Another massive delay in blog submission…sorry about that. I’ve been muchas muchas busy with going away to Thailand, editing aftermath and starting a new job. It’s great going away, but the more gear I buy the more I take with me and the more messing around I have to do afterwards.

One of the guys (Chris) I used to work with mentioned that the ‘company’ were doing a sponsored walk. I thought, ‘yeah, I’ll have a bit of that’, without actually knowing anything about the “walk”. As I said, I used to work for them, so I wanted Chris to go off and check to make sure I could still do it. He assured me that my participation wouldn’t be a problem. Great stuff. Some more charity work – always good.

What stuff did I need to get? In fact, hang on, what was the walk all about? Where is it, how long, when? All questions which needed answering. Chris forwarded me on some information which told me it was the 3-Peaks Challenge. Eek, I’d heard little bits about what that was. My current boss did the 3-Peaks Challenge a few years back, so I thought I’d find out what it was.

To my horror I found it consisted of Ben Nevis, Scarfell Pike and Snowdon and that the whole thing had to be completed within 24 hours (with a good bit of that driving to and from Scotland). Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. Maybe I’d bitten off more than I could chew.

Back to the ‘what to get’ thing – I’d never been hill walking and had no gear to wear for the expedition. Tell a lie, I’d been to Edale but I’d worn jeans and trainers. The looks of disgust I got were funny. So, did I need boots, a coat, GPS, helicopter, chimp, etc? Clive, another ex-colleague also going on the walk MSN’d me a list of items:

• Rucksack
• Walking boots
• Walking socks
• Spare socks
• Walkie Talkies
• Mobile phone
• Two lots of food
• Gaiters
• Quick drying trousers / shorts
• Wicking t-shirt
• Fleece
• Waterproof jacket
• 3 litres of water
• Sun hat
• Sunglasses
• Suntan lotion
• Map & waterproof map holder
• Compass
• Plaster / anti-blister kit
• First Aid kit
• Whistle

Hmmm… what out of that did I have? Well, I had a rucksack, socks, mobile phone, food and water (obviously), waterproof jacket, sun hat, sunglasses and suntan lotion. Everything else would have to be purchased. After a quick butchers on the net, I soon realised that it was going to cost a packet-and-a-half. It was clear that the list above would have to be condensed otherwise I wouldn’t be able to afford to eat.

I’d decided on ditching the Walkie Talkies, gaiters (not really for fiscal reasons, but simply because they look gay), fleece, first aid kit and finally whistle (see the reason for not including the gaiters). So there was still a substantial list left, but I hoped it wasn’t going to break the bank.

Off I popped to Millets in the Manchester Arndale. It was red hot in there, as they seem to not use air conditioning, but rather have fans blasting warm air around the shop. A bit pointless if you ask me. So, first on my list is the walking boots. My preference was to not have the standard walking boots, but go for more of a trainer type look; simply because I wanted a touch more freedom around the ankles. I saw some on the shelf (Merrell - Chameleon II Slam), which looked okay, so I tried one on. It fitted fine. So I said I’d take them – my feet are of equal size and I see no point in trying on the pair and prancing around. They set me back £59.99.

Next up was a jacket. I already had a Sprayway from ages ago, but I thought it might be too warm for a jacket like that. A lightweight, easy to pack jacket was all I was after. Nothing too flash. There was one (Peter Storm - Jack In A Pack Jacket) that had been reduced to £19.99 (from £29.99), so that went in the pile.

A pair of shorts and a wicking t-shirt were the next items on the list. The shorts were found at £24.99 (Columbia - Elkhorn II Shorts) which seemed a bit pricey, but I was told they are a requirement as they are more durable than normal shorts. The t-shirt of choice (Peter Storm - Galvestone Technical T-Shirt) was £14.99 and to me that didn’t seem too bad, so that also went in the pile.

For the hell of it I bought myself a compass. I’d read in the Andy McNab books that the Army seemed to use Silva compasses, so I figured these were fairly decent. I chose one for £9.99 (Silva - Field 7 Compass).

So the grand total already was £129.95! Ridiculous. Like I said in blog2 these charity events seem to cost me a substantial amount. Maybe it would be beneficial for me to just give them the cash I would have spent on the clobber instead. That would ruin all the ‘fun’ though.

So it’s getting nearer the event and I’m disappointed that my friends have parted with very little sponsorship money. Some were claiming that they have only just given sponsor money to me for the last charity event. There are three points I’d like to raise with regards that comment –

1. It’s a completely different charity! – Cancer Research
2. I don’t care how much they give; it can be a quid if they really want.
3. They actually never gave me anything for the last one!! Sodding cheapskates.

A week before the event I read on the donations website we are actually going on the Yorkshire 3-Peaks challenge, which is actually done over 12 hours and is less intensive. It comprises Pen-y-Ghent (694m), Whernside (736m) and then Ingleborough (723m). Much less than the proper 3-Peaks, but you still had to make sure that you did all 1586m in height (yes, 694 + 736 + 723 = 2153, but the route we take makes the amount less) and 23.5miles (37.5km) in length in less than 12 hours. So I was a little disappointed that I wasn’t doing the daddy, but also relieved that I didn’t have to attempt to kill myself. Oh, and I’d only just confirmed that I was ‘allowed’ to join them on the excursion.

Our group had to meet up at the Pen-y-Ghent Café at Horton-in-Ribblesdale at 7:30am, which meant I needed to be out of my flat at 6:00am. That meant getting up at 5:20am. The only slight problem there was that I had been out on the piss until 11:30pm and was bladdered when I went to bed. Not the best of planning, but it was someone’s leaving do and, well, you have no option.

Good old TomTom got me there easily. I’d arrived roughly at the right location just before 7:00am. Problem was that I couldn’t remember the Café name, and although previously told O2 and Vodafone networks are supported in the area, I could not get a signal. Bugger. I turn a corner and there are hundreds of people on a field looking like they are signing up for registration. That’ll do. After parking and getting changed in the car, I strolled across the field. The sun was already beating down even this early. Sweat started to form on my forehead by the time I reached the front, which was about the same time I actually read the massive banners. “Heart Foundation.” Shit, this can’t be it. Well as I was in I thought to see if my name was onthe list – it was early, I may have still been slightly intoxicated and I figured if I can’t remember the Café, then I may just have forgotten the charity. Nope, I’m not on the list. Fancy that! I mention which company I’m with and they just shrug. A chap I later find out is called Yusuf taps me on the shoulder and says he’s also with Accenture. It seems he had made the same mistake too.

Someone in the queue suggests that we turn back and head ¼ of a mile down the road; the Café is on the right. Sure enough, there the guys were, getting the stuff together. I’d brought with me 3x Mars bars, 1x Snickers, and 3x 750ml Lucozade bottles. I figured that would be enough to get me round. Plenty of fast-burning energy. I’d had a high carb meal the night before and felt that would be enough for slow-burning energy. I think that people over react to how many carbs they need to consume in order to perform certain activities. If you start eating high carb meals a week or so before the activity, then the extra sugars will turn to fat and deposit round your body – unless you are training hard, of course. As I don’t know anyone who had less than 10% body fat percentage, then I like to try to burn off the fat reserves rather than stuffing on pasta. The recommended amount of carbs per day is about 300g, but people consume much more (due to the addition of high levels of sugar), but never seem to burn it off. Rant over.

We finally set off at about 8:00am walking and chatting. I had a bit of catching up to do, as I’d not seen some of them since I left. I ended up just reciting the same speech every time – who I’m working for, what position I’m in, what I’m working on, and where I’m living and what that is like. We set in to the first mini-hill on Pen-y-Ghent. It was knackering for me, because I would have to sprint up the hill ahead of most of the group, swing the camera round, flick it on and snap away. Of course, no fecker stopped to pose. So by the time I got up that first part I had a bit of a sweat on. The t-shirt was wicking away with out a care in the world. A recommended purchase; it was a great t-shirt for that sort of thing.

There is a clearly defined path from walkers traipsing up and down every weekend. I’m sure my step dad could write 20x as much as there is here on ground erosion. It was still an awkward path to climb, as the slabs of rock were difficult to navigate and made your feet bend at funny angles. I would have preferred it to be just gravel and mud, but I suspect the conservationists popped the slabs down to stop the ground wasting away.

We’re getting nearer the top and it becomes harsh on my thighs. Sweat trickles down my face and I can feel that my back is wet and warm with the rucksack pressing down. We stop about 20m from the top for a quick drink and a breather. I’m not feeling the best now as I’m jiggered and my hangover is kicking in. There are hundreds (I reckon maybe a couple of thousand) of people in the distance, walking-it for whatever charity they’ve chosen. I'm told that it wasn’t anywhere near as busy last year. It’s about time the bandana is aired. I tie my free Bupa Great Manchester Run t-shirt round my head, have a drink and crack on.

At the top some more photos are taken, I took on yet more fluids and carried on. I started to feel peckish thanks to post beer munchies, but I didn't tuck into anything just yet. The group had completely split up at this point. For some reason I had presumed we would stick together, but of course we all have different paces. Not a problem, there were Walkie Talkies strapped to peoples' webbing. 'Let's give it a try,' I thought… Nothing but static. 'Oh no, wait, a little murmur. Hmm, that’s not one of our guys. Never mind.'

I started the very gradual descent only to see two heavy set guys running up towards us. I was feeling the burn and was also wet from sweat; and they were sprinting up (admittedly up the smaller inclination). After seeing that I decided to pick up my pace.

After about 2 hours of walking I felt my left knee twinge so concluded it was a good time to put on the strapping. One of the lads fell in a stream at Hull Pot Beck and soaked his arse - which amused me a great deal - so I celebrated with a Mars bar. I ended up walking with a lady friend of one of the guys on the walk. She was feeling pretty tired at this point and I figured it might be due to dehydration – I’d not seen her drink anything during the walk thus far. The sun was beating down, so I suggested we stopped whilst she got some fluids down her neck. 5 minutes later and she was feeling much better so we carried on.

I’d swapped a few places here and there as I kept running off into a field to take some snapshots of rocks, scenic views and sheep (at least they would pose). The group I was with included the event organiser (Richard) who kept saying that the pub (our water station) was located, “just round the corner.” Or he’d point at a barn in the distance and say, “I’m sure that’s it, over there.” He’d never done the 3-Peaks Challenge before, let alone seen the pub, so how he could recognise it was a mystery to me. After the 7th time it was becoming annoying, so I (choose your own more aggressive, expletive-containing words here) told him to pack it in.

A few miles later and we could see some of the other guys sat / lay on the grass with Mike (the Backup Crew Member) walking back and forth with water, biscuits, crisps and other goodies. This first stop (9.32miles / 15km) was near the Station Inn – I was gagging for a pint, too. Chris was sat there eating a filthy burger, which, of course, made me jealous. I settled for a warm Mars bar, whilst checking the fluid levels in my water bladder. It looked half full, so I figured that I’d be fine with the next section.

At this point I swapped precautionary plasters with fresh ones – I’d been out a couple of times in the walking boots and had abrasions on the back of my heels only. I also changed my socks. It wasn’t necessary, but as I’d eaten my Mars bar, I had nothing much else to do.

We cracked on. I took a few more photos and the realisation set in that my right knee had also started to twinge. I strapped that one up also. Unfortunately it seemed to make no difference. By the time I’d got up to 11.1miles (18km), the initial up-hill part of Whernside, the pain was creeping in and creeping in quickly. Someone had brandy, so I took a wee nip of that to see if it would sort things out temporarily; that and I just wanted some alcohol. By the time I had got to the 12.5miles (about 20km) mark my knees were really painful. Every time I bent them, put weight on them, it would be agonising. I’d ended up being offered a staff from one of the guys I was with, which helped somewhat, but I looked a prat. I decided that I would accelerate to get things over and done with quickly. Motoring ahead I left the group so much so that when I was higher up I couldn’t even make them out in the distance.

Going up Whernside the sun was getting ridiculous. It can’t have been that hot, but it was unrelenting and there wasn’t much of a breeze. So with that and the extra exertion I had to make to compensate for my knees I was drinking a plenty. Soon I ran out of fluids. When I reached the top I opened my bag to see whether the water bladder was restricted to the weight of my camera (my water bladder being the contents of a CamelBak - much like a hot water bottle with a tube to drink from). No such luck; it was empty. Shit. I had the steep side of Whernside to descend that I was going to have to take slowly, and now with no drink.

I’d not realised how tricky the descent would be. Very loose rocks and gravel on a fairly steep slope down. Every step I made was making me wince in pain. The pain and the dehydration kicking in were not only making me dizzy but my eyes were closing too. When my balance went my eyes suddenly popped open, and with it the pain rush. It was almost embarrassing at some points as kids and even old blokes were going past me. Someone fell, but just skidded on their bum. No damage done. My concentration was getting to the next stop off point to get some painkillers down my neck and most importantly, some fluids.

Just over 16 miles (26km) into the walk and my prayers are answered. A food and drink kiosk is waiting for me to purchase more Lucozade. No Lucozade Sport, just the normal fizzy stuff. Who gives a shit, I bought 3 bottles and necked the first one there and then. The next one didn’t last that long either. I popped the other back in my rucksack and plodded on, hating the feeling I get when my wet t-shirt cools and is pushed against my skin.

I’d become a little disorientated and couldn’t find the next stop off point. Feck. This was bad news for me. Sod it, crack on. I was just thinking to myself ‘put up and shut up; it’s just a bit of pain, and you can just block it out.’ I couldn’t of course. By 17 miles (27.3km) I was walking like a geisha girl – about 10 inch steps. People were asking whether I was alright. The look on my face gave it away, but they just said, “Well you’re two hills in to it, so not much further.” Great. I wanted a piggyback, not to be treated like a 6-year old. One chap said, “You’re not looking the best there, mate, is it your knees?” I managed a “Yup, they’re killing me.” To which he said, “Have you done this before? If not, then I suggest you go no further because just after this little peak is where the steep bit starts. There is no point pushing yourself and either risking serious injury, or becoming stranded on the top.” Seemed like sound advice to me, but I didn’t like it. It meant that I would have to turn back and give up. I thanked him and he went off. Starting off again towards Ingleborough (the 3rd hill) I realised he was definitely correct.

Walking back I finally met up with the rest of the group – they were 30 minutes behind me, maybe more. The stop off was explained to me, so I waddled off, with my tail between my legs. I was gutted.

All in all I managed 18 miles (28.9km) and had done it in less 7 hours, so I was easily going to beat the 12-hour limit. I’ve now concluded that my knees are shafted and that I really need to sort them out before trying something like that again. I will try it again soon though, just to prove to myself I can do it. I’ve bought some walking poles and some proper knee braces – no, not like Forest Gump ones, before you think it. So there you go, it was a bit of a long one, but there was quite a lot to tell. I think there is another walk set for this September in aid of Debra, so give it a go then.