Race Against Time

by Dave Willis

Start - The Golden Rule pub, Ambleside, 1993

How many wildly ambitious plans have started with an over-indulgent hour in the pub: I think nearly all mine have. And this was to be no exception.

An innocent question to Glen Sutcliffe had prompted an explana-tion of how he came to be soloing Dovedale Grooves at three in the morning with his climbing partner Keef Murphy. Apparently they had been attempting to solo all the Lakeland routes in Hard Rock in under 24 hours, a feat which had they succeeded would have impressed me as much as Ron Fawcett's I 00 Extremes in a day.

It took only a small step and two pints of XB to arrive at plan to convert their epic idea into all the Lakeland routes in Classic Rock in 24 hours. Of course we expected a lot of people to shake their heads and mutter variously, "So what," or "What's the point in that?" Well of course they're right in their way. But when we realised it would involve 4500 feet of climbing on 15 of the finest classic climbs in the Lakes, and more than 25 miles of hill walking, it became clear it would be difficult to get that much packed into one day.

Tim Gould proved the prime motivator in this project, having already notched up a tally of seven failed attempts, all defeated by the weather. On our first attempt together in the summer of 1993, we started up Troutdale Pinnacle, painfully unprepared for the task ahead. With no real knowledge of many of the route descriptions, descents or even the weather forecast, we'd merely strolled out of the pub and into cosy bivvy, arisen early and started.

The Pinnacle came and went, it was so dark on Little Chamonix I may well have had my eyes shut, and Gillercombe Buttress was but a shadow when the early morning gloom turned to rain and surprise, surprise, it started to piss down. Still, we'd learned a few basic rules for this sort of rhino mostly relating to the importance of forward planningl

Fast forward to July '94 and the team - myself, Tim and Mike Van Gullick - were gathered once more in the Golden Rule, but with much improved odds. Tim and Mike had pre-soloed all 15 routes and knew the approaches, descents and time schedule intimately. I'd done absolutely nothing in the intervening year, so quite why I'd agreed to participate was beyond me.

2.30am: Troutdale Pinnacle, Black Crag, Borrowdale

The combined alarms of Tim and Mike's Casios failed to wake me, for the very simple reason that I wasn't asleep. I'd slept very little in fact, due to the humidity of the night air and the ferocity of the midges. But I knew the adrenaline rush of anticipation would get me off the ground.

I did have a problem though. My head torch battery was a dud and turning hack wasn't an option. I stumbled down the descent from Black Crag with a failing beam and realised I'd have to climb Little Chamonix without a light. There was very little moonlight, but having soloed little Chamonix a number of times in all kinds of weather, I wasn't too worried. By the time we arrived at Gillercombe Buttress it would be light.

5.00am: Gillercombe Buttress, Borrowdale

Gillercombe Buttress isn't a route that interests me much, in fact I am not sure why it was included in the first place, but I suppose we all have different ideas about what constitutes a classic route. How-ever, all of us agreed on one thing: it looked like a hell of a walk over to Pillar.

The sun was rising over the distant Ullswater Fells. Although there was no warmth yet, the brilliant colours of a summer sunrise in a clear morning sky cheered me up. Sunrise is always the best time of day, especially from a high a high vantage like Grey Knots, and I constantly curse my inability to get out of bed early enough to appreciate it more often.

Tim and Mike are both over six feet tall and they seemed to be making an extra effort to stretch their legs that morning; I could barely keep up the pace. Pillar might arrive sooner than anticipated, but at that rate I'd be too knackered to climb. Maybe I wasn't warmed up enough yet.

7.30am: Rib and Slab, New West Climb, Pillar Rock, Ennerdale

Rib and Slab was a delight, definitely. The sun had not yet touched its rock, so it was cold to the touch but you knew when you moved, every hold would present itself to you, exactly right, there would be no awkwardness, just a flowing line.

New West shares a similar line at the start but then branches left. The corner was dark, dank and greasy, the line felt contrived and once again I found myself questioning its status as a classic - I didn't like it. Tim and Mike were climbing like machines, or so it seemed, but I felt awk-ward and jumpy. I was glad when it was done.

The sun was now higher in the sky and would warm us on the walk back to Black Sail Pass. Returning to Great Gable from Pillar Rock, my early doubts about my fitness were cast away. I felt good and very much awake. I guess I'm just not a morning person. I had to admit to feeling a bit smug noticing Tim falling behind a bit - pushed a bit too hard first thing I thought - and congratulated myself on my sense of pacing.

Stupid really, we'd all rely on each other through the day, all of us experiencing high and low points, and later none of us would be too proud to admit to having been towed along by the others at some stage. The trick was to avoid all getting blown out at the same time.

Wasdale Head lay spread out at Beck Head. Long shadows receding over the green fells of Yewbarrow and The Screes, like a tide ebbing as the sun crept over Style Head. Wastwater was still a dark jewel in the last of the valley mist. A chill breeze ruffled the grass at Beck Head, hut otherwise nothing stirred. It was good to be in the mountains on such a perfect morning.

9.45am Napes Needle, Needle Ridge and Tophet Wall, Great Gable, Wasdale

Napes Needle and Needle Ridge are perhaps just inconveniences on the way to the real prize on Great Gable's Napes crags. Even so, reversing the top moves from the Needle's ultra polished top block was never going to be a moment I'd look back on with fondness. In the event it proved a mild act of concentration and no real problem.

It's funny how memories can sometimes blow things out of proportion though. I first climbed the Needle in 1982, and I remember running up to the Napes after work, arriving out of breath to meet my mate at the bottom. I'd been a climber for barely a year, a leader for less than a few months. I nearly died reversing that top block.

Though this route felt the most exposed of all, its features and problems concentrated the mind into a small world of holds and moves. The ground did not exist and the space all around was forgotten; just the line remained, changing from bold juggy layaways, to thin finger and toe edges, to big jams and flake edges. On to that wonderful hand traverse with its wide hand-friendly crack.

Who can resist swinging out as if from the roof of the world, above the tiny dots of people below our toes, almost shouting "look up at me, look how easy this is"? Of course to actually have yelled like that would have been so un-cool wouldn't it?

Back at the start we wished the climbers, still gearing up, a good climb, picked up our sacks and headed towards Scafell. Slogging up the Corridor Route towards Scafell Buttress it was Mike's turn to suffer. Eight routes down, seven to go.

1.10pm Moss Ghyll Grooves, Jones' Route, Scafell, Wasdale

The mood had changed.

Mist had begun to form, the sky had darkened. The nerves knotted in the pit of my stomach and tightened, as I contemplated The Grooves and Jones' Route, solo on traditionally greasy rock.

The only relevant detail of Moss Ghyll Grooves was the crux move. On pitch two, 70 feet off the deck, you had to slide a pointed toe out to find a wee hold, polished, rounded and only just big enough, to land on the 'Pedestal' out on the left arete.

There are no real hand holds until you make that delicate rock-over, after which of course the holds are jugs. When you do it you may well give a shrug of nonchalance, a - 'what was the fuss about' - kind of shrug. Roped up you wouldn't even think about it. Solo, you can't escape the horror of a slip; it's a long way down from there. And it scared me.

Afterwards the weather brightened again, almost in sympathy. Jones' Route was not a problem.

5.30pm Bowfell Buttress, Langdale

On the walk over from Scafell the conversation became more positive with every step. The main difficulties were behind us, there was no way it was going to rain now and with only three crags and five routes left it looked like time was on our side. Tiredness was definitely creeping in, but with seven hours to go we could afford to relax a bit and ease the pace. Or so we imagined.

Bowfell Buttress proved difficult to locate from the top, and I must admit to being privately scepti-cal of the idea of a 'down solo', however much sense it made from a logistic point of view. Two climbers finishing what must have been a pleasant sunny afternoon's ascent were startled to find a trio of soloists moving carefully down towards them from the finishing groove. In the event down soloing was the ideal solution, although the crux moves were in different places for down climbing. Weird.

Tim's brilliant idea of getting the support teams to drive round to the ODG with hot food and a brew was a triumph. I have never been so glad to see a plate of mixed pasta salad. We felt turbo powered with renewed energy so decided to throw in an ascent of Middlefell Buttress for good measure, to get us up onto the traverse path to Gimmer Crag.

9.00pm Ash Tree Slabs, C Route, Bracket and Slab, Gimmer Crag, Langdale

Ash Tree Slabs, followed by C Route, then an abseil down to the start ledge for Bracket and Slab, and while two of us rapped off, Tim would fetch the ab' anchor. Another brilliant plan.

The first two were quickly dispatched. I'd soloed C Route before, but it felt more exposed than I remembered. I guess I was getting really tired now. Failing light hurried us onto Bracket and Slab, peering this way and that for the flake at the start. Two local climbers, waved and pointed the way - thanks.

The gathering night actually made life easier in a way. The exposure disappeared along with the views, shrinking my world to the rock in front of my face, concentrating the mind. I felt better.

When the route was finished I sat for a moment and exhaled. I felt that somehow I'd survived something! Up to this point, my day had been a journey of nervous tension. Some routes I had climbed well, some indifferently and some I would admit to being downright scared on.

Only one or two routes had been enjoyable in the true sense of the word, free from nerves and relaxed. Technically of course, they were all well within my limit. But I could never really rid myself of the nagging sense of being out there without a safety net, route after route. Now, at last, finally, I relaxed.

There was one more route to do; Murray's on Dow Crag. There was no way we were going solo on that at two in the morning. not after 23 hours on the go. How Tim and Mike felt about this I can not say, but I hazard a guess that Tim felt a similar relief, though he never looked anything but completely confident all day, while Mike, who is as competitive as they come, was secretly nursing schemes of soloing Murray's anyway, just to make it a clean sweep.

1.25am Murray's Route, Dow Crag, Coniston

I make no bones about this - I crawled up the scree slope to the blue box. After a treacherous fumbling and time consuming descent in the dark down the scree from Gimmer, I was knackered. I could barely walk. Tim was a short way ahead, stumbling a little. Mike had run up the scree like a puppy. The man we'd towed and teased up the Corridor Route to Scafell had got his second wind. How did he do it?

Mike had made up his mind he was going to solo Murray's. I was not and I made that clear. Tim agreed, but asked to lead. No problem. Climbing in a more relaxed frame of mind, my head torch swept over the crux slab moves, picking out the holds easily.

I made way for Mike to solo through hesitantly, and then I was across. Joining Tim on the belay, I was surprised to find Mike tying into the rope. A few grunts and surprised gasps had given a clue as to how he had fared, but one look at his face told the story. "I nearly shit myself" he said blankly. Soloing Murray's in the dark after 23 hours climbing was not going to be on after all.

So in a rope of three we continued around the traverse and up the final groove. At every move I was very aware that this route, Murray's Route on Dow, had finally become an exhausting reality, the culmination of two years planning and frustration.

"20... 19... 18... 17... 16…" I was determined to finish in relaxed style, despite the countdown from above and stepped lightly, unhurriedly, onto the top belay. "12... II... 10... stop," the stop-watch read 23 hours, 59 minutes and 50 seconds exactly.

That was it.

Finished.

It was 2.29 am.

More recently, Mark Thomas recorded a time of 16 hours 17 minutes in 2005, and Chris Fisher then held the record with 15 hours 25 minutes solo and unsupported on 23rd April 2019.

In a temporary lessening of coronavirus travel restrictions in 2020, a friendly battle for the record began between Will Birkett (grandson of Lake District legend Jim Birkett) and Tom Randall of Wide Boyz fame). Will started the ball rolling in May when, together with Callum Coldwell-Storry, he did the round in 12 hours 54 minutes. Tom reduced this to 12 hours, 2 minutes and 36 seconds in August but this was beaten by Will with 11 hours 50 minutes the same month. Tom was back on 18th September with 11 hours 10 minutes only to have this beaten by almost half an hour when Will returned an amazing 10 hours 41 minutes the following day!

This record was smashed again in 2022 by Shane Ohly with an incredible time of only 9 hours 22 minutes - see: Shane Ohly Smashes the Lakes Classic Rock Challenge Record. It's hard to imagine this will ever be beaten.

Other Lakes' Classics in a day compleaters include James Gibson and Jack Oliver in 22 hours and 40 minutes on 15th May 2018.