Welsh 3000s Record
Published in The Fellrunner #124 Summer / Autumn 2019
For me a good challenge involves pushing myself in the mountains. For it to be really engaging it would need to involve at least some technical ground - rough tracks, scree runs, a wee bit of scrambling. It would be about speed but also stamina, a route that would push me hard. Racing is good, but an ‘against the clock’ solo adventure is often better. You’re still racing your biggest rival and harshest critic. As an example, when I first started reccying the Cuillin Ridge Traverse in 2012 I had no idea if the record was even possible for me. I’d have guessed my chances were below fifty-fifty. The unknown factor is key to the allure: daring to try, trying in the face of possible failure. Records have a magic about them too - a lifetime of experience, often days of planning, hours of exact physical and mental execution summarised to just a time. A time to strive for; to beat. And of course, the older the record the bigger the draw. With time grows a mystique: both enticing and cautionary. Colin Donnelly’s 1988 Welsh 3000ft Mountains record had all of these qualities.
I must’ve been aware of the ‘3000ers’ record for over ten years. I didn’t know the specifics, other than it would be tough if not impossible, but it remained on some subconscious dream list. I only knew one person who had attempted the record, and couldn’t understand why I’d not heard of more attempts on such a great line. Maybe getting older and looking for different projects was a catalyst of sorts for my own attempt - I would miss some races but make a late spring trip to Wales a priority.
Between its start atop Britain’s highest mountain south of the Scottish Highlands and the endpoint touching the trigpoint on Foel-fras the route covers over 35km and around 3000m of ascent. Its unusual summit to summit course conjured images of a ‘line in the sky’, which was augmented by watching the very 80s video reconstruction of Colin’s record breaking run. The route splits logically into three sections: the rough and technical descent from Snowdon to Nant Peris via Crib Goch; the increasingly rocky peaks of the Glyderau skyline and down to Llyn Ogwen; and the big steep climb up Pen yr Ole Wen, crossing the Carneddau to the final lonely wall on Foel-fras.
Logistically, at least, these two big valley crossings were useful as it meant I could carefully recce each section on its own, and more importantly during the record attempt I could get support at the two road crossings. My parents usefully decided to come to North Wales on holiday and so were able to meet me at these points with food supplies and water during my record attempt. This meant I didn’t have to carry much at all while running, and the need for support runners to carry sustenance was removed.
Learning the route I did slowly and carefully, with reference to Roy Clayton and Ronald Turnbull’s book ‘The Welsh Three Thousand Foot Challenges’. It took quite a degree of discipline to frequently turn around and go back, checking out every small trod and alternative line as I went. I made sure to memorise my best lines before I moved on to a new section. I didn’t spend too much time looking at Colin’s splits - they worried me and made me feel tired! Running the 2.3km road section slightly downhill to Nant Peris at the fastest pace that seemed possibly reasonable I was somewhat heartened to find I was bang on record pace of 3:14 minutes/km for that short but rapid part of the route.
I had timed my trip perfectly to coincide with a long dry spell in Wales but the window was forecast to close. I had a day of complete rest then set off to walk up Snowdon for my first attempt. Often apprehensiveness can present itself as feeling physically suboptimal, slightly fatigued, and this was the case as I slowly made my way to the summit. I was intimidated but yet bursting to have a shot. At the least, I consoled myself, this would be a stunningly varied journey through the best mountains of Snowdonia done in a way that was bound to push me. The weather was ideal too - clear but with a little high cloud and wind to avoid unpleasant valley inferno conditions.
The watch hit 9am and I hit the descent. Crib y Ddysgl arrived in a little over 5 mins but already I was behind on Colin’s time. I had prepared myself for this likelihood, but I knew he felt he had lost some time later in the Carneddau, so perhaps things could change. The ridge to Crib Goch was fast but again I lagged slightly behind. I attacked the rough descent from Bwlch Goch hard on my optimal line. Arriving at the road at Blaen-y-nant I couldn’t believe it - I was ahead of the split! This spurred me into a fast road section and solid ascent of Elidir Fawr, getting there a minute faster than the record. This was the first point where I dared to imagine actually breaking it, though there was still a long way to go. Being so close to the split times kept the fire lit and I pushed hard to stay ahead through the runnable terrain to Y Garn and the Glyders. As the ground got rougher I summited Tryfan over two minutes ahead and jumped between Adam and Eve to gain ‘the freedom of Tryfan’ - it would’ve been rude not to enjoy it.
From Llyn Ogwen I had decided on the shorter but steeper south ridge up Pen yr Ole Wen instead of Colin’s east ridge route. My reasoning was that at this point in the run a rough power hike might suit my legs better than the more runnable but marginally longer variation. I pushed upwards as hard as I could, trying to remain strong where I knew Colin had confessed to feeling weakest. Touching the cairn I was ecstatic to find the tactic had worked - I was now over 7 minutes ahead of his schedule.
The Carneddau now stretched out before me; runnable and broad but still rocky and interesting. Heading directly along the traverse trod to Yr Elen was a joy after faffing about reccying the best line here earlier, although I can’t explain why I was ten percent slower than both Colin and Joss on this short leg - stopping to refill water only explaining a small part of this. From Carnedd Llewelyn the Irish Sea to the north gave a backdrop to the final summits. I knew the splits and I knew the record was in grasp. But it was a mental battle to keep pushing on, breathing hard and holding psychological tyranny over my body’s physical protestations. Continuing up the final gradual climb and round the corner of the wall the lone trigpoint came into view. Slamming into it with both hands I had done it. Legs that had felt so focussed a moment earlier now were unsteady and I slumped to the ground amongst the boulders, a delicious desistance. 4hrs 10mins 48secs was my new benchmark: I made the slow journey down in elated astonishment.
