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Team Antarctica

In a new series of reports, we will be following a small team of scientists as they head off down to Antarctica to do some sciency type stuff. I don’t know if they will be taking bunsen burners and conical flasks, but they will most probably have a microscope. Here we meet Bethan Davies.. Dr Bethan Davies. 

Col:
So, Bethan, you’re a new addition to Alpkit, and we’re sponsoring you to go to Antarctica in January 2011. Perhaps you can tell us who you are and why you’re heading South for Winter.

Bethan:
Hi Col. I’m a member of a team led by Aberystwyth University, and we have a NERC (Natural Environment Research Council) grant to go to the northern Antarctic Peninsula, to James Ross Island in particular (right at the NE end of the Peninsula), to study the effects of oceanic and atmospheric warming on the glaciers there. Our team consists of Professors Neil Glasser and Mike Hambrey from Aberystwyth, Prof. John Smellie from Leicester, and Dr Jonathan Carrivick from Leeds University. Neil, Jonathan, myself, and a field assistant will be going South.

Col:
Why is the Antarctic Peninsula an important region to research?

Bethan:
The Antarctic Peninsula is one of the fastest-warming places on Earth. Compared to a global average of 0.6°C warming per century, it was warmed by 2.5°C since 1950. We are greatly concerned about the long-term viability of ice cover in the Antarctic Peninsula. The disappearance of ice cover from this pristine region has implications for sea level rise, wildlife, and krill (which feed the large stocks of fish on which we depend). 
As the atmosphere warms, the thermal limit of ice shelves (-9°C annual average) is moving further south, resulting in the rapid and dramatic collapse of ice shelves. We worry about that, not only because it has the potential to raise sea levels, but also because it cools the ocean and impacts on oceanic circulation. The IPCC (Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change) has highlighted the Antarctic Peninsula as one of eight key global regions requiring intensive research.

Col:
But Bethan, even I know that floating ice doesn’t raise the water level. 

Bethan:
Ice shelves are different to floating sea ice. Ice shelves are largely created by snow fall on the higher glacier on land. The glacier moves downhill under the force of gravity, eventually going into the ocean, where it becomes rapidly deeper. The glacier starts to float (what we call a tidewater glacier). Several tidewater glaciers may come together, in a bay for example, forming a much larger ‘ice shelf’. If this ice shelf rapidly disintegrates, then it adds water (in the form of melting ice) into the ocean, directly rising sea levels. But it doesn’t end there. Most ice shelves are ‘pinned’ into bays, forming ‘backstress’ on the glacier above, preventing it from sliding into the ocean under the force of gravity. After the collapse of ice shelves, glaciers on the Antarctic Peninsula have accelerated, thinned, and retreated, rapidly lost mass to the oceans, again rising sea level.

Col:
OK, fine. But the Antarctic Peninsula is very small. How much can it possibly rise global sea level by?

Bethan:
The IPCC best guess is that global sea levels will rise 1 m by 2100. That’s mostly due to thermal expansion of the oceans and includes no estimate of input from changing glacier dynamics. We estimate 0.6 m of sea level rise locked up in just the Antarctic Peninsula alone. It is important to research this region, to determine the likelihood of a large increase in sea level rise from this region, to predict its timing, and to provide data for glaciological modellers. Ultimately, the scientific community wishes to provide better estimates of future sea level rise to governments and stakeholders, to allow better planning and mitigation policies to develop.

Col:
Now there’s a lot of sea out there, how would you measure sea level rise?

Bethan:
There are many different methods of measuring global sea level rise. Satellite altimetry is the most accurate (where satellites know their orbit height and can calculate changes in sea level to a millimetre scale). There are tide gauge measuring stations anchored in tectonically stable regions worldwide. On a longer time scale, we are forced to use ‘proxies’, such as looking for evidence of changes in microscopic marine organisms in raised beaches, salt marshes, peat bogs, coastal lake sediments, drowned corals, etc.

Col:
So what will you be doing when you get to Antarctica? How are you preparing for your trip?

Bethan:
Firstly, I have satellite images and aerial photographs from the 1980s until the present day. I’m mapping the geomorphology from the air, as well as the changing glacier margins from the 1980s until present. By using repeat satellite images, we can also track changes in glacier velocity and thickness.
These images of James Ross Island are very interesting. As you can see, in 1988 a large ice shelf connected it to the Antarctic Peninsula. In 1997 it collapsed very rapidly, and retreat has continued, as you can see, until 2009. We want to know how tributary glaciers will respond to this collapse in this important region.

When we’re on the ground, we’ll be looking at the longer-term history of the Antarctic Peninsula Ice Sheet. This will allow us to put recent changes into context. We’ll use the sediments and landscape to reconstruct past ice sheet dynamics, and we’ll take rock samples for dating.

Col:
How can sediments and landscape tell you about past glaciers?

Bethan:
They can tell you in detail! Looking at ‘sediment-landform assemblages’, where we look at the geomorphology of an area and also at the sediments that make up the landscape, we can deduce information about glaciological styles, patterns of retreat, and even infer sub-glacial conditions, such as whether the glacier is frozen to its bed, or was at pressure-melting point. This allows us to assess the stability of the present ice sheet, and understand its subglacial conditions, a place no scientist can get to!
We can also use moraines to understand past configurations of the ice sheet, and flutings, eskers and drumlins to look at ice flow pathways. We’ll be taking rock samples and analysing their lithology to determine whether they are local, or from the Peninsula. This also helps us to determine former ice flow directions.

Col:
How can you date the rocks? I’m sure you will not be taking them down the local Italian.

Bethan:
We’ll try and collect dates from the region, to develop a chronology of retreat. Was this fast or slow? Smooth and steady or rapid and punctuated? How long has the current Antarctic Peninsula Ice Sheet retained its present configuration? We can collect organics from lake sediments for radio carbon dating. We will also collect samples from quartz-rich rocks for cosmogenic nuclide dating. Quartz crystals trap cosmogenic nuclides when they are exposed to the sun. We can count these, and determine how long the rocks were exposed for. Of course, we have to be careful that the rocks have not moved since they were deposited!

Col:
So once you get out there, other than fighting off Penguin’s and Skua’s, what will the conditions be like?

Bethan:
Well, the reason we’re going to James Ross Island is that it has one of the largest expanses of ice-free ground in Antarctica. Sedimentology and geomorphology is very difficult under the ice! As you can see from these photos of Mike Hambrey’s previous expeditions, it’s a strange landscape with no vegetation at all. It’s very likely to snow very heavily, and we’ve been told we’ll lose at least 1/3rd of our days to blizzards! Mainly, the weather will be very variable. We’re expecting everything from mild sun to gale force winds and blizzards.

Col:
Ooh looks nice…. So, what happens next?

Bethan:
We’re still consolidating our travel plans with the British Antarctic Survey, but I think we’ll fly to the Falkland Islands and be deployed to our field location by the RRV Ernest Shackleton. But next on our itinerary is the Girton Conference and the field training camp in September.

Col:
Excellent. I look forward to hearing how the preparation goes, perhaps you can come back and tell us about that in September. In the meantime, what can people read if they want to know more?

Bethan:
For further online reading, check out these websites:
Centre for Glaciology
Beth’s Quaternary Blog
British Antarctic Survey
British Geological Survey
Inter Governmental Panel on Climate Change
Glaciers
New Scientist
Real Climate

Good books include:
Nature’s Clocks: How Scientists measure the time of absolutely everything (MacDougall)
Glaciers and Glaciation (Benn and Evans)
Glacial Geology: Ice sheets and landforms (Bennett and Glasser)
Glaciers (Hambrey and Alean)
Antarctica: The Complete Story (McGonigal and Woodworth)

Going Long

Gentle summer cycle rides with friends or a sneaky lunch time run though the local woods to put a few miles in the legs are great for getting the endorphins flowing. However, if you ever find yourself pondering for a while, about how ‘nice’ this feels and how ‘lovely’ it would be to attempt an ironman… 3.8km swim, 180km bike and 42.2km run…for fun as you are having such a good time and would like to attempt the challenge, stop pondering! Carry on training until you can’t feel your legs, you are having the shakes, dreaming about mars bars and a lie down. If you’re still keen to give it a go, fire up the computer and proceed straight onto the event entry pages to sign your life away on the dotted line. 

Unfortunately, I didn’t follow this advice but instead, decided to boast to a few friends about how I was going to take on The Forestman; the New Forest’s idea of an Ironman run by Race New Forest. The normal gruelling distances are the same; the only difference is the inclusion of an off-road marathon to finish you off (plus a few ponies, donkeys, cattle grids etc. to navigate around). Having told too many people to back down now, I closed one eye, winced and pressed the “Put me in pain” button for entry into the event 8 weeks before race day.

My mind then turned to training plans. As well as the 5-6hours of running and cycling that I’d been doing for months, training was extended to running or cycling to anywhere myself, Emm, my wife, and our one year old, Eloise, happened to be visiting at the time. I didn’t bother much on the swimming front as I figured a few minutes lost on the swim was going to be tiny compared to the chasms of time engulfed in the latter stages of the run. Training progressed well and I’d managed to get round both the bike and run route giving myself a good idea of what things were going to be like on the day. I’d even endured a 6 hour sportive ride in driving wind and rain experiencing what I hoped to be worse conditions than I would possibly have to withstand on race day…oh how naive of me! As the day got nearer, closer attention was paid to the weather reports as this was going to essentially dictate hydration and feeding strategies. Two words became more and more prominent: heat and wave. The man on the radio was predicting the hottest day of the year with temperatures hitting 30 plus. Sun tan cream, water and salts suddenly became very important.

The day finally arrived and started with a very serene experience driving through the forest at 3.30am with the full moon reflecting off a blanket of mist that hugged the landscape. An amazing photo opportunity if only there was time. In fact, the mist played an important role in the race as it hung around resulting in a 30 minute delay to the start and an unexpected navigational exercise for the swim. I never thought I’d be shouting into a white out asking the way to the swim exit. However, the safety kayakers did an excellent job of guiding us all into first transition.

Onto the bike, and the race really started. An ironman friend of mine gave me a good bit of advice; eat, drink, eat, drink, eat, drink and finish the race. This is exactly what I set about doing, religiously taking a gel every half hour and drinking my juice in between. The first 80 miles flew by and I was exceedingly grateful to my support crew, Jimmy and Hannah, for their provision of nutritional supplies and encouragement as the race went on. Things were going well and I was positioned well within the top ten overall. The weather was not disappointing predictions and by the final lap of the bike, the high temperature was becoming increasingly noticeable. Nevertheless, I exited the second transition in a very respectable time of just under 6hours 40 with a positive attitude to the ensuing discipline; the off-road marathon.

All good things come to an end though and this is where my body decided it had had enough of food and energy drink and would rather survive on sips of water now and then. This was only going to head one way and 14km into the marathon, energy had all but evaporated and I was running on fumes resulting in the adoption of the classic ironman shuffle. The only things keeping me going now were the support crew, fellow competitors and the opportunity to see Emm and Eloise briefly each lap. 
Everyone has a different way of coping in these desperate situations and mine was to resort to numbers; 60 steps running, 20 steps walking over and over again. It broke the efforts down into manageable chunks that I could just about handle. The three laps passed all too slowly and after 10hours40 of racing done, I turned the corner to finish the laps and head for home. Just the small distance of 4.5km back to Sandy Balls, yet a feat that would take me almost 45minutes of complete, part of it walking backwards to stave off the cramping! Needless to say, the finish did arrive eventually and was a very pleasing view after 11hours23 of racing.

So, having had several weeks to reflect on the experience, I find myself settling back into those gentle summer rides and lunchtime runs while thinking, ironman isn’t so bad, maybe I should try another one…reality then kicks in. All that is left to say is a huge thank you to everyone who supported me before, during and after the event especially Emm who quietly made many sacrifices so I could realise my dream.

Johnny’s Big Night (and Day) out!

Although it’s maybe not the most daring, or the most recent of Daring Deeds, one thing that pushed me to my absolute limit (and a bit more) was my Bob Graham Round last July, so I thought I’d pen a wee article…

“First done way back in 1932 by Bob Graham, hotelier of Keswick, Cumberland, at the age of 42, the 42 Peak Round has become a testing ground for the supremely fit. Each summer around 100 of the most highly tuned ultra-distance fell runners will attempt the 27,000 ft of ascent within the allotted 24 hours. Only one in three will return to the Keswick Moot Hall before the clock runs down. Most of the rest will be back again…!” That’s what I was told.

In a nutshell, the BGR is a circuit of 42 Lakeland fells, starting and finishing at the Moot Hall, Keswick, split into 5 legs/sections;
Keswick-Threlkeld: Skiddaw, Great Calva and Blencathra.
Threlkeld-Dunmail: Clough head, The Dodds, Helvellyn range and Fairfield.
Dunmail-Wasdale: Steel Fell, Langdale Pikes, Bowfell, Great End and Scafell Range.
Wasdale-Honister: Yewbarrow to Grey Knotts, via everything!
Honister-Keswick: Dale Head, Hindscarth and finally, Robinson.

The rules are few; All 42 listed summits must be visited on foot (clockwise, or anti-clockwise), and each summit visited must be witnessed by somebody else. It’s not an organized event, in that all support/logistics must be arranged independently.
Usually pacers, navigators and other fellrunning folk support on the fells.
(Indeed, once one has done the BG, one is obliged to support whenever asked).
The road crossings are where one gets to stuff one’s face with food and drink, whilst trying to change shoes and socks, all in the quickest time possible.
It’s distance is between 66-72 miles, depending on if one gets all the right “lines”.
The time taken from the Moot Hall, to the Moot Hall, must not exceed 24 hours and if completed in less than 24 hours, you get to join the Bob Graham Club, with a certificate a handshake and a slap-up meal/ceilidh at the Shap Wells Hotel in autumn.

I’d first heard of the BGR, when I was a youngster; tales of mythical, super fit, bearded blokes who didn’t know the meaning of tiredness, suffering or hardship, who bounded up and down the fells, sustained by malt loaf and glucose tablets. After a few seasons of long Lakeland fell races, I thought about it myself, but friends told me that it was a quickfire road to injury, insanity, or both. I half-heartedly did some recces, but soon dismissed the idea.
Richard Askwith wrote an outstanding book entitled “Feet in the clouds”, this has been the inspiration of many a BG’er. The seed was replanted…

Then one day in July 2007, a friend of mine called Glen, asked me if I’d help pace him on leg 3 of his BG attempt. Cutting a long story short, a night of horrendous weather on the Helvellyn range pretty much put paid to his attempt, 2 hours down at Dunmail, even Superman on speed as support wouldn’t have made up the deficit, we tried, but at Scafell Pike after a tough 17 hour stint, he called it a day. Glen was going to have another crack at it in July 2009, so I asked if I could jump in on his attempt and the date was set. I talked to every long distance nutter that I knew, and they all gave the same 3 pieces of advice;

1) Spending time on one’s feet.
2) Recce every inch of the route.
3) Eat, eat, eat and then eat some more.

The first tip was easy I thought, I worked 12 hour shifts, stood up, no problem.
The second part was interesting, it became quite clear that logistically, if each leg was going to be explored, two cars would be needed, or otherwise, a long run, would become a doubly long run. (It’s a long way back to Threlkeld on the road, after leg 2!)

The third part, eating was the tough one, it didn’t come naturally to me, to eat and run,  but after a lot of trial and error, I discovered what worked for me. With no fuel in the tank, the wheels would soon fall off. Thousands and thousands of calories to consume along the way.
The pieces of the jigsaw started to fall into place; the length of my long run stretched and grew, to the point where I felt quite happy linking 2 legs together and the hours just flew by, by May I was heading across to the Lakes every week.
It was starting to reach obsession status, I’d been warned that it would do.
We decided to have a go at the full round, over 2 days, carrying all our gear, fast(ish) and light. We split the round up by camping at Angle Tarn, roughly half way round.
Day 2 was tough, but we got round. My right leg was not good afterwards, I’d got something very similar to shin splints. Crocked, I thought it was game over.
Gutted didn’t come close, after so much hard graft.
Had to miss the LAMM through injury. Then after a while I was able to cycle and after a few weeks of fixed wheel madness, it was back on.
All the support was in place, so decided that I’d start the round and just see how I got on.
On my final recce 2 weeks before, I took a crashing fall coming off Whiteside, managing to fall heavily on my shoulder, hip, knee and watch. I’ve still got the scars.
I was determined to get to the start and at 6:30pm on a clear and warm Friday evening on July 3rd, it suddenly became real!
Leg 1 was like a dream, I felt so relaxed and not thinking too much about the task ahead. A beautiful sunset over the Solway Firth, behind us as we climbed up the back of Blencathra and then down Hallsfell Ridge, into darkness, soup, a cuppa and a change of socks. Martin and Jamie (father and son) having done a grand job.
Jez and Cush led us up Clough Head into the impending clag.

The forecast full new moon didn’t shed much light on the Dodds, but my trusty Gamma headtorch lit the way nicely! Still felt quite fresh and compos mentis, all the way to Fairfield, always a tasty descent in the dark, a quick hop over Seat Sandal, down to Dunmail for bacon butties, a cuppa and a up Steel Fell into a grey, misty, wishy-washy dawn. Bob, Kev, together with Harvey and Zena (four legged support). The stretch from Calf Crag to the Langdales was always my personal nemesis, it was tricky route finding, I’d spent a lot of time lost there and with this at the back of my mind, it all suddenly became a whole lot more difficult. I started sinking into a depression as gloomy as the weather, thinking a lot of negative thoughts and generally not really enjoying myself. Glen and the others realized that I must have been suffering (I generally stop talking nonsense and withdraw into myself, when I’m having a rough time). By the time we got to the Langdale Pikes I’d mentally listed all of my running gear on e-bay and was ready to stop running altogether. The drag up Rossett Pike went on forever, and it was there that I gave myself a strong talking-to. Started to get my positive head back on and by the top of Bowfell, I was back on track. An unusually quiet Scafell range (it was still quiet early) and perhaps the first canine ascent of Lord’s Rake of the day, by Harvey the sheepdog, took us freefalling down into Wasdale, 18mins down on schedule, but along with my socks, that was about to change.

The “Honister Express” consisted of Mike, Hazel, Bruce and Will. It had turned into a gorgeous summer morning and the ascent of Yewbarrow passed quickly and painlessly.

Leg 4 is a classic, my favourite section. A high level traverse of Yewbarrow, Red Pike, Steeple, Scoat Fell, Pillar, Kirk Fell, both the Gables and then down to Honister, 35 mins up on schedule and a daring thought that it may be in the bag. Dale Head from Honister isn’t much of a climb at all (although I did nearly kill myself there in the 2002 Borrowdale race, but that’s another story). However, my legs were a long way from fresh and we were still a long way from Keswick. I was starting to find it hard to get food down, sweet stuff like flapjack just stuck to the roof of my mouth, and I chomped my way up to the top. Our merry band of followers had grown; Mike, Mark, Jamie, Sue and Mike (II). On to Hindscarth, I got my size 13’s tangled up on the way up the final peak, to Robinson. All the climbing was done, downhill to the Moot Hall… Barring accidents/mishaps/disaster, we’d cracked it.

Changing into road shoes at Little Town felt luxurious, especially as both my big toenails had almost come off, the transition to the road felt strange, as did I.
Food was out of the question now, but I was desperately close to “bonking”, (i.e. running out of steam/gas/batteries). Energy drinks were churning my stomach, but I had to get them down. I thought I was going to pass out when we got to Portinscale, but plugged on. Keswick was on the horizon, the end was in sight, but it didn’t appear to be getting any closer. It was getting a bit fuzzy in my head by now, it almost felt like I was in a dream, a very vivid one at that. A sudden downpour snapped me back into the real world, as Keswick High Street and a busy Market Place came into view. 22hrs and 37 mins after leaving here the night before, I banged the door of the Moot Hall as hard as I could. Champagne, handshakes and many photos followed.

We’d done it!

Later that evening, we all celebrated with a barbecue and drinks, a very nice feeling indeed. I managed about 6 pints, before my head, mouth, eyes and brain all shut down simultaneously, time for some well-earned shuteye.
It took a fair while for it all to sink in, and to catch up on my sleep, but 3 months later, it all became real at the Bob Graham Dinner. Presented with my certificate by Anne Stentiford (ladies record holder).
BGR No. 1508, that’s me!

Too many people to thank, you all know who you are. Thank you. A big thank you to Glen, for letting me gatecrash your round and to Lina, my wife, for putting up with me, and with my obsession!

Bivvy fun in Kyrgyzstan, New Peak in Torugart-too

The sound of crunching snow under foot, not a cloud in the sky, virgin ground where no soul had previously tread. Sounds idyllic. Well Robert Taylor has just returned from a successful trip to the Torugart-too region of Kyrgyzstan, where he was part of a Scottish expedition ticking off new ascents, including 2 new unclimbed peaks. Here he’s been kind enough to give us a brief account of one of his ascents and it seems to get that euphoric feeling you may need to suffer a bit first. 

The Doctor and I walked in up the glacier, leaving The Apprentice watching the camp and fearing the wolves. It had been a warm day and the surface had turned to mush, my companion going in to his waist and wetting his boots. Clearly pitching a tent on this would lead to drowning so a night on the moraine beckoned. This of course was too uneven for us to pitch our single skinned bivvy tent so we ate our freeze dried meals, rubbed what warmth we could into our bodies and lay down to sleep-The Doctor wrapped in the bivvy tent and a 4 season synthetic bag and I in a Hunka and a SH800. The weather was proving less than clement so I had thermals, a soft-shell, an 0Hiro jacket and a fleece hat on. An alpine start in the morning, we would need our sleep.
I dozed off with my hardshell wrapped around my footboy but was woken by the first snowflakes on my face. For the remainder of the night it lay across the front of my bag, allowing moisture out but no snow on, a handy goretex valve. I was warm and dry all night bar some condensation on my jacket, the Hunka, SH800 and 0Hiro performing admirably.
Morning came all too soon and with it four inches of fresh powder, most of it clearly itching to avalanche us. Having been soaking up my breath all night my hard-shell was stiff as cardboard, I folded it into an approximate body shape. The weather seemed to be clearing so we walked up the glacier to ‘have a look at the route’. All of our non essential kit was left behind wrapped in my bivvy bag.

A snow slope led to the ridge that runs between China and Kyrgyzstan. Here sheer cliffs dropped off to our left giving way to rolling foothills, glimpsed occasionally through the snow and hail. A ridge traverse, some downclimbing and a final steep gully brought us to the summit slopes and an exhausting walk, pausing every five paces to gasp for air, to the snow summit-never before touched by human feet at 5034m. Here feelings of elevation gave way to feelings of elation however briefly and we began the long downclimb to the glacier, following the left hand side of the snow basin to minimise the danger from seracs. It was extremely cold and windy, I did not take the 0Hiro off all day.

Fifteen hours had passed since we left the bivvy and we were glad to be back. It was too late to walk out but at least we could now pitch the tent on the snow. We fell inside, exhausted, ate our remaining chocolate bar, all we had left, and tried to sleep as the wind and snow battered our tent.
In the morning our boots, sleeping bags and gear were covered in a fine powder that had been forced in through the vent. Though my bag was damp from two nights of condensation and hard use it was still acceptably warm. As I dug around outside to locate our belongings I could hear The Doctor cursing as he thawed his frozen boots over our spluttering jetfoil.
Our walkout was under perfect blue skies and over crisp powder. The next day The Apprentice and I would walk in for another first ascent.

For some more of their exploits, please check out their…  Blog

Welsh two peak challenge

K: The idea was really simple; climb two of the mountains that featured prominently in my childhood by bike and in the space of a weekend.

C: Indeed it did sound like a great idea, to be honest I thought it sounded too easy. Two days to bike what I thought would be about 60 or 70 miles, I mean come on, what are we doing?  Surely that’s a single push, even if it’s like 20 hours, it’s all about the endurance and pushing yourself.

K: Chunk knew those two mountains were Snowdon and Cadair Idris but had no idea how far apart they were. In those childhood days we would vacation at one or the other, but rarely both together. The world was bigger in those days.

C: Well, as the weekend got ever nearer so the doubts began to creep in. Kenny had done a similar route, but walked the peaks and cycled/caught the bus between and looked at me strangely, or was that dismissively, whenever I suggested the single push.

K: I was happy enough with my previous attempt despite the jibes, but I had the feeling that it could be done in a better style. Snowdon is the tallest mountain in Wales and Cadair Idris whilst falling short of the magic 3000ft (no doubt a relief to many Welsh 3000ers challengers) has a form and stature that would make you believe it is much much grander. By making a weekend of it, throwing in a bivvy and an off-road route we could show them a little respect.

C: Right, perhaps just test the water this time, I could always go back and do it again. So I began to come around to the idea that perhaps we should do the two days, I had not really biked for more than 2 hours, in fact I’d hardly done any exercise really since…. errr well never.

K: A couple of weeks preparation and leaving early from work would have made a great deal of sense. Instead we had organised a yard sale to finish late Friday evening. By 7pm we were finished and we could start preparing our kit.

C: Yeah, the weekend got off to a slow start on Friday evening, preparation is key. At 7 pm I decided to fit my new hollow tech bb and cranks. Now I should really have known better, having very limited knowledge of bike maintenance. With assistance it got sorted though, only to have to sort out my rack and carrying system. Well let’s just put it this way, the trip started from pretty much scratch that evening. I say again, preparation is key…

K: Yeah.

C: Thanks to Nick’s help i got a rather nifty system sorted. We chopped the straps off an old Gourdon 20 and it just happened that the back pouch slid perfectly over the rear rack providing a pretty stable, waterproof bag for all my sleeping kit. So it was that we finally set off at 9 pm via the supermarket to get the weekend supplies. Yeah we needed some calorie packed goodness. We walked out the shop with yogurt, instant noodles, 2 malt loaves, some oaty bars, pies (for the car journey down of course), a bag of peanuts and a bag of Haribos. Who needs energy bars and gels anyway?

K: To be honest I was never bothered about preparing the kit. The more we had the more we would have to carry. The important thing was that at 10pm, as we finally left Ilkeston, there were 2 bikes in the back of the car.

C: We arrived at the bottom of Pen y Pass just shy of 1 am, a little later than we would have liked. We were due to get up at 4.30 to get into Llanberis and head out on an early start up Snowdon to miss the voluntary ban. Surprisingly I seemed to get a great sleep and 3 hrs sleep didn’t seem so bad. After we found somewhere to park, had breakfast and loaded the bikes we finally got going about 5.45. So the adventure began.

K: That ban meant that we had to be off the hill by 10 am, cappuccino o’clock. A short ride through the village led us to the first climb, it was to be the first of many long pushes.

C: The hill came into view and we put the power down.. oof it was pretty stiff for such an early start, turned the bend and it continued…off the bikes and a little push. Perhaps singlespeed was not such a good idea after all. And that summed up the ascent of Snowdon pretty well.

K: The mountain trembled under the power of the Chunk and once on the bridleway we were able to ride. I mean we were proper mountain biking up Mnt Snowdon… and then we were proper pushing. We had ridden a depressingly short distance. The panniers were fairly light, but Confucius says that no bike is as light as an unladen bike.

C: A good number of years had passed since the last time I had walked up this route and it was rockier then I had remembered it… and most pertinantly we had 2:1 gearing. I had read that given a bit of effort the path can be ridden. Heck maybe with a geared bike and a whole lot of juice we did not have, we were pushing and we would have to get used to it or get out.

K: The pushing was going well, it wasn’t something we has specifically trained for… but the Chunk hadn’t actually trained for anything. After more pushing my brain finally figured that we were serious and we weren’t going to be heading back to Llanberis for a brew. In an act of self preservation it suggested transferring weight from my bike into my rucksack. It was right, boy was I glad to have that dead weight back on board. Giving it everything we had we soon crossed under the Snowdon Mountain Railway and started to attack the steep loose track below Garnedd Ugain. It was the most tiring section of the climb and we tried several methods of lugging the bikes. We were greeted at the junction with the Pig Track by another early party who seemed surprised to see a couple of recreational cyclists out on the mountain. Crucially for our credibility we were already back on the pedals at this point.

C: The summit cairn was reached precisely 2 hrs after abandoning the car, quicker than we had expected but we still had a long day ahead of us. Celebrating our success with a photo, a swig of water and some chocolate raison peanuts we span our bikes around and rolled down to the start of the Snowdon Ranger path. It was a pleasure to have gravity back on our side, we were riding down a mountain, fully self sufficient with food and bivvy gear, a full day of mountain riding ahead of us and another after that… finally this WAS mountain biking.

The descent was a hoot, our pannier bags bounced around but remained attached to the bikes. Despite some technical sections the rigid forks didn’t cause too much concern, and as the track eased lower down becoming more flowing through the switch backs above Lynn Cwellyn it was a true delight to be on the mountain. A short stop to refuel, redistribute weight back onto the bike and crank up the seat post ready for the road, the road which we would try to avoid as much as possible but we knew some long stretches on route to Cadair Idris were inevitable.

K: The excitement of the descent hadn’t been lost as we whipped passed Stevie Haston and Eric Jones limbering up for their morning jog up the Rhyd Dhu. We dove into Beddgelert Forest at the earliest opportunity and started ripping it up, for a good 10 minutes, before… we were lost. It is amazing how a straight line on a map can get so complicated when surrounded by trees. Unsure of where we were and with still a long day ahead of us we made the earliest possible exit through the campsite just shy of Beddgelert.

The next section had no logical offroad option so we agreed upon the road through Nantmor and the steep climb up to Rhyd. The twinge in my left knee was starting to make itself known. I kept it to myself and shifted some weight to the right leg. Descending to the pub at Tan-y-Bwlch was fast and we took five to analyse the next stage and take on more body fuel.

C: With several options available to us we decided to follow route 82 of the Sastrans cycle network, a national network which I had stumbled across the day we left Ilkeston. We would stick to this network for the majority of the distance, which was not too bad as it tends to avoid busy roads and link up sections of byways, bridleways and traffic free routes.

K: I knew the climb up to the Trawsfynydd reservoir was going to be a drag, and I was worried about my knee being able to go the distance. And so we rode what we could and we pushed what we couldn’t. The important thing is that we were making steady progress towards our second objective, Cadair Idris.

C: The route veered through Maentwrog before turning off to Gellilydan. A roads turned to B roads which turned to C roads which turned to bridleways. It was at this point that I finally decided to investigate what was making the clanking sound that had been buggin me for the past couple of hours. Turns out I had lost one chain-ring bolt and about to lose the other three. Although no bike mechanic I was able to retighten those remaining and we were able to continue. We popped out at the decommissioned Trawsfynydd power station, relief that the hard climbing was behind us, and I was right apart from the one out of Dolgellau but more of that later.

K: Following the lake shore we rode into Trawsfynydd village. It was quiet as the Chunk shuffled around inside his bag for some golden nuggets. The grocery store was open so we grabbed a couple of cans to wash down our foccacia. The idea was to be pretty self sufficient for the entire trip, but a cheeky cola and a cup of coffee later at Coed y Brenin didn’t seem to be bending the rule book too much.

C: Lunch gave us a good moral boost and we set off again following route 82 crossing the A470. Even though we were still climbing it felt good to be avoiding the main road which Ken had ridden before. Ken swore it was straight for like 10,000km and I was not keen to experience that on a singlespeed mountain bike.

K: Reaching Coed y Brenin forest we could finally look forward to a long stretch of downhill. The anticipation was high, birds fell silent and bears ran into the forest. forest track curved right to left around and zig zaged down past Go Ape and the Coed y Brenin MTB centre. Had we had better knowledge of the trails we could have squeezed in some more technical terrain, however we settled for a quick coffee before setting off again along the river bank into Dolgellau.

C: There were two roads out of the back of the village. One was short and very steep. The other was longer and therefore had to be less steep and with my right knee pretty much in the same state as Ken’s left, we elected to take the one with less black arrows. Even fully fit I don’t think we would have had the stamina to ride its full length. There is no doubt that after our speedy ascent of Snowdon we were now moving slowly.

K: The top of the hill was reached without hailing down a cab or thumbing a lift. The force was still burning strongly, just as well as it began to rain shortly after… one of those mountain storms that just appears from nowhere. We sheltered under some trees, we ate some cereal bars, it would pass. It didn’t. From here we could see the A487 and we didn’t like the look of it. It was busy, it was windy and it was raining. After waiting for 20 minutes it was evident that the squall was here to stay, so we ploughed on.

The descent to Tal-y-llyn lake was not at all pleasant. Its saving grace was that it was all over relatively quickly. With a death grip on our handle bars, clenched teeth and a steely grimace we just got our heads down. Thankfully the road works at the top of the hill at least gave us some respite from the traffic.

The force was beginning to be extinguished.

C: Upon reaching the lake the next section felt longer than we had expected, but I imagine it was only because by now we were cold, tired and riding into a wall of water. We sheltered for 10 minutes under the eves of a house in Abergynolwyn directly opposite a pub. It looked warm, cosy and inviting inside. The smell of good, tasty, wholesome food drifted past our nostrils. We finished the last of the Haribos and got moving again. It was 6pm and getting to the start of the Cadair bridleway to find a suitable bivvy spot was a priority.

By the time we had joined the bridalway the rain and wind had started to ease. That was good fortune indeed because the idea of cooking in the rain and crawling wet into a bivvy was not appealing. The evening meal consisted of 3 packets of noodles and a couple of sachets of Ainsley’s spicy cous cous followed by Soreens Malt Loaf for desert. We didn’t spend the rest of the evening playing cards or talking politics.

K: We slept right through until 4.30. I could have stayed there for some time, my Numo was comfy, my knee was throbbing but I was warm. The Chunk re-ignited the flame moving first. Maybe it was because he had convinced himself slugs had invaded his bivvy bag, it didn’t matter we were back in action.

We pulled out our damp riding gear. The Chunk got it straight on, didn’t even flinch. I would have happily ridden in my PJs rather than slip into wet pants at 5 in the morning. By 5.30 we were back on the trail, travelling light and moving less slow after stashing our bivvy gear and food in a bush. Admittedly the bridleway was more rideable than the Snowdon path but our knees were using even the slightest excuse to protest. We still had to get back to Llanberis, but there was no doubt, we were going to the top.

C: We should have climbed Cadair Idris faster than Snowdon but it wasn’t to be. The ride had taken its toll and we were moving slowly to conserve what little movement we had left. Both our knees were hurting from the off and cranking that 2:1 wasn’t making life any easier.  We persevered, neither of us wanting to bail out. We reached the summit 2 hrs 15 minutes after setting out. It was clearer than it had been on Snowdon but most of the mountains in the Snowdonia National Park still had their tops masked in clouds. We had even lugged our bikes up the steep top section, something we slightly regretted when we had to carry them back down. The pain however was short lived and we were soon riding the loose screes back towards our bivvy site. The lower half of the path was a joy on our i0s, smooth, grassy and fast.

K: Back at the bivvy spot we stopped to rearrange our luggage and grab some breakfast. The next stage would take us further south to Bird Rock before we could make a u-turn and head back north. We were now following Route 8 and the Chunk was looking forward to a flat ride all the way to Barmouth.

2 hrs of pushing later I must admit I was finding it hard to see how he could have classified a continuous 350 metre climb over 3km as flat. We passed back past Birds’ Rock and up into the hills to skirt Trawsfynydd. Trying to ride would only have aggravated our already tender knees.

C: Wasn’t so bad, but we had surely racked up some quality descent points. Despite the time in ascent we were only passed by some adventurous soul in a Nissan Micra and a farmer in a Landy. The Micra bailed after a few kms and we ended up chasing the Landy down a glorious descent with great views of the Barmouth estuary.. we had well earned this!

K: Hitting the road a steep 1:4 descent took us alarmingly quickly down to the A493 where we joined a good number of other cyclists across the Barmouth toll bridge and into Barmouth sea front. It was strange to be back amongst people even after such a short time on our own. We were not even there to be there. We were passing through, Barmouth was not our destination. Sitting on the promenade we munched on the rest of our focaccia.

The next section looked more terrifying than the ascent of Snowdon. There was no way around it… there were no shortcuts along the road to Porthmadog. Folding away an entire OS sheet into my bag we set off with our brains in neutral. Oh actually it wasn’t so bad, you’re right what is a couple of hours when you are on the road for 14. Although we were still following Route 82 with time ticking away we did not stick religiously to the itinerary, electing instead to take a flatter and quicker line along the B4573 from Llanfair to Glan-y-wern and on to the Penrhyndeudraeth toll crossing. We haven’t had any problems sleeping with that.

C: We were expecting to be greeted at Porthmadog by a line of little steam trains. It didn’t happen and our childhood fantasies were ruined for ever, so we cycled through to Tremadog via the longest half mile ever, FACT, where we stopped once more to treat ourselves to something real and tangible… the last of the malt loaf, and to consult the map.

Unfortunately we were missing a section here, so we had to guess which road would take us off the A487 and join up with the road in to Cwm Pennant. We were heading back into the mountains and the angle of the road reflected that fact. At least we felt we were on the home straight. We had seen Snowdon on the approach to Porthmadog, it would take more than a couple of valleys to stop us now. Once into Cwm Pennant the road flattened off and we were able to enjoy the feel of smooth tarmac with great views of Moel Hebog and the impressive profile of the Nantlle ridge.

K: Here we had two choices: either follow the road as far as possible and face a short but steep push or take the shorter road and follow a gentler bridleway up to some disused quarries. On the map the longer bridleway did not look well defined so we decided to take the 1st option. It was the wrong choice.

C: It was like knee high grass and… uuughhhh!

K: No matter, we were still psyched and only a short distance from Llanberis, or so we thought. It was here that things really started to drag. The bridleway through the quarry was not very well defined. There were several option and I can only assume that we took the wrong ones each and every time. Analysing the terrain with Google maps after we got back it does appear that there were defined paths there.. we just never found them or it was particularly over grown. To cut an eternity down into a single sentence.. it was a slow and painful push up the quarry inclines and onto the ridge line overlooking Beddgelert Forest.

That had been tough, really tough. The Chunk said it had been a tough route, but now we were facing what looked to be a simple straight line descent through the forest which would bring us out pretty much at the start to the Snowdon Ranger path. Why didn’t we learn from our experience the day before? Why? Rather than traversing the slope above Llyn y Gader we were 2km south of it. It wasn’t a big issue just frustrating after the time we had lost the other side.

C: Rejoining the Ranger Path we felt like we were back on familiar terrain. Without bivvy gear I would have fancied a shot at the Ranger Path, however at that point we were just happy to get back up the hill any which way, as my left knee and achilles now started to ache as well. One final stiff little push later and the sun broke through the clouds as we reached the col and the decent into Llanberis stretched out below us.. downhill all the way. Two days on the road, 28 hours on the go we had earned this. Obviously we had to stop for a few photos on the way down.

K: It was good to ride into Llanberis, even better that Pete’s Eats was still open!! We leashed the bikes up outside with the roof rack straps from our panniers and treated ourselves to a pint of tea and some very, very hearty food.

C: Summing up then, a great weekend, a great route. There was perhaps a bit too much road, but overall a good range of terrain to keep you ‘entertained’. Some prior training could have helped my knees. Mission completed.

The route stats.
124 miles, 24,000ft ascent… ah no, looking again it was actually 11,329 ft.
http://veloroutes.org/bikemaps/?route=56934

The kit

Col
Alpkit team cycling jersey
Patagonia capilene baselayer
Decathlon cycling shorts
Pants.. not sure of brand but more than likely Calvin Klein
Montane shower proof jacket
Unbranded cycling helmet.. probably out of a Christmas cracker
1l water bottle
Sleep system: PD250 down sleeping bag, Hunka bivy bag, Numo sleeping mat
Bike: Genesis i0 32/16
Rucksack: G20 rucksack
Pannier: Butchered G20
Spare clothes: HH thermal leggings, Patagonia hat, Alpkit 0hiro jacket
Footwear: 2 pairs Akdrenaline socks & unsuitable trainers

Ken
Alpkit team cycling jersey
Patagonia capilene baselayer
Polaris cycling shorts
Pants by Tesco
Decathlon cycling jacket
Bell cycling helmet
1l water bottle
Sleep system: 0hiro synthetic sleeping bag, Hunka, Numo sleeping mat
Bike: Genesis i0 32/16
Rucksack: G25 ver2 prototype
Pannier: Airlok XTra 35l
Spare clothes: Nike leggings, Patagonia hat, Alpkit 0hiro jacket
Footwear: 2 pairs Akdrenaline socks & unsuitable trainers

Shared camping gear
1 x Lightweight tarp/poncho
1 x gas burner & canister
1 x Lighter
1 x Titanium MytiMug
1 x Titanium Snapwire spork
1 x Tifoon
2 x Orisako mugs
1 x Gamma head torch
2 x First Aid kit
3 x OS maps
Emergency cash and CC.

Food
1 x kilo Haribos
2 x malt loaf
1x focaccia
Multiple muesli bars
1 x Mixed nuts / rasins / choclolates
2 x Mueller fruit corners
1 x Dried Apricots
3 x Noodles
3 x Cous cous

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