What would you attempt if you knew you could not fail?

Picking clothes for this weekend was a terrible task. I had to pack for a massive hike, a decent walk and a little bike ride. The weather forecast was changing by the second and I had no real clue as to wether I would need shorts or full winter kit. So I took everything. Added to the clothes was all my bike kit, enough food to feed an army and all the charity kit. Top that off with my bike on the back and the car was groaning as I wound my way up the winding roads to Bethesda. The journey was punctuated with brief periods of a clear sky but on the main it was like driving through a tropical deluge. No one had sent me the memo about building an Ark and as I headed into Wales, with all the rivers I passed bursting their banks, and waterfalls making new routes down the cliffs at the side of the roads, I was very glad I had packed all my waterproofs and lots of pairs of warm socks. The cloud was so low it touched the road at times and as I approached Snowdonia, none of the peaks with which I would soon do battle, were visible.

The 15 peaks above 3000ft in Snowdonia put together make up an extremely hard challenge in reasonable weather, let alone in weather which could be considered unreasonable in the least and some trepidation crept in my head. Too much time on the drive up to think.

To be honest, I hadn't spent much time walking lately, as I had recently been training for London to Paris by bike, which fortunately I managed to complete.  My cycling legs were well worn in... who knew how this would translate to walking legs.
I often do this... strap a different pair of legs on and hope they will respond to what I am asking of them.

Thursday evening ... gear check... repack... make sure everything is where I want it...
Headtorch check.. food check... gloves.. suncream... snood... SPOT


The Alarm went off at 0145!
Bleary eyed, I gathered my kit and myself and Hazel piled into my car and picking up Jane on the way, we drove to Llanberis in the driving rain to the meet up point.
And so it began....

The first climb was up to Snowdon... a climb I know well. The rain had stopped and it was getting light as we made our way up. The pace was pretty quick and it was already becoming clear that there were 2 pace groups. The 'elite' group, made up of fell runners, marathon runners and Iron men/women, were setting a cracking pace, whilst chatting away. I couldn't talk much, breathing took up all my concentration! I was also overheating, dehydrating with every step, but unable to stop to remove layers, or grab my water bottle, keep moving upwards, watching the feet as they crunched against the gravel. The breeze was non-existent this side of the mountain and it felt muggy, the air thick.

The darkness cleared and the views appeared...the cloud below us, settled above the lakes. We reached the top of Snowdon and for once had it to ourselves, the first time I haven't had to queue to touch the top. I didn't have time to breathe the air though I had watched the sun rise, peeking through the clouds to cast a few dull rays of light on the grey stone of the mountain.  Downwards crossing the railway and ever onwards. The relative flat breathed life into the legs as the strides lengthened until it was time to drop over the side and down to Nant Peris.  It was here the trouble started. The slope was steep and the grass slick after the heavy rainfall. Every step became an exercise in careful placement, which in the end didn't matter.  The number of times I slipped and fell on my arse soon exceeded the number of fingers on mh hand and I was getting mightily pissed off. I wasn't the only one falling. Pretty much everyone at one time or another felt themselves sliding. One chap let ouch such an expletive and sat clutching his leg, I thought he had broken it. Bad cramp can be just as painful and after a minute or two, he was able to stand and continue.  Even the guide at the front slipped twice. It felt dangerous, reckless even to continue down. My headspace got more and more fcuked up.... and then down I went again, only my right leg didn't quite come with me. I stood again, totally pissed off with the situation we were in.
Every step was untrustworthy, the water running down the hillside making the grass a boggy mess. My wrist hurt, from where I'd landed on it at some point and honestly I was wondering why we had come down this way, given the conditions. It was later explained that if we wanted to do the peaks in 24 hours this was the quickest way down, and any other way was much longer and further.

The nightmare eventually ended and our feet ended up on firm ground. My legs were shot from all the sliding down and the adrenaline was wearing off.  We met the minibus and I stuffed as many calories as I could down my throat. 1 big up and down done... 2 to go. Waterbottles were refilled and I tried to rehydrate as best I could. I knew the next up would be hell.

I wasn't wrong. It would have been hell anyway at the pace that was being set, but it was made worse by a slight ache in my right groin, presumably pulled slightly when my leg didn't follow me. I don't think I was the only one struggling but at the time, it felt like it. It just shows that even in a group you are alone, only you have that pressure (even if the group isnt actually exerting any) not to hold anyone up. I was staring at my feet mainly, because every time I looked up, all I could see was mountain, stretching relentlessly.

The groin strain made itself more and more evident as I ascended. I was still going up but the pace became slower and slower. Others were struggling too. 1 person, convinced he was holding everyone up, decided to go back down at that point.  Yet we kept going up and up. By the time I eventually got to the top, my right leg was having difficulty lifting high enough to step  up onto the rocks and as I sat down, the wind swirling around, I knew in my soul that I was not going much further.  Everyone was huddled at the top, wind and rain jackets on and hoods up. In the distance towering above were the next peaks, peaks I have spent many hours on enjoying the air, the silence, the theatre of majesty. This is where I have reflected on life, found parts of myself again, been reborn. Yet today, the mountain gods had decided that I was to be allowed to play no more. Could I defy them?? At what cost?

I knew the group were fast and I was only going to slow them down. The strain was worsening and whilst my heart was telling me that I could keep putting one foot in front of the other for a little longer, my head was telling me that it was not the most sensible idea. Still, downwards first and make a decision at the bottom of this peak.

As we started down, my friend Paul, who had hurt himself in a fall on the grass slope, let out a yell of pain as he stepped down.  He had jarred something that had caused an excruciating pain in his leg and hip.
As we sought shelter from the biting wind, the guides assessed his injuries. He could hardly stand, let alone move, but eventually he stood and a plan was made for one of the guides to take him down. Should I also quit now?? No.... I can still walk ...
Even though I knew that today was not my day, I still entertained the thought that maybe the downhill would ease things up and the pain would subside enough to allow me to continue.  So I continued, stepping carefully over the rocks, watching the others bound down as I normally would have done. They reached the bottom well before me and I knew then, that I was done.

Phil was also struggling with cramp that was getting worse, especially on the uphills and as we made our way down, we let the guides know that we too were done. We had arrived at the top of the Devil's kitchen path, which led down to the lake above the Ogwen cafe. A good place to bug out. Both of us knew the path down very well. I had climbed it last year and Phil had done it recently. I was in fact looking forward to just ambling down, now free of group restraints and pressures, perhaps with time to appreciate the beauty that surrounds us.
The guide was insistent that we did not go alone and arranged for Stephen, the third guide to climb up and collect us to help us down.
We ket the group know that we weren't continuing and wished them luck for their onward journey. Hazel asked me if I had climbed the peaks that surrounded us before. I replied in the affirmative. 'well at least you have already done them, thats something' she said in an effort to console me. 'But they are my favourite ones' I said, as the reality hit me and a sadness that I would not be continuing enveloped me. I came to conquer the peaks, but it is only with the blessing of the mountains that you climb and it does me good to have a reminder of that.

Me and Phil made our way to the top of the path down and sat as we were instructed to do, to wait for Stephen.  It was then, that I actually looked at the beauty before me and felt the peace descend. As we sat, we talked of life and dreams and how at least we weren't sat at home, but instead trying to achieve challenges we set ourselves.
I have a postcard on my fridge which asks a question....
''What would you attempt if you knew you could not fail?'

Nothing.... you would attempt nothing.

Failure is the price you pay for setting your sights high and pushing your limits. Failure gives you humility and keeps your feet firmly on the ground. Failure is necessary in life and should be embraced, not shied away from. It is in failure that you learn lessons, to improve oneself and gird the soul for other dreams.

It is not the falling down that defines you, it is how you pick yourself up.

Words which did not necessarily provide comfort as I reflected on the challenge had proved too big this time.
I was gutted.

Stephen appeared at the top of the climb. I was perfectly happy sitting where I was, contemplating the world and everything in it.... but it was time.

The path down at this point is a rocky scramble, made pretty tough by the fact that my leg had nicely seized up, and so I was very glad in the end that Stephen was there as it wasn't easy.  Stephen was fantastic in helping us negotiate this safely, whilst pointing out wildflowers and imparting his knowledge of the area. The lake was finally within our reach and we made our way around it before descending the last part to Ogwen cottage. ENDEX.

We sat at the cafe, drinking Tango. Paul emerged from the minibus looking a bit battered. We commiserated and made plans for dinner whilst the guides sorted out ferrying us back to my car and accommodation.

We joked and laughed during the minibus ride, quoting lines from songs, that fitted into the situation we had found ourselves in.

I checked in to my accomodation and bumped into Andy, TM. Yes he took the piss out of my broken self... but it made me smile. He decided to join us for dinner, so once I had showered and changed, I picked him up and we went to go and find Phil. After a slight detour due to some 'interesting' directions, we found Phil and went to pick up Paul. As we were driving to Llanberis, the clouds descended over the mountains, a few raindrops heralded another downpour. I looked up to where the tops of the mountains had been, and where the remaining walkers were probably now battling their way up and knew I had made the right call.

A hot meal is never a bad thing to lift the spirits as is company and by the time we made our way back, I was feeling better about the whole thing. Better enough to venture into the campsite bar, where I found Mike and Jules and other friends who all did a good job in making me feel better.

There I met a remarkable man, who removed all last vestiges of self-pity. Peter McCleave had been invited to Snowdonia Rocks by Mike when he read a story in the news of how Peter's son had written a letter asking  for strangers to sign up to the bone marrow donor list to save his Dad. Peter was diagnosed with myeloma and without a stem cell transplant, has only 7 more years to live as a maximum. Peter only noticed symptoms whilst training for an Iron man competition and due to his complex heritage, has not yet been able to find a match.  He launched a campaign to find 10000 donors and his story is inspirational. It put my failure in perspective immediately.  If you are reading this, and aren't a bone marrow donor you can sign up online and perhaps save a life like Peter's. Go to www.lovehopestrength.co.uk and follow the links to our partner charity DKMS, to get a home kit. That is what THIS is all about, not climbing mountains, not personal triumph.

Sleep came quickly which was just as well as I had to be up early to help set up registration for Saturday's walk from Zip world to the lake that I had hobbled past yesterday.

I was determined to take part, despite the fact that I had to cover myself in deep heat and down some ibruprofen before literally lifting my legs out of bed. I had stiffened up completely and the groin strain ensureddifficulty in lifting my foot higher than a couple of inches. However the brufen kicked in and I drove to zip world to meet the volunteers.

Whilst we were registering, disaster happened as a strong gust of wind caught our gazebo and lifted it up, pulling all the stakes and guy ropes out of the ground before flinging the whole thing across the ground, destroying it. Where would we swab now? Fortunately Zip world kindly let us set up in their shop so we rolled with the punches and made the best of it.... but first the walk!

Despite the early morning rain and wind, the sun came out and shined down on us.
I was slow, but moving forward and found myself enjoying the view, the fresh air and the company.  The miles ticked away with music and laughter and friendship and despite struggling a bit on the uphills, I was moving forward.
My battered body was once again responding to the questions asked, still moving despite being overworked and overstretched. The body is an amazing thing with such powers to regenerate and recover, which is reiterated to me over and over again, whenever I attempt any of my challenges. Not that it was easy by any means! When we reached the cafe (again) I decided against going up to the lake, knowing the stone steps that I would have to raise my leg up and over. My ego was satisfied with what I had done today and with the swabbing still to come, I knew there would be no rest this evening.

Myself and Dave P strolled back, sharing the peace and tranquillity of the road with less people. It was glorious.
The evening was spent taking swabs from people and chatting with friends. Thanks to Gaz Jones for the stage shout outs that ensured a queue to sign up for bone marrow donation and resulted in 101 people now on the list. Maybe one of them will be a match for Peter. Lets hope.

The music was rounded off by the excellent Cast, goodbye's said and then sink into bed.... or rather painfully ease myself down. Ready for another day and a small bike ride! This should be interesting.....

Another early start... pick up bike at Kirsty's house(left for safety) and off to Llyn Brenig. I had talked a few people into joining me for a repeat of last year's post Snowdonia Rocks bike ride. In all there were 4 of us... brave souls one and all. Steve had brought his unicycle and frankly I don't know how he got on the thing... let alone move forward. Dave hadn't ridden a bike for 40 years, Matt barely over the past year... and me... who had such crocked legs that I had to practically lie my bike down to get on it! A motley crew.

We set off, along the tarmac path to the North side of the lake, an easy start. We pottered along, chatting away. Steve negotiating his unicycle around the potholes with practiced ease.
The steep up proved a bit difficult on the unicycle and the loose gravel made it hard even on my wonderful Whyte 29er. Legs screaming, I made it to the top with just 1 stop. The view over the bracken and heather made the effort worthwhile. Yet the black clouds spoke trouble ahead... indeed no sooner had we topped out, than the rain began. At first a few spots, then rain so hard it soaked to the skin within seconds. The wind howled, gale force (possibly even hurricane) and a brief minute of hail all added to the adventure, which we were all still smiling through.
The downhill was fun, skidding to an abrupt halt at a dip filled with water as I was unsure how deep it was. Negotiated and onwards through the driving rain to our turn off back to the lakeside.

Cold, wet but undeterred, we continued on. And then something extraordinary happened.... the sun appeared, warming up the bones and making the last part of this ride thoroughly enjoyable. The peace of nature, birds singing, sun shining down was just the way to end the weekend. A perfect finish to a hard challenge.

The all day breakfast and hot chocolate was well deserved...
 the chips on top perhaps an extravagance.
We said our goodbyes, loaded up the car and headed back to real life.

Whilst this weekend did not go to plan... like in life, I must pick myself up and continue to dream.

This chapter has ended and another one will soon begin. Ecuador is looming large on the horizon and I will take the lessons I have learnt in these mountains with me to the higher peaks of the Andes, where I will be playing once again in September.

To follow the next journey, the lows and highs, pain and triumph or perhaps despair, please go to www.facebook.com/OneChallengeAtATime.
From September 7th when I fly out, I will be blogging daily and posting photos and videos. From now until then there will be training and kit updates, details of how YOU can get involved in this journey. The Dirt Roads and Mountain madness challenge starts here!!

LHS