Welcome to the concluding Blog of a three part series: The Yorkshire 3 Peaks, Part THREE – INGLEBOROUGH!
With the sun still shining, we crossed fields, over styles and through gates as Ingleborough loomed in all its magnificence over us. It was impossible not to look up and try to seek out the path line to trace with our eyes, where our feet would take us. No sooner were we sharing nervous exchanges about that, than we were there, at the foot of our route to begin the sheer upward climb presented before us. No gentle easing in for this one either, that had already been done without us really noticing. This was severe! Straight up & steep! So, we trudged, up, up, up keeping in mind a slow and steady pace – the worry about being the last one in the group had long been left behind on Pen-Y-Ghent in the earlier hours of the day – now it was just about the achievement. Having come this far, everybody was determined they were completing this, no matter how long it took. We had begun to space out quite a considerable amount, each person knowing that they just need to focus on themselves and their own pace.
One foot in front of the other.
Once again, quite quickly, my head began to pound, my heart raced and my breathing was heavy as the blood pumped furiously around my body. I found that I could simply not carry keep going with one foot in front of the other, I needed to stop. I found a post marker in the ground and headed for it. The ground beneath our feet was almost like marshland at this point. Soft and squelching in long, almost hay-like grass made it hard work on the lower body. At the marker post, I looked around and could see my niece not far behind me, followed by my brother. Both concentrating and working hard at their own paces, red-faced, sweat stinging their eyes, just as it was mine. I pushed on up a bit further, willing myself with words of positive encouragement. There was no choice anymore. It wasn’t a question of whether I could do this, it was a matter of “I am doing this”. Against the advice, I stopped again but I was not alone. Everybody was stopping after each few paces which was testament to how tough this climb was, particularly for those who had climbed the two previous mountains. The mountainside was actually quite busy and all that could be heard were supportive, breathless words from strangers encouraging each other along and reassurance that we were doing brilliantly. We were all in the same situation, this was hard work and it was recognised by everyone. Regardless of age, sex, size, background, status, colour, ability or religion we were connected and it really felt like everybody on that mountainside had each others backs, a sense of comradery and team spirit amongst complete strangers, that was a pleasure to be part of. I reached a large rock on the side of the mountain, recently vacated by an exhausted walker before me. I headed towards it to sit down and rest for just a moment. As I did, a chap who had been walking alongside me joined me to rest. With his head in his hands as we both tried to catch our breath, perched on the rock, he said, “I should’ve trained more for this, I haven’t been to the gym for about 5 weeks, I’m too old for this, I’m 40 this year”. With my heart still pumping so loudly it was pounding in my ears, I replied, “Well I’m 44 this year and I’ve got Multiple Sclerosis, so if I can do this, so you can you! Come on”. “Bloody Hell” he said, “you must be mad!….And you don’t look 44 by the way!” I laughed and thanked him but also advised him that right at that moment in time, I felt about eighty-five!
We continued for a while until eventually his pace was faster than mine, I wondered if perhaps he was propelled along a little by my revelation. My brother and niece still working hard at their individual paces, my niece was beginning to catch me but I could see my brother struggling a little further back with another couple from our group. I knew he’d feel more driven by these people than myself or my niece at that stage, so I continued a few more paces and stopped again whilst I turned to wait for my niece. As she reached me, she confirmed how tough this was and told me that my brother was suffering from cramp in both thighs. I felt immensely proud of all of us and the pure determination that we all had to get this far. I now understood why our guide had not elaborated too much when the group had questioned him back at the café! Of the three mountains, the experts advise that Pen-y-Ghent is actually the toughest climb however, not when you’re doing all three and Ingleborough comes on the back of the previous two. We continued to push on up, using every bit of momentum we had. I then fell into a pace with two girls, sisters I believe, in their late twenties to early thirties. One needed some encouragement, which I offered as I reached her and we found ourselves laughing at how mad we were for doing this. We set off again together, all at a similar pace, an encouraging word with every step. With the top now in sight, but the gradient steepening even further, I was using my hands and arms to reach and grab the next rock or foot hole to help pull myself and power myself up. At this point, the girl in front of me dropped the water bottle that she had secured around her waist. We stopped and turned as we watched it tumble down, down a good 3 meters from where we were, before it came to its resting point. The disappointment drained from the three of us equally I think, as she realised she would have to go back for it. As she twisted her body to turn herself around, I told her to stay there whilst I shouted down to the next person clambering up behind us. I clearly remember how I felt at that moment, like there was nothing in this world more important! We had battled this part of the climb together, complete strangers but united in this feat, I was not going to let her go back down and have to try to climb again by herself….and I knew I certainly didn’t have the energy to do it for her. The lad behind us was only too pleased to help, breathlessly he motioned with a thumbs up that he’d grab it, completely understanding our situation. As he passed the water bottle, he picked it up safely and we waited thankfully, enjoying that moment’s breather, as he climbed toward us to return it.
So nearly there, we pushed on up that last stretch, climbing with all our limbs and muscles in use, telling each other we could do this, until we finally reached the plateau with collapsed bodies and rucksacks carelessly strewn of the grassland before us and breathless words of congrats hanging in the air. The two girls and I thanked each other for the encouragement and I wished them well as I made my way to join the members of my group that were already there. It was only at this point that I realised how dramatically the weather had changed. The temperature had dropped and we were within quite thick cloud. The warm sun that had accompanied us all day was just a distant memory now as the wind speed had picked up and rain threatened. A gentle reminder of how we are at the mercy of mother nature when climbing mountains and never to be complacent, but always prepared. The weather conditions at the top of a mountain can be polar opposite to what’s happening at the bottom. I began to layer up to keep my body temperature up, just as my niece and my brother reached us, they two had added their jackets.
Once again, with our breath now caught and bodies quickly re-fuelled, we set off for the summit, the view of which was obscured by the cloud, which in hindsight, I think was a good thing. It was a fairly flat, stony walk to start with, next to the grassy verge. We made our way along the pathway that gently began to climb once more. The rocks grew larger, the gradient grew steeper, until once again, we were scrambling, seeking out the best route for each step as we climbed again.
Pure determination drove us all to the summit. My brother was really struggling now, with cramp setting into both of his calf muscles as well as his thigh muscles. Our guide had suggested he wait for the group by the beginning of our descent path rather than pushing on up to the summit, but that was not an option for my brother. He felt there was no way he was going to be beaten by this mountain at this point. He’d come so far, achieved so much and worked so hard, he was reaching that Trig point no matter how long it took. Respecting his decision, our guide provided him with walking poles which helped considerably. Again, he drank more water and as a group we continued to offer encouragement and words of support allowing him to push on with us, through his pain and reach that all important third summit!
Finally, exhausted but completely exhilarated, we’d reached the top and made for that all important third Trig point! We’d done it! All three mountains climbed!
We did not have the views from Ingleborough unfortunately, as thick cloud had wrapped itself around the baron summit. None-the-less, the feeling that we’d climbed it was euphoric! All we had to do now was descend the mountain and head back to our start point. Easy! One of the girls in our group checked the time and realised that we were still on track to complete the challenge within in the 12 hours, which provided the perfect motivation for the rest of us now that exhaustion and muscle fatigue was setting well in. We had approximately an hour and a half to complete the 4 mile descent to our original start point. Without hesitation, we set off for the final trek. Some of the group had a bit of fun with this, trotting down at speed as the descent path was fairly easy to pick up pace in a zig-zagging motion. We all continued down at our own speeds but fairly fast, the group chatting and learning more about each other, swapping stories of mountains climbed and treks completed, all helping the distance to tick by. The chain of walkers on the descent path gradually thinned out. Sticking together was my brother, my niece and I as the wind whipped across us and the clouds became darker as rain threatened and daylight began to slowly retreat.
The descent from Ingleborough felt like a rolling road that just seemed relentless, but we had been warned of this feeling from those whom had completed it previously. Downhill all the way, varying in gradient and terrain, we started to wonder if we’d ever get to the end. We knew how quickly we could walk just a couple of miles, from all of our training walks, but this seemed to just go on and on as, between us, we decided that Ingleborough would forever be referred to as ‘Inglebastard’. My niece now silently battling with painful blisters and my brother and I powerless to help, pure stubbornness drove us down the remainder of the mountainside. Our eyes silently continued to check the time. Those ahead of us would be finished now, those behind us would be unlikely to make the 12 hours.
One foot in front of the other.
We finally pushed on through the last gate, over the railway, through the streets with their smooth and easy tarmacked surfaces. At last, the car park was in sight and our finish flags were wafting in the wind to guide us in. Greeted with cheers and congratulations from those in our group that were already there, WE’D DONE IT!
19:15. Exactly 12 hours! 26.2 miles, 3 mountains.
The feeling was amazing! A real walker’s high, even though everything hurt. It felt like a long time since we’d headed out that morning to Pen-y-Ghent, fresh and eager with no idea what lay ahead. What an achievement, what beautiful sights we’d seen and what a fantastic day it had been!
So, the big question….Would you do it again? Personally, I would absolutely climb any of the three again and I LOVED this whole experience, BUT….I don’t feel the need to do all three in one day again. I don’t think? I’ve ticked that box and am very happy with the achievement. I found it tough on my body for the weeks that followed and feel like I reached a limitation point that I wouldn’t really want to push beyond. Whilst I don’t let my MS rule my life, I know I have to remain respectful to the constraints it puts upon my body. Hey, I’d never say never, and the fact that friends are undertaking this exact challenge next year gives me itchy feet…..very tempting…..but there are so many other beautiful mountains just waiting to be climbed, picturesque walks to complete and new adventures to be had….
So what’s next? Who’s with me? As always, watch this space….
