It's a technicality that, depending on the exact moment in time, I am either very happy about or slightly embarrassed by.
Here's why...
The Three Peaks Challenge is a fairly simple concept - the aim is to climb the highest mountain in Scotland (Ben Nevis), England (Scafell pike) and Wales (Snowdon) all within 24 hours, driving between mountains.
On the 28th of September; myself, 'er indoors, 3 co-climbers and our dedicated driver flew up to Glasgow and picked up our automobile. We drove over to Fort William - the nearest village to Nevis and grabbed a few hours of kip.
At 10:46am we started our ascent of Ben Nevis - that meant the target was to be finished on Snowdon by 10:46am Sunday morning. Spirits were high as we reached the snow-capped peak of Nevis after 3 hours and readied ourselves for the cartilage-crunching descent.
September Snow
At the Summit - nice of the photographer to not bother getting the summit marker in the pic...
I say cartilage-crunching because the poor wife suffered from some pretty punchy knee pain on the way down. Turns out all those "legs bums and tums" gym classes don't prepare you for the impact of half-running down a mountain... (I jest - she is a properly fit cookie - puts me to shame)
Thankfully, as we'll see, this was the best thing that could have happened to her.
Anyhow, back to Nevis, it took us about 2 and a half hours to get down (with crippled spouse soldiering on through some epic pain) so we got back to the car still on track. We hopped into the mean machine and our trusty chauffeur applied accelerative force such that pedal met metal.
Many cookies, flapjacks, Werthers Originals, a large BK meal and six hours of driving later, we arrived at Scafell pike in the lake district.
It was just after 10:45pm when we set off - pitch black and chilly, but otherwise pretty good weather. We bid Jeeves and the missus adieu and left them to grab a few hours of sleep - the challenge had been set, there and back in 3.5 hours.
Now climbing Nevis is simple - get on path, walk up path, arrive at summit, reverse. No need for navigation, no need for thought. Scafell is not the same - especially in the dark. However with our trust GPS and compass we made it to the top in a pretty rapid 2 hours, crossing streams and scaling rocky outcrops along the way.
At the top of Scafell - arms length shot as nobody to take the pic at 1am!
You'll see from the picture that people are looking a bit wet. This isn't all sweat. This photo marks almost the exact moment when the weather, and our luck, took a fairly rapid change in direction...
The clouds closed in and visibility fell to about 5 metres. The winds picked up to gale force. The rain came in, heavily, flying horizontally with such force that it felt like being repeatedly slapped about the chops with one of those pin sculpture desk things (attempt at worst ever analogy).
What's more, the apocalyptic conditions meant that the GPS could get no signal. Then, it got worse, I don't know whether it was due to the storm, some dodgy equipment or our tired eyes playing tricks on us, the compass seemed to be giving out different readings from exactly the same place.
The lack of path, vision and nav kit meant that we couldn't determine which way we came in from. The weather, exposure and temperature meant we couldn't stay still at the summit so we quickly realised we had to keep moving.
There lay the next problem. The rocky terrain and hidden drops on Scafell exacerbated (favourite word right there) by the poor visibility meant that it's not as simple as just heading downwards. Scafell is in the middle of a number of peaks - and if you head down the wrong way, even if you take what looks like a path in a similar-ish direction - you can quickly end up at the bottom of a steep valley miles from anywhere or anyone with no hope of climbing back up.
So, you may have noticed a slight flaw in our cunning plan - keep moving, but don't go the wrong way.
We set off from the summit in what was our best guess of the right direction. It was wrong - this meant we had to head back to the summit as this was the only landmark we could reliably reach.
On the way, we picked up our first stragglers - two climbers on their 3rd attempt at the three peaks.
Two further failed attempts to descend later, we returned to the summit. This was where the reality that something bad could happen started to set in. A few of us were cold - uncontrollably shivering cold.
Then we saw a light, piercing through the cloud. Then another. Then another. Then a few more. A group of about 8 people came through the darkness - led by their leader, wielding a super high powered torch and what appeared to be a significantly more expensive and reliable GPS that the one contained in my iPhone (yes, I know iPhone GPS is not a good idea - but we had a compass that should've worked too! Anyway, read on!).
The relief was tangible - these people looked like they knew what they were doing, getting down should be a doddle!
We quickly established that the expensive sat nav was also not working, but the new group - a family expedition of four yorkshire gents and their sons - were confident they could retrace their steps and get us down quickly.
So off we set - laughing and somehow much warmer - off down the mountain, clambering down rocks onto a clear path dusted with some soft moss.
All of a sudden, alarm bells started up again - we hadn't seen any Cairns (big piles of rock that marked our particular path), we didn't remember moss underfoot on the way up and our group of saviours began to seem more and more like a rabble of clueless yet cocksure louts. Myself and the member of our group with the most leet navigation skills shared our concerns - I whipped out the trusty iPhone and, just for a second, the GPS nav dot appeared - before quickly moving and adding a margin of error that suggested we were, at its most accurate, somewhere in the lake district.
The problem was - in the short second of clarity - this dot was on a different path, one heading to the South rather than West where we needed to go, one heading swiftly towards an area that said "DANGER" on both sides on the OS map, one heading exactly where we didn't want to be...
We stopped the group and gathered everyone around. We tried their "super GPS" again to no avail. Then one of the members of the first group (the two "three-time" failures of the three peaks) decided to let on that he had a GPS - but it could only give OS map references, something that he had thought useless as he did not have an OS map.
At the risk of slipping into my "Lethargic Invective" mindset - if there were an Oscar for "most ridiculous oversight in a fairly tense situation" or "outstanding contribution to general tard-dom" then let's just say there would be no need for a nominations process this year. What a complete and unadultarated tool.
The grid reference confirmed (albeit still with a margin of error in terms of whatever "a square" was on the map) that we were way off course from where we wanted to be, we literally on the path to danger and we needed to head north. So we did.
This took us briefly off the path - scaling a fairly steep and rocky face of the mountain - but should have had us rejoin the main path to the west of the summit.
The reaction of the mob when, instead, we found ourselves back at the summit wasn't the best...
As it transpired, what we must have done was to have headed due south from the summit, swung to the east for a little bit before continuing south west - with the final North correction leading us in a glorious circle back to the summit.
I relayed this message to the group - trying my best to make it clear it was their gung-ho "we know what we're doing" attitude that caused the loop and that the alternative to being back at the summit was a lot worse - all the while trying to not be as condescending as I usually am when confronted with those who's IQ, when recited in French, would not begin with the words "cent et".
Thankfully, by this point the compass and map reference GPS seemed to be working so we were confident we could at least head in roughly the right direction - slightly to the south to avoid the rocky death drop (that we had previously encountered when heading due west from the summit) before then heading west with a little bit of North to rejoin the path.
So we set off. Again. We scaled the steep rocks to the west and came to a plateau - this seemed more like what we remembered. All we wanted to see was a Cairn - confiming we were on the right path - but the visibility remained terrible. We continued - checking map with GPS, confident (as we could be) that this was the right path.
Then it happened. The most beautiful pile of rocks I will ever see sprung into view. People genuinely cheered at the sight of it. Myself included, and the tension almost vanished.
From then on the pitch black night, thick cloud, off-balancing gusts and torrential rain hardly registered. We near-skipped down steep descents, not caring that water streamed down underfoot making a painful slip a common (although thankfully not serious) occurance. Heck, we didn't even care when the aforementioned "stream" we had crossed had transformed into knee deep white water rapids!
The only concern left was getting in touch with the two in the car - it was past 4.30am (nearly 6 hours into our 3.5 hour trip) and there was plenty further to go!
Finally - sodden, shivering but unhurt, we arrived back at the car just before 6am - having had no phone signal during the descent. Our driver and my lovely wife were concerned, but not panicked - no mountain rescue had been phoned. I think was a good thing?
We had decided at around 2am - at the peak of the panic - that attempting Snowdon was out of the question. Physically and mentally drained, with no dry clothes except those stowed away in the car and having done all the walking miles and hours needed for 3 mountains in the space of 2 we called it a day and headed home.
We had done the three peaks challenge - but we had failed miserably. That's the technicality with which I am ticking this off the list. At the top - when we were unsure how and even (to be hugely melodramatic) if we'd get back down without injury it was a technicality that cheered me up. But now, with the memories getting increasingly fuzzy, the challenge feels somewhat incomplete.
I will certainly complete Snowdon before I turn 30 but as for "doing the 3 peaks challenge", for now, I'm going to mark it as done.
We quickly established that the expensive sat nav was also not working, but the new group - a family expedition of four yorkshire gents and their sons - were confident they could retrace their steps and get us down quickly.
So off we set - laughing and somehow much warmer - off down the mountain, clambering down rocks onto a clear path dusted with some soft moss.
All of a sudden, alarm bells started up again - we hadn't seen any Cairns (big piles of rock that marked our particular path), we didn't remember moss underfoot on the way up and our group of saviours began to seem more and more like a rabble of clueless yet cocksure louts. Myself and the member of our group with the most leet navigation skills shared our concerns - I whipped out the trusty iPhone and, just for a second, the GPS nav dot appeared - before quickly moving and adding a margin of error that suggested we were, at its most accurate, somewhere in the lake district.
The problem was - in the short second of clarity - this dot was on a different path, one heading to the South rather than West where we needed to go, one heading swiftly towards an area that said "DANGER" on both sides on the OS map, one heading exactly where we didn't want to be...
We stopped the group and gathered everyone around. We tried their "super GPS" again to no avail. Then one of the members of the first group (the two "three-time" failures of the three peaks) decided to let on that he had a GPS - but it could only give OS map references, something that he had thought useless as he did not have an OS map.
At the risk of slipping into my "Lethargic Invective" mindset - if there were an Oscar for "most ridiculous oversight in a fairly tense situation" or "outstanding contribution to general tard-dom" then let's just say there would be no need for a nominations process this year. What a complete and unadultarated tool.
The grid reference confirmed (albeit still with a margin of error in terms of whatever "a square" was on the map) that we were way off course from where we wanted to be, we literally on the path to danger and we needed to head north. So we did.
This took us briefly off the path - scaling a fairly steep and rocky face of the mountain - but should have had us rejoin the main path to the west of the summit.
The reaction of the mob when, instead, we found ourselves back at the summit wasn't the best...
As it transpired, what we must have done was to have headed due south from the summit, swung to the east for a little bit before continuing south west - with the final North correction leading us in a glorious circle back to the summit.
I relayed this message to the group - trying my best to make it clear it was their gung-ho "we know what we're doing" attitude that caused the loop and that the alternative to being back at the summit was a lot worse - all the while trying to not be as condescending as I usually am when confronted with those who's IQ, when recited in French, would not begin with the words "cent et".
Thankfully, by this point the compass and map reference GPS seemed to be working so we were confident we could at least head in roughly the right direction - slightly to the south to avoid the rocky death drop (that we had previously encountered when heading due west from the summit) before then heading west with a little bit of North to rejoin the path.
So we set off. Again. We scaled the steep rocks to the west and came to a plateau - this seemed more like what we remembered. All we wanted to see was a Cairn - confiming we were on the right path - but the visibility remained terrible. We continued - checking map with GPS, confident (as we could be) that this was the right path.
Then it happened. The most beautiful pile of rocks I will ever see sprung into view. People genuinely cheered at the sight of it. Myself included, and the tension almost vanished.
From then on the pitch black night, thick cloud, off-balancing gusts and torrential rain hardly registered. We near-skipped down steep descents, not caring that water streamed down underfoot making a painful slip a common (although thankfully not serious) occurance. Heck, we didn't even care when the aforementioned "stream" we had crossed had transformed into knee deep white water rapids!
The only concern left was getting in touch with the two in the car - it was past 4.30am (nearly 6 hours into our 3.5 hour trip) and there was plenty further to go!
Finally - sodden, shivering but unhurt, we arrived back at the car just before 6am - having had no phone signal during the descent. Our driver and my lovely wife were concerned, but not panicked - no mountain rescue had been phoned. I think was a good thing?
We had decided at around 2am - at the peak of the panic - that attempting Snowdon was out of the question. Physically and mentally drained, with no dry clothes except those stowed away in the car and having done all the walking miles and hours needed for 3 mountains in the space of 2 we called it a day and headed home.
We had done the three peaks challenge - but we had failed miserably. That's the technicality with which I am ticking this off the list. At the top - when we were unsure how and even (to be hugely melodramatic) if we'd get back down without injury it was a technicality that cheered me up. But now, with the memories getting increasingly fuzzy, the challenge feels somewhat incomplete.
I will certainly complete Snowdon before I turn 30 but as for "doing the 3 peaks challenge", for now, I'm going to mark it as done.
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