25 kilometres. Relentless heat. Spectacular coastal scenery. Old friends reunited. And a difficult decision that I never expected to make.
I've completed plenty of long-distance walking challenges over the years, including several 50km events and a particularly memorable 100km challenge in Yorkshire that took me 32 hours.
So when the North Yorkshire Ultra Challenge appeared on the 2026 Ultra Challenge calendar, I was keen to give it a go.
A brand-new event, a stunning stretch of Yorkshire coastline and the opportunity to catch up with some old trekking friends. What wasn't to like?
Well, as it turned out, the weather had other ideas.
And so, apparently, did my body.
A Reunion by the Seaside
I travelled up from London to Scarborough by train on Friday 19 June, the day before the challenge.
We'd all arranged to stay at the same B&B, although I was the first to arrive.
Before long, Mike and Janet turned up, and we settled into the little garden for a proper catch-up. I'd brought along copies of my book, Everest Base Camp & Gokyo Lakes, which I was delighted to give them.
Mike, Janet, Karen and Huw had all been part of my Everest Base Camp adventure in 2022. We'd shared some extraordinary experiences in Nepal, so getting everyone together again was something I'd been looking forward to.
Later that afternoon, we headed out for a gentle stroll along the cliffs overlooking Scarborough.
The weather was lovely, the sea looked magnificent, and the views across the bay were a reminder of just how beautiful this part of England can be.
In the evening, Karen and Huw joined us, and we headed across the road to the pub.
It was the first time I'd seen Karen and Huw since Everest Base Camp.
Four years had passed, but within minutes it felt as though we'd never been apart.
There was plenty of reminiscing, laughter and the inevitable stories from Nepal.
A lovely start to the weekend.
A Brand-New Challenge
The North Yorkshire Ultra Challenge was a new addition to the Ultra Challenge calendar for 2026.
That meant something quite important.
Nobody really knew what to expect.
The route promised spectacular coastal scenery, clifftop walking and plenty of ups and downs. But unlike the more established events, there wasn't a long history of participant experiences to draw upon.
Janet had a 7.30am start time, while Mike and I were due to set off at 8.30am. Karen and Huw were starting a little later.
Before we began, Mike and I made a simple agreement.
We'd stick together, whatever happened.
Famous last words, perhaps.
I also briefly caught up with another group of walking friends, people I'd shared countless challenges and weekends away with over the years.
They were tackling the full 100km distance.
I was very happy with my shorter challenge.
Or so I thought.
Hot, Humid and Not a Breath of Air
Even early in the morning, the weather felt uncomfortable.
It was warm, humid and strangely still.
There was a little drizzle at first, but it soon disappeared as the temperature climbed.
Mike and I set off through fields and countryside, gradually making our way towards the castle and the coast.
For the first hour and a half, the route wound through open fields and paths, with very little shelter.
And it was getting hotter.
Much hotter.
By around 10.30am, I was already struggling with the heat.
I kept telling myself that once we reached the sea, things would improve.
Surely there would be a lovely cooling breeze coming off the North Sea?
There wasn't.
Not even the slightest breath of air.
Nothing.
Just oppressive humidity and the sun beating down.
It was relentless.
The First Rest Stop — And the First Warning Signs
By the time we reached the first rest stop, I was already far hotter than I should have been.
I immediately grabbed several cups of water and poured them over my head.
It felt wonderful.
For about thirty seconds.
I found a patch of shade, sat down, ate some fresh fruit and drank almost a litre of juice.
Normally, this would be the point where I'd feel refreshed and ready to get moving again.
But something wasn't right.
I couldn't seem to cool myself down.
My body felt as though it was retaining every bit of heat, regardless of what I did.
Still, there was a challenge to complete.
So, after a decent rest, Mike and I headed off again.
A Shower on the Seafront
We eventually descended towards the coastal path, following a long section that seemed to stretch on forever before reaching the beachfront promenade.
By now, I was really beginning to flag.
We stopped briefly to use the toilets, and when I came outside, I spotted something wonderful.
An outdoor shower.
Obviously, it was intended for people coming off the beach after a swim.
But at that particular moment, I couldn't have cared less.
Off came my cap.
Under the cold water went my head.
Absolute heaven!
I soaked my cap as well, hoping it might help keep me cool once we started walking again.
And for a little while, it did.
But the relief didn't last.
The heat returned almost immediately.
Karen and Huw Catch Us Up
It was around this point that Karen and Huw caught up with us.
Despite starting later, they'd managed to close the gap.
Karen looked as though she was on a mission.
Determined, focused and moving at a good pace.
Huw was a little harder to read.
Mike and I did our best to keep up, and for a while the four of us walked together.
It was lovely being back on the trail with friends I'd first met thousands of miles away in the Himalayas.
But there was a difference.
In Nepal, we'd been dealing with altitude and thin mountain air.
Here, we had plenty of air.
It just wasn't moving!
And the hardest section of the route was still to come.
The Cliffs Had a Few Surprises
The coastal scenery was absolutely spectacular.
Rolling green headlands, dramatic cliffs, secluded bays and the North Sea stretching away to the horizon.
On a cooler day, I would have been in my element.
But the coastline had a nasty little surprise waiting for us.
Steps.
Lots of them.
The path would suddenly drop steeply towards a little valley or inlet, only to climb sharply back up the other side.
Down we went.
Then straight back up.
And just when we thought we'd reached the top, another descent appeared ahead.
It became a seemingly endless succession of steep steps.
Under normal circumstances, I enjoy a challenging climb.
But not that day.
Each ascent felt excruciating.
And every time we emerged onto the top of the cliffs, I hoped we'd finally feel a breeze.
Nothing.
Not a whisper.
The heat was becoming unbearable.
Eventually, Karen and Huw pulled away into the distance.
Mike and I continued at our own pace, determined to keep moving.
But I was beginning to have a conversation with myself that I really hadn't expected.
The Thought I Never Expected to Have
I've always been a stubborn walker.
Sometimes probably too stubborn.
If I enter a challenge, I expect to finish it.
I've walked through torrential rain, exhaustion, blisters, sleepless nights and all sorts of unpleasant conditions.
Quitting has never really featured in my thinking.
But as we continued along those cliffs, something changed.
For the first time in a long while, I was seriously considering stopping.
Not because my legs couldn't manage the distance.
Not because the route was too difficult.
But because I simply couldn't control my body temperature.
I felt overheated, drained and increasingly uncomfortable.
And I knew that if I carried on, things could get considerably worse.
I didn't mention any of this to Mike.
We'd promised to stick together, and I didn't want to influence his decision.
But privately, I'd already started thinking about the halfway checkpoint.
Perhaps that would be the sensible place to call it a day.
Halfway — And a Bucket of Water
When we finally reached the halfway rest stop, I was absolutely boiling.
And then I spotted a bucket of water.
There was only one thing for it.
I promptly stuck my head straight into it!
I'm not entirely sure what anyone watching must have thought.
But at that moment, dignity was the least of my concerns.
I needed to cool down.
Inside the rest tent, Karen and Huw were already there.
Huw was lying on the floor, looking thoroughly exhausted.
Karen took one look at me.
"You look white! You've got to stop."
I didn't argue.
Not for a second.
She was right.
I'd reached my limit.
I wasn't enjoying myself, I was struggling badly with the heat, and I had absolutely nothing left to give.
Most importantly, I had nothing to prove to anyone.
So I told the marshal that I was withdrawing.
Huw had also decided to stop.
We sat together in the tent, waiting for the minibus that would take us back to the start.
And strangely enough, I didn't feel disappointed.
I felt relieved.
Sometimes the Sensible Decision Is the Hardest One
Walking challenges have taught me many things over the years.
Perseverance.
Patience.
Resilience.
And the ability to keep going when every part of your body is telling you to sit down and have a cup of tea.
But there's another lesson that's equally important.
Knowing when to stop.
There's a difference between pushing through ordinary tiredness and ignoring signs that something genuinely isn't right.
That day, I knew the difference.
I could have tried to force myself onwards.
But why?
To prove that I could finish a distance I'd already covered countless times before?
To collect another medal?
It simply wasn't worth it.
And, as I was about to discover, there may have been a very good reason why my body wasn't behaving normally.
Back to Scarborough
Once the minibus returned us to the start, I made my way back to the B&B.
The first thing I did was jump straight into a cold shower.
Wonderful!
Then I lay down for a couple of hours, hoping to recover some energy.
Huw was planning to drive to Whitby to meet Karen at the finish line.
Karen, meanwhile, was still out on the course, determined to complete her distance.
And she did!
A fantastic effort in such difficult conditions.
I decided not to travel to Whitby.
Instead, I went across the road to the pub.
A well-earned pint and something substantial to eat seemed like a very good idea.
And believe me, they were thoroughly enjoyed.
After that, I went back to my room and crashed.
Meanwhile, Mike and Janet Kept Going
While I was cooling down and contemplating the day's events over a pint, Mike had continued with his 50km challenge.
At some point, he caught up with Janet, who had started an hour earlier.
The two of them walked together towards Whitby.
They didn't arrive until sunset.
By then, Janet had decided she'd done enough and wouldn't continue with the full 100km.
Mike, however, completed his 50km distance.
A brilliant achievement, especially considering the conditions we'd experienced.
I was genuinely pleased for him.
We'd started the day promising to stick together, but when I had to stop, he was able to carry on and achieve what he'd set out to do.
And that's exactly how it should have been.
Breakfast, Goodbyes and the Journey Home
The following morning, we all met for breakfast.
There were plenty of stories to exchange.
Who'd struggled where.
How bad the heat had been.
Those never-ending cliff steps.
And, of course, the various ways we'd tried to cool ourselves down.
It had been a memorable weekend, even if the challenge itself hadn't gone quite as planned.
More importantly, it had been wonderful to spend time with friends I'd first met on the other side of the world.
After breakfast, we said our goodbyes, and I headed back to the station for my train journey home to London.
I thought that was the end of the story.
It wasn't.
An Unexpected Explanation
A few days later, I discovered that I had kidney stones.
And they were extremely painful.
Suddenly, I began to wonder whether there had been more going on during the challenge than I'd realised.
I'd struggled to regulate my temperature, felt unusually exhausted and found myself unable to cope with conditions that, while undoubtedly difficult, shouldn't normally have affected me quite so badly.
I can't say for certain that the kidney stones caused my overheating.
The heat and humidity alone were significant challenges, and I don't know whether the stones were already affecting me during the walk.
But the discovery certainly made me think back to how I'd felt that day.
And it reinforced something important.
I'd made the right decision to stop.
Had I Lost My Ability to Go the Distance?
There was something else that stayed with me after North Yorkshire.
Doubt.
For years, I'd thought nothing of taking on long-distance walking challenges. They were a huge part of my life, and I'd always trusted my ability to keep going.
But this experience had shaken that confidence.
Would I ever be able to complete another long-distance challenge? Was my body trying to tell me something? Had I finally reached a point where I needed to rethink what I was capable of?
Those questions lingered long after I'd returned home.
But two months later, I got my answer.
I was leading a group of six walkers on the Surrey Three Peaks Challenge, taking in Box Hill, Holmbury Hill and Leith Hill.
It was supposed to be a walk of around 36–38km.
Supposed to be!
Somehow, with a few bonus kilometres thrown in, our adventure turned into a whopping 50.97km, with 1,085 metres of ascent.
And it wasn't exactly an easy day either. The heat, challenging terrain and sheer distance tested everyone. What should have been a long day's walking stretched towards dusk.
But all six completed it together.
And I was right there with them.
Almost 51 kilometres.
The same person who, just two months earlier, had been sitting in a tent in North Yorkshire wondering whether his long-distance walking days might be over.
I can't tell you how reassuring that felt.
It reminded me that one difficult experience doesn't define your abilities. Sometimes the circumstances are against you. Sometimes your body simply isn't right on the day.
And sometimes, two months later, you find yourself walking almost twice as far as you'd planned!
My confidence was back.
And so was my appetite for another challenge.
What the North Yorkshire Ultra Challenge Taught Me
I went to Yorkshire expecting another enjoyable long-distance walking challenge.
I came home having completed just over 25km, considerably less than I'd originally planned.
But I don't regard the weekend as a failure.
Not remotely.
I experienced some magnificent coastal scenery.
I caught up with wonderful friends.
I watched others push on to complete their challenges.
And I learned that even after years of endurance walking, there are still occasions when your body has the final say.
Would I return to tackle the North Yorkshire Ultra Challenge again?
Possibly.
The coastline is stunning, and on a cooler day I suspect it would be a completely different experience.
But I would never underestimate those cliffs and their endless steps!
And if there's one thing I'd say to anyone taking on a long-distance walking challenge, it's this:
Prepare well. Respect the conditions. Look after each other. And never be afraid to stop if something doesn't feel right.
A medal is lovely.
But getting home safely is considerably more important.
Besides, I still came away with some cracking photographs, a memorable weekend with friends and a rather good pint.
Not a complete disaster, then!
Happy Hiking!
Marc