewhere before Honister. Charlie made it look easy and trotted in with an hour to spare. I think it was the hardest thing I have ever done, but 3 weeks on I can't remember the pain, just the feeling of elation at finishing and the gratitude I have for everyone who helped.
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