The Dragon's Back Race 2023

What follows is perhaps more of a reminder to myself than a blog per se. The Dragon's Back Race is such a long and intense event, and with my head swirling with so much emotion I want to record my thoughts and memories of this great event before the mundanities of normal life creep back.

Registration Day - Sunday 3rd September - Conwy

An early start leaving Thanet Parkway heading for Crewe. My first minor heart attack comes when the station board lists my train as 'delayed'. Rail strikes the day previous had disrupted many a travel plan and I was worried this would be the start of my woes. Fortunately, it wasn't; the station board updates - the train is again on time. Relief. The journey turns out to be uneventful except for sharing a table with Giles Brandreth between Euston and Crewe.

I get to Crewe and mum and dad are waiting. I'd asked whether they'd drop me off in Conwy, rather than me take the train all the way through. It's lovely seeing them and we have a good chat about the race, the route and how I feel about the challenge. After some heavy traffic we arrive in Conwy; it's hot and the whole registration area is busy and buzzing with anticipation. I bid mum and dad farewell and begin the registration process.

The process is slick, I'm scanned, kit-checked, photographed, and tagged. I look around - many of my fellow runners look like proper athletes. Have I made a mistake? Am I punching above my weight? I put the thoughts aside as I complete the registration process. I'm booked into a B&B up in the old town and so I'll need to carry my kit bags with me up the hill. It's hot and by the time I get to the B&B I'm already tired and drenched in sweat. It's sunny and warm - a sign of things to come.

A beautiful evening in Conwy

I get myself sorted at the B&B and then wander back down to the Dragon's Back Registration area for the run briefing and evening meal. Shane Ohly (the Race Director) and his colleagues provide a snappy and informative briefing; it's going to be hot, it's going to be hard, and this event will challenge us more than we realise. Shane's final words - true adventure occurs when the outcome is uncertain. Never a truer word spoken; I had no idea what lay ahead and that just added to the nervous excitement that was building in me.

After the evening meal I wander the old ramparts of Conwy. A beautiful sunset casts Conwy into magical evening light. I glance south towards the mountains, where my journey will begin. Back at the B&B, I meticulously pack my bags ready for the 5.00am drop off the following day, and for the race start at 6.00am in Conwy Castle.

Day 1 - Monday 4th September - Conwy Castle to Gwastadannas

I'm up at 4.30am. A chorus of alarm clocks in the B&B suggests I'm not the only runner staying. I head down through the cool and dark streets of Conwy towards the castle. I reach the bag drop and my bags are weighed. Excellent - both the overnight bag and the resupply bag are underweight, so there's no need to sacrifice any items before the run even starts. 

All of the runners gather outside the visitor's centre. At 5.30am, we enter the castle. I'm struck by how cool it is inside. With three hundred runners crammed into the castle the Welsh male voice choir starts to sing; each and every runner falls silent. I look around at faces full of emotion and anticipation. The choir's voices echo around the castle walls - this is a special moment. I think of the journey ahead. I think of people in my life that I've lost, knowing that they would have been immensely proud and fascinated by the adventure that awaited me. 

The start at Conwy Castle

As the gantry clock ticks to 6.00am, the buzz in the castle again starts to build. I wish the runner next to me good luck and, finally, after eighteen months of training we're off. We head out through the castle gates and along the old castle walls. Leaving Conwy, we head up over Mynydd y Dref which overlooks Conwy. The air is cool and the silence is broken only by the breath of three hundred runners on their first climb of the week. I feel good and strong running in the cool air; I move steadily over ground that I'm familiar with from previous recce visits. As we climb away from the coast towards Tal y Fan, the line of runners starts to spread out. Tal y Fan provides beautiful views of what lies ahead as the bulk of the Carneddau emerges to the south. The climb up to Foel-Fras is hard but I've found a good rhythm and seem to be making good progress. By 10.00am, I reach Carnedd Llewelyn, the second highest peak in Wales. By now, the temperature has risen and I find that I'm needing to take on more water. I only really become aware of how hot it actually is when I begin the descent of Pen y Ole Wen in the Ogwen Valley. The descent is slow and the heat, when I reach the road, is almost unbearable. I reach the first timed check point, Llyn Ogwen, at 11.35am - one hour and twenty five minutes before the cut off. I know that this means I'm ahead of schedule, but I also feel lightheaded and weak in the heat as I sit down with my resupply bag. I do not spend the time wisely and instead of drinking plenty of water and eating something substantial, I faff around with my pack and eat a small packet of sweets. 

At 11.41am I leave the Llyn Ogwen checkpoint and begin the climb up Tryfan. The heat by now is immense and I feel all energy draining from me as I climb the gulley towards the summit. A mountain goat bleats above me as if to warn me off its mountain. The climb is hard and I find myself needing to stop to rest on a rock every 20 metres. Eventually I reach the summit checkpoint at 1.24pm. The marshal tells me I'm doing OK for time. I feel reassured, but I know I have to get down to the Bwlch Tryfan col and then up the scree slope to Glyder Fach. The scree slope is as bad as I remembered it from a previous recce and once again I'm stopping, hands on knees, to get as much air into my lungs as I can. Finally, after what seemed like an age, I reach the summit of Glyder Fach and then continue onto Glyder Fawr. I hit checkpoint 7 on Glyder Fawr at 3.03pm, twenty seven minutes up on the guidance time of 3.30pm. As I descend towards Pen y Pass I feel myself slowing in the now unbearable heat. I finally reach the road crossing at 3.56pm. I'm forty four minutes ahead of the cut off time but I'm seriously flagging. I buy an orange tango and waste time lying down in the shade. Suddenly my thoughts become negative and I wonder if I'll be able to complete the course. I'm drenched in sweat and hungry, yet I can't seem to stomach food. After nearly being hit by a car crossing the road, I continue the climb up the Pyg Track onto Crib Goch.

On Crib Goch

The rocks of Crib Goch were warm and progress was slow. The negative thoughts will not abate and I begin to wonder if I'll reach the new 7pm checkpoint at Bwlch Glas shortly before the summit of Snowdon. I seem to lose my ability to think rationally as the Snowdon horseshoe curves out before me. Time becomes irregular, and distance gets magnified. I make it over Crib Goch in one piece to the small col of Bwlch Coch. A race marshal guides weary runners over the rough ground. I ask him what my chances of reaching the 7pm cut off at Bwlch Glas are - he answers honestly: "if you're quick, it's possible, but if you're flagging, I'd recommend you stop now and come down the side of Crib Goch with me rather than risk being absolutely broken on top of Snowdon in the dark". What he says makes perfect sense; I could make the cut off, but what then? I'd be faced with a horrific descent in the dark with zero energy. The marshal makes the same offer to the remaining runners who pass through this point and a small group of us gathers ready to come down the side to the Pyg Track. I phone my wife and tell her that I'm ok, and to expect my tracker to go off course.

As we descend to the Pyg Track I realise I've made the right decision; I'm hot, I feel sick, and I can barely walk 20 metres without needing to sit down. Waves of disappointment engulf me - how have I managed to blow up on day 1? I keep reminding myself that I'm not alone and that there's plenty of other people who'll be in a similar situation to me. Back at Pen y Pass I'm loaded into one of the waiting MPVs and driven to the campsite at Gwastadannas. It's now dark and there's a little stream of head torches coming down off Y Lliwedd. At the campsite I'm shown to my tent where I meet Colin Mattinson my compartment mate. I wet wipe myself down and change my clothes and then head over to the catering tent to get something to eat. At this point I had no intention of staying on the course and was already thinking about the logistics of getting back home the next day. I speak to the members of the event team at the info point who tell me to sleep on it. What a good advice that was.

Day 2 - Tuesday 5th September - Gwastadannas to Dolgellau 

I wake on the Tuesday morning with a renewed optimism. It's amazing what a bit of food and some sleep can do for the soul. Whilst I'm disappointed to be out of the full race, I feel no shame in dropping to the (shorter) Hatchling course. I've paid the money, done the training, booked the time off work - I'd be foolish not to continue. The Hatchling course means I have a range of options; I can run the morning route from camp to the midway support point, I can run the afternoon route from the midway support point to the next camp, or I can run the whole route, if I wish. Today I opt for the afternoon route which means I'll need to hop in an MPV to be transported to the support point at Cwm Bychan. 

Arriving at Cwm Bychan, the Hatchlings sit in the shade and wait to be released. The general principle for the afternoon start is that the faster runners doing the full course need have either passed through the support point or be close by before the Hatching runners can start.

Little Dave (the Support Point Leader) sets us off at 12.00pm. The route winds through the shaded woods before reaching the Roman Steps where we gradually begin ascending towards the first big one of the day: Rhinog Fawr. I find a good line up to the summit via a scree slope. It's still hot but there's a stronger wind today and this makes the conditions a little more bearable. From the summit, a narrow path descends through the heather before the second big climb onto Rhinog Fach. The winding path to the summit is hard going and I take a tumble onto a rock cutting both of my shins. I'm hungry and decide that I need to get some calories into me.

The summit from Rhinog Fawr drops away revealing stunning views to the south and onto Cadair Idris. By now I'm trading places with Malcolm Cochrane; we chat about the route and about our lives outside of running. It turns out he knows my hometown well and so we talk about football, salt mining, and the Cheshire chemical industry to pass the time! Before long we're on the contouring path to the final summit of Diffwys. We sit together at the summit cairn eating mini cheddars and then begin the long and steep descent into the forest. 

As I leave the forest and join the tarmac track into the town I'm met with what I first think is a mirage; a support vehicle providing runners with bottles of cola. What a lift this gives me! Malcolm catches up and we run three miles of the road again together. As we enter Dolgellau, I push on after the toll bridge, running quicker and more comfortably along the disused railway and into the camp. 

I feel much better this evening, and a dip in the river is hugely refreshing (as is the delicious pasta dish being served in camp this evening).

Day 3 - Wednesday 6th September - Dolgellau to Dyffryn Castell

Again, I've opted for the afternoon section today. Because of the heat there's now quite a number of Hatchling's running the course and this is proving to be something of a logistical nightmare for the race director and his team. A coach is organised to take the Hatchlings from the camp at Dolgellau to the town of Machynlleth where the day's support point is located. The coach journey is surreal but fun; as we curve down into the Tal y Llyn Lake valley the driver ascerts "this is the best view in the world; you know you're nearly home when you see that view".

Safely dropped off in Machynlleth I find a cafe and sit with a few other Hatchling runners. We all order breakfasts of varying sizes whilst Carmine serenades us with his accordion. Carmine is raising money for a cancer charity and is running with his 15kg accordion - he's aiming to play on every mountain in the UK. It's inspiring stuff and I can't help but feel a bit emotional as I sit there eating my breakfast in the most surreal of circumstances.

A quick pit stop at the Spar shop and I'm ready to head to the support point to start the afternoon's run. By this point it is absolutely baking hot. I can feel myself burning in the sun and start to worry that this is going to be a tough run. Things get more surreal as Carmine gets everyone dancing on the start line to La Bamba. Soon we're off running through the heat. There's a steep and hot climb into the hills, but the route becomes more runable with sections of undulating track that cuts through farmland and forested areas. I eat well, and stay hydrated, and I notice how much I'm enjoying the route and the run today.

Shortly after Bryn Moel there's a small ford that passes through the valley. Given the heat, me and several other runners use this as an opportunity to cool down. I opt to dip my head into the water, others lie on their backs. The gravel track continues south. By now I can feel my feet beginning to burn. Up until now my feet have been fine, but I can feel hot spots and blisters beginning to form. I make a mental note to spend a bit of time treating my feet when I reach camp.

12 miles in and the final climb of the day is over the sizeable Pumlumon Fawr. I was following Tim Laney who runs recce trips for the Dragon's Back. Tim headed southwest over Pumlumon Fach, away from the recommended route as noted on my watch. Knowing that Tim knows this area like the back of his hand, I follow through the deep banks of heather. Others follow me, cursing, questioning why we were heading off the main path. After fifteen tough and hot minutes climbing through the heather we emerge onto a gravel track, cutting the corner off the recommended route near Llyn Llygad Rheidol Reservoir... I breathe a sigh of relief...Tim's route was the better route. The final climb up to the summit of Pumlumon Fawr is tough, and I'm beginning to feel weary.

From the summit there's two to three miles of steady downhill over moorland and gravel tracks. I settle into a good pace satisfied that the day will soon be done. Soon the camp becomes visible in the distance. It still looks a long way off, but my watch says it's only 1.5 miles. This normally means a steep descent, and that's exactly what it was. By this point I'm out of water. Behind me I see James and Feargal, two lovely Irish fellas who I've been trading places with all day. They're gaining on me. This spurs me into action and I pick up the pace, determined to finish strongly. Finally, after a thigh destroying descent, I reach the road section and run into the camp. I'd run out of water about 45 minutes ago and was desperately thirsty, so the ice lolly at the end was a welcome treat.

Day 4 - Thursday 7th September - Dyffryn Castell to Nant y Bai

I wake early and decide to run the morning section today. It's cooler and overcast, and this brings some welcome relief to me and the rest of the runners. We gather under the start gantry at 6am. Within minutes of setting off I immediately become aware that my hydration pack is leaking. For whatever reason I opt not to stop and instead aim to drink from the hydration pack first so that the water isn't wasted. The ground is rough - tussocks and bog. The wet and uneven ground seems to find every blister on my feet.

The route makes a steep descent through the forest at Banc Chwarelmelyn. It's not the easiest of descents and I take it slowly as to avoid tripping and losing teeth. A steady but long climb then follows through Banc Rhiw'rordd to the wind turbines that dot around the landscape. The boggy path meanders through the wind turbines - I was staggered by their size and a little daunted by their presence in the morning gloom. The bog turns into a runable track that descends for three miles through heavily forested land. As we enter a section of forest I feel my stomach starting to bloat and realise I need a poo. I nip into a convenient sheep hold only to be followed by a lady who thought I'd found a better line! "not this way!" I shout!

Exiting the forest, the route climbs steadily onto the open moorland alongside Afon Elan. There's a couple of road sections where the moorland intersects with a quiet road that meanders through the valley. This gives me a good opportunity to get my head down and keep moving at a decent pace. Back up onto the moors I'm passed by the male and female race leaders Hugh and Robyn - we exchange a few pleasantries and they're off. I watch as they effortlessly disappear into the distance.

After a final section of road there's a steepish climb onto Crugyn Ci. The resident artist is sitting next to the trig point painting - "you better not be painting me looking knackered" I shout, only to spot the course photographer behind her getting a photograph of me looking knackered. Oh well.

There then follows a long southerly descent towards Elan Village where the support point (and my end point) reside. As I make my way through the lower-lying fields I'm struck by how warm it still is in the valley sections. The heat clearly has not gone away. I reach Elan Village at around 11.30am, leaving me with plenty of time to relax at the support point before the transport arrives to take the Hatchlings to the camp. Much of this time is spent applauding full course runners who are passing through the support point including Colin, my tent compartment mate, who I've never actually seen in the daylight. As he passes through the support point Colin shouts "It's Dan! I've been sleeping with this guy for four days and I've only just seen his face!".

The coach from Elan Village is long and I'm a little envious of those running the full course, particularly as the logistics of getting back to camp are more complicated for those not running than they are for those who are running. The coach takes us to Llandovery where we have to transfer to the MPVs to get through the narrow lanes by the campsite. We arrive back at camp around 5.30pm and despite an enjoyable morning running I'm feeling a bit low. I'm tired, my feet are on fire, I'm sick of washing in a river, there's thistles outside my tent which I've stood on in my bare feet, and there's a massive twig that I can't move under where I sleep. I call Abigail and tell her I want to come home. I'm not sure where this feeling of despondency came from - it might be tiredness, or lack of salt, or just a combination of things. I feel better after talking to Abigail and put the bad feelings aside. Shortly before I go to bed there's an urgent run briefing delivered by Shane the race director; tomorrow is going to be dangerously hot - we've got more options: full course, morning course, afternoon course, short afternoon course or skip the day. Skipping the day isn't an option as it would mean I wasn't eligible for a Hatchling trophy. The short afternoon course tempts me though as it's only 9 miles through the Brecon Beacons. I sleep on it.

Day 5 - Friday 6th September - Nant y Bai to Glyn Collwn

I wake up feeling rough. I haven't slept much as many in our tent opted for the morning section of the course and were up at 4.30am. I'm in two minds as to whether to do the full afternoon course (approx. 21 miles) or the shorter afternoon course (approx. 9 miles). Lots of things are going around my head; the short option will be easier and I still get to see the Brecon Beacons, yet it feels like I'm cheating as I'm supposed to be doing an ultra race, not a pissy little 9 mile run. That said, my feet are throbbing and it's becoming increasingly difficult to run on them. I reluctantly tell the information point team that I'm opting for the shorter afternoon route. Just as I'm walking back to my tent I see Colin; strange, he should be running by now. He tearfully tells me that he's just been to get his ankle strapped and the event doctor spotted a cut with a tracking line up the vein - he has suspected sepsis. He was out of the race. I give the big guy a hug. He's absolutely gutted. I turn around and walk back to the information point... I'm doing the full afternoon and I'm doing it for Colin!

We're dropped off in the heat in a layby on the A4067. It is absolutely baking hot and I wonder how I'm going to do in this heat. The course starts with an incredibly steep climb up Fan Gyhirych. It is absolutely unrelenting with three false summits. After what seems like an age, I reach the top and the views are spectacular. In the distance the flat top of Pen y Fan is visible in the haze - it looks like a million miles away. 

On the map I'd counted four big climbs before the water point at the Storey Arms, roughly half way, followed by three subsequent 'big' climbs over the Beacons. It was just a case of ticking them off. With temperatures reaching 30 degrees going was slow. I traded places with Alex Cacchi for most of the first section. We chatted about our respective journeys and shared some laughs when we reached a fast flowing stream that we both tried to get the benefit from (to varying degrees of success).

As I descended to the welcome sight of the Storey Arms a lady from a burger van on the A470 was selling cold cans of Coke and Lucozade. I bought a can and bottle and it was the most delicious bottle of Lucozade I'd ever tasted. It also meant that I felt refreshed heading into the water point, so I only hung around there for a couple of minutes whilst (the amazing) Carwyn and Sy filled up my water bottles and hydration flasks. 

I then began the long but steady climb up onto Corn Du and finally Pen Y Fan. Behind me I could hear Carmine playing his accordion to the applause of some rather bemused hikers. I took a few snaps of wild ponies overlooking the Blaen Taf Fechan valley and continued on through the undulating landscape of the Beacons. I barely noticed but I was actually moving really well and began creating a considerable distance between myself and the rest of the Hatchlings. Just like the day previous, I was overtaken by the leading male and female runners Hugh and Robyn who both graciously commented on how I was looking strong.

Near Waun Ryff I turned around to see a figure fast approaching. For whatever reason I pushed a little harder in the hope it might maintain a decent distance from the approaching runner. Eventually the figure caught up with me - it was Owen Rees, one of my tent mates. He was running incredibly well. We exchanged a few words and I hopelessly tried to keep pace with him. I kept him in my sights until the long steep descent over Glawciau'r Cwm where he absolutely flew off. I was in awe of his pace as he descended. It was completely effortless. 

The route follows Caerfanell through a rough wooded section where I tried in vane to keep my shoes dry. By now my feet were ablaze and every footstep felt like a bullet to the sole of my foot. Eventually I reached the road section and was able to maintain a steady pace into the campsite. Back at the tent I gathered my washing bag and sat in the river for an hour. Today had been a superb day of running and I was really happy with my pace and strength.

Day 6 - Saturday 8th September - Glyn Collwn to Cardiff

Final morning in camp

I was in two minds whether to run the full route today but eventually opted for the afternoon section so that I could finish in reasonable time at Cardiff Castle. Once again the event team worked miracles to arrange logistics to transport the Hatchlings to the support point start at Trelewis. By now I'd become good friends with my tent mate Andy Stewart and we both commented on how the morning felt bittersweet. What an unbelievably tough adventure this had been, and yet we were sad that it was almost over.

At Trelewis the start time for Hatchlings had to be delayed a couple of times so as to ensure that all Hatchings had arrived (one of the coaches was delayed). There was a moment of frustration as I stood there in the sun that I wished I'd just run the full route. Nevertheless, Little Dave and colleagues soon got us sorted and ready to go. Just as we were about to leave, Carmine arrived at the support point with his accordion - for one final time we danced to La Bamba as we set off. A incredibly surreal but lovely moment.

The route meanders through the residential areas of Trelewis - very unfamiliar territory when you're used to mountains, trails and bogs! A long climb on the road soon takes you to the open moorland of Mynydd Eglwysilan and the radio towers of Cefn Eglwysilan. Again, it was incredibly hot and I poured sweat as I clambered over the tricky Mynydd Meio. One of the best moments of the day was the water point at Groeswen where, as ever, Carwyn and Sy were ready with ice lollies, water replenishment and good humour. The two of them gave me such a boost for the final push.

The weirdest moment of the day was pushing the button and using the pelican crossing over the A468. Suddenly I was back in civilisation. There's one final climb on the Taff Trail through Fforest-Fawr and then a steady 6 miles along the Taff Trail and through northern Cardiff. It was a hot and sunny afternoon and footpaths were full of walkers, cyclists, and children. Tryfan, the Rhinogs, Diffwys, and the forests of Banc Chwarelmelyn seemed like distant memories, echoes from another time. I could not quite believe that I was just a mere three miles from the finish. As I worked my way through the parks of northern Cardiff I reflected on my journey. No, it hadn't gone completely to plan, but I had learned so much about myself, about the beautiful country of Wales. I had made friends for life, and I had made memories that would stay with me forever. It had been an incredible journey.

Suddenly, an abrupt left turn leads me from Bute Park into the grounds of Cardiff Castle. I can hear the PA announcer, I can hear music, I can hear cheering. A group of men applaud as I run past. A final right turn over a drawbridge and I'm heading through the castle gates... the end is in sight! I run quickly, but carefully, as the cobbles are a bit iffy underfoot. I see the finish gantry and punch the air as I pass through it! I've done it!

Postscript

I will try to keep this postscript short. If you've made it this far, well done. First of all, I want to note that I am absolutely thrilled that I completed the Hatchling course. Whilst I would have liked to finish the full course the heat simply made that impossible. I am so glad I stayed with the event rather than having a tantrum and going home. 

This has been one of the best weeks of my life and I owe a lot of that to the events team, the course volunteers, and the other participants. Ourea Events have got something incredibly special here and Shane's team are outstanding. The event is well organised, the people are friendly, helpful, and supportive, and the logistics/organisation are first rate. There's a real camaraderie on camp and, despite some suspect odours, tent life isn't too bad.

There's too many people to thank individually, and some who's names I've forgotten, but you've all made this an experience I'll remember for the rest of my days. Diolch!