Noctilucent Clouds over Kinder Scout

A few photographs of a Noctilucent Clouds glowing over Kinder Scout in the early hours of Friday June 29th.

2:40am, Grindslow Knoll. I'd set up after work on a 27 mile walk around Kinder Scout. I then cycled the 25 miles back home from Edale via the Mam Nick Pass and School Lane out of Hathersage and a nice swim along the way. I was going pretty quickly on the walk and was set to do it in 9 hours.

However, as the eastern sky started to brighten around 2:15, a high glowing blue light appeared. Sunrise was still a long way off. Gradually, it grew into the shape of a large ethereal manta ray floating in the sky. I made my way to Grindslow Knoll under it's wings, alone and utterly enthralled.

As the midsummer dawn light up the cloud, it grew more defined wings and a tail too.

For half an hour I sat there in awe. There was something so otherworldly and peaceful about the cloud. Through-night walks are always moving and highly rewarding experiences (it's why I've done them regularly for the last nine years), it this was something else. 

3:40am, dawn over Ringing Rodger. The cloud faded as the sky brightened. Sunrise was still over an hour away yet it was bright enough to walk without a torch. Having the roads to myself on the way home at 4am was a joy. 

A special encounter and another reason to go wandering around the hills at night. 

The Lowest Hill in the Peak District.

Who, in the pub on a Friday night, proudly tells their mates they are going to climb the lowest hill in the local area or national park? 

Not many I reckon. 

For the thousands who go up Kinder Scout every weekend (and the dozens who actually visit the highest point of it- there is a path to the top thesedays), I bet only a handful of mostly hardcore peak-baggers each year find themselves on the summit of Hare Knoll. And even then, they probably aren't aware that at a mere 185m, it is the lowest hill in the Peak District National Park. 

Hare Knoll in all it's diminutive glory. 

For all of an easy 50m ascent you can be rewarded with fine views along the Derwent Valley, very cold swimming nearby and it doesn't take a genius to include it in a nice short walk from Froggatt or Calver. You won't find bouldery slopes or gritstone tors, nor wild bogs or remote cloughs. But the Peak District's lowest hill has many joys, especially when the weather is crap higher up or on a hot summer's evening. 

Yet. Small hills don't stroke the ego. Small hills covered in open fields full of cows and associated cow poo are even less appealing. Mr Billy Big Bollocks will not find daring adventures impress his friends on this tiny grassy lump either. 

Unless... 

You link it up with the highest in the Peak District: Kinder Scout at 636m- in a circular walk. Aka, 'The Lowest to The Highest' : 34 miles of varied and pretty walking from either Hathersage (good pubs) or Grindleford (that godly cafe by the train station). A delightfully simple idea that is long enough to tire the legs yet not so long to ensure you'll be back in time for a well earned pint. You'll find at least two swim spots along the way and enough shops to travel light. On the loooong slog up Win Hill Pike 29 miles in, the tiny ego may grow a bit too...

I did this route in September 2022. It took me 11 hours 13 minutes to walk the 34 miles over some of the nicest scenery in the Hope, Edale and Derwent Valleys. For a good chunk of it I went as fast a possible. There were a lot of people at Hollins Cross and on Kinder. Far too many for comfort. I soon realised that if I appeared wild eyed and dripping in sweat, they would hastily move to either side of the path granting me a unhindered passage through. Want to have space in predictably busy places? Smell badly... Anyway, the route weaved it's way through Calver, Eyam, Sir William Hill, Castleton, and Win Hill Pike, included Lucozade stops in Bradwell and Bamford, a quick swim to feel refreshed and late summer sunshine all the way. Just constantly changing pretty scenery and easy plodding. It is honestly one of the best longish walks I've ever done. And I've done a lot. 

It is good to enjoy the smaller things in life alongside the big, boggy and pointy things, particularly if they are grassy, surrounded by cold rivers and covered in cow shit. 

Cycling up the Winnats Pass- Having been awake for 26 hours and walked 30 miles through the night.

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. 

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. 

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. 

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. 

Night Swimming isn't as romantic as R.E.M made it out to be.

 It is not.

Unless you are somewhere secluded in summer with a loved one- although in the UK you'll probably have to contend with the inevitable slugs and midges. And slugs and midges are about as romantic as well... not very much.

Fun!

Cold water swimming is- like yoga and driving SUV's to 'wellness classes' the 'in thing' to do over the last few years. Go to any well known swim spot in the Peak District (I'm not giving them away!) and you'll likely find an assortment of pasty looking people of varying girths happily throwing themselves into stone grey icy water, inevitably whilst talking about 'practicing their Wim Hof'.

Why?

It is oddly good fun. I've been doing it for years and and there really is a perverse pleasure in getting naked and jumping into water on a cold, drizzly afternoon in mid November. It feels like the wrong thing to do. It is the wrong thing to do. Your body is quite literally dying. There are no thoughts. For thirty seconds or so every neuron in your brain is firing telling you to get out. It would like to be warm and alive- and you are not. Your brain goes numb, very soon followed by every inch of skin you have and never knew you had. Hands and fingers instantly turn to rubbery lumps of flesh. 

A grey January day is a 
perfect time for a dip.

You get out and the rush- well, it is quite something. 15 minutes of intense smiling, laughing euphoria. There is a bizarre feeling of warmth despite it being 3c (or less) whilst stood around in your birthday suit halfway up a hill. You have a huge glow and smile across your face and vow to come back and do it again.

If you happen to go cold water swimming with friends, it is even more funny. Like hapless lemmings, one by one you strip off and plunge into the abyss, only to quickly to remerge bright red like boiled lobsters in reverse. This is shared suffering and silliness in a highly accessible manner, perfect for the hectic modern lifestyle. Watching your mates stuff their claw-like feet into shoes while light headed from the shock is certainly a giggle. But is is in no way romantic.  

Short lived intense euphoria? Highly addictive? Sounds like something familiar??? Yes, cold water swimming is effectively wholesome middle-class crack.

 So, if you happen to stumble across middle aged hippie types gleefully jumping into some bleak bit of freezing cold water, just remember- everyone has to get their high somehow.

Nightswimming in winter is another level of self-flagellation in the name of 'welbeing'. I've done it a few times. Imagine a big void that wants to kill you, then willingly jumping into it. You can't see it, but it hurts. Slugs in summer, death in winter. Sorry Michael Stipe, you were wrong about this one.  

I Wanna know! ('Project X', 2021)

 Back in June 2021 I realised a dream of mine to walk the Derwent Watershed Walk after work through the night and then cycle back to Sheffield from Hope having been awake for 27 hours. It became known as 'Project X'.

'I wanna know why the grass is green, I wanna know why the sky is blue' sang The Queers, a pop-punk band I used to listen too in my early teens. What they didn't want to know was what it would feel like to walk the most famous 42 mile walk in the Peak District after work through the night, then jump on a bike and cycle 20 miles home in a state of sleep-deprived and exhausted euphoria. 

I did.

After 2020's 52 mile Hebden Bridge to Sheffield walk (coming soon) I enjoyed an out-of-it but very much in control joyride around my local neighborhood. It was super fun! Why not shorten the walking even further and extend the sleepy cycling fun? I wouldn't have to suffer with painful feet for as long too. The Derwent Watershed walk was perfect to achieve this as I had already done it three times before, including a 62 mile version- it was well within my comfort levels. I'd be knackered for sure, but have plenty in the tank to cycle back. A plan was hatched...

A little bit of background here. A four year relationship was coming to an end. She knew what I was going to do. I knew what she wanted to do. She was the only person who did know and thought I was stupid. So I called it 'Project X' so she wouldn't know. She isn't stupid, she never was. So we postponed our 'little chat' so I could go and achieve my silly dream. The weather was perfect and here was my chance.  

 Wanna know what it is like to walk 42 miles alone in the night while going through a breakup?

It sucks.

Anticipating the fun ahead on Win Hill Pike.

For most of the way I could barely eat, my legs felt heavy and my mind was a total disintegrating mess. Everything was just so much harder, even the good bits over Brown Knoll and Bleaklow. Just shut up and keep going. The good things? Being alone on the hills at night is always fun. It was also waaay easier to suck up the tiredness and inevitable pain in my feet. Staggering up Parkin Clough on Win Hill Pike, 39 miles in and awake for 24 hours was a lot of fun. Totally out of it, tired of thinking, tired of walking, tired of the pain, an overwhelming desire to get to the bike. Humanity had melted down, reformed into a wide-eyed cadaver crawling its way to the top in a manic state of delirium.   

9:00am, Hope Car Park. I arrive. 42 miles in 15 hours. Awake for 27 hours. Grinning from ear to ear, as smelly as a mouldy rat, staggering like a freshly animated corpse. Fresh faced morning walkers look disturbed and quickly move away. They had no idea. Probably for the best. Breakfast of lucozade (orange) and granola. Get the bike ready. 

Before I set off there were a few basic checks to do. I needed to figure out the differences of me sober on a bike and me definitely not, and how I could overcome them. A few laps around the car park confirmed a couple of things: My reaction times were slowed, so breaking times and spaces were to be increased. I was beginning to experience mild auditory hallucinations. Instead of using hearing to judge approaching cars, I'd have to look around. But my balance was off, which therefore had to be counteracted by using my legs. Pretty simple- and provided you remember to do it- pretty effective too.

Wanna know what it is like to ride a bike having walked a long way through the night after a day at work, having been awake for 27 hours???

It was a lot of fun!

The pains in my feet and shins immediately dissipated. The tiredness in my legs just washed away by rushing waves of euphoria. The Derwent Watershed may never have happened. It was a new day. I was a new man. Reborn. Cycling felt as natural as breathing. It wasn't even hard. It was easy. It was amazing.

All the way through the Hope Valley and up the Surprise View, face hurting from smiling so much. This was what I'd dreamed about for the last year. Tears fell down my cheeks. I giggled as the road shimmered, swirled and breathed while sounds appeared from nowhere. A few cyclists ahead. Get them. A tiny feather for the tiny ego. Total focus on staying in a straight line, keeping moving and not getting hit. It was the biggest and most surreal daydream of my life and I was living it.

Hathersage Road. Reality bites. Heavier traffic. It was 12:30. Reactions and focus deteriorating. Survival mode. Get the game head on and finish it. Hospitals scare me. The one thing I fear as much as The Slug is The Needle. Don't go there. Total concentration. Stay away from The Needle. 

The Needle successfully avoided, Meersbrook (aka 'The Lentil Belt') finally materialised. Sober normal people. Try to act like them. I'm not an actor so that soon failed. I did however, mange the last bit of cycling up to my house with degree of normalcy. It was over.

Ted. My buddy comes to greet me at the end.

Wanna know what it feel like to have achieved another silly dream?

Sad yet happy. This had been a huge part of my life for over a year. Winter days spent slogging up Meersbrook Park, hungover cycles, many evenings thinking about it. Sad that it was now time to finally let go. I cried a little as I walked up the steps to my front door. Yet it had given me some unforgettable memories. My experiment had worked. New plans were already forming in my head for what could follow on from this. Ecstasy flooded my brain as I took off my boots and gave Ted the cat a cuddle. 

Another dream realised. I was happy as a pig in shit.

A brief note on Ethics: Aside from my ex I told nobody about my plans until after it was done. I carried everything needed and had my phone turned off for the duration of the trip. This wasn't about bragging to my mates. It was about total immersion doing something I love. 

Oh, and I wore a helmet for the cycle.

Mind over Matter: Tricks of the Mind and Mental Techniques To Succeed On Long-Distance Walks

Hello folks.

  What follows is a little guide to all the various mental and imagery techniques I've found useful for endurance walks (40+ miles), cycling and generally being very, very restless in life. One of my big fascinations with long walks is how much of a head game they are- yes having good gear and being physically strong is a requirement-, but they often come of secondary importance to having your head in the right place and being able to use your mind. Over the course of many years spent doing long walks, it is something I've thought a lot about and feel ready to share some of my ideas.

Motivation

Dobbo feeling motivated- another 40 miles of walking and he
knows he'll stop walking and be drinking Moonshine in
The Lescar. 'The 4 Peaks' Walk, March 2014

  Before doing any big committing long-distance challenge you've got to be motivated. In a big way. I'm talking about being so psyched to the point that you'll be thinking about it every waking hour of every day for several months before you set off. It requires a certain level of obsessiveness to do these things. When you've walked for 40 miles, it is raining and have another 15 miles of moorland to go, being motivated is what stops you quitting. When you are half awake on Kinder Scout at 2am and every bit of heather looks like a comfy bed to curl up on, it doesn't matter how fit you are or able to deal with sleep deprivation. It is pure will power that gets you through. None of the following ideas in this guide matter unless you are psyched to do what your doing. You have to want these things. And want them badly.

  Believe in yourself. On anything that is hard- be it a climb, cycle or a long wander- you have to have absolute self belief that you can do it. Obviously don't be delusional cause you'll fail, but a realistic, strong and unwavering sense that you will succeed is essential. It creates the right mindset for doing a hard challenge. Don't view failure as an option (although accept it if you do). Be prepared, be relaxed, be confident, be certain you will do it.

Suffering

  Suffering- through exhaustion, pain, lack of sleep and other discomforts is a big part of the long-distance game, A fair amount of the enjoyment from it is Type-2 fun. No matter how fit you are, how good the weather and your diet is, or how well you use your mind- at some point you will suffer to some extent. Although at the time it can be thoroughly unpleasant, you have to learn to accept it. There is a degree of freedom through suffering, as though you don't realise it at the time, there is release from the trivial matters of day-to-day existence into a much simpler state of being (you are in pain!). Pushing through is a big part of the reward when on long walks. Going in with acceptance and being prepared for it makes the whole experience much more manageable.

Mind- Body- Land: Understanding the landscape, yourself and listening to your body

Perfection on a deserted  Howden Moors whilst chasing
 sunset over Bleaklow.  No one knew where I was, just me
and the land (and another 37 miles to go). 'Beyond The Horizon'
August 2016.

  This is a key idea of mine that is applicable to every time you go out into the hills as well as long distance walks. Nobody succeeds by fighting against nature. You understand, work with and lose yourself to the land. For example, it is nearly always possible to cross peat bogs with dry feet by looking at its texture and inferring how solid it is. Plan your walks so you have the sun and wind behind you. Read the features to make easy progress instead of slogging in a straight line up to your knees in a river or bracken. You should aim to feel truly at ease being alone on the hills in all conditions and seasons, night and day. Each has their own moods and feelings. Whether on a 50+ mile walk or just wandering for an afternoon, feeling relaxed and comfortable greatly enhances the experience.

  Listen to your body. Know when to rest or when to push on. Adapt your pace to the terrain, slow on the ascent, faster on the flats or a steady flow. Deal with hunger and dehydration before it hits. Notice any pain, lack of sleep or blisters and deal with it.

  Your mind is crucial. Anticipate and prepare for the sections when morale will drop. Be in the zone, focusing on reading the land, navigating, and looking after yourself when needed. For example, it is much better on the mind to rest on the top of hills not halfway up no matter how tired you are- you've done the hard work and don't have to worry about it.

  It is only when your mind, body and understanding of the land are working together that you succeed and enjoy long distance walks. One does not work without the other two. Yet this can apply to any wander on the hills, even just a short wander up Kinder. It is about achieving that sense of immersion and awareness which creates a much more comfortable and enriching experience.

Dealing with tiredness.

Mike on the long , long plod up Glitterind- the 2nd highest
mountain in Scandinavia. August 2015

  Divide and conquer. If your going on a 20 mile walk, break it down into two 10 mile sections. If your walking 50 miles make it 25 & 25 then again into smaller bits. If you can walk the first 10 or 25 miles then you can do it again. The trick here is make it more manageable- the mind can break at the thought of walking 40 or more miles in a day- so don't let it. I like to break walks up into distances I know can be comfortably walked without stopping- between 5-10 miles. After each section try to ignore and forget that you've just walked 10, 20 or 40 miles and focus on the next bit- which you know you can do.

  When you are really shattered and just want to get home, focus fully on a landmark you'll be passing at the end of a section- and no more and 6 miles distant. This objective becomes your whole world and nothing else matters apart from you reaching it. You can imagine there's a beam of light drawing you in towards it like a tractor beam. When you reach the landmark flick your focus and imaginary light beam to the next one and carry on. The idea is that by intensely concentrating on the end of each short stage of walking you'll numb yourself to feelings of tiredness and be able to keep on going. You can go along way with very little fuel left in the tank if you are smart (and motivated) about it.

  Another things: When you are really, really tired it takes a while for your body to warm up after a rest. At a certain point you'll stand up and your muscles feel stiff, slow and achey whilst the feet may be like standing on knives. Just get moving. Give it a bit of time you warm up, the pain will diminish slightly and you begin to walk instead of hobble. It just takes a while.

Coping with pain.

  There are two ways to manage pain. The first- distraction- is pretty self explanatory. If that soreness in your legs is getting a bit much or your feet are increasingly feeling like you are standing on knives then just focus deeply on something else and don't look at it. If you are alone, sending yourself off into a daydreamy world helps, and if you are with someone, try engaging in intense conversation- and keep talking!

  'Turtle Theory': This method deals with pain and the cold using imagery and breathing. Imagine you
are a turtle withdrawing into its shell. Now imagine all your nerves are withdrawing up your arms and legs into your core. Slow your breathing down and focus on that image, as if you are cutting off the pain and becoming numbed to it. Taking this a step further, focus on the idea of your mind becoming a detached, disembodied bubble floating along, ignoring and becoming numb to all other sensations. When in serious discomfort- such as soaking wet and cold, being far too sweaty on a long slog uphill (or when seriously hurting and used along with painkillers) it is a useful technique.

  Note: These ideas can be used to coping with the cold too. Going for a wild swim and the water is a bit cold? Gone to the park in shorts and can't be bothered to go home for warmies? It can help numb you from it and able to stay out longer. You can even stop yourself from shivering. It works.

Me, feeling absolutely bollocksed after 26 hours and 60 miles
of walking. Existence depends on painkillers, harribo and
an overwhelming desire for a bath. 'Beyond The Horizon',
August 2016.

  Note 2: Always carry ibroprofen and co-codamol on long walks. All people's minds break at some point and seizing up with cramps and yelping in agony from sore feet alone on Bleaklow at 3am is a situation you do not want to find yourself in. It happened to me at Forge Dam towards the end of 'The Journey Home' walk, and those final agonising miles into Sheffield were pure hell. If it was in a remote situation things would have suddenly became quite serious.

Sleep Deprivation

  I view sleep deprivation as split into two types- long term (i.e- not getting enough sleep for many days in a row) and short term (staying awake for over 24 hours). Here we are only concerned with the latter- long term sleep deprivation is thoroughly unpleasant and isn't something you encounter very often when out walking.

  Staying awake for over 24 hours without stimulants is quite simple and it is surprisingly easy to function relatively normally having been awake for 36 hours or so. The trick is to simply get through the night. Depending on your sleeping patterns, between midnight and 6-8am your body will want to sleep. Fight it. Nothing but motivation and willpower can do this. If you want it you will manage it. Make it through the night however and bingo! After 24 hours awake and it is daylight, your circadian rythems kick in and you'll find yourself reawakening and feeling and very lucid, if a little drunk. After this stage you'll feel like this- with waves of drunkenness and nausea- all through the day until the following evening where your body's rythems will kick in again and you will feel very sleepy.

  'Cloud Theory': This is another imagery technique I've used to help stay focused when sleep deprived. Imagine all the sleep deprivation is like a cloud floating in front of your brain, fogging it up. Now picture a beam of light going from your brain or core that pierces the cloud into clearer skies beyond and absolutely concentrate on it, steadying your breaths if necessary. The idea is that by visulising your lack of soberness as something that can be seen through, you will (to some extent) be able to nullify its affects and function to a degree of sober, well slept normality. The more sleep deprived you get the thicker the cloud becomes and the harder is is for the beam of light to shine through- it is a technique that takes practice.

Three sleepy lads heading towards the Inn Pinn on the
Cullin Ridge Traverse, Isle of Skye, May 2016. 

  These ideas when used can be very useful. I've swam and cycled having being awake for over 36 hours without any stimulants on several occasions. Cloud Theory is useful when navigating for example to try and offset tiredness so you don't get lost. Or just to go to a takeaway after and not come across as an idiot. A simple way to practice it is to balance on one foot as long as possible after a few beers or when tired. Pick a spot on the wall and stare at it, maybe wobble about. It helps train the concentration. My record is 15 seconds after 44 hours awake.

Disclaimer: Doing anything such as cycling or swimming whilst highly sleep deprived is dangerous and is not recommended. I've done these things out of sheer curiosity after many years of conditioning and experiencing these states of sleep deprivation and exhaustion, and accepted the risks involved. Don't be an idiot and hurt yourself or others!

Summary   

Happy as a pig in shit and loving every minute of it! Awake
for 25 hours at this point. Halfway through the
 'Peakland County Tops Walk', March 2016.

  It is fascinating what you can do and how much more you can push yourself if you can use your mind. Most of these ideas are quite similar and link into one-another. None of the above is in any way an alternative to being well equipped and knowing the relevant hill-skills and how to use them (don't go out in a blizzard trying to be a yogi-guru master- we invented gore-tex for a reason). Yet for anyone interested in doing long endurance challenges or pushing their mind or body to see what if is capable of, it is crucial to understand these skills. I strongly believe that using your mind and understanding yourself and the land is an essential part to success. I'm no professional athlete nor do meditation-like stuff- all of the ideas discussed here are purely self-taught from years of amazing, enriching experiences on the hills and are my own thinking.

I hope is of use and interest to you.  

*The ideas have been given stupid names because, why not?

'A Journey Home'- a 53.5 mile walk from Dronfield to Sheffield

  On the 17th of March I set off alone after work from Dronfield and walked non-stop for 53.5 miles and 21 hours 33 minutes through the night and day back home to Sheffield. The idea was to be a celebration of having spent half my life (14 years) wandering on the hills by linking up as many of my special places together in a single walk and make my 100th ascent of Kinder Scout. Setting off from my mum's house I headed out over Totley Moss, Stanage, Win Hill Pike, Kinder Scout, Bleaklow Stones, Slippery Stones, Back Tor, Hordron Edge, Redmires and back down the Porter Valley to home in Nether Edge. Due to saturated ground and constant heavy rain on Friday it was one of the hardest and most intense days out I've ever experienced.

  18:36. A brief goodbye and cuddle with the dog then off out I went along Northern Common through Holmesfield to Flask Edge. The initial sense of numbness hit as the brain struggled to take in the many miles to be covered. Cars passed by carrying people home from work to family, warm food and shelter, leaving a distinct feeling of isolation as I walked alone into the showery night.

The distant lights of Sheffield from Flask Edge

  After an hour's plod the trig point on Flask Edge appeared, bringing back memories of teenage years spent building the shelter on the Brown Edge cairn and prating about with mates on the summit. Those carefree days seemed so long ago now, so much had happened in the intervening 10 years. I gazed over to the lights and life of Sheffield and my eventual destination in Nether Edge. So close. However, a distant cloud capped Kinder Scout on the horizon beckoned me onward, my first objective before a midnight pilgrimage into the desolate soul of Bleaklow. Time to get a move on then.

  The walk past Fox House, Higgar Tor, Stanage and down to Yorkshire Bridge passed without incident, just happily plodding along and gazing down at the lights of the Hope Valley. There was a slight sense of urgency to get the first 30 miles to Bleaklow Stones covered before sunrise and the morning rain that was forecast. Content wandering followed and it was satisfying to reach Yorkshire Bridge 13 miles in at 10:15 for a brief rest, food and fresh socks.

  After a sweaty climb onto Win Hill Pike the next 9 miles to Kinder Scout's summit passed by in
a blissed-out daze. Wandering under ethereal moonlight above the sleeping villages below I was serenaded by the midnight song of curlew and ring ouzel. Constant movement over familiar ground, time and distance flowing into a blur and the whole place to myself. This was long distance walking at its very best.

2:05am. 100th time to the 636m/ 2088ft high summit of
Kinder Scout!!! 

  Before I knew it the cairn marking Kinder Scout's summit appeared in the distance, and after 22 miles of walking at 2:05am I reached it for my 100th time. I whooped with joy and celebrated with a banana and flapjack. This moment had been a very long time coming and it was a big relief to have made it. Yet there was no time to lose- the temperature had dropped close to freezing with the mist reducing visibility to less than 10ft. 7 miles of rough pathless bog lay between me and Bleaklow and I had to get there for sunrise. Onward.

  The visibility was non-existent as I stumbled about like a drunken blind person down the River Kinder until the Kinder Gates suddenly appeared in front of my nose. Then things got hard. Three times I tried to walk on a bearing to Fairbrook and three times I ended up walking in circles back to Kinder Gates. 40 futile minutes passed. Morale dropped. I was beginning to get cold, tired and fall asleep. Damn. Then miraculously at 3am the mist lifted enough to make out the northern edge and a distant Snake Pass. Ignore everything and go for it. In situations like this you have to pull yourself together, seize the opportunity and get going again if you wish to succeed. The game was back on.

 The early hours of the morning dissolved into endless pathless moorland and soaking bog as I became just a tiny speck on the land, gradually picking its way across by torchlight. Ashop Clough, Salvin Ridge, North Grain Clough. Just keep on going and stay awake. Passing Over Wood Moss I glanced over to Alport Low. Back in 2011 I found a body here and hoped they were now at peace. It began snowing. A black silhouette loomed ahead as I staggered towards the dark heart of Bleaklow in a trance-like state.

Sunrise over Outer Edge from Grinah Stones.

  Eventually Bleaklow Stones was reached in the early dawn light at 5:50am. I had made it to my sacred, special place as snow showers spread over the vast moors below on this last weekend of winter. Further ahead at Grinah Stones the sun rose as a feint orange disk into a flat grey cloudy ceiling. My circadian rythems kicked in and I began to reawaken again. A massive grin spread from ear to ear, wandering with glee over the settling snow to the bothy whilst having the whole world seemingly to myself. It was a wonderful reward.

7am. 30 miles down, awake for 24 hours. Time for food!

  6:50am. When you've been awake for 24 hours and just walked 30 miles over 12 hours in waffy weather through the night, the joys of shelter, food and fresh socks cannot be overestimated- especially when you've messed up 5 minutes before and fallen knee-deep into a bog. Those 30 minutes sat in the bothy for a breakfast of cous-cous, flapjack and my 4th Clif Bar of the walk were a joyous respite. Air the feet, change socks and insoles and guzzle water. Sleet and snow pounded on the roof- it looked like the forecast bad weather had arrived early. My mates would be going to work now whilst I had the prospect of another 23 miles of walking in heavy rain with blisters that were beginning to form on my feet. Well, home wasn't going to get any closer so at 7:30 I decided I'd better shut up and get on with it.

Early morning in the Upper Derwent Valley. Life began to
get a bit funky and I started hallucinating...

  Something strange occurred on the plod down the Derwent Valley past Slippery Stones in the rain. People clad in brown corduroy trousers with pale blurred faces appeared in the trees, silently watching me before disappearing when I drew closer. There was a distinct calming and peaceful nature to their presence as they coyly flitted in and out of my vision. The hallucinations were quite strong, with the people appearing very much real. My mood perked up lots- I was about to spend the whole day walking in the rain, and now it was going get much more interesting...

  By Abbey Brook there was time for a quick 5 minute rest and the 5th Clif Bar of the walk before the next 5 miles up over Back Tor and Derwent Edge to Hordron Edge. The wind picked up and the rain intensified whilst the feet began to seriously hurt. It was all rather unpleasant aside from the first distant view of Ringinglow on the horizon- after 40 miles home was in sight. My mind entered a numbing and strange meditative state- it hurt to think about very much and anyway, thinking felt like far too much effort. All thoughts were now reduced to nothing more than hobbling along in my little bubble and getting to Hordron Edge. Life had suddenly become beautifully simple.    

  10am, Hordron Edge. The 43 mile mark had been breached and I slumped under a tree for some respite from the pain in my feet. At this stage on long walks you usually start taking painkillers, change socks and wolf down food, and if you've been looking after yourself it is possible to still feel relatively good. Yet this time it was different. With soaking boots, blisters and heavy rain any footcare was out of the option. There was a strong urge just to get home as fast as possible. 10 miles of soggy moorland still lay ahead. Time to go for broke. Force down another Clif Bar and some apple sours, haul yourself up and get moving. After 10 minutes the pain eases off and you can pick up the pace a little. Onward again, out onto Stanage.

  Crossing Stanage Edge the rain once again intensified and thoughts drifted back to everything that had happened this year. Due to many things it had been the most intense three months I've ever lived through, difficult yet wonderfully amazing in equal measure. Through it all had been intense amounts of training, planning and excitement whilst waiting for the days to get long enough to do this walk. With walks like this you do them for no-one but yourself. It is not about ego, escapism or impressing people. They are everything but that- otherwise you will end up hurt or disappointed. You do these things because you love it and because of the sheer simplicity of it. Because it is good to challenge yourself and do things because they are hard. For the last 6 months I'd wanted it so badly it hurt. Long walks alone offer one of the most intense, relaxing and interesting experiences life has to offer. That freedom of having nothing to think about apart from walking across a beautiful landscape for 24 hours is something very special. Because doing these long walks makes you feel free, awake and alive.

  It was an emotional haggard mess that hobbled along Stanage Edge, down to Redmires and up onto Ringinglow Bog, pausing only to shove some more apple sours down it's gob. A few people passed by it and gave it a wide berth, probably because it resembled a drunken albatross that had been dragged through mud....

Home in sight! Looking down the Porter Valley from
Fulwood Lane.

  On Ringinglow Bog a group of sheep were noticed up ahead, moving about and grazing on the grass. Yet much to my amusement they turned into solid rocks when I got closer, raising a chuckle. They seemed so real from a distance as to be rather confusing when I realised they weren't. I prodded one just to make sure. Yup, definitely a rock not a sheep. In all my experience of sleep deprivation I've never experienced hallucinations quite as powerful as they were. It was absolutely fascinating.

  14:10, the familiar bench on Fulwood Lane came into sight in time for another rest. After 30 hours awake and 19 hours on the go the magical 50 mile boundary was breached for only my 4th time. Walking through the 50 mile mark is a special experience- you are aching both

50 miles of walking in 19 hours. Happy as a pig in shit!

mentally and physically, sleep deprived and exhausted. Yet there is powerful all consuming sense of euphoria that ripples through you in waves due to the achievement of walking so far. It is quite unlike anything else. To go beyond it requires nothing but sheer willpower and sugary sweets (digesting carbs starts to become difficult at this stage). Fittingly, I had a small celebration of yet more apple sours and thought about home, food and a hot bath. It wouldn't be long now.

  Far below the Porter Valley led like a soggy tree-clad carpet down to Hunter's Bar and the finish. The Peakland 600m Hills, Chorizo Sunrise Dreams, Beyond the Horizon. The next few miles had been the final stage of several long adventures and it was time to do it all once again. Familiarity takes the surprise away. I knew what to expect. So far yet ever so tantilisingly close. It was going to be a long slog. Stand up and start walking.

  The stagger down the Porter Valley was difficult. I'd been walking with sore, blistered feet in the rain for 20 miles and 7 hours now and had became totally consumed by the pain. Each step felt like standing on knives. My vision became blurred and jumpy. Numbness in the mind faded to be replaced by constant overpowering burning thoughts about my feet. On those never-ending rainy miles down past Forge Dam to Hunter's Bar it was all I could think about. I was completely broken.

  Somehow, eventually Hunter's Bar appeared in front of me. 53 miles down, 0.5 more to go. Home

Haggard and happy. Home at last!

was close, the end in sight. Intense euphoria welled up inside me. My mate Josh drove past and lovely Sharrowvale Road was just over the roundabout. Students, families and people pottered about on their daily routine. I began to manically laugh, cry and smile in equal measure out of sheer relief and ecstatic semi-delirious joy. By Two Steps chippy my mate Billy appeared. It was wonderful to hear a sobering friendly voice. A short determined plod up the road later and I bumped into my friend Jenny who gave final words of encouragement to this soggy, smelly mess of a man. Everything that had happened since 'Beyond the Horizion' last August flashed before my eyes. The euphoria once again intensified.

  16:09. A final agonising stagger into Nether Edge and onto my road. Hobble down and bang on the door until my housemate opened it. Step through, take the boots off and collapse on the sofa. 53.5 miles and 21 hours 33 mins of walking, awake for 33 hours. It had been a long, epic, amazing journey. Finally. I was home.


  Epilogue: After a hot bath and a Bliash I somehow dragged myself to see Yo Dynamo (https://www.facebook.com/pg/yoyoyodynamo/about/?ref=page_internal) play at The Washington for a fun time hobbling about and chatting to friends in a highly euphoric state. It was a wonderful evening. Surprisingly I could still stand on one foot (briefly) even after several pints of moonshine. I'd woken up at 7am on Thursday 16th March, gone to work, walked 53.5 miles in 21.5 hours then gone to the pub. After all this and staying awake for 45.5 hours without any stimulants, at 3:30am on Sat 18th, I finally fell asleep. 
  The weekend was spent resting and recovering (aside from a pint in the Sheaf View on Saturday), followed by a week of enforced rest and eating as much as humanly possible. The plan is to have a few easier weeks of cycling and wandering to fully recover before preparations and training begins for the next big epic walk. All being well this will happen during the summer if things go to plan. 
  This walk was a particularly difficult and intense experience (due to the crap weather and subsequent pain from being unable to properly look after myself during the Friday) and there was more suffering than on any walk I've ever done- much more so then even 'Beyond the Horizon'. Yet looking back, it had been a brilliant and unforgettable wander. To enter those deeper states of exhaustion and pain whilst doing nothing but walking for 21 hours was an absolutely fascinating experience into a powerful sense of freedom so rare in today's world. It may have been hard and unpleasant at times, but also extraordinarily interesting, amazing and rewarding too.
   Thanks to my boss Sarah at Foothills for letting me have the time off at such short notice (it was really appreciated), to Rory and Liv for kind texts of encouragement during the long rainy morning (they perked me up no end!) and to Billy and Jenny for being the best people you could wish to stagger into whilst being a haggard soggy mess. 

  A note on ethics.
  All of the 8 walks over 40 miles in a day that I've done (The Derwent Watershed, Peakland 600m Hills, Chorizo Sunrise Dreams, The Derwent Watershed-ish, The Full Eastern Edges, The Peakland County Tops, Beyond The Horizon, A Journey Home) have been done completely self-supported. That is, apart from stopping at shops/ pubs along the way I've carried everything needed for the walk and had no-one waiting to provide footcare, extra food and water ect. 
  All but the Derwent Watershead and Peakland 600m Hills were done alone and on Chorizo Sunrise Dreams and Beyond the Horizon I decided to do both of them self supported and not inform anyone of my plans or where I was going. Although I do carry modafonil as an emergency to stay awake, I've never used it and on all walks stayed awake for 36 hours or more without use of any aids or stimulants whatsoever. 
  None of the walks have been done as a sponsored walk for charity. I do them because I love doing it.

  Gear and stuff.

Packing up on the Thursday morning...

  For this walk I wore a pair of Scarpa Peak GTX boots that I was kindly given from Scarpa. They fit my narrow feet perfectly and until I messed up and fell into a bog were extremely comfortable- I hope to wear them on another 40+ mile walk in the near future. My coat was the Rohan Guardian Jacket- despite walking heavy rain for over 10 hours it worked wonderfully, keeping me perfectly dry with very little sweat build up. My overtrousers are a battered pair of Berghaus Gore-Tex ones I can't remember the name of but still work well.
  Other: I took two pairs of insoles- the thick orange Scarpa insoles and a pair of the Anatomic Absorber ones- they are both comfortable for about 30 miles and were changed after then. 3 pairs of socks (smartwool trekking, Silverpoint Alpaca Hike), a pair of borrowed walking poles, Seal Skinz Winter Gloves, map and compass, Petzl Tikka+ headtorch, spare batteries, 1 front bike light (as backup lighting) 3 ibroprofen 2 modafonil 1 co-codamol (for emergency, not used) and my ancient but trusty Montane fleece and Terra Pants. 
  Food: Eaten: 6 Clif Bars, 1/2 bag Sugarland Apple Sours (much better than Harribo Tangfastics as they have far more sugar in them), 3 white chocolate flapjacks, 5 bananas, 1 sachet of cous-cous, 1 bottle of lucozade, 1.1.5 litre of water. Taken but not eaten: 1 pack of chilli peanuts, 2 malt loaf, 1 Clif Bar, 1 bottle of lucozade
  
  Roll on the next big adventure!!!