if you harness the power of your soul, you can push your body further than you ever imagined

…probably. We just went for a long walk instead.

I’m not a big walker nowadays, preferring to run because it earns you more cake, more quickly. It was therefore with some trepidation that I was co-opted – partially against my will – in to doing a Rucksack Club event known as the “Double Marsden to Edale“. It apparently originated as a decent walk between two train stations convenient for Manchester-based members, i.e. Marsden and Edale, and then someone decided to take it up a gear and start in Edale, walk to Marsden, then turn around and go back to Edale.

Walking aside, it promised to be a jolly affair since it was in the company of Ben and Greg, and eleven other idiots participants. We left Edale at 22:00 on Friday night (after a full day at work), and set a blistering pace across the Kinder plateau to Madwoman’s Stones. As I said, I’m not much of a walker and so it was a bit of a shock to the system. By 02:30 we were past Alport Castles and halfway across Bleaklow, and the rain set in just as Greg realised he’d lost his waterproof trousers.

He was only horribly uncomfortable for an hour though, after which things became more meteorologically amenable again. I lost my bearings about halfway across Bleaklow; fortunately Andy’s navigation in the dark was ruthlessly efficient and we soon reached Torside Clough and subsequently the reservoir. I’d been hearing bad things about Black Hill, but apart from some really boggy mud it wasn’t too bad.

We descended into Marsden at about 07:30, to be greeted by normal people starting the “standard” walk (i.e. one way) but also by a van with hot tea and porridge. Brilliant! After a longer-than-anticipated stop of around 30 minutes we set off back again, alebit minus Greg who had been suffering over Black Hill and so made the sensible choice to stop at Marsden. We lost (metaphorically) a number of others too, so of the 14 who left Edale only six commenced the return leg.

Bizarrely, turning around as day breaks puts a whole new spin on things despite 21 miles already in the legs, and I fair bounded back up Black Hill. Fuelled by a bacon butty, the descent to Woodhead Reservoir passed without incident. It wasn’t quite the same without Greg to either unpack his rucksack or fall asleep every time we stopped for 30 seconds, but fun nonetheless.

Another cup of tea awaited us at the reservoir, but I was starting to feel the effects of being awake for almost 28 hours and the yawning started. Although the slog up on to Bleaklow was interesting, the plateau soon became a little boring. However, it was over much quicker than the previous crossing 10 hours earlier, and we were soon passing runners in The Spine Race (the whole 268 miles of the Pennine Way, non-stop!) as we approached Bleaklow Head.

It was all downhill from here, at least in my head, and it was physically too until the climb out of Lady Clough to Seal Stones. Almost eighteen hours into the walking Ben and I charged up the ridiculously steep incline, neither of us wanting to let the other get the better of them! Some hyperventilating and sugar consumption at the top restored our spirits, and our merry band traversed the plateau and descended to Edale for cake and medals with smiles and a somewhat suicidal race down the final slope into Grindsbrook Clough.

We arrived at the pub just as it started to go dark, having covered around 45 miles in 18½ hours. The only place left to sit was directly in front of the roaring open fire, so I promptly started nodding off. Tiredness aside, it was nowhere near as arduous as I thought it might be, and I didn’t even have any sections where I really just wanted to be at home in bed. My legs weren’t sore, and I think I’d maybe even consider doing it again at some point. It’s not as satisfying as running, but it’s not far behind. Massive thanks to everyone at the rucksack club for being so friendly, and to Ben and his parents for hospitality and logistical support!