Two men go for a big walk up four big hills. Part One.

This is the first of a two part story about a long walk in the hills. Initially intended to be just one post, I've split it to break it up as it is quite lengthy. The next part will be up sometime before sunday all being well.

At 1:10am on Saturday 22nd of March 2014, my good mate Dobbo and I walked out of my front door, crossed Hunters Bar and set off to climb the 4 600m high hills of Peakland. 20 hours 45 mins later we would arrive back home (well, at the Lescar just round the corner) having walked 48 miles and ascended around 8000ft.

Firstly though- why do such a thing?
Simple. Because the furthest we'd ever walked in a day was someone else's idea.
Two years previously we did the famous Derwent Watershed walk, a dream of ours since we began wandering the hills as young teenagers. At 42 miles it was the toughest day out we'd ever had, and by the end I was at the end of my mental and physical limit. A painful, shattered and happy mess staggered back to the car that night. Dobbo was seemingly invincible. Yet despite vowing never to do anything like it again, a few weeks later we were left with an empty, hollow feeling inside. Somehow it just didn't feel that special, our biggest achievement was something hundreds of people have done.

So a few weeks looking at maps mooting various ideas followed, but nothing we came up with inspired or had the flow required. And then it hit us- why not climb the 3 highest hills in Peakland (the 2000ft high ones) in a day? It seemed such an obvious, simple and beautiful idea- we had to do it. Here we had a walk that would be at least 47 miles in length, plenty of ascent, a good chunk over rough trackless ground- and most importantly- it was our idea.

Now, for long distance walking (18 miles+) there are a few rules. Firstly- it should never be about the distance. Ego and fitness is a crap reason to spend 8 hours plodding up a hill- you might as well just plod round the city for that instead. Initially we considered trying to make the route 52 miles (simply because it's a double marathon) and told a lot of friends about our plans. Yet after more careful looking at the map, we realised that doing this would mean unnecessary deviations and extensions, thus spoiling that all important flow. So, sticking to the most logical line and adding Grindslow Knoll into the equation we had a route. 48 miles and the 4 600m high hills of Peakland in a day and back from my front door. It would still be further than the DW- our idea was wonderfully simple and we loved it.

Secondly- the route should have a good flow to it. This is important. By this, I mean it should take a logical line to give smooth steady progress with no switchbacks, detours ect. Refer back to the first rule and you'll see how the two relate and determined our eventual route. Slow, logical, smooth progress = a happy mind = a happy day out.

Thirdly-a healthy amount of ascent and walking over rough ground is essential. This is fellwalking, not a walk through town and it should be strenuous! 20 miles on good paths with easy gradients can make great walking (the Eastern Edges walk for example), but its not the stuff epic hard days are made out of. Fortunately a good half of the walk was over rough bog and moorland either without paths or on useless boggy trods at best, with a few sharp ascents along the way. With some nice easy sections at just the right place and a bit of new ground to cover as well, the route seemed perfect.

With everything in place (sort of), it we began to get obsessed by it. But along the way...

...Training? Not for me. Now, whilst I honestly admire the determination of folk who can get up and go to the gym or go jogging around parks every sunrise and sunset and eat a stringently healthy diet- it just isn't my cup of tea. I like my food and drink and doing things I find fun. 'Training' isn't one of them. Fair enough, I'm quite restless and active and have been wandering the hills quite a lot over the last 11 years but still, 48 miles is still a tad daunting distance to walk. My idea of training consisted of messing about on hills and going dancing lots. In all honesty though, I was quite worried about my feet hurting and how tired I'd be right until we did it. But I wanted it badly. Very badly. That was what mattered.

And so, sometime around May 2012 the build up began. Yet it took nearly two years to get round to it. Let me explain. The whole mental/ fitness weight of it certainly slowed us down, and during that time Dobbo and I both found ourselves with various commitments, free time clashing with one another. On and on it went. Constant proud announcement to friends, yet still no walk. To all of you who put up with it, I apologise. It constantly burnt in the mind- we must, we have to, we need it done. Then around a month ago circumstances in my personal life changed and suddenly I needed to stop procrastinating so much and get things done. This walk had become one of those endless procrastinations that had never got done. Now was the time to do it. Even if I wasn't strong enough, mentally it felt right. At last, things fell into place. Dobbo could commit and was psyched. A date was set. At last- it was on.

The two weeks up to it were fun, the whole build up being very exiting- remember your were a kid and how exiting that week before going on holiday felt? It felt a bit like that, constantly rabbiting on to anyone who would listen. My bosses at Foothills- the shop where I work- were great, allowing me to leave early on the friday, giving me free walking poles and insoles and took an interest in it. You couldn't get better people to work for. Measuring each little stage of the walk. Cleaning gear. Planning the diet (sugar and carbs). Carb loading three days before (1kg of pasta- yum!). Trying to sort the head out as we were expecting an epic. Hoping the weather wouldn't be a crap as forecast. Going to bed at half 7 and getting 4.5 hours kip. Waking up at midnight. An hour later, at long, long last.

It was finally on.