Patrick Devine-Wright (M55) - 9th August 2025

 

Following in Joss’ footsteps ….

Running off the final descent, I touched the bridge and stopped my watch. Bent over double, chest heaving, I felt happiness and relief all at once. But where did it all begin?

 For someone born in a different country, living in Devon these past 15 years, the figure of Joss Naylor seemed otherworldly, hewn from rock and utterly at home in the Lakeland fells. Taking up the Joss Naylor Challenge, so, was not just another post-BGR adventure for an older runner, or a way to mark my 55^th year, but a way of following in his footsteps, paying tribute to the most remarkable of men.

 

 

But living in Devon brings its own challenges to lakeland ambitions. When I took off at 5am on August 9^th from Pooley Bridge, with my friend and support runner Matt in tow, and driver Garry wishing us well, a stiff headwind slowed our progress across the first few hours. Neither of us had reccied the first leg, and it showed just past Stony Cove Pike, when we both got distracted by a cairn that, for some reason, magnetically  attracted us off our way and had us going around in circles for 10 minutes trying to figure out which way to go. Fortunately I could just about see Kirkstone Pass away to the south, and forcing myself to obey the compass, headed us down in that direction. We reached the car park bang on target pace for an MV55 (15 hours), but with a strong sense of having left a good chunk of time go a begging on leg 1.

 

Fortunately, I was joined across legs 2 and 3 by local runner Carol Morgan, and as the rain began to fall, the clag descended and the gusts increased in severity, there was, at least, less chance of going navigationally awry. We headed up the steep slopes of Red Screes in a large group as another runner, Nick from Sheffield, was also attempting the Challenge that day with his supporters. As we crested the hill, Carol eased us away and we were on our own for the rest of the leg, chatting away and swapping stories about growing up in Dublin.

 

 

There were a few moments when the gusts were a bit spicy – I wouldn’t have wanted them any stronger for sure. But on we went without mishap and soon we were in familiar BGR territory, the summit of Fairfield, down to Seat Sandal with Dunmaile Raise in view.

 

At this stage, we were almost 20 minutes up on 15 hour pace, which was just fine by me. A quick turnaround at the checkpoint, just enough time to refill bottles and load up with salty potatoes (and yes, jokes were made by Garry and Matt about my food choice!), and we were off up Steel Fell.

 

 

 

At least we were out of the wind, briefly. From Steel Fell to High Raise will stay with me as a boggy trudge of a slog in near white-out conditions and strong winds. I must admit there were times when I was wondering surely there must be an easier line we could take with some kind of trod, any kind of trod, to make the distance pass a bit easier? But Carol was following her line of choice, a direct one, and I was not about to quibble the route choice of an 11:50 JNC finisher!

 

 

In time, we passed Rossetts Pike and Bowfell, talking all the while, and, as the weather began to change, clouds lifting and light emerging, I had a strong sense that we were a good half way around, things were going well and Styhead Pass was not so far away. From there, I was confident of toughing it out.

 

 

 

But first there was the descent of Great End to deal with, another section I had not covered before. I could see the pass below us and it didn’t seem that far away, but the descent seemed to take ages, time slowing down. At least it gave me time to get my breath back, and I jogged into the pass with legs moving well. Thanking Carol and greeting Sarian, Debs, Scott and Matt, there was just enough time to swallow some soup, munch a delicious slice of quiche, and refill bottles before pressing on. Now 36 minutes up on 15 hour pace, a sub-14 clocking was a real possibility.

 

 

 

Scott, along with his two dogs, led us up Great Gable, Matt and myself following on. What a difference! Suddenly we could see all the hills around us, etched with detail in the afternoon sunlight. Valleys opened up, lakes glistened and the sea greeted us to the west. The wind was still fresh, but nothing like as gusty as earlier, with the added advantage of drying the rock. The next few hours were simple enough. Follow Scott, remember to appreciate where I was and who I was with, ignore the tiredness and keep pushing!

 

 

Steeple was magnificent. Both Matt and myself marvelled at the contrast with just 3 weekends before, when on BGR support we had passed this way without seeing much at all. I began to look at my watch regularly, too much perhaps, wondering if a thirteen and a half hour finish was within reach. More new ground to me. First Seatallan came and went, then Middle Fell. But how far to go and where on earth was Greendale? Hiding under the hillside of course. I found the bridge with my eyes, trying to hurry yet avoid a fall on the still tricky descent. Wastwater away to our left and suddenly we were on a grassy slope threading our way through the bracken. The pace lifted, I found the bridge with my feet and suddenly we were home. 13 hours, 26 minutes, 53 seconds. Relieved and happy, that’ll do!

 

 

 

Thank you to all the team: Garry for miles of driving and organising and knowledge sharing; Sarian for endless optimism, putting the team together, offering advice and coming up to Styhead; Carol for advice, nav and great chats; Debs for the home-made soup and quiche at Styhead; Scott ‘GPS’ for superb nav; Matt for pace, company and support and, last but not least, Marie for the sausage rolls.