Completing this route in a oner had been in the back of my mind since April, when I completed it over 2 days. With 2 weeks to the National Fell Relays and a promising weather forecast, it looked like the perfect weekend to give it a crack. That said, I was still very much on the fence about going ahead with it until the day before - a month of racing in September having taken its toll on my body, foremost of which, a sore achilles from the silly steep climbs of Pedol Peris. Decision made, I drove across the Severn Bridge and spent the afternoon on the bike stashing drinks and snacks about the place, like a squirrel preparing for winter.
I set off from the Scout Hut just before 5am - the plan being to get the first, most familiar section under the belt in the dark, and hopefully finish in the light. The rude start time was rewarded with the most spectacular pre-dawn view back over Sugarloaf from the climb up PCC, the mountain perfectly silhouetted against the first hints of sun.
The early morning valley mist had risen by the time I was climbing the Dragon's Back, treating me to a faint Broken Spectre and a spectacular view over to Pen y Fan peeking over the top of the clouds. Having been aware that my achilles was not happy from almost the first few steps, Crug Mawr was a key decision point, being the easiest place to pull the plug and walk back to the van. Earlier in the week, I'd read something that stuck with me: "when you go all in, you always win". With that in mind, I decided that today was my day to go all in, and cracked on to my main resupply cache at Pont Candwgan.
The climb out the other side was a slog with 2.5l of liquid and lots of calories on board, but it was only once I gained the ridge and tried to run, that it properly hit just how sluggish I was now feeling. I entered the cloud over Chwarel Y Fan and visibility dropped to a minimum. I was dreading this next section, as it is very runnable at a point when all you want to do is walk. Not being able to see anything, it felt like I was stuck on a treadmill staring at a blank wall, relying purely on sheer force of will to keep going.
The cloud cover broke as Hatterall Hill came into view; the end of this interminable ridge was in sight. Although the route keeps a few nasty surprises in store for the very end, I knew that once I got off the ridge, I'd be able to get this thing done. Mentally, I was now ticking off the climbs, feeling reinvigorated, with only my toes and quads reminding me that I was nudging over the 100km mark. The North face Skirrid is about as subtle as a punch to the face, but I was soon over it and doing my best to open up my stride on the long road run-in to town.
I must've looked just a tad crazed to any unsuspecting onlookers as I touched the Scout Hall gate, stopped my watch and promptly collapsed in a heap on the ground. While I can't say that I felt great at any point on that run, and was certainly questioning my life choices on multiple occasions, the fact that I still kept going means this one will sit with me for a while. What a route and what a great set of hills. It feels like a privilege to have experienced its many guises in one big day of human-powered "fun".