Embracing Bob: A Journey of Heart, Friendship and falling in love with Fells – by Jeevandra Singh
One man’s story in becoming the first Indian to complete the BG
This year, my path toward the Bob Graham attempt was anything but smooth. 2024 seemed relentless. Every time I found my rhythm and hit 4-5 weeks of solid training, life threw its weight around, pushing me off course. I often wondered if I’d ever be ready. But in those setbacks, I found a new kind of strength. I focused on resilience—on standing firm, no matter how the training went. I knew I would need something stronger than fitness alone to see this journey through. Standing at Moot Hall, my heart was heavy with the weight of my fears. Physically, I wasn’t where I wanted to be. Multiple incidents of injuries battered my confidence alot. But my bob wasn’t about endurance pursuit. It was about friendship, love and the relationship I built with fells and its community. I wasn’t alone.
At start, alongside me were Ben and Jonny, my Ambleside AC mates—Ben, a legend on the fells, and Jonny, my ever-supportive physio and strength coach. With them, my job was simple: stay calm and keep moving forward. The clock hit 8:30 PM, and we began. With Ben leading a steady pace, the climb up Skiddaw felt manageable. Then the mist rolled in, dropping visibility to just a few meters. My pulse raced, but Ben and Jonny were unfazed, navigating with the precision that comes from years of experience on these fells. I clung to their calm, trusting them completely. The mist cleared as we descended toward Great Calva, and we encountered the energy-sapping bogs. Each step seemed to pull me down, but Ben’s advice kept me grounded: “Don’t look at your watch, just take it easy.” A joke about his calves lightened the mood, a moment of laughter to counter the relentless effort. One foot after the other, we pressed on, reaching Blencathra through more thick fog. And as we descended into Threlkeld, I knew the real test was only beginning.
Flashback – The idea of doing the Bob Graham Round—the seed—was planted in my mind when I read Feet in the Clouds by Richard Askwith. I fell in love with these landscapes, the stories of the fells, their races, and the legends. “Iron Joss” and “King Billy” were like gods in my imagination. I started visiting the Lake District more often and fell in love with running here. At the time, I was doing more trail running than fell running. Keswick was our favorite go-to place, and Skiddaw was the first mountain I climbed. I even ran the Grand Tour of Skiddaw as my first ultra and fell deeper in love with these mountains. Little did I know then that after a few years we would uproot ourselves from London and call the Lakes our home!
Meeting my crew at Threlkeld, I felt a wave of comfort. Tea, biscuits, fresh socks—it was a brief warmth amid the cold unknown of the night ahead. Matt, my pacer for Leg 2, took most of my supplies to lighten my load. We set off into the night, and I whispered a prayer to the universe, asking for guidance across the tops because in thick clag you could easily miss those peaks. We hit the climb toward Clough Head, the first peak of Leg 2, and as we reached the top, the mist finally began to clear. Stars emerged, and the night sky felt like an answer to my silent prayer. There’s a term in thru-hiking called a “trail name.” Mine is “Dark Wolf”— I call it Kaali in hindi. Heading into the long night, it was time to embrace him. Running by starlight, I felt alive, primal even, in the company of my friend and the vast fells. We reached Grisedale Tarn as the tarn shimmered in the moonlight, and I found myself anticipating each peak. These mountains weren’t just challenges; they were places of discovery.
Flashback – The summer of 2024 wasn’t easy. I was struggling with injuries and kidney health issues, which forced me to pull out of races, and my training was erratic. But there was another painful experience. My cousin committed suicide back home in India, and when we got the news, we were heartbroken. In my culture, cousins are like blood siblings. He was a 25-year-old, handsome young man, and very close to us. It’s been hard to process, and I still miss him deeply. He was a good person with a difficult life—his mother died giving birth to him, and my mother raised him for a few years before my uncle remarried. He played in my arms when he was a baby. Sometimes, I struggle to understand why the universe works this way.
Dawn broke as we reached High Raise on Leg 3, accompanied by my pacers Doni Clark and David Starley, my Green runners buddies. The rising sun painted the fells in warmth, fueling us with light. But it wasn’t just the light that sustained me. At Harrison Stickle, my friend Graeme surprised me by meeting us at the top, bringing an unexpected surge of joy. With his kindness lifting my spirit, I reached Bowfell, we saw a beautiful sunrise and in that moment, I felt my mother’s presence. I paused, letting myself connect with her spirit, giving her a spiritual embrace. As Doni and David held me sobbing, I knew I wasn’t alone in this journey, I not only had my fell friends but also my fallen ones with me.
We carried on, reaching Scafell Pike and tackling the formidable Lord’s Rake. Despite the difficulty, I channeled strength from one of my favorite films, Lakshya, and scrambled up, surprising Doni with my energy. At the Wasdale descent, however, the toll of the journey hit hard. My knee throbbed and started having severe pain, and my energy waned. My crew sprang into action, their encouragement lifting me from a pit of doubt. The graveyard of Bob attempts, Wasdale, stared back at me as I prepared to climb Yewbarrow. I looked at my team and decided to dig deeper.
Flashback – I lost my mother in 2021. She meant everything to me. I left home at 17 to study Engineering, and later my career took me across four countries before I moved to the UK in 2015. But through it all, she was always there—her voice on the phone, her smile on video calls.When she passed away, just days before I was due to run the Gloucester 24-hour track ultra, I was shattered. I lost my mojo for running and racing. The only place where I found some peace was in the Lakes. These fells hugged me and healed me. I came here even more often after her passing.
As the sun rose on Leg 4, we climbed steep slopes and hit runnable stretches, yet the heat grew intense. Alan and Doni went into full “Sherpa mode,” sharing their water to keep me cool. Their teamwork and endurance amazed me. I pressed on with newfound strength, reminded of the power of friendship and the beauty of this shared journey. We finally reached Honister Pass, and as I descended, I spotted familiar faces—Jacob Tonkin, his partner and his dog hector, old friends from Keswick. It was a great surprise! I fought back tears, reminded of the deep connections with friends and fell community that had carried me this far. With Robinson in sight, I felt my mother’s presence again, this time more vividly than ever. We stopped, and as tears streamed down my face, a broken specter appeared—a moment of pure, spiritual connection with all those who had come before. Everyone with me felt something special there. They all had misty eyes. It was more than an experience; it was a blessing.
We descended slowly into Littletown, reaching the final road stretch where another surprise awaited: my friends Renee, Jenny rice and Jonny heath again, with his dog Brodie, turned up. My heart swelled seeing them. Kunal, Shree and my wee lovely wife Radhi even joined briefly before returning to their crew duties. It felt like a true celebration of everything we’d overcome. The pain in my knee was excruciating but the joy with friends was so pure and immense. In Keswick, I was greeted by friends and supporters, faces that symbolized each part of my journey. When I finally touched the gate, I looked to the sky, thanking my mother and my fallen ones for their guidance. They had been with me, every step of the way. Just like my fell friends were.
In the end, this journey was more than a test of endurance. It was a journey of spirit, resilience, and most importantly friendship and love. Each person, each moment, had become part of a story I will carry with me forever. The Bob Graham Round was no longer just a challenge; it was a journey of heart and soul, a testament to the strength found in friendship and the courage to keep going.
Jeev.