Wales

From fog to dead torches, wild pace, and rain at the end. The Carneddau broke me and kept me moving. Automatic mode, fully engaged.

800m up Elidir Fawr. Scree, boulders, scrambling joy, endless steps. Poles saved me. 26 km in, halfway wrecked, not broken. Still moving.

3 peaks. Zero views. Wind, clag, soaked socks, no fork. First time using poles. Wet, wild, relentless—and honestly? Wouldn’t change a thing!

An unhinged tale of tuna pots, failed torches, and why I emotionally disintegrated for six weeks just to climb 15 Welsh peaks in 24 hours. Spoiler: the mountains didn’t kill me, but the prep almost did. This is how I spiralled—mentally, meteorologically, and nutritionally—into the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Welcome to the Welsh 3000s. Bring oat bars.

I didn’t emotionally prepare for the Welsh 15 — I spiralled. One minute I’m thinking “I’ve got this,” the next I’m googling: “Will 4000m of ascent expose me as a fraud or awaken my inner mountain goat?” I check four forecasts. I panic-bought fusilli. Crib Goch is looming. The others might be ultra-runners. I’ve just brought vibes and cheese sticks.

Some people get nervous before a big challenge. I spiralled into a retail frenzy involving toe socks, three rain jackets, and an alarming number of knee braces. This isn’t a gear list. It’s a psychological case study dressed as a packing blog. Welcome to the pre-trauma panic vortex that is: Welsh 15 Prep™.

I’ve never walked 50km on flat terrain. So I signed up to do it on 15 Welsh summits, with 4,000m of ascent, in 24 hours, starting at 2:50 AM, with strangers, in a country famous for sideways rain. Also, I paid for it. This post contains overthinking, knee brace diplomacy, and tuna pasta pot logistics.