When Things Go Wrong: Our Three Peaks by Rail Adventure
A story of resilience, teamwork, and discovering that the best-laid plans rarely survive first contact with reality.
We had it all mapped out.
The itinerary was pristine - times, connections, schedules. We’d visualised how our Three Peaks by Rail challenge would unfold over three days. Jo, Mark, Aishah, and I were ready to conquer Snowdon, Scafell Pike, and Ben Nevis while traveling between them on a specially chartered train.
What we got instead was a masterclass in adaptation.
Day One: When Trains Let You Down
Our first challenge came before we’d even left London.
Standing at Euston Station at 1 PM, Jo’s text landed like a thunderbolt: “Oh, dear.” A derailment at Milton Keynes had severed all northbound rail connections. No trains to Crewe.
Plan A was toast.
In that moment, we learned something about our team dynamics. I went silent, mentally stress-testing alternative routes. Jo started talking—a lot. We were processing the same crisis in completely different ways, but somehow it worked.
We scrambled into a taxi bound for Marylebone, only to be immediately stuck in gridlock. We debated sprinting on foot, contemplated the Tube, and ran scenarios in our heads. Jo dropped her coat as we bailed out of the cab with minutes to spare. I dashed through the concourse, accidentally cutting off an elderly lady (sorry, whoever you were) and made it through the barriers with barely enough time to leap onto the Birmingham train as the doors closed.
Sometimes the best plans are the ones you make on the fly.
Into the Welsh Darkness
By 9:45 PM, we were finally starting our ascent of Snowdon. The mountain guide had warned us it would be “cold and wet.” We didn’t believe him—after all, we’d left Crewe in glorious sunshine.
The mountain had other ideas.
Immediately, the rain arrived with biblical intensity, turning our head torches into useless beacons in the swirling mist. The drops cascaded unseen into the darkness to our right, reminding us there was a sheer drop somewhere nearby… but mercifully invisible.
But here’s what I discovered about mountains in the dark: they strip everything down to basics. You can’t see the drops, can’t appreciate the views, can’t do anything except focus on the feet of the person in front of you and keep moving. One step, then another, then another.
When we finally crawled on hands and knees to touch Snowdon’s peak at midnight, it felt less like triumph and more like survival. The guides were already rushing people off the mountain—conditions were becoming dangerous.
The Bog of Scafell Pike
Friday brought new optimism and new challenges. The approach to Scafell Pike involved an eight-kilometre trek through what can only be described as a liquid landscape. Every path had become a river. Every step was a gamble between bog and solid ground.
Jo’s boots failed early, leading to painful blisters that would haunt the rest of our journey. The supposed “lovely walk over the hill” became an endurance test in waterlogged misery. The rivers were swollen, the rocks slippery, and each crossing felt like a mini adventure of its own.
Then came the crushing news: Scafell Pike was off-limits. River levels were too high, stranding 150 people on a mountain wasn’t a great look. We could walk to the crossing point and back, but the summit would remain unconquered.
The real test came afterward - three hours standing in a car park in driving rain and bitter wind, waiting for minibuses that were stuck in Manchester traffic. People were breaking out the emergency foil blankets. Hypothermia was becoming a genuine concern.
Those three hours taught me more about resilience than any mountain summit could.
Finding Philosophy in the Café
Sitting in the Ravenglass station café at 4:30 PM, facing another two and a half hours in wet clothes before our train returned, I hit my lowest point. The thought of getting ready for Ben Nevis the next day felt impossible.
But sometimes rock bottom provides the clearest view.
We discovered the advanced art of shoe-drying via hand dryer. “Have you tried zipping it up and blowing it with the dryer?” someone asked. Ridiculous as it looked, it worked—and gave us something to laugh about when we needed it most. Somewhere between the chips and the ice cream, we even found humour in our misery.
And somewhere in that café, we had a conversation with ChatGPT that changed our perspective.
The AI gave us a mantra: “This is neither good nor bad. It just is what it is.”
That simple phrase became our anchor. Instead of fighting against the experience or mourning what we’d expected, we chose to experience what was actually happening. The shift was profound.
Ben Nevis: Knowing When to Stop
Day three brought breakfast delays, train obstructions, and another hour lost to mechanical failures. Jo, hobbled by blisters, made the wise decision to skip Ben Nevis entirely.
Mark, Aishah, and I started the climb, but the previous days had taken their toll. A third of the way up, with Aishah feeling faint and my vision occasionally swimming, we made the call to turn back. Mark pushed on alone, summiting with just seven minutes to spare.
There’s no shame in recognising your limits. Sometimes the bravest decision is knowing when to stop.
What We Actually Accomplished
By traditional measures, we “failed.” We didn’t climb all three peaks. We didn’t stick to the schedule. We encountered every possible setback short of actual disaster.
But look at what we did achieve. We raised over £5,000 for children in real need—more than some teams who made it to every summit. We supported each other through genuine adversity, sharing equipment, encouragement, and laughter. We never once turned on each other, despite the exhaustion and chaos.
Most importantly, we proved that resilience isn’t about ticking off peaks—it’s about carrying on when everything goes wrong. And that, in many ways, feels like the bigger victory.
Lessons from the Mountains
Plans are frameworks, not prophecies. They give you something to adapt from, not something to cling to desperately.
Teams have rhythms. Jo needed patience when things felt overwhelming. Aishah’s boundless energy came in joyful bursts, then she’d recharge in silence. Mark provided steady calm. I defaulted to problem-solving mode in quiet contemplation. Understanding these patterns helped us support each other better.
The mental game is harder than the physical one. Knowing you can do something (having climbed a mountain before) makes the second and third attempts mentally easier, even when you’re physically exhausted.
Stories matter. People are hungry for narratives that break the daily routine. Our “disaster” became the most interesting story we had to tell.
The Unexpected Gift
Perhaps the greatest discovery was that people need more stories in their lives. Everyone we’ve told about this trip has been genuinely fascinated. There’s something powerful about choosing to do difficult things, even when—especially when—they don’t go according to plan.
The mountains didn’t care about our schedule. The weather didn’t respect our preparation. The trains didn’t run on time. But in navigating these challenges together, we discovered reserves of resilience we didn’t know we had.
Even our Railway 200 teddy bear became a small legend on the trip, tucked under sleeping passengers’ arms by a mischievous volunteer and photographed with fellow travellers before being gifted to him as a parting memento.
Would I do it again? Absolutely. Would I do it differently? Probably not. The chaos, the adaptation, the shared struggle—that was the real journey. The mountains were just the venue.
So far our team has raised over £5,000 for charity during this adventure. Sometimes the best way to reach your destination is to embrace getting completely lost along the way. If you’d like to contribute it is certainly not too late!
I hope you enjoyed this account - it was fun to write so hopefully it was fun to read.
Thank you.
Congratulations to you all. Thanks for this post and I enjoyed reading. It was an expedition and adventure. I think an adventure is not the outcome but the process. I think we learn much more from the process which is usually challenging.
I’d like to try Three Peaks if I have a chance.
What an ordeal! Congratulations to all of you for persisting and enduring some rather difficult circumstances.