A Dark Bob
Published in The Fellrunner 139 (Summer 2024)
It’s 3am and I’m alone on England’s highest peak on the longest night of the year. The weather is atrocious and it’s becoming indefensible to persist. A particularly heavy squall almost knocks me off my feet in the boulders as the relentless rain intensifies. Even by the powerful light of my headtorch it's difficult to make out the worn rock of paths which are obvious by daylight or in better weather. After 11 hrs in these conditions I’m tiring and struggle to get the correct compass bearing. A growing feeling that this isn’t working continues to build, both a subconscious and fully conscious balancing of risks and safety margins, informed by many days out in poor weather. The balance tips: it’s time to bail. I don’t feel any indecision, it’s obvious. Retracing my steps and then descending the Corridor Route to Seathwaite, the wind gradually eases as I lose height and trudge out to safety.
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That was my first attempt on the ‘Dark Bob’, my challenge to try the Lake District’s classic 24hr endurance run - The Bob Graham Round - fully within the longest night of the year; starting at sunset on 21st December and aiming to finish before sunrise, 16 hours and 45 mins later. I chose the date - the winter solstice - months earlier. I would go whatever the weather, solo and unsupported, with no GPS navigation aids. I felt real excitement for this project, despite the high likelihood of bad weather and possible failure. Or probably exactly because of these factors.
It has often been said that a true challenge requires an uncertain outcome; a degree of jeopardy which will test you fully. In my cocoon of weatherproof kit, carrying my food supplies and carefully planned backup kit, pushing on into the gusty dark mists with very poor visibility, the challenge felt real. My foremost goal was to make sensible decisions and remain self sufficient and safe despite the weather: to test my mountaincraft. After that came the route, the Bob Graham Round - or ‘The Bob’ for short - is a 66 mile classic round of 42 Lakeland Fells which most people chose to run in good weather in the milder and lighter summer months, usually with a support team. I enjoyed one of my toughest days running in just this style in August 2021 where I came in just 7 minutes slower than the record at the time, set in 2018 by Catalonian Kilian Jornet.
The original concept for a Winter Bob Graham was to attempt it on the shortest day. This led to several failed attempts in gruesome weather in the early 1980s by the likes of Martin Stone and Peter Simpson. Moving away from the shortest day concept, the first winter sub 24 hour completion was made by John Brockbank and Selwyn Wright on December 14th 1986. Martin Stone then followed up with the first solo and unsupported midwinter round on January 8th 1987. A definition of winter as being between December 1st and the end of February (meteorological winter) is used for these records. Particular kudos is given to a midwinter round, completed during the three week period around the shortest day (exact definition on the Bob Graham Club website).
Winter completions are much less common for obvious reasons - with only around 60 completions compared to over 2800 summer completions - but there does seem to be a growing interest in pitting oneself against the additional challenges inherent in winter running. Improvements in kit have no doubt been a factor here. Head torches are now light, bright and reliably long lasting; a variety of winterised running shoes are available; as are improved communications options in the form of trackers, PLB beacons, and - used by many - GPS navigation. Everything weighs less also, from our waterproofs to rucksacks, and race food is calorie dense and conveniently packaged.
The range of weather and ground conditions one might encounter in a typical UK winter is significant - and each has its own challenges. A mild wet stormy day could feel far colder and more difficult than a rare polar continental ‘Beast from the East’ pattern of cold fine days crunching along firm snow. Unconsolidated soft powder is just plain slow and exhausting, breaking trail and sinking on each step. However, one feature that is synonymous with winter and is by definition at its peak at the solstice, is darkness. This adds difficulty to a round which is ideally completed in less than 24 hrs, and is arguably the single most defining feature of these winter rounds - where underfoot and weather conditions can vary so dramatically. Regardless of snow, wind or rain, in winter the darkness is never far away.
Attempt 1
Starting out from the Moot Hall, Keswick, at 3.48pm - official sunset on the 21st December - the hills were damp and foreboding. It was uncomfortably windy. I didn’t feel the usual elated excitement of commencing a big run as the weather was just too poor. I felt something more akin to resignation: this was going to be tough. Despite that, I was still glad to be finally starting the challenge I had prepared for. Food, waterproof layers, gloves and spares, torch and extra batteries, mini Inreach tracker, goggles, map and compass with spares, blizzard bag, balaclava…it was a heavier bag than usual but I felt well kitted out for the weather.
After the initial climb up Skiddaw on a wide path, I was then off on the runners' trods. While I could remember something of them from my summer round, it required a lot of focus to avoid going wrong in the dark and cloudy night, and I was glued to my map and compass. In the second leg, starting with the ascent of Clough Head and then traversing south along the Dodds to Helvellyn, I was running with the wind and the undulating ridge gave me regular reprieves from it when I dipped down off summits. I could make out dull dark forms of the mountains and navigation wasn’t too challenging here. Crossing the road at Dunmail Raise was a strange reminder of the outside world as I saw the tail lights of a few cars glow red: the world was in evening mode while I was just starting the night shift properly.
Leg 3 onto Calf Crag was reasonable although I lost the trod towards Sargent Man and took a suboptimal line. I huddled at the summit rocks of High Raise, sheltering from the wind and getting another layer on. Despite the weather - which was now windier with heavy rain - progress remained reasonable until Rossett Pike and I was still just about on my 16h45 schedule. From Bowfell onwards things deteriorated however, with stronger gusts, a persistent deluge and visibility in the mist very poor: down to five metres at times. I was slowing down and by now had most of my spare layers on. I wasn’t cold, and in general was pleased with how my systems were working, but the situation was now pretty serious and, as you know from my introduction, I soon bailed out.
As I walked down the road from Seathwaite Farm at 5.30am I was still buzzing from the attempt. Far from feeling dejected by bailing I felt realistic that this had been the only real option - I would never have got round in those conditions, especially as the next leg would have taken me onto exposed ridges travelling directly into the wind. I expected to be walking for a few hours until I could hitch a lift or phone my partner Rosie at a reasonable time, but she had been watching my tracker and came out to collect me on the road. Sitting next to her was a saturated Shane Ohly who had been attempting a solo unsupported Bob going the other way around, again with the aim of a ‘whatever the weather’ winter solstice adventure, by map and compass. Shane had started at midnight so had got into the really bad weather sooner in his attempt. We knew of each other's plans and hoped to pass in the night, but obviously had no idea of how each was getting on. In actual fact, we had both decided to bail at around the same time, and Rosie had seen this unfold on our trackers as we both headed for Seathwaite independently. Driving back to Keswick - all three of us squeezed into the front of the van - we had a great debrief on the weather, our tactics and systems. It was a pretty intense, sleep-deprived conversation that continued as the daylight grew, and remains as a great memory of camaraderie and - rather than failure - a celebration of these arbitrary challenges we set ourselves.
Attempt 2
As I recovered I realised that I wanted a rematch: this was indeed the type of challenge I was looking for. With each passing day growing a little longer, the time between sunset and sunrise shrunk slightly. By the 6th January there was a good window of calm and cold conditions on the fells. Clear, star studded skies with a quarter moon rising in the early hours. I had 15 minutes less time between sunset and sunrise now, and started at 4.03pm from the Moot Hall.
Straight away I was running faster without the wind. The first half of the route was clear in my mind following my recent attempt and the glowing sunset whilst running up a benign Skiddaw was a marked contrast to when I was last here - and boded very well. I managed to get ahead of Kim Collison’s winter record split times early on. However, that combined with knowing what I had gone through just a few weeks earlier gave me a weird sense of pressure and loneliness going into the small hours: it was all to play for but in the dark it would be easy to make mistakes, and I would have to run for many hours to even get past my previous ‘high point’ on Scafell Pike. Eventually I switched off from this and just concentrated on running my own run. There was very little snow but a lot of hoar and ice, especially on the second half of Leg 3 from Bowfell to Scafell where it was very slippy. I had decided at the last minute not to take spiked orienteering shoes - useful for these conditions but at the risk of causing very sore feet over this 100km route which would mostly not require them. I think this was the right decision, although at the time I worried I would regret it as I was slowed on the -2⁰C rock hopping from Bowfell. A conditions report from the day before allowed me to confidently leave out the microspikes and ice axe, and I had packed more cold weather clothing.
Passing through the remote valley of Wasdale in the middle of the night was bizarre yet uneventful; climbing steeply out of the valley was a sharp contrast to my summer round which was in sweltering heat at this point. Now into Leg 4 it was time to think again about split times - I was still ahead of the winter record. Pushing on along the rough ridges and shortcut trods from Steeple to Pillar, Kirkfell to Great Gable, I kept on schedule. Leg 5 went by smoothly and only as I ran the final 10km road section back to the Moot Hall did I enter into some valley mist which was cold and eerie. I ran along the deserted main street of Keswick, my footsteps echoing loudly. It is customary to receive a pint from the eponymous pub, The Round, after finishing a Bob - but not predawn on a Sunday in January. The deliciously hot soup Rosie brought me was much more fitting. My Dark Bob was complete, I had finished before sunrise, and took 12 minutes off the winter record in the process to give a time of 15h35m47s.
