On Friday 3rd March 2023, I set off after work and walked 30 miles over the moors. Afterwards I cycled up the Winnats Pass and back home to Sheffield- this was all done alone, with no sleep or caffeine, and I told nobody of my exact plans.
Since 2021's 'Project X' I'd dremt of doing more big walk/ cycle days. Yet 2022 had been my annus horriblis to put it lightly and quite frankly it is more pleasurable to sit on a cactus (without underwear) than walk alone all night in a messed up head. Probably... In 2023 however the tide had turned. Rapidly. Ideas laid dormant began to resurface. Sometimes things just fall into the right place at the right time and you have to drop everything and just go. Within two weeks, re-awakening had led to resurrection, and an idea I'd kept secret for a long while was soon going to be made reality.
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| Time to spend a Friday night in a cold peat bog. Just setting off from Hope, 7pm. |
Leaving Hope at 7pm on a dark, cold March night, northwards over Hope Cross and the A57. People having tea and going to the pub were passed, the last warming lights of a cosy front room left behind as I soon slipped alone into a familiar existence. Get settled in the mind, warm the legs up, embrace the long night ahead.
The overview effect is phenomena astronauts experience when watching the Earth from a distance, having removed themselves and now seeing it from a third person perspective. To a lesser extent, you get this effect on long walks too. You must be fully committed- alone with no tent or sleeping gear, and be on the move all night and day. You are detached and see the world go by whilst contributing nothing. It is really cool and one of the aspects that brings me back time and time again.
Nearly two years had passed since I'd experienced this, yet walking alone through the night over Snake Pass and Kinder Scout felt so comforting and enjoyable. The lights of Manchester were seen glowing in the distance and thoughts drifted to the people down there getting on with their lives, at the pub, asleep, having cuddles. The occasional airplane flew overhead. Where where those people going? At 1am it was time for a brief pause for a lunch of flapjacks and pepperoni at Ashop Head. Silent contemplation. Nobody knew where I was, my headtorch was turned off (thanks to the moonlight) and another 15 miles of walking through the early hours over my favorite hills lay ahead. Freedom.
Talking about experiences, feel sorry for the poor folks who were camping on Mill Hill that night. My torch shone in their tent, rocks were stumbled into and they most definitely heard me having a wee close by. Whoopsie.
The night time tunnel was exited at daybreak, 5:30am on Mam Tor, as a few walkers waiting to see sunrise were passed by in a silent haze. It had been tough to stay awake on the long plod from Kinder during those long late hours of the night. The knowledge of the sunrise waking you up from a dazed stupor provides energy for the mind, and you just keep on going.
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| It is heavy, it has small wheels and it's nearly always mucky. But my bike sure does me well. |
7am, Hope. Back at the bike to much relief. 30 miles in 12 hours- not too bad. Breakfast, out of the boots and into comfy shoes, half an hour to rest and feast on some pasta I'd handily left overnight.
Big days on the hill to me have to have a few essential ingredients: They must be simple, they must sound daft, and they must be hard*. Cycling up the Winnats Pass having been awake for 26 hours and walked 30 miles (and on a heavy hybrid bike with all my walking gear) had all of those ingredients. It just had such a ring to it. I honestly didn't know if I could do it. That was the point. To go and find out. This whole idea was like light to the flies to me. As I slowly cycled towards Castleton, the Winnats Pass lured me in.
The mind focused as the road finally began to rise out of Castleton. I wanted this. Badly. Really, really badly. 10 minutes it took. 10 minutes in that prized, elusive flow state- the pace, breathing and road position were perfect. The Legs wanted to stop. The Legs really wanted to stop. My Mind craved the top of the pass even more badly. It refused to give in. The Mind won.
Elation? Judging from a few reactions, I appeared slightly crazy rounding the Mam Nick Pass that morning and lets leave it at that. A one man party having a great time. Well, its hard not to when riding down through the Edale Valley even when sober, let alone in my state. Do you like bikes and fun? Go ride down the Mam Nick Pass. The one man continued his party the way to Hathersage.
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| The Mam Nick Pass. So. Much. Fun. |
9:30am, Hathersage. Awake for 27 hours. Feeling a wee bit spaced out by now.
Cycling and sleep deprivation. You can have adventures in the mind as well as on land, and I wanted more adventure time. So up past Higger Tor, over to Redmires and down to home it was. The party became more about curious experimentation as the day went on. To feel in total control regardless of mild auditory and visual hallucinations, to giggle with delirious euphoria and to race and to weave through traffic on Abbeydale Road with ease, and to feel so awake and alive despite the creeping tiredness as the clock gradually ticked onward. Fascinating and amazing. I probed this state as long as it felt safe- until after 29 hours awake and on the go for 17 of those, that innate survival instinct told me my luck was running out. I homed in on my favorite perch- my sofa with a view over Sheffield and the Peak District- and rested with contented numbness.
Heavy delirium kicked in during the afternoon as I fed, washed and relaxed while forcing myself to stay awake. Shaky hands, blurred vision, aching legs. But the experiment wasn't over. Oh no. Not yet. These headspaces are so rarely achieved you may as well make the most of them when they do. There was still gas in the tank, or at least fumes, and I intended to go on until they ran out. Having been awake for 37 hours, I cycled to the pub. And drunk then at least 5 pints of beer. And then cycled back home having stayed awake for 42 hours without any stimulants at all. And then finally fell asleep (snoring loudly in my housemate's chair). It was just curiosity plain and simple, and I was high on life. Yes, I could cycle and just about act rationally in this state. That was cool to find out. It was also a lot of fun too.
The following few days were spent resting and sleeping lots, while the buoyant afterglow lasted a couple of weeks. A means to an end, yet so much was learnt. Truth be told, combining long walks and bike rides is a lot easier than walking 50+ miles in a day. It is also way less painful and more enjoyable. Now the parameters caused by the lack of sleep have been figured out, there is lots more scope for taking these ideas much further. At some point in the near future, I will to go on a journey to truly test my mind and body and push them as far as possible. On foot then on bike. It is time to dream again...
Note: I did actually put in some training for this one. Hungover cycles up the hills in Sheffield made for perfect conditioning. Morning runs up Meersbrook Park for the shins. And a diet of eggy fried crumpets to get that protein in with a smile.
*Big days must also adhere to the following ethics: They must be entirely self supported with nobody meeting you for resupplying foods ect. Shops and pubs en route are allowed. They must be done for yourself and not for charity. All details of the route are to be kept as quiet as possible from people until it is done. In a scene of sanitised charity walks, I do these things for myself, and I want an adventure.
