By the time I reached the top of Pen-y-Pass, hail was bouncing off my jacket. Eryri, or Snowdonia, as it used to be called, wasn’t in a forgiving mood. But then, that’s part of the point.
This was my seventh time running Marathon Eryri, a race as much about the community and the landscape as the miles. Last year we basked in sunshine; this year we were drenched by rain. But that’s what this event is all about — uncertain weather and a challenge of epic proportions.
Watch my video of Marathon Eryri 2025
A castle, a climb, and a communion of runners
We set off from Llanberis. Above us, Dolbadarn Castle, built by Llywelyn the Great, watched as it has for eight centuries. Its round tower, once a fortress of Welsh independence, now overlooks a different kind of army — thousands of runners in fluorescent armour.
As the climb began, the sound of footfalls mixed with wind and the clang of cowbells. By the time we reached Pen-y-Pass, the weather was showing its fury. Sheets of rain turned to hailstones, stinging cheeks and knuckles. It felt crazy, yet epic.
Dragons, dogs, and the kindness of strangers
The descent into the valley brought fleeting brightness. Mist lifted over Llyn Dinas, and the hill of Dinas Emrys appeared — the legendary home of the red dragon of Wales. Somewhere under those stones, if the old tales are true, the red dragon still sleeps after defeating its Saxon foe.
Halfway comes Beddgelert, and with it another story — that of Gelert, Prince Llywelyn’s faithful hound, killed by mistake and immortalised in grief. Locals cheered us past the stone marking his grave handing out sweets and waving encouraging signs. Rain or not, their voices lifted you as you began the next climb.
The pass of pain and the miracle at mile 24
Then came the infamous final climb: Bwlch y Groes, “the pass of the cross”. At this point, legs burned, rain needled your face, and we had to remind ourselves that we’d entered this race for fun.
And then, as if we’d stepped through a time vortex, Father Christmas and his elves emerged from the cloud at mile 24. They offered tea and cake — either delirium or divine intervention. Either way, that hot, sweet cup of tea perfectly hit the spot to lift us for the final two miles.
Home under the mountain
The final descent into Llanberis was a blur of mud and treacherous footing. As I crossed the finish line in 5 hours 37, the heavens opened once more. I ducked into a hut, clutching a cup of tea and a ginger biscuit, swapping survival stories with other drenched runners. Steam rose from bodies and mugs alike.
Some told me they’d watched my previous videos and signed up because of them. I apologised — “Sorry you didn’t get last year’s sunshine!” Fortunately, they didn’t hold it against me, glad to have completed what will be a memorable Eryri experience.
The journey home
But my day wasn’t over. I’d arrived by train the night before to Bangor and cycled from there to Llanberis. Now came the return to Coventry. Before that, though, a hot shower and dry clothes beckoned at the home of my hosts for the weekend, Brian and Katherine, who had kindly provided a bed, a hot meal, excellent company and a dram or two the night before. They’d also taken part in the marathon, and their kindness continued with tea and a lift for me and my bike back to Bangor.
That should have been the end of the day’s challenges: just sit back and relax as the train ate up the miles. But no. At Birmingham, I was deposited on the platform — engineering works meant no onward trains. So the final nineteen miles were under human power, arriving home at 2 a.m., the clocks going back as I opened the door.
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