The Bob Graham Round

It seems common nowadays for those who have a love of running and the Lake District to be familiar with the Bob Graham Round. The 66 mile circuit of 42 seemingly random Lakeland fells is steeped in tradition and represents the pinnacle of running achievement to most of those who attempt it. As a runner living in the north of England, I’d be lying to say I’ve never thought the same.

Recently though, I’ve been able to find a real sense of achievement and enjoyment in travelling solo over long distances and experiencing mountainous terrain on a personal level. I’ve learned a little more about food, pacing and my fitness with every long day out. The Tranter Round in the hills of Lochaber was a brilliant introduction; during the Type 2 Fun Run I realised I can probably still force myself to run a 60 minute 10k after 30 hours and after the Wainright Seven Summits earlier this year I was totally broken. I’m sure that tackling the Bob Graham Round with a team of friends would be a fantastic undertaking but with that aside, the idea of attempting my longest run, solo and unsupported felt like the purest form of adventure.

A brief break in the mist on Leg 4.

On Saturday the 5th of September 2020, I found myself on the last bus from Kendal to Keswick, watching the rain lash against the windows. From my minimal experience of running overnight, I know that I start to fall asleep on my feet if I’ve already been going for more than a day when the sun sets. I had decided on an evening start (19:30) to make sure I was tackling the sleepiest sections on fresh legs.

Leg 1: Darkness in the northern fells.

The rain had warded off many of the tourists from the town centre so I was on the slopes of Skiddaw soon enough with little fuss. The clag was down and it was already completely dark at the top. My plan for navigation was to use a map & compass as much as possible and revert to a GPS of the route on my watch if I got into trouble. I managed to completely miss the path off the back of Skiddaw and the nerves got to me quickly so it didn’t take long before I was stealing glances at the small blue arrow on my wrist. I passed another pair of runners after Great Calva who were running as a team of six, with four others ahead. I was internally relieved that I had company out in the darkness. On the summit of Blencathra the rain started again and I immediately began regretting my cheap shoe choice. £65 might sound like a good deal, but the grip was useless – that wet rock coming off the Hall’s Fell ridge might as well have been covered in ice.

Leg 2: Cloud, rain and not much else.

I had a bite to eat and put another layer on in the Threlkeld car park. Having adjusted to the dark, I felt slightly happier and sunrise didn’t seem so far away now. Up and over Clough Head, the ridgeline was completely obscured in dense cloud and rain making the traverse to Helvellyn particularly difficult. I often lost the path in the misty bubble of light surrounding my headtorch and finding the summit cairn of Stybarrow Dodd was just ridiculous. I relocated at least 3 or 4 times back to the path to take another compass bearing to the cairn arguing with myself on each attempt; I’m going downhill, I must’ve passed it... Am I still going uphill or is it just the wind?... (15 minutes later)… This is too far, I should try again… Ah! Here it is. Descending out of the cloud to Grisedale Tarn was a real relief. The extra few feet of visibility made Fairfield and Seat Sandle practically easy!

Leg 3: Navigation skills? Never heard of them.

I’d forced some nuts & a cereal bar down at Dunmail Raise but at the top of Steel Fell I didn’t feel great. The lack of a recci on Leg 3 also didn’t help and I was generally stumbling around in the bogs until I arrived on familiar ground atop Sergeant Man. I did manage to recover slightly over the Langdale Pikes, even though a map error meant I wholeheartedly tried (and failed) to navigate my way to Loft Crag instead of Harrison Stickle. I was a bit sick of wet bogs and pathless trods after all of this and opted for the clear path around to Rosett Pike as daylight began to emerge through the clouds. 

A brief period of daylight & a view down into Langdale

Without a decent amount of light, I probably would have struggled to pick my way up through the crags towards the summit of Bowfell but I got lucky on timing. The luck didn’t hold out though because I was plagued with navigation errors for the next 3 hours. I completely failed to get to the summit of Bowfell and had to backtrack after it eventually revealed itself in the mist. I mixed up north and south on top of Great End and set off in the wrong direction, only realising when I almost tumbled off one of the northeastern crags. Exactly the same thing happened again on Broad Crag. I was tired, my shoes were rubbish on the wet boulders and I was having a great time coming up with excuses for my slow progress. On the descent from Scafell, after a soggy ascent via Fox’s Tarn, I was feeling thoroughly miserable and only cheered up following a fun scree slope down to the Wasdale Head tourist track.

Leg 4: Please let the drizzle stop.

In need of a rest, I sat by the river in the valley and changed my socks. I took a full ten minutes to eat some food and reset myself for round two of the battle with the Wasdale fells, starting with Yewbarrow. The climb is notorious on the Bob Graham, but I actually quite liked it. I’d never been up Yewbarrow before so I just enjoyed the task of bagging a new Wainright. Once over the top though, the misery ensued with a slippery descent and rainy trudge up Red Pike. Much the same as Leg 2, I found myself tagging two or three summit cairns thinking they were the top before I actually got there. My first proper view of the day was the bulk of Great Gable looming out of the mist. I’ve been up and down Great Gable many times but in my depleated state I still made the classic mistake of ending up in the boulder fields on the descent to Windy Gap. No need to worry though, I was on for time and the end was in sight – quite literally. Just in time for the final leg the cloud lifted on the way to Honister Pass revealing glorious sunshine. Typical.

Leg 5: A run in the sun.

The route up Dale Head was long and my legs just weren’t feeling a hard push. At least I could enjoy a bit of a view. I managed a good run over Hindscarth and then, soon enough, I was touching the cairn of Robinson, the 42nd and final peak. Failing some catatrophic injury I knew I’d make it back in under 24 hours but the question was – how far under? I had no idea how long it would take me to get in from here so my head was desperately trying to do some maths as I stumbled down to the valley. By the road section I had mentally given up on trying to push hard for the nearest hour. But, as I plodded, it just seemed to dawn on me that I was finishing the Bob Graham round, I can’t just stroll it in at the end. I went for it. All out for the final 6 km. On the steps of Moot Hall I stopped my watch at 21:47 – I didn’t even need the last push to get under 22 hours.

21 hours 47 minutes
105.33 km total distance
8150 m total ascent
Strava: https://www.strava.com/activities/4021783658