"Are you alright" asked Neil. I answered him the only way I could and began to projectile vomit. We were half way up Sgurr Eilde Mor and about 12hs into the attempt. Apart for a slight feeling of nausea, I had been feeling alright, but now it was looking grim.
60 miles and over 8000m of ascent over 23 Munros in under 24 hours was never going to be easy. A major coup was to find someone who was interested in doing it too. Talking to another Highland Hillrunner, Neil Speight, after a race in 2007 we both mentioned a faint desire to try Ramsay's Round. Somehow this all snowballed into a proper attempt this summer. Training schedules were worked out and warm up races planned. The only slight issue was a lack of people able to support as I had found the support crucial during my successful Bob Graham Round.
After much faffing we finally got some runs done in the Glen Nevis area and a date was set. Expecting no support we dropped off kit and food at strategic locations (Fersit, Loch Eilde Mor and Lairig Leacach) to be ready for the Saturday.
The forecast was not great; cloud at first followed by clearing skies and a fantastic Sunday was promised by Heather 'the weather' and
MWIS. Predictably we set off up the Ben tourist track towards the clouds together with Dave who had come along for support and to bag Carn Mor Dearg. The pony track was heaving with '3 Peak Challengers'. Some of whom decided to inform us that we shouldn't be taking the short-cut to Red Burn.
Up in the clag we made good time, which we promptly lost by missing the line off to Carn Mor Dearg. Eventually we found the path much further to the right. Once on the ridge, the rocks were lethal and I went flat on my back. Not too much damage done, just a very sore backside and a sense of relief about avoiding a potentially disastrous slip.
The cloud level hovered around 800m but down in the bealachs we could look across to the Mamores which were clear of cloud. On Sgurr Choinnich Beag Dave dropped behind and myself and Neil carried on, enjoying the running. The springs were full and I was eating every half-hour. All we needed was better visibility as the constant greyness was monotonous.
After 6 hours we dropped down to our first food cache and had a quick clothes swap before the second major climb of the Round, Stob Coire nan Easian. The slope seemed to go on forever and I needed my MP3 player to distract me before we finally crested the cairn.
Dropping off the tops,the cloud had dropped lower and we ate our food at Fersit in drizzly rain. The presence of a potential lift back home from here was a strong distraction to continuing. However, Neil said nothing so I just resigned myself to the second leg although it did feel as though we were getting somewhere with this attempt. Brighter skies appeared everywhere we weren't and we headed into the cloud again, up into the hills. Chno Dearg was tricky to find and was the first hill where we were slower than schedule. A very demoralizing moment and I was worried as Neil seemed to have slowed dramatically.
Slightly lost, a fantastic scree run down lead us on a different line to Beinn na Lap. Although much further left we were able to gain the east ridge of the Beinn earlier and despite a slow pace we were up gain on time. The top was a huge milestone. Every step, every minute was going in the right direction.
Running down the rough ground from the summit to the railway with the buds of cotton grass glowing astonishingly brightly in the dark will be one of enduring memories. For once running on the track and path for the next couple of hours were fun in the dark stillness of the night. The skies began at last to clear.
The Mamores were silhouetted in the distance and acted as a clear beacon showing us our direction. We didn't push the pace, but it made no difference to the splits which we were beating again. Unbeknown to me Neil was seriously thinking about quitting, in fact doing anything that meant he didn't have to run any further.
Another quick food stop at Loch Eilde Mor and we were off again. I was wary of the last leg as I had heard plenty of stories about attempts going awry late in the day.
After being sick I did actually feel better, briefly. Strangely being violently ill had no effect on my moral and I was still optimistic. One look at Binnein Beag, however was enough to swing my mood back round to abject depression. The urge just to stop and sleep was intense. I was struggling to eat properly and all of the climbs hurt. It was now time to take the hills one at a time. We knew we were significantly up on schedule and we fought to keep the loses at each peak to a minimum. I was desperately trying to keep ahead of the game, whilst Neil encouraged me along, buoying me up with unbounded enthusiasm. Finally we were on the main Mamores ridge. No more huge climbs and the skies really had cleared. Faith was restored in Heather.
We followed every short-cut we had read about from Yiannis' article and other reports to minimise height gain. I was keeping on just counting down the Munros left to go. Every hour we were still moving meant one less hour of suffering. The pain in my left knee which had started as a niggle on Binnein Mor was now becoming more evident. It got worse with every climb. At least, despite the cloud reappearing in whisps, the route finding was straight-forward following well-defined, but rocky tracks. The twists and turns of the sinuous ridge and the annoying outliers frustrated me. I just couldn't see the point any more. To cap it all a chill wind picked up, whisking in wet blanket of cloud that quickly drapped itself over the peaks and corries.
Sgurr a Mhaim was my nemesis. I wanted to beg Neil to allow me to skip it out. I had been running for 20 hours so what difference would one peak make? Who would know? Anything to avoid the pain in my knees. Silently cursing I tagged the cairn, surprised to hear that we had only lost 3 min on the 23h schedule, and went straight back the way we had come. Only 2 more hills to go. Even in my addled state I was coming round to the idea of finishing this self-inflicted hell.
By Stob Ban (the second to last Munro) the pain in both knees was intense. Even walking on the flat was agony. No dull ache this, just sharp stabbing pains at every step. The only thought driving me on was the fear of having to go through all this pain again if we failed to finish within 24 hours.
I could see that we were shipping time by about 5 mins a peak so with a final effort we topped out on Mullach with about 1.5h to spare. Now we just had to get down! The final descent was awful. A desperate waddle down steep grass before meeting a path leading through the forest. At least this path was soft and muddy, meandering alongside a river bank and through plantation woodland. After a few ups and downs we finally dropped to a well graded forest track. The verge was grassy and soft, and with a time cushion of 45 mins we wandered down. Both of us in an extremely exhausted spaced-out state of mind.
There was no-one there to see us at the finish. Finally it hit home. We had finished with 45 min to spare. Together we had made it. For a moment it was all too much emotionally. After all that pain, effort, training, preparation and stress I could finally relax. My whole body ached, and I was tired, so tired. No elation, just relief.
Whether it was worth it or not is still something I haven't answered for myself yet. Mentally I am still drained and empty. Physically I am in pretty good state so I must be getting used to these kind of distances. A scary thought!
I took this picture this morning from Beinn na Feusaige after spending the night camped up by Lochan Meallan Mhic Iamhair. Moments like this make all those days in the clag worthwhile.
Running High Stile.
Blencathra smoking.
Sunlight above Buttermere.
Mine beneath Grisedale.
