Joss Naylor Lakeland Challenge: Darren Fishwick (M50) 12th September 2020.


The Joss Naylor Lakeland Challenge traverses 30 summits whilst covering a distance of 48 miles and climbing 17,000 feet. The Joss is often regarded as a Bob Graham for the older generation, as all contenders must be at least 50 years old. Upon completion of the challenge: a schedule sheet signed by a supporter from each leg, a receipt from a charity donation and the age category of the contender are a few of the requirements needed before an attempt is formally validated. Once all the boxes are ticked the new member will receive an engraved tankard at the annual Presentation Dinner - what a fantastic incentive. I’ll drink to that...cheers!

Whenever I’d spoken to family and friends outside the running community about my intentions of attempting the Joss, I wasn’t surprised by the general feedback. Basically, the majority said “you must be bloody mad, have you nowt else better to do at your age”. I suppose that unless you’re a fellrunner, it’s a concept that’s hard to comprehend and those who question why we do these things wouldn’t understand. I guess, “people will try and put us down, just because we get around. I’m not trying to cause a big sensation, I’m just talking my generation”.

There was a time I had the same age related misconceptions...

Many years ago I worked with a bloke called Clifford. Through my naive adolescent eyes, I looked upon him as being a doddering old bugger. I thought he was ancient, he was even older than my parents, he must’ve been at least 50. In my defence, Clifford was as equally judgemental towards myself. Through his bifocal spectacles, he looked upon me as being nothing but a nuisance. For he was the master and I was the apprentice. From day one our working relationship was tarnished, based solely on first impressions. Clifford conducted himself with negativity whenever in my presence, he couldn’t help but take offence at my unkempt mane of long dark hair - he considered it a health and safety risk within the workplace. I was told that unless I had it cut to a reasonable length, I’d be sarcastically known as ‘Sweetheart’. Undeterred by verbal bribery and in homage to heavy metal, my mane remained, albeit tied back into a ponytail - only adding fuel to Clifford’s fire. He was true to his word and when teaching me the art of carpentry would never miss an opportunity to say, “watch and learn Sweetheart, watch and learn”. I’d retaliate by shortening his name to Cliff, as he found this presumptuous and irritating. One particular day I was instructed to get cakes for the lads from the works canteen. I duly obliged and on my return I placed the sweet baked goods at the end of my workbench. My colleagues were all thankful, except Clifford, who demanded I hand delivered his cake - I point blank refused. He bellowed out, “Sweetheart bring me my cake”. I remained firm and stuck to my guns, to the increasing annoyance of Clifford. Eventually he reluctantly made a move towards my bench, where upon his arrival I smashed his cake to smithereens with my mallet. To say he wasn’t happy is an understatement, I thought he was going to have an aneurysm. In an act of role reversal I simply said, “calm down Sweetheart, you’ll get your knickers in a twist”. Clifford exploded with rage and chased me into the machine shop, where he promptly ‘kicked the shit out of me’ - back in the 80’s this was considered reasonable behaviour. To give Clifford some credit, I didn’t expect someone of his age to move so fast. Moral to the story: age is but a number, it’s attitude and determination that really counts.

On the morning of 28th December 2019, I initially thought I’d awoken to the sight of my wife gazing adoringly in my direction. My illusion was shattered the moment Alison said, “when are you gonna use the nose and ear trimmer I bought you for Christmas?”. And a good morning to you, I replied. She then congratulated me on my 50th birthday and asked how does it feel to be officially old? I shrugged and asked how does it feel to be in bed with an old man? Touché...was her swift reply. When later surveying the unwanted hair growth protruding from my nostrils, we discussed various factors synonymous with the ageing process. Sagging skin is a particular concern, but I’m sure that when the time arrives we’ll soon get to grips with low hanging testicles and swinging breasticles. Unsurprisingly, we both came to the same conclusion - it’s shit getting old. However, at least I can now attempt a Joss Naylor Lakeland Challenge.

The night before my attempt I had an early one, I didn’t even stay up to watch Gardeners’ World - apparently Monty Don reaped the harvest of his vegetable patch. Usually Friday night is a favourite time of day because Monday feels so far away. I more often than not sleep really well in anticipation for the weekend. Unfortunately I didn’t sleep particularly well, I was nervously excited about my imminent attempt at the Joss. Unlike Monty’s vegetables, I wasn’t rejuvenated, especially when the alarm sounded at the ungodly hour of 2 am. In my sleepy state I’d not accounted for the hazards involved when carrying breakfast in both hands whilst turning on a wall mounted light switch with my chin. A wayward strand from my beard had become entangled within the switch, causing me to jump back startled. Potential disaster involving a bowl of porridge and a large steaming hot mug of coffee was miraculously averted by sheer luck over skill - thankfully bare flesh was spared from the scolding spillage. After informing Alison of the near miss she seemed more concerned about the potential damage towards the living room carpet.

We finally arrived at Pooley Bridge two and a half hours after leaving home. It feels like I’ve obtained a repetitive strain injury after waving a frustrated clenched fist at the abundance of traffic diversions. Pooley Bridge resembled a building site due to the construction work surrounding the much anticipated new bridge. I said to Alison, “how long does it take to build a bloody bridge?”. Seemingly, not as long as it’s taking me to redecorate our conservatory. Thirty minutes before my 6 am scheduled start and the village car park started filling up. Keswick’s Craig Smith and supporters were in attendance, they left at 5:45am for Craig’s successful sub 12hrs attempt...well done pal, you absolutely smashed it. Ambleside’s Gary Thorpe and supporters were also present. Along with my supporters the car park became a hive of activity whilst everyone made last minute preparations. My positive demeanour is a mask for the nervousness hidden deep within as recent recce runs drew attention to the fast pace required for a sub 12hrs completion.