T-minus 4 hours and I’m staring at Blencathra. More specifically, a sprinkling of snow laying on Foule Crag, down to ap-

proximately 600m has captured my interest, while dark clouds abrade Lakeland’s asperities. At 19:00 hours the weather

will be perfect, according to the forecast, and so far all meteorological predictions have been accurate with an unnatural

precision. Amelioration is due and I’m clinging firmly to it.

Through the kitchen doorway I notice Tim tap the barometer

and nod with approving expression. The pressure is rising. It’s

on!

I was at Nick’s place, pacing around and it’s a good job he was-

n’t there as he would undoubtedly have been telling me to “sit

down!” I’d been sitting down all week. Out there lay the 42

peak traverse known as the “Bob Graham Round” and it was

calling.

How many days have I stood beneath the Moot Hall and gazed

up at the one handed clock? Countless times of little signifi-

cance. Today it’s mechanics will mark a boundary for my effort

with 24 hours being the critical dimension. A more influential

factor is the ratio of 28,000ft of ascent and descent within

70 miles which is of similar magnitude to the 7000ft and 17

miles of the Borrowdale fell race (approx 400ft per mile). As

five of us stride away through Keswick market place I comfort

myself with the fact that it’s only 4 laps of Borrowdale!

Leg1 (Keswick to Threlkeld)

The first couple of miles are a steady trail run, gradually rising around the edge of Latrigg to the foot of Skiddaw at the

head of the Applethwaite road. Janet leaves us here and Nick, Tim, Laura and I develop a steady rythym on the motorway-

like path up to Jenkin Hill. Nick is definitely not going to let me get carried away, over exuberance at this stage will be

detrimental later, and I’ve programmed myself to follow his pace exactly. We reach Skiddaw summit five minutes ahead of

schedule and this year we have no trouble finding the trod that leads to Great Calva via Hare Crag. As we lose altitude the

going underfoot changes from soft to saturated. All hope for dry feet is futile in the swamp that is the “Back o’ Skiddaw”

The dappled flanks of Great Calva shone golden brown on deep russet as the retreating sun submitted to the dusk. The

ascent provided an opportunity to eat while a rapidly tightening calf muscle occupied my mind, and the summit came with

relief. There was still enough light to see unaided as we waded the Caldew and after the grassy climb to Mungrisedale

Common, skulking beneath the giant

bulk of Blencathra, night finally caught

us and headtorches were attached. The

snow had been stripped from the sum-

mit and the air was just cold enough for

individual smears of verglas to form on

the surface of exposed rock shards.

The decision to descend Doddick Fell

rather than the technical scramble of

Halls Fell Ridge had already been taken

some twenty minutes earlier. Experi-

ence gained during last year’s failed

attempt had influenced our thinking.

Thick mist and rain had hampered pro-

gress with torches held close to the

ground, trying to establish if the void

BOB GRAHAM ROUND

11-12/05/2012 LAKE DISTRICT

Tea and team tactics. A short interlude at Threlkeld

Leg 1 line-up, L-R: Laura Gibson, Tim Rippon, Ian and Nick Evans

beneath our feet fell two feet or twenty.

Moisture and tiny fragments of slate play

havoc with friction and in an attempt to

save my quads I take it easy on the descent.

Nick pulls away and Tim is already a tiny

fleck of light hovering beneath my feet.

Laura stays close behind which reassures me

and at Threlkeld the small tear in my re-

solve caused by the tightening calf is quickly

healed with a hot, steaming mug of tea and

the discovery that I’m fifteen minutes

ahead of schedule.

On both attempts at the Bob Graham Round

I found the next section (leg two) the most

demanding mentally. The reasons are numer-

ous: on leg one enthusiasm for the first summit quickly becomes enthusiasm for the first meeting with the road crew, and

the pacers have done an equal amount of work. Setting off on leg two fatigue is immediately apparent and the pacers seem

so fast and strong, they are fresh, the game is no longer fair and the next road crossing seems a long way ahead. To make

matters worse, it’s the middle of the night and chilly. Fighting the cold is critical to success, and my mind focuses on effi-

ciency i.e. converting maximum chemical energy from food into kinetic energy at the muscles rather than heat lost to at-

mosphere warming my body. Glycogen is already depleted from leg one and I can only stomach small amounts of food on the

move, so every bit counts. It’s a very fine line; let your temperature fall or conversely overheat and you’ll simply run out of

steam, with more precious energy being lost as the body adjusts it’s metabolic rate to cope!

Leg2 (Threlkeld to Dunmail Raise)

Clough Head is a barrier, mentally and physically. Viewed from the A66 it had always seemed like a giant wall barring the

way to the Dodds and Helvellyn. It feels as if the gradient increases exponentially from Newsham to the summit and the

going underfoot is a mixture of soft grass and moss that absorbs bucketfuls of effort with every step. I don’t look at my

watch, my mind is in no state to calculate whether I’m on schedule at any point, other than the top, and any number would

seem negative now. I need to be on the summit just before midnight and at the trig point my watch reads 23:28.

We leave Clough Head some twenty six minutes ahead of schedule, and the team have settled in well. Heather leads, con-

stantly scanning the map and checking the compass needle. Ian Shaw is at my right hand, offering food and drink at regu-

lar intervals. Simon keeps my mind off the effort by asking questions such as “what’s your favourite tarn?” This works well

as my processor appears to be slow (more Charles Babbage than Bill Gates) and answers take a while. My kit is spread out

between the three of them and even Simon’s dog, Viz, has a pair of saddle bags to carry kit. I carry nothing.

At Great Dodd summit the cloud engulfs us. It’s

eerily silent. We drop small amounts of time as

the route is tricky to navigate in the dark mist.

Walking this route in broad daylight and clear

weather you might be forgiven for thinking

“what’s the problem here?” as the path is wide

and obvious, but the fastest route takes the

most direct line between tops, which means fre-

quently leaving the path and regaining it and the

summits are indistinct, rounded, grassy lumps.

After Great Dodd the peaks start to fall with a

satisfying regularity, Watson’s Dodd, Stybarrow

Dodd, Raise, Whiteside, Helvellyn Lower Man,

Helvellyn, Nethermost Pike and Dollywaggon Pike

all pass in a blurred one hour and forty seven

Clough Head by night

Approaching Calf Crag

minutes. The descent from Dollywaggon is steep

and I take a fall, a clumsy trip, my chest absorb-

ing the impact and clouting my left knee.

Ian leaves us at Grisedale Tarn (saving himself for

leg 3) and takes the opportunity to descend to

Dunmail via Raise Beck. He clearly asks us “is

there anything else you need?” “No”, and he disap-

pears into the night, the GPS tracker still clipped

to the rear of his sack.

We turn to the east, and from nowhere a devil

wind appears, toying with me, blowing into my face

for amusement as I struggle up the threadbare

combination of scree and earth that is the direct

ascent of Fairfield from Grisedale Hause. Coming

back down again via the same route is no easier

and back at the col a local low point is reached. My

right calf has been gradually tightening throughout and any remaining energy seems to have evaporated.

Seat Sandal is all that stands between us and the road and the ascent eases once the 700m contour is crossed. As we

start to descend Simon’s dog is struggling and he too drops by the wayside leaving Heather and I to continue alone. We

wander a little too far towards Raise Beck and a quick contour through some rough ground is required to regain the line.

At Dunmail I welcome the chair and a sausage sandwhich, courtesy of my sister-in-law, Jo and husband, Chris who have

given up their night and driven up from Southampton just to support me. Their enthusiasm is infectious. It’s 03:25 and only

seven minutes down on schedule. The pace team have done a great job, on (for me) the toughest leg. Heather and Simon

can enjoy a well earned rest, while Ian prepares himself for another six hours of effort and Phil massages my calf. I think

back to Paul Orton’s round, he’d been sick twice on leg two and fell asleep in the chair here. He finished it. Here I am

whimpering over a tight calf. It was time to man up!

Leg 3 (Dunmail Raise to Wasdale)

I’m glad Ian is here, he seems to have a sixth sense

for when I’m prepared to accept food and knows just

what to say and when, also I know he is going to be

tired now. Tim and Laura return after a poor night.

Laura hasn’t slept and Tim has managed two hours.

They seem infinitely brighter and livelier than me.

Chris Carter is with us too, and Paul Orton is principal

navigator.

Steel Fell falls in twenty three minutes and the

ground is sodden which is the normal state of affairs

for many of the Central Fells. Calf Crag arrives faster

than I expect, and so too Sergeant Man. I don’t notice

the dawn. It was night, now it’s daylight. Paul Orton

offers me his spare thermal top and I waste no time in

accepting it. They try to squeeze a smile out of me on

High Raise but I’m not amused and just want to be on Thunacar Knott.

After the Langdale Pikes, the route takes a boggy line across Martcrag Moor with a sharp descent into Stake Gill, followed

by an equally sharp pull out again for the approach to Rossett Pike. My mind narrows on the calf pain and I remember prac-

tically nothing of the climb. Paul has a secret line that we know is faster (from racing Simon over it) than the normal route

along the edge of Rossett Crag, and at the summit I’m twenty two minutes behind schedule, somehow losing forty eight

minutes from Great Dodd. Bowfell looms over us and the route up Billy Bland’s rake is not marked on the map or indeed

obvious from the summit of Rossett Pike. It takes a diagonal line from Angle Tarn towards the top of Great Slab up a kind

Scrambling beneath Rossett Pike

The closest to a smile they got from me in four hours!

of inclined shelf. Named after King Billy himself, the man who in 1982 completed the fastest ever Bob Graham Round in

the unbelievable time of thirteen hours and fifty three minutes. Having been a runner for my most of my life I can at least

find a way to understand how people can run a mile in under four minutes even if I’ve never been, or ever will be capable of

it. I can even see the possibility of a sub two hour marathon for some finely honed athlete, but there are a couple of

achievements both played out in mountain theatre that just blow my mind. Ueli Steck’s solo ascent of the North face of

the Eiger in two hours and forty seven minutes! I mean....how the hell?? Incredible though it is, this stunning feat was

achieved in 2008 with super-light kit and the North Face is pretty much worked out now so well known, Steck having done

it several times and setting the previous record which was gradually reduced on a number of occasions. Unencumbered by

ropes, kit and others it is possible to just about understand how this could be done by someone with enough balls! A sub

fourteen hour BGR though is a mental barrier that I’ve never been able to comprehend and remains for me as the greatest

single athletic achievement of all time. Will it ever be broken?

The considered opinion of many is no, even though the route is

getting faster, permanent trods are appearing where in the

“eighties” there was just grass tussocks and heather, and

there is now more than adequate knowledge available both on

the internet and amongst well equipped pace teams. Despite all

this no-one has been within an hour of this record in thirty

years.

At the summit of Bowfell I realise the ascent has passed in an

invisible thirty three minutes of which I can remember virtu-

ally nothing, but at least we are reducing the time deficit. Ian,

Laura and Chris are feeding me alternately with mini jaffa

cakes, twix fingers, crisps, jelly babies and oranges. Laura is

carrying a bottle of water mixed with electrolytes from a couple of dissolved Nuun tablets which I can’t leave alone and

have to physically restrain myself from guzzling it all.

Esk Pike comes and goes, and at Esk Hause most take a direct line through rocky terrain to the top of Great End. In an

effort to minimise the risk of a sprained ankle we go the longer way round via the main path towards Scafell Pike, and

branch off right behind the drystone shelter wall and up the steep bank behind. At this point Ian and Laura take the op-

portunity for a short cut and head towards Ill Crag. Someone asks “which one’s the top?” and before anyone has a chance

to answer I make it clear, “Wainwright reckons it’s the one on the right (easterly) and if it’s good enough for him it’s good

enough for me.” Tim and Paul hang back while Chris and I pick our way through a boulder field to the cairn.

The route gets rougher and rockier as we proceed towards Scafell Pike with Ill Crag and Broad Crag being the most diffi-

cult terrain of any on the round. As we descend to the col above Little Narrow Cove, the pacers start a few games. Now

fellow team mates and companions from the Four Inns and Long Tour of Bradwell events will appreciate that I would nor-

mally enter into the spirit of such frivolity with a degree of enthusiasm, but today I am content just to listen. A long

awaited change of disposition was approaching together with the high point of the day; Scafell Pike, the highest peak in

England. On a clear day Blackpool tower is visible from here but I have no desire to look for it.

At Mickledore I’ve planned to descend and re-ascend via Foxes Tarn to the summit of

Scafell. Many take the direct line up Broad Stand, an awkward rock step which is actually

graded as a rock climb. If the rock is greasy it can be slippery. The polished rib and short

crack, followed by the three metre corner have literally been the downfall of many, and a

slip here doesn’t just mean game over, it’s all over! I’ve climbed up and down it numerous

times but I knew I’d be in no fit state to face this after more than twelve hours on the

move and even with a top rope, five or ten minutes could easily be lost faffing about. The

trouble is I dislike the Foxes Tarn route and standing at Mickledore, Lords Rake just

beckons to me. Like the discovery of an elusive solution to a crossword puzzle I suddenly

realise the key has been staring me in the face. “What do you think to going via Lord’s

Rake Paul?”

“No! We haven’t reccied it and besides I haven’t been up there in fifteen years”.

“Lords Rake it is then!”

In Lord’s Rake

A legend! Joss Naylor at Wasdale

Lords Rake is a giant gash in the north face of Scafell, severing Scafell Shamrock from the savage beauty of the main

crag. This majestic wall of rock has drawn those who delight in the vertical since auld Will Ritson said “Nowt but a fleeing

thing cud git up theer” in 1869. Me included, and I can’t help gazing up in awe at some of Britain’s most famous and classic

rock climbs: Botterill’s Slab, Central Buttress, Moss Gill and the Pinnacle all point skywards above our heads, but Paul Or-

ton swiftly reminds me that’s not what we are here for and doesn’t allow me to slow. With the first steps in this heavily

Lord’s Rake with Scafell Crag on the left

eroded gully, filled with loose scree and

perched stones just waiting for a clumsy

foot to send them skittling down to the

accumulation of rubble above Hollow

Stones, I know it’s the right decision.

Chris and I linger behind the rock gen-

darme contemplating the route of the

West Wall Traverse; a narrow path that

cuts back above Pinnacle Terrace and into

Deep Gill. This provides the shorter route

to the top, but the others are clearly un-

aware of it’s existence as they are already

descending to the second scree slope. As

we exit Lord’s Rake Chris takes the direct

route down to Wasdale to alert the road

crew, and just beneath the summit Tim breaks a shoe lace, so he too leaves the group to make his own way down. I’m feel-

ing much better now, Lords Rake being the catalyst for a fresh mood and once on the grassy descent to Wasdale I start to

feel that maybe I can do it after all. The feeling of relief at Wasdale campsite is massive. I didn’t think I would make it

this far, and am confident that the painful calf isn’t going to stop me, but a new problem has arisen. A sharp pain in my left

knee has developed after the descent to Wasdale and I snaffle a couple of Ibuprofen tablets. Becca and Liz have taken on

the road crew responsibility and they inform us that Wasdale shepherd and

fell running legend; Joss Naylor, had been keeping the troops entertained

prior to our arrival.

Leg4 (Wasdale to Honister)

At 10:18 I’m on the move and heading to Yewbarrow with a new team. Nick

Evans is back navigating with Jim Semmelroth and Richard Andrews sup-

porting. Phil Sturgeon is official timekeeper and his dog, Harriet trots along

at my feet, never leaving my side, as any good BGR pacer would regardless

of where Phil is. Yewbarrow is cited by many as the toughest climb on the

round. This is understandable as it’s the most prolonged steep climb of it’s

gradient (approx 550m ascent in 1000m distance), but I find it reasonable,

like climbing a giant staircase, it’s challenge is more physical than mental.

On Red Pike the situation is reversed, the gradient is lesser and every step

feels slower than it should, also the summit is the site of my previous failure. The memory of this is vivid in my mind’s eye

and probably Jim and Nick’s too, having also been supporting me on this leg. Once the

top is behind us everything seems much sunnier and brighter like a polarizing, light

filter has been slipped in front of my eyes. On the approach to Pillar the transforma-

tion is completed and I’m officially happy!

Ah, the summit of Pillar, and whenever I reach this trig point I remember the first

time I stood here in September 1981 with my dad, and my first experience of a cloud

inversion which still remains as one of the most spectacular I’ve ever witnessed. At

Looking Stead I give a cursory glance back to Pillar Rock, that most awesome of

crags where I’d spent some good times with Charlie and Mark fighting gravity. Grav-

ity is my friend now, and the entire descent to Black Sail Pass is a joyous gallop on

narrow trods with all the excitement and feeling of a fell race.

At Kirk Fell Chris Carter is waiting for us and I must seem like a completely differ-

ent person to the one he experienced on leg three. I prefer the deep, red coloured

gully that provides a descent route for the Ennerdale race, another loose, rubble

filled cleft. This time we take the narrow rake in the left hand wall that succumbs to

hands and feet and I just love this type of ascent. The team around me are slick, the

L-R: Paul Orton, Ian Shaw, Laura Gibson and Ian arrive in Sunny Wasdale

Harriet

Happier now!

food and water keeps coming and I loose count of how many oranges I’ve consumed. I tuck in behind Richard Andrews on

the descent to Beck Head, fresh from the Fellsman, he looks strong. A brief conversation reveals his intention to have a

go at the BGR next year but the ease with which he moves over the rocky ground makes me wonder if he couldn’t have

done the whole thing today.

My brain is still functioning accurately enough to calculate that with five and a half hours left the opportunity is there for

the taking, and we smash a hole in the schedule, gaining twelve minutes between Kirk Fell and Great Gable. Nick leads us

down a grassy ramp that avoids the slow rocky, descent to Windy Gap where Jim and Phil get the banter going. This to-

tally erases the memory of climbing Green Gable and quietly I thank Nick for the grassy route across to Brandreth. At

Grey Knotts there is some discussion, but I know which top I’m going to, and get on with it before anyone else can put

doubt in my mind. Jim stays at my side for the final descent to Honister, where someone thrusts a mug of tea in my hand

before I’m off the fell!

A jovial atmosphere surrounds the carpark at Honister quarry, the boys from the club: Darren Corbett, Bruce Danby, Pe-

ter Gault and Lyndon Stocks are in good form and it seem’s like I spend the whole nine minutes shaking hands, either

greeting people or thanking them. The resident dogs show little interest, they’ve seen it all before many times, but know

where there’s food available and my sandwhich is very unlikely to leave Honister uneaten.

Leg 5 (Honister to Keswick)

It isn’t over yet though and the applause and cheers as we set off lift’s my spirits even higher. It’s a big team of no less

than eleven humans and one canine that set off up the long, steady climb to Dale Head. Paul Orton is back in the naviga-

tional hot seat with Janet Evans looking after the timekeeping. Heather Marshall is positively bouncing up the fell in front

A cast of thousands setting off up Dale Head . L-R: Ian, Janet Evans, Paul Orton, Lyndon Stocks, Pete Gault, Bruce Danby, Richard Andrews, Darren Corbett

and Jim Semmelroth.

On the descent from Robinson.

What’s all the fuss about? Road crew wait patiently at Newlands Church

with just the occasional breather to take photo’s, and Rich, Jim, Phil and Har-

riet have continued where they left off from leg four. Darren, Bruce, Pete and

Lyndon are taking care of the catering, and I seize every opportunity to take on

more food. A brief shower greets us at the top of Dale Head and we waste no

time in pressing on to Hindscarth. I’m conscious that although I have plenty of

time, it isn’t done yet. Anything could happen, and I’m keen to afford myself a

chance of contingency in case something goes wrong, even at this late stage.

On the descent to Robinson my delusions of speed are quickly shattered as

Heather comes flying past like a runaway train, stops for a quick photo then

storms back up the hill, past me to the rear of the group, before I can reach

the patch of grass where she had lain prone with camera poised. Paul leads us up

the direct trod to the summit of Robinson, used as a descent route at the Anni-

versary Waltz, and at the top he says “Ian just stop a minute and take a look

around, you’ve ran over all of that today”. We are stood at the summit cairn of Robinson, peak number forty two, I’m gaz-

ing north-eastwards at Skiddaw, peak number one, distant and dominating. Turning slowly to the right Blencathra catches

the eye then the Dodds and Helvellyn, the Langdale Pikes, Scafells, Great Gable across to Pillar bound my view. Ground

which I know intimately from hours of inspecting it, head down, hands pressed on knees in hard effort.

On the descent to High Snab Bank the pain in my left knee suddenly flares up again and taking no chances I immediately

call for Ibuprofen, and at Newlands Church comfort is restored. Becca and Liz have my road shoes and a clean pair of

socks waiting. Slipping them on feels luxurious, but I’m not sure Chris felt the same way about picking up my filthy X-

Talons and moist socks, complete with all the accumulated detritus from twenty, sweaty hours of bog paddling. I’d been

dreading this section, envisaging a pathetic plod with aching knees and battered quads as soon as my feet felt tarmac. To

my surprise this couldn’t have been further from the actual experience. With fresh shoes and socks it felt like standing on

the start line of a five mile road race, rested and prepared. What sixty plus miles and twenty eight thousand feet of as-

cent? I almost felt as though I could have ran the entire five and a half miles at race pace, hills and all. As we passed

through Stair Pete Gault said “seven minute mile-ing ...not bad Ian”. I was enjoying it, but wanted it finished now. Ian Shaw

had joined us for the run in from Newlands Church and it felt great to have such a large and friendly team around me, eve-

ryone in good spirits.

Finally

Finally Keswick city limits were reached. Heather stopped the traffic at the mini roundabout and finally I touched the

green door beneath the Moot Hall clock after twenty two hours and fifty five minutes of graft. Finally! Twenty years of

dreaming, wondering, planning, hoping, training and an ambition had been realized. For how long had I looked forward to

this moment? I soaked up the handshaking, hugs and congratulations and then soaked up some beer!

The final countdown, in Keswick Market Place

There and back again. Twenty two hours, fifty five

minutes and it’s all over

Scheduled Time Split Leg Split Actual Time Split Actual Leg Split

Leg1

Keswick Moot Hall 19:00:00 19:00:00

Skiddaw 20:22:00 01:21:00 20:16:00 01:16:00

Great Calva 21:05:00 00:43:00 20:55:00 00:39:00

Blencathra 22:12:00 01:07:00 21:58:00 01:03:00 Threlkeld - Arrive 22:48:00 00:36:00 03:47:00 22:33:00 00:35:00 03:33:00

Leg2

Threlkeld - Depart 22:58:00 00:10:00 22:40:00 00:07:00

Clough Head 23:54:00 00:56:00 23:28:00 00:48:00

Great Dodd 00:23:00 00:29:00 23:57:00 00:29:00

Watson Dodd 00:32:00 00:09:00 00:10:00 00:13:00

Stybarrow Dodd 00:41:00 00:09:00 00:21:00 00:11:00

Raise 00:58:00 00:17:00 00:38:00 00:17:00

Whiteside 01:06:00 00:08:00 00:50:00 00:12:00

Helvellyn Lower Man 01:23:00 00:17:00 01:04:00 00:14:00

Helvellyn 01:29:00 00:06:00 01:12:00 00:08:00

Nethermost Pike 01:39:00 00:10:00 01:28:00 00:16:00

Dollywaggon Pike 01:50:00 00:11:00 01:44:00 00:16:00

Fairfield 02:30:00 00:40:00 02:25:00 00:41:00

Seat Sandal 02:54:00 00:24:00 02:55:00 00:30:00 Dunmail Raise - Arrive 03:18:00 00:24:00 4:20:00 03:25:00 00:30:00 4:45:00

Leg3

Dunmail Raise - Depart 03:28:00 00:10:00 03:35:00 00:10:00

Steel Fell 03:52:00 00:24:00 03:58:00 00:23:00

Calf Crag 04:11:00 00:19:00 04:24:00 00:26:00

Sergeant Man 04:45:00 00:34:00 04:59:00 00:35:00

High Raise 04:54:00 00:09:00 05:09:00 00:10:00

Thunacar Knott 05:08:00 00:14:00 05:23:00 00:14:00

Harrison Stickle 05:18:00 00:10:00 05:32:00 00:09:00

Pike o Stickle 05:29:00 00:11:00 05:47:00 00:15:00

Rossett Pike 06:12:00 00:43:00 06:34:00 00:47:00

Bowfell 06:53:00 00:41:00 07:07:00 00:33:00

Esk Pike 07:22:00 00:29:00 07:30:00 00:23:00

Great End 07:51:00 00:29:00 07:57:00 00:27:00

Ill Crag 08:08:00 00:17:00 08:14:00 00:17:00

Broad Crag 08:20:00 00:12:00 08:28:00 00:14:00

Scafell Pike 08:33:00 00:13:00 08:43:00 00:15:00

Scafell 09:20:00 00:47:00 09:30:00 00:47:00 Wasdale - Arrive 09:54:00 00:34:00 6:26:00 10:06:00 00:36:00 6:31:00

Leg4

Wasdale - Depart 10:04:00 00:10:00 10:18:00 00:12:00

Yewbarrow 10:52:00 00:48:00 11:04:00 00:46:00

Red Pike 11:40:00 00:48:00 11:55:00 00:51:00

Steeple 12:03:00 00:23:00 12:19:00 00:24:00

Pillar 12:36:00 00:33:00 12:54:00 00:35:00

KirkFell 13:24:00 00:48:00 13:41:00 00:47:00

Great Gable 14:13:00 00:49:00 14:18:00 00:37:00

Green Gable 14:27:00 00:14:00 14:32:00 00:14:00

Brandreth 14:44:00 00:17:00 14:46:00 00:14:00

Grey Knotts 14:52:00 00:08:00 14:54:00 00:08:00 Honister - Arrive 15:04:00 00:12:00 5:00:00 15:07:00 00:13:00 4:49:00

Leg5

Honister - Depart 15:14:00 00:10:00 15:16:00 00:09:00

Dalehead 15:46:00 00:32:00 15:49:00 00:33:00

Hindscarth 16:06:00 00:20:00 16:05:00 00:16:00

Robinson 16:31:00 00:25:00 16:28:00 00:23:00 Keswick Moot Hall 18:06:00 01:35:00 2:52:00 17:55:00 01:27:00 2:39:00

Leg 1

Nick Evans

Tim Rippon

Laura Gibson

Janet Evans1

Leg 2

Heather Marshall

Ian Shaw

Simon Anderson

Viz (Dog)

Leg 3

Paul Orton

Chris Carter

Laura Gibson

Ian Shaw

Tim Rippon

Leg 4

Nick Evans

Jim Semmelroth

Richard Andrews

Chris Carter2

Phil Sturgeon

Harriet (Dog)

Leg 5

Paul Orton

Janet Evans

Darren Corbett

Peter Gault

Lyndon Stocks

Bruce Danby

Heather Marshall

Jim Semmelroth

Richard Andrews

Ian Shaw3

Phil Sturgeon

Harriet (Dog)

SUPPORT CREW

Road Crew

Chris Crombie

Jo Crombie

Becca Marshall

Liz Irvine

Tim Cook

I count myself lucky to have had such a brilliant crew of people around me pacing and supporting, without them I definitely

wouldn’t have been able to do it, and can’t thank them enough. A big vote of thanks also to Tim Cook, Paul Orton and

Heather Marshall for the photo’s. 1As far as Latrigg 2From Kirk Fell 3From Newlands Church