Nestled in the arms of the Welsh mountains sits the storybook village of Llanberis, with multicoloured houses, Victorian train stations and eager hikers ready to tackle some of the most beautiful trails in the UK.
The race was simple enough, we collected there at the startline at 10 am on 8th July, and we had 24 hours to see how many times we could summit Yr Wyddfa.
Easy was my thought when I arrived; it shouldn’t be too bad. I had strategised around five summits if I was proactive enough.
The Race Village
Always Aim High Events Snowdon24 had introduced the race the year before to great esteem. There were solo runners like myself, pair runners and team runners, all with their goals in mind and a tangible determination that buzzed around the group.
I had arrived in Llanberis the night before, staying at the beautiful Royal Victoria Hotel, which perched above the village. The race village was just two minutes away, opposite the Snowdon Railway station. A brutal reminder that there was another way to get to the top, but where was the fun in that?
The race was partnered with the outdoor sports brand Black Diamond who were offering out kits to borrow for the event. Rhys Henderson and Doreen greeted me, who graciously allowed me to borrow a set of Distance Carbon Z Poles and a Sprinter 500 Headtorch for the event.
Runners, spectators, dogs, children and music peppered the small event village. There were food trucks, kit tents and a Redbull Pyramid surrounded by beanbags and a teepee, which my dad and I found rather amusing – grab a Redbull and relax!
A large white gazebo sat off to the far end, the base for us crazy enough to be running throughout the night, guarded by a kind but firm man, Ian. I was impressed with the setup. Eight picnic benches with large barrels of water and a table at one end stocked with all the excellent carby snacks, hot water and coffee.
There was the option to set up a tent for racers; however, after some confusion, we were told the tents were to be erected down the road on a football field down the road. Unfortunately, this was a good 5-minute walk down the road, a place we thought was very far away from the base and, more importantly, the start line.
Needless to say, the tent was erected but not used in the 24 hours.
How it Began
The route followed the 7.5km Llanberis Path, with almost 1000m of elevation to the summit of Snowdon. Known as the ‘easiest’ route, while steep in parts, there would be no scrambling up and down. One lap would equal around 15km.
However, as it was the easiest route, the first lap was spent battling day walkers who ambled their way up the path. Some of them would cheer and smile as they saw the race numbers on our person; others would grumble as we overtook them with a polite word.
My body began to understand the rhythm of the poles, which helped propel me, using the brief flat sections to perform a light jog. I looked up, excited for the views, to be met with a mist that punctured the visibility.
I chatted along with my dad, enjoying the fresh mid-morning air and the burning in my thighs. We made our way up, zig-zagging through the crowds, aiming for the checkpoint at the 6km mark.
This was when I realised I may have miscalculated my ambition. The ascent became brutal at this point; the wind picked up, and the clouds threatened rain. Looking down over the cliffs, clouds masked the mountains. Endlessly I put one foot in front of the other.
Despite the July weather at the base, up here, I was cold, my hands wet with mist. I passed brave marshals who would call out our names. They informed me they were stationed for most of the event, and I commended them. Later on, their faces would be lights in the darkness and ones I would look forward to seeing.
Spritely runners barrelled past me, now heading back through the fog to the mountain’s base, zig-zagging through walkers. I would soon follow them after passing the remote control informing the organisers I had made it to the summit.
Battling against walkers was difficult on that first lap, a factor that couldn’t be helped, especially in the summer months, when hundreds of thousands flocked to the famous Llanberis path.
The descent took half the time of the ascent; runners began to recognise each other and offer encouragement as they made eye contact. A symphony of breathless ‘well dones’ passed between strangers with mutual goals.
I grabbed handfuls of jelly babies as I reached the base camp, savouring the sweetness. The sun was now beating down, a defining contrast between the brisk bleakness at the summit I had experienced just an hour earlier.
The tent buzzed with other runners exchanging stories, names, and goals set for the day. Tshirts were swapped, I took on water, repacked my bag and set off for my second lap in great spirits.
The Beginning of the End…
The second lap went much like the first, as walkers began dissipating, and only gentle plods from strong legs could be seen up the mountain. As I walked to the summit, I counted dogs, announcing them to my dad, who maintained his footing a few steps ahead of me.
I created my own checkpoints as I climbed; turn off the concrete, the railway bridge, halfway house, water checkpoint, and summit. Elites would slow down to talk to my dad and me, and we’d laugh at the absurdity of our situation. I was so impressed with their tenacity and hard work. For once, I wasn’t comparing myself, I was one of the group.
I continued to eat, with stock-ups from the eating station at the base coming in handy—mouthfuls of jelly babies, salt tablets, and energy bars in between sips of water. My legs trembled with each step upwards, but my mind was focused, breathing deeply through to the summit.
I sat at the top, surrounded by the clouds, feeling content but aware of my dimming energy. Yr Wyddfa sits within Snowdonia National Park, so peaks and valleys were all I could see. Although not the tallest mountain I had ever been upon, I felt a deep-seated accomplishment.
I felt my feet slamming into the ground beneath me; my eyes focused on tip-toeing between the rocks and gravel. Gravity took hold of my body, using my arms to balance myself as I felt the pull of my legs down the Llanberis path. Walkers would cheer as we passed, looking in awe at runners they may have seen plenty of times so far.
I felt my knees hit the pavement first, and the breath knocked from me. I froze in place, my legs tingling, my chest pressed against the gravel. I rolled to the side, my dad lifting me off the path to a seated position.
The crimson-red blood ran down my leg, the pulse coming from a deep cut on my right kneecap. Though in pain, no tears came to my eyes as my mind raced with the potential I wouldn’t be able to finish what I started.
There are several medals available to those who attempt this incredible challenge:
- Three ascents and descents – Yr Wyddfa Triple Award
- Five Ascents and descents – Mont Blanc Award
- Eight ascents and descents – Kilimanjaro Award
- Ten Ascents and Descents – Mount Everest Award
With only two laps down, I wouldn’t gain a medal. The panic began to set in as I looked at my knees, torn open, a theatrical amount of blood dripping down my shin.
Just 2km from the base, we walked, and I watched my white LuluLemon trail shoes slowly turn red and pink as they mixed with my blood. Luckily, the marshals were changing over, and I passed a safety officer on the way down, who informed me that I needed to seek medical help as soon as I reached the base.
The Always Aim High team were excellent; with St. Johns Ambulances on site, I was cleaned up and informed I could continue on my third lap. I felt a true sense of care from the organisers, who assisted in whatever we needed both at the base and on the Mountain.
Crew members for other racers were also excellent, helping not just their own but anyone who needed help in the tent. Coffee was made, pasta pots were heated, and I stretched my tired aching legs, intent on going for one more lap to gain my medal.
The camaraderie between racers was tangible, no matter what lap we were on. Elites cheered for teams as they passed, and encouragement for the elites came from everyone we saw. A board by the finish line kept us updated on lap times, and I was amazed at the times people continued to succeed with each 9-mile lap.
The course record for a solo participant was eight laps, and I watched eager athletes munch down in twenty-minute intervals before setting off onto the loop again. The sun was beginning to set as I set off on what would be my final lap.
The Final Lap
I had initially hoped to see both the sunrise and sunset on Yr Wyddfa. So the final lap saw me racing the sunset as I used the poles to drive me back up the Llanberis path. Turning over my shoulder, I saw the smog had cleared, and the deep red of sunset cast an orange glow over the landscape.
Like something from a movie, I stood with the marshall at the 6km checkpoint, marvelling at the day I had experienced. I knew my race was over, but I cheered for the others who maintained incredible speed as the darkness took over.
With only my headtorch to light the way, I reached the summit for the last time. I could see the bobbing headlights of others making their way up towards me and the distant lights of towns below me.
As we began our descent, I felt a sense of gratitude for this opportunity; I was surrounded by the determined, strong belief of others carrying me back down the mountain. I knew my race was over, but I was excited to witness the joy and determination of others.
I completed three laps of Snowdon in 15 hours. I would have achieved more without the fall, but I was proud of what I had achieved. On the last steps into the base, my knee burst from the plaster and resumed another bountiful blood.
I collected my medal and returned to the hotel, anxious to return to the finish line before 10 am to see the fantastic achievements of my fellow competitors.
Robert Lang claimed the first position on the podium with eight laps in 22:11:16. He said: “The event was brilliant, really well organised. I loved the marshals all the way up; I thought having them up at 4 am was a nice touch. I nearly passed out halfway; three guys helped and encouraged me to continue. I would highly recommend this race to anyone.
“I had a pretty metronomic ideology when it came to this race. I would spend just twenty minutes at the base each time before going out and putting one foot in front of the other until I returned. I surprised myself; I’ve done one ultra before, and just getting into the flow of it helped me.”
Third place Damian Elsdon also completed eight laps, coming in at 22:53:34. He said: “I did 80 miles. The uphills hurt, and you wanted the downhill; the downhills came, and your legs were screaming.”
Like many other racers, I came away from this race with a true sense of achievement. It didn’t matter how many laps I did in the end because you were endlessly surprising yourself with your resilience, power and grit.
I love races where you only race your own expectations of yourself. I was never going to win, but I could battle my mind and prove that I was capable of anything I set my mind to.
The Snowdon24 is an astonishing race built for any athlete who is wanted a well-organised introduction to mountain ultras. Not once did I feel unsafe or lost. I felt just as capable as the elites around me, and their encouragement was paramount to my success.
I saw all shapes and sizes in the mountains that day. Teams, pairs and solos outdid themselves and pushed their mental and physical boundaries to achieve their very best, and that’s what ultrarunning is all about.
If you want us to review your race, please get in touch with the team at info@ultrarunnermagazine.co.uk.