Parr 61 is Done.
It may have been a bit short in the planning but a bit long in the final hours.
It was always an ambitious schedule, bearing in mind Steve's sub 43 hours was achieved in July 1984 assumedly in good weather, fully paced and he was in his prime recording a 17hour BG. My 61 hours was purely a personal target, one suitable for a rapidly aging 'has been'.
With a three day window in my diary, and with Mel being available with her van 'Gwen' it was game on. No time to recce any sections, except the descent off Carl Side down to the A591 near Lizzick Hall Hotel.
A 7am start fitted reasonably allowing late breakfast in Braithwaite, high tea in Buttermere and a midnight finish in Wasdale. I was geared up to run solo, although 'Flip-Flop Aleks' was booked as local route guru for Lingmell, Scafell and The Pike at 4am, then I'd trundle onto Langstrath, hoping for 'pop-up support' in the valley bottom between Glaramara and High Raise.
My next road crossing would be Three Shires Stone, then a lap of the Coniston Fells down to Little Langdale. Cumbria Way and minor roads to Ambleside, onto Troutbeck, over to Kentmere Church and then Harter Fell and the High Street peaks and back to Kirkstone. The final leg was just the length of Fairfield, 'Helvellyn and The Dodds' (named after a popular local beat combo in the '50's, apparently) finishing at Threlkeld.
No Moot Hall
Steve had started and finished at the Moot Hall, but it held no attraction for me. Those steps may be hallowed stones for many, and very relevant to a Bob Graham but I had license to do my own thing. I didn't fancy the descent off Skiddaw as a finale, nor Blencathra as the final big climb. Neither did I want to run tarmac from Keswick to Braithwaite, so in Lakes Fell Record style I came direct off Carlside, a little used but delightful route and tarmac free. Great Dodd has always been important and local to me, so a start and finish at Threlkeld was obvious.
Threlkeld has all you need. Easy parking, just off the A66, on a main bus route from Penrith mainline station, and it's the closest point to home. Also, the bus stop is right next to a post box, which is very convenient for posting your tracker back to Open Tracking afterwards. Furthermore, the building on the corner used to be a shop when I did my first BG back in 1983.
So...
Mel picked me up from home, drove me and Billy Dog to Threlkeld and they came part way up Hallsfell before turning back as the scrambling started, although Billy Dog wanted to come too.
Solo over Blencathra and Skiddaw Lower Man and Skiddaw itself.
Down the Carlside descent and across the A591 where I found Paul Wilson sat waiting for me. It was good to talk to Paul about his Steve Parr Round and all things connected with BG rounds, ethos and ethics.
We had a quick brew with Mel at Braithwaite, then Paul continued with me up Grisedale Pike and over the peaks to Grasmoor before heading off to the school run. Wandhope, Crag Hill and Sail lead to an easy long descent to Buttermere and a proper feed ready for the long evening leg to Wasdale.
Easy up High Stile, then a tedious leg around Haystacks chasing daylight over dead ground aiming to get to Green Gable before dark.
A head torch loomed out of the gloom and increasing mist which introduced itself as John Fletcher. 'You don't know me, but I know Rich and Carol. It took me a while to realise you were out today, but I have a flask of tea, and cheese and tomato sandwich and some Jelly Babies'.
John's Tea was just as welcome as his company finding Green Gable over confusing ground in murky conditions. So murky, I did a double take at the cairn and John looked worried as he had to leave me at Windy Gap. Gable summit was found with only minor incident, but the descent to Beck Head was simply awful. Thick mist, wet rock and gusty winds. Cautious and slow navigation secured the route up Kirkfell, and off via the old metal fence posts. Climbing Pillar the visibility improved quite dramatically, clearing to reveal twinkling stars and a small crescent moon.
The Bob Graham peaks, plus Haycock as an out and back were nice, then the mist rolled in again on the sneaky traverse out to Red Pike. It was getting late now, and having not looked at the new high tech Casio watch, it beeped midnight, meaning, 'Oh shit!' I was aware I'd been losing time in the dark and murk despite feeling strong, and I was only to lose more on an awful scree descent of Dore Head, taking a tumble and having to climb back up to retrieve a pole.
I reached Wasdale Head around 1:20am, where Mel had the van ready, quickly ate what I could and put the alarm on for 3:30am. Aleks would be here for a 4am depart.
Brew on at 3:30am, Aleks is there, then a third 'random' guy, Joe Parsons who'd seen what I was doing and had a few hours to spare before work out on the West Coast. Off at 4:15am, steady away, steep climb up Lingmell Nose and then traverse across to Scafell, up and down West Wall Traverse in thick murk, wet loose scree, but excellent work from Alek and Joe. Many stories, many laughs.
Dawn on Scafell means I have lost time, so we find a cold shivery Angela White at Esk Hause, armed with tea and porridge. I took a quick drink, then headed for Esk Pike solo as Joe and Aleks raced back to Wasdale and their respective work. I doubled back down to Esk Hause Shelter for more tea and the porridge with Angela who was less shivery as the sun started to warm the day.
Solo over Allen Crags and a surprisingly easy run to Glaramara feeling good, not stressing about time.
Gaynor and Dave Prior, plus Stuart Smith had volunteered to walk into the support point in Langstrath and a massive moveable fun feast of more tea, porridge, Spanish Omelette, orange juice and even a Danish pastry were consumed, as well as more time lost but laughs gained.
I'd had a poor descent of Glaramara, seemingly hitting every boulder field and craglet I could, conscious that Gaynor, Dave and Stuart were watching a decrepit ex-fellrunner descend like a lame donkey. But, it had given me a chance to look at the ascent of High Raise, which is stuck plum in the centre of the Lakes at a meaningful 2500'. Rather than the direct 'route one', the easy angled zigzags up towards Stake Pass provided a better option before turning left for High Raise. Stuart and Keela dog did the zig-zags with me before heading back to the valley and left me to a steady climb, warm in the mid-day sun, and a surprising sight of a mighty stag on a rocky outcrop.
A quick lap of the trig (an alternative to touching it) and off I went jogging down the long descent to traverse around to Rossett Gill. Jim Tinnion came towards me, having back tracked from Three Shires. Bowfell went Ok, with Jim providing a 'Jetboil brew' just off the summit.
Mick Cooper joined us for Crinkle Crags and on to Long Top we were joined by Debs White, as a final summit before Three Shires. I'd forgotten who far it was down to the Pass. My days of hammering down here in the Langdale fell race are long gone and I was now very conscious of the time slipping away. I'd hoped to get over the Coniston Fells and down off Weatherlam in daylight but that was going to be very ambitious. Onsight rough descents in the dark are a recipe for time loss and so it was to be.
As quick as we could at the road crossing, where Mel was going to join me for some Wainwright reminiscing but Mick and Jetboil Jim continued with me. Mick did leave behind the bottle of beer he'd carried out to give me, in the van for my finish. (Monumental from Saltaire Brewery)
It was a lovely evening, and a stunning sunset but a wheezy chest was giving me some concerns. A final fell brew via Jim at Levers Hawse before he headed back to Three Shires and Mick and myself to Weatherlam. Properly dark now, we saw a headtorch above us, and discover Tory has come up from Tilberthwaite to find us. I was particularly worried about this descent and the three of us, especially Mick and Tory did a fine job of getting me down to Greenburn. I don't think we found the right path to start with but soon found ourselves bashing through small yew trees, and gorse, overgrown on boulders and tussocks. Not my finest hour, but no point stressing. Tory did ace with her navigation, and we re-located onto good ground and back to normality, Tory heading right to Tilberthwaite and Mick and myself to Colwith Bridge, where Mel and Angela were ready with their vans, about 10:30pm.
Sleep.
I needed to sleep.
Gone were any plans to get beyond Ambleside and ideally Troutbeck, I just needed sleep, now. Into the van for food and sleep, Angela headed off with Mick. A quick meal, then I tried to sleep. 'Three hours' I suggested, to the relief of Angela and Mel, setting the alarm for 2:30am, hence 3:20 to allow twenty minutes to relax and get to sleep.
The wheezing got worse as I laid down. I felt quite panicky and struggled to breath without coughing deeply. 'Is this Covid, Asthma, the remnants of that heavy cold? For ten minutes or so I struggled to settle having to sit up. Mel had settled down to try and sleep across the front seats of her van (transit custom FYI) but came to look at me, and was worried. She calmed me down, gave me some paracetamol and I thought of all that first aid training for asthma and heart attack symptoms. Settling back down in the 'Z' position, and with great breath control Mel suggested some classical piano music and back in our respective cosy cramped positions I eventually went to sleep, but it had all taken a long time and eaten into my three hour sleep allowance, greatly.
Parking where we did, beside the river was probably one of the coldest spots in the Lakes. Mel hadn't slept at all, due to the cold and lay there just willing the alarm to go off and fire up the MSR Windburner. I must have had an hour or so of sleep, as I did feel better and my breathing was OK. The cold hit me as Mel opened the side door and I got dressed in the big roomy fleece bag as I drank the first tea of the day. There was very little kit faff and a second brew drunk as I initiated a rolling plan for me to get moving and Mel to provide breakfast in Skelwith Bridge or Ambleside.
I moved well along the Cumbrian Way, a route I walk a few times a year leading a walking group with Jilly-Milly, so a few more memories enjoyed, too. It was much nicer than the pure tarmac of the main road, that I assume Steve had used, but probably slower.
Breakfast in Ambleside was fit for a King. Scrambled egg and beans and two slices of Granary. I was back on a mission and still hopeful to get back towards scheduled times. I enjoyed further solo miles around Jenkin Wood towards Troutbeck and then Jo Spivey and Richard had run out from the home to meet me. More tea and cake offered; Richards is a star baker, although my appetite for sweet stuff was waning even for his excellent juice plum flan. Down across Troutbeck and the A592 and start to climb up Garburn Pass. Tory Miller appeared again having run up from Dubbs before work, and apologised for not having brought tea and the four of us made steady progress on the rocky bouldery track. It's great being able to introduce new friends to each other. Dawn broke as we descended to Kentmere Church were Ed-(Jack-in-the-Box)-Key jumped out from behind a gate, Yep, clutching more tea!
Chris and Jan Little had driven to Kentmere fearful that they would miss me anywhere else, and so Chris and Ed climbed up Kentmere Pike with me as the others headed home or to work. High up Kentmere Pike, Paul and Marcia Aitken caught us up just to say hello and then I was alone over to Harter Fell in a glorious sunny morning.
More Tea!
I tend to keep off my phone on these trips, so I might see a message but not open or read it. I did see one from Justine Carruthers, 'A flask of tea on Harter Fell for you, I will collect the bag tomorrow so just leave it by the cairn.' Not just a flask of black tea, but a small bottle of fresh milk, too! Nectar.
I was moving well again, and passed an ML training group out early descending to Nan Bield Pass. Climbing again, I'd go past Mardale Ill Bell, which was the fell that Steve Parr didn't class as 2500' foot high but Martin Stone did but as the route goes within a few metres of the summit it was bagged as well. John Parkin, (aka Arctic John) had found me here, looking out of character dressed in shorts. John had come up to support Gwynn Stokes on a BG adventure but that had been aborted so John had time to kill.
NO MORE TEA!
Angela was waiting for us on High Street (most Running Grannies are found on the high street?) with tea and more porridge. Now Angela, having run JoGLE last year does know a thing or two about nutrition but I wasn't for stopping just there and keen to get her moving to get her warm. We marched and shuffled over to Kidsty Pike, High Raise and Rampsgill Head all in patchy mist, breezy but generally a nice morning.
Skirting back over High Street, we passed a few folk at Thornthwaite Beacon, where there is an intriguing sign, 'Unstable Structure',
The descent, then re-ascent to Stony Cove Pike / Caudale Moor, is just like that steep little step on Seat Sandal, and always hits me between the eyes. Your quads are pumped and lungs not ready for a steep climb. By now, I was taking each steep climb in 'low gear' determined to keep my breathing steady and not risk the coughing fits that were quite debilitating.
Jim joined us again around here and we drifted and faffed a bit whilst chatting unfocused on nailing the summit then down to Kirkstone Pass. It was really good to meet Liz Wakelin, Steve Parr's ex-wife on the descent as well as Paul Aitken again. My legs were feeling fine, as well as my back, but I just couldn't get into any running, despite plenty of eagerness as the breathing just went off the scale.
Kirkstone Pass
Beware The Chair. Often said, so why did I sit down? There was this chair ominously positioned in lee of the car tailgate, next to the slow cooking eggs. I knew if I sat, then the pace and momentum would take a dive, but it seemed the right and polite thing to do. Damn.
Quite a crowd had gathered; James Thurlow to charge my battery, (tracker change - going so slowly) John Bamber with his big camera (re-deployed from Gwynn Stokes Montane mis-Adventure)
Red Screes is the last big climb, and so it was steady away in extra low gear, getting the lungs into maximum efficiency. Last time I was near here, I was with Mel on her Wainwrights and we had to go out to Middle Dodd and High Hartsop Dodd, but the direct line to Dove Crag is all for us, me Liz and Jim. Liz turned South back to Ambleside leaving Jim and myself to traverse, Hart Crag, Greatrigg Man, Fairfield and over to St. Sunday. The afternoon was starting to darken, and with a few patches of swirling cloud the traverse around Cofa Pike was fun. This used to be a frequent route of mine, dating back from Outward Bound days, as it's off the beaten track and a nice horseshoe from Deepdale. Jim mentioned that it would be nice to get off St. Sunday before dark and as we turned to look at the sunset Dwane and Louise Greenwood were rapidly catching us up. Cold on the summit, it was time to layer up for a long evening. Whilst doing so, I got Jim to off load all the accumulated food in my rucsac that wasn't going to get eaten and sent in valley wards with Dwane and Louise, thus saving a kilogram or two.
Across the outlet of Grisedale Tarn, two more friends appeared; Ros and Neil. It was delightful to see them both. Ros continued on with me, but Neil was on driving duties and so Jim jumped off here to get a lift around to Threlkeld with Neil.
Another very steady climb, but strong and enjoyable. I'd learnt to adopt an 'alpine plod' as per my mountaineering days in the Alps. As long as I kept my heart rate and breathing really easy there was no coughing or wheezing. Ros caught me up just before the top having taken a few goodies from Jim, and made a bit of a plan. Jim was keen to get around to Threlkeld and come up my proposed descent route as it was new to him and not as per the tracker link down via Newsham Farm.
At this stage I was aware that I should or could become a passenger in my own adventure as others (Friday evening after all) were taking the reins. I was glad of the company but I did keep wondering how I felt about this and how I'd feel if I had been solo. I was certainly geared up for it and prepared to be so, but Ros was great company. Then I heard a Geordie voice up in the murk just short of Dollywaggon. Daveed Atkinson? No....even better Ken Maynard. Star man Ken, did a great job of navigating us along from Dollywagen to Nethermost where a few more torches loomed out of the mist, as we cautiously search for all three summit cairns in turn. 'Are you folk at the top?' I shouted. 'Not sure, really,' was the consensus, and suddenly there seemed about eight or nine of us bimbling about in happy mood.
Seriously good to see everyone: Becky and Joel, Mel and Billy Dog, Paul and Emma, Mel and Angela armed with a flask, but soup, this time. Off we go ...'Er, Why are we heading South West folks? Classic, anybody, everybody, somebody.
Helvellyn summit shelter was a good spot to pause, warm soup welcome and plans checked as to who is doing what. Most headed off back down to Swirls car park, Mel decided to wait on Lower Man with Billy Dog while Ros and Ken and myself tackle the blustery greasy out and back to Castye Cam.
Reunited with Billy and Mel, we make good steady progress over Whiteside, Raise, both Stybarrow Dodds and then what seemed a very long dog leg out to Watson's Dodd. A final climb up Great Dodd was actually very pleasurable and all the while I was trying to raise the pace and push off down to the Old Coach Road via the Western shoulder of Clough Head and the steep diagonal path, as used on Open Adventure's Lakes in A Day. We met Jim again as he'd come up this way to locate the exit point and all was good. Well, apart from a big slippery tumble where I bent one pole, which is now called Suzanna.
I was frustrated at the pace. I had running left in my legs and had envisaged powering along the Helvellyn ridge gaining on my schedule, but the lungs just wouldn't let it happen. Overall a good laugh, great adventure.
Posting the tracker back to Open Tracking at the finish in Threlkeld.
Thanks Everybody
Recovery
