The Bob Graham Club

The only way of becoming a member involves climbing 42 named summits within 24 hours in a round which includes 66 miles of mountain terrain and 27000 feet of ascent. This is called the Bob Graham Round.

Nick Harris said to me, “i need a runner to carry a bag over some hills at night with a group of other runners”, i have perhaps over simplified the exact words but that was basically what he said. My first thoughts were, this sounded a bit dodgy to me but after he explained i thought it sounded easy enough, after all it was only 14 miles and i could manage that. Count me in i said, if only i had known how this would change my life.

The night of the run came and i met Nick, at 4 am in Threlkeld,  now i may be a little forget full some times,  but i didn’t remember anything about missing a night’s sleep when Nick first mentioned this, however  i have always been daft enough to do silly things late at night, usually after a belly full of larger but here i was, sober as a judge, pacing up and down in the dark in a strange village, waiting for someone I’ve never met before to appear with this bag i had to carry  for 4 hours over some very big looking hills.

Nick was apparently the navigator for this run, navigator.... my mind is spinning, what sort of run is this? I know its a long way for the contender but at this stage i’m not aware how far. Time to start getting nervous, what the hell was i doing, the rain was starting to turn heavy and the wind was picking up. Bloody hell i must be stupid, how can i get out of this one without looking like a pansy and embarrassing myself? Before i could think up a plausible excuse a group of runners appeared out of the clag and we were off, around the corner to a support stop apparently.

Complete madness ensued for 10 minutes and we were off again, 5 idiots chasing after some crazy woman in lycra. Out of my depth and already  scared i clung to Nick like a drunk to his last can of special brew only to find myself ascending a massive hill called clough head, this is obviously where my dislike for this hill came from.

Things start to get a little vague here but I remember the rain lashing across the top of the mountains sideways, the wind smashing rain into my face making my cheeks sting and my eyes stream as i tried to get a glimpse of the path ahead. My brain was telling me to find shelter before i died of hyperthermia but Nick insisted that this was all part of the fun and nothing to worry about. A poor quality shower proof cycling jacket was not helping and i vowed to buy something more suitable if only god would allow me to survive this encounter.

The rain and wind continued for another 3 hours and many more hills, much of this time was spent stumbling around in the fog looking for a pile of stones. By the time we reached Fairfield the sky was starting to clear and day light was pushing its way through the clouds. This combined with an excellent scree decent and the nightmares were already starting to fade.

I managed to struggle over the last hill and down to the support team at Dunmail raise where a hot brew and tasty sandwiches awaited our arrival. People dashed around the mad woman, changing clothes and force feeding her before she ran off into the distance again, pursued by some fresh legged runner, apparently she had a few more hills to run before she could finish for the day.

My legs had gone and i could barely stand, i parked myself in the recently vacated deck chair and contemplated life after my first Bob Graham support, it would never be the same again.