Matt Fuller is a researcher at the University of Leeds, who works with performance textiles. When he's not 'working', he's doing crazy things... In this week's guest post, Matt describes his attempt on the Welsh 3000s challenge.
Sometimes things get under your skin. No matter how hard you try to
ignore them they burrow away and eventually you have to give in. Just
like anyone else, I've a list of things I want to achieve, and one of
the more achievable aims was to complete the Welsh 3000s in less than 12
hours. This one had really entrenched itself; it had hired a JCB and a
small-time construction firm to lay foundations.
To those who don't know, the Welsh 3000s challenge is to walk or run
over every 3000 ft mountain in Wales in a continuous effort. There are
15 of them. Starting at the top of Snowdon the route covers 3250 m of
ascent and descent over a distance of 24 miles. The terrain varies
between scree, narrow ridges, bog, scrambling, boulder-fields, roads,
and river crossings. After the end of the route there is a tricky
descent to the nearest road, which is another 4 miles away. The
challenge is a bit of a classic because, but for two miles, it is
entirely linear and does not involve doubling-back on oneself.
I first learnt of the challenge through Trail magazine, who described
their attempt to do the route in less than 12 hours. It sounded
exciting but impossible for anyone but superheroes. Inspired, it was
with trepidation that five years ago I started planning my first attempt
on the Welsh 3000s, aiming to finish in less than 24 hours. All members
of York's Ben Lairig, before we knew it we were on the top of Crib Goch
as the sun was rising, we were flogging across the Glyders, and soon we
finished the route. Of the six who set off, five finished the route.
The weather was unseasonably hot, pushing 28 degrees. There was no wind
and no cloud, making navigation obvious, and the dry rock made
conditions underfoot easy. I got heatstroke with 12 miles to go and
cramped so badly I couldn't move my right leg. I dragged it every step
of the way across the Carneddeau. It was possibly the most stupid thing
I've ever done, as it gave me a permanent injury that still twinges on
occasion. Given the choice I'd do the same next time. After I finished I
swore 'never again'. It was the physically hardest thing I'd ever done,
partly because of the mistakes I'd made with hydration and nutrition.
We finished in a highly respectable 15 hours 21 minutes, and the total
time on the hill was 18 hours and 57 minutes.
Fast-forward 4.5 years and the 3000s had stuck in their claws into my
psyche again. I had no interest in finishing in 15 hours again and it
was either under 12 hours of not worth doing. Leeds' Hiking Club is
bloody awesome because there are so many people practically dripping
with keen. I mentioned the challenge tentatively to the club, stating
quite how hard it was, quite how painful, and what it would entail. Soon
we had ten mental people heading to Wales. Four of the hikers would
walk the route; the remaining six would run the route, each aiming for
less than 12 hours. Before the trip we had agreed that if the weather
was poor then we would abandon and have a 'normal' weekend away. That
just wasn't on the cards; as we pitched tents people were so psyched
they were dribbling like rabid monkeys. The next morning we set off up
Snowdon at 3.30. The weather was shit. Cold, wet, and very windy, the
rocks were greasy and visibility was low. Anyone lacking maximum psyche
kept it well hidden, and soon the runners were on the summit of Wales'
highest mountain. Having set the GPS we legged it from the summit and
along towards Crib Goch, the most dangerous part of the day. The ridge
was exceptionally slimy: trainers skated off polished rocks and soon the
runners were split into pairs. We took the steep scree slope down
towards the Pass; taking big risks a few of us fell over: I shredded a
fair bit of my thigh, a bit of waterproof jacket, and both knees. The
inimitable Rich tore in his trousers a hole worthy of homosexual
innuendo but carried on regardless. Joe and I were the first down to
meet the invaluable support team in the valley. As we were setting off
up the huge hill ahead, Doug arrived and asked to join our pairing. He
followed us up the hill but, caught between paces, we became separated
before the top. Doug waited at the top for Lewis but the shitstorm did
not abate and he soon found himself verging on hypothermia. They made a
brave call and descended.
A bit of training has proven to myself that I know how to suffer, and
Joe and I pushed it balls-to-the-wall for the whole of the Glyders
section. Foolishly wearing shorts we were in a constant battle to keep
warm. On the smooth sections we could keep up enough speed to maintain
core temperature, though when the scrambling got more intense we could
do little to stop the cold's tendrils invading our clothes. Looking back
now, this was pretty serious: it was a genuine storm, we had a t-shirt,
jacket, shorts and trainers on and no emergency gear. But that's the
point - we were pushing for a quick time and thought it was worth a
punt. We descended Tryfan to meet the support team and were saddened to
find four of our number had dropped out, either frozen, exhausted,
ill-equipped or just plain unlucky.
The Carneddeau, the final section, were far harder than I remembered.
We set a metronomic 165 bpm all the way up the first hill but the
strong winds, hail and rain soon wore us down as we slowed over the
ridge. Joe ate some magic beans (laser beans or something) and was soon
at 100 % again and I found myself struggling to keep up with his
ferocious pace. Before long we were on the final summit, just as the
weather turned really nasty. Taking shelter behind a wall we realised
that we were both very cold and had to get out of there quick.
Descending as fast as we dared we were glad to reach the track out to
the support team. I'd not been so pleased to see a minibus full of
mates, plus a scotch egg or two, in quite a while. Joe and I had
finished the challenge in 9 hours 45 minutes. We'd had 8 hours in our
mind for the time to beat, but considering the conditions, we were happy
with our result. We screwed up navigation on the Glyders and had
stopped for too long at the first refuel, so 9 hours would have been
possible that day. Despite Trail mag's implications, we aren't
superheroes, just guys with a bit of fitness who are prepared to run
until we're completely boxed.
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| Matt and Joe in the shitstorm on top of the final peak |
Joe and I then became part of the support team, and enjoyed watching
the others suffer. The two remaining walkers came down in good spirits
despite having endured a massive day out in the atrocious weather. I'm
sure they will be back to complete it in better conditions. Ben and the
irrepressible Doug had pushed onto the final section and we waited for
them to descend. The support crew began to get nervous when darkness
encroached and there was still no sign of them; we'd expected them back
hours ago. Two exhausted runners with little emergency gear, on remote
and difficult terrain, in the dark, and with no easy way to contact
them, this was potentially quite serious so we went to see if we could
find them. After a brief search we fortunately found them at the lower
car park. Ben had put in an amazing effort to keep going despite the
worst of the weather arriving when he was at his most tired, and for
Doug to retire only to bury himself again was exceptional.
A 30% completion rate might not sound impressive, but in absolutely
terrible conditions, for anyone to finish was inspiring. All you can do
is go for it, eyeballs out, and see how far you get. For me, in a
challenge like this, finishing is a bonus: pushing it hard is the real
objective. For a while, I've lost my little Wales-shaped burrowing mole,
but it seems to have infected others. There is already talk of the club
attempting the challenge again, and, weather permitting, more will
finish this amazing route.
Thanks should go to Doug's Dad, Katie McMacmac, and Warren and Rich
for driving. Plus all you other nutters who came along. Seriously, good
effort guys.
by Matt Fuller
