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Day 3 brought sunshine, summits, and actual humans, a welcome shift from the previous day’s solo soggy suffering. I tackled Green Crag, Harter Fell, and Hard Knott over 26.3 km with 1,161 m of ascent and 9 hours on my feet. No rain, lots of chats, and no bog trauma. Nutrition? Laughable. Spirits? High. Feet? Tired. Turns out, all I needed was sun, strangers, and a vest to feel like myself again.

It was July 25, a peak summer and I found myself in the Lake District, stumbling through rain, wind, and total whiteout for 7 relentless hours. No views. No people. Just fog, soggy layers, and six Wainwrights I was too stubborn to skip. I ate a squashed sandwich, wrung out my gloves like tea towels, and questioned all my life choices. Navigation was brutal. Spirits were damp (literally). It didn’t break me… but the dent? Yeah, that’s permanent. And mildly traumatised.

I parked at Mungrisdale to avoid the narrow road into Mosedale, ditched my route, and hiked straight up Carrock Fell through buzzing heather and wild blueberries. After scratching my legs in shorts and spotting ravens feasting on a sheep, I reached High Pike - my final summit in the Northern Fells. A peaceful tarmac road walk back, warm sunshine, and quiet reflection marked the end of another chapter. The blog is up now - come read the full story.

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.

I went to a Linkin Park concert, slept four hours, forgot my trekking poles and my jacket but still hiked 34 km in the Peak District heat without sitting down once. This final pre-Welsh 15 training hike was messy, sweaty, and wildly unplanned… but it showed me I’m ready. Sort of. Probably. Hopefully. Let’s find out.

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.

I’d built Sharp Edge up in my head like a moment that would mean something. But when I crossed it, all I felt was... nothing. No adrenaline. No shift. Just a quiet blankness I couldn’t shake. That’s when I realised: maybe the real challenge wasn’t that ridge, maybe it’s the silence that follows. And strangely enough, that’s the day I decided to try the Welsh 15.

I don’t share my stories to impress anyone. I share them so I don’t forget who I am, especially in a world that keeps trying to shrink me down. This is for the version of me who might need reminding that she once stood on a summit alone, certain and unshaken. And if someone else finds their own fire in my words? Even better.

The day began with sunshine and optimism, but the fells quickly turned into steep climbs, soaked scrambles, and endless bogs. By Lining Crag I was alone in mist, low on food, and sinking in mud. I chose to turn back. The long descent was slippery and relentless, yet strangely peaceful. This was the hike that reminded me to trust myself. Strength is knowing when to stop.

Thunder kept me awake all night, so my planned long hike was ruined before it began. After two hours of staring at the forecast like a grumpy weather detective, I switched to a shorter Ambleside mission. I boiled in full waterproofs, limped on a dodgy foot, and still tackled Wansfell Pike and Baystones. Boggy, humid, chaotic, but satisfying. Fish and chips and two pints finished the day.

A solo Friday escape powered by toe socks and one Boost orange. I drove straight to Seatoller, hit the trail in perfect sunshine, and immediately detoured in classic Mira style. Grey Knotts, Brandreth, Green Gable, and Base Brown rolled by in wind, views, and minor chaos. I descended like a confused goat, earned 7th on a Strava segment called Almost Certain Death, then inhaled a veggie burger and a pint in Keswick.

It’s almost go time. Bags nearly packed, routes planned, and I’ll be driving straight from work to the Lakes with loud music and too much coffee. Three days of big mileage and character-testing climbs await, my last prep before the Welsh 15. Keswick is home again, the fells are calling, and I feel that familiar buzz. Same base, new version of me, ready for whatever this weekend brings.

Today was a lesson in preparation and pure joy on Derwent Edge. I set out to bag three Ethels and the Back Tor trig, and somehow fell in love with every rock on the ridge. The weather turned fast, but for once I was fully waterproofed and stayed dry the entire time. Twenty kilometres later, fuelled by a cheese sandwich in a rainy pine forest, I finished warm, happy, and proud. A perfect Welsh 15 training day.

06 June 2025 There was a time not so long ago when I’d take one look at a forecast saying “rain and thunder” and say, “Absolutely not, I’ll be inside with snacks.” But now? Now I’m lacing up for a 16 km hike in the Peak District… on purpose . Why? Because this Welsh 15 challenge I signed up for, the one happening on the 5th of July is slowly reprogramming my brain. I'm now the kind of person who chooses  to hike through storms because missing a weekend of training feels illeg