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Ras Yr Wyddfa: Becoming the first blind athlete to take part — with the aim of not being the last. Gareth Davies
Earlier this year, I went for a run on the Sugar Loaf with Brett and Bethan. For many trail and fell runners, that might sound like a fairly ordinary thing to do. For me, it was anything but.
I was registered blind 12 years ago due to a genetic eye condition called Retinitis Pigmentosa. Over the years, my remaining vision has reduced to around 10% in my left eye, with no vision at all in my right. It is a bit like looking through a toilet roll, with everything outside that narrow view blurred or missing entirely.
Despite this, I have stayed active. I have continued to run regularly in South Wales, especially around Abergavenny, Cardiff and Merthyr. The mountains and landscapes have always meant a great deal to me. They offer something spiritual and grounding that is difficult to put into words. So the thought of not being able to run in them has always filled me with dread.
This year, however, I realised that it is no longer safe for me to run alone, particularly on more remote trails. As much as I love being out there, I also do not want to put others at risk by needing to come and find me if something goes wrong.
That realisation was tough. But a chance meeting with Brett and Bethan through work changed everything. Together, we began testing out trail guide running — first on the Sugar Loaf and then on Fan Y Big. The feeling of being back in the hills, running freely and at a decent pace, transformed my sense of what might be possible for blind and partially sighted athletes.
More than anything, it was Brett and Bethan’s unwavering belief in me that made the difference. They did not see my sight loss as a reason to lower expectations. They saw an athlete who still had more to give. Their calm confidence, coaching and trust gave me the courage to look for an event where we could test ourselves alongside some of the best mountain runners around.
Fate played its part. When I tried to enter Ras Yr Wyddfa, entries had already closed. Brett’s simple words, “email them then” gave me the nudge I needed. I wrote to explain my situation, my vision, and the fact that this might be my opportunity to run this historic race before my sight reduced further. Ras Yr Wyddfa welcomed us with open arms and gave both Brett and me a place.
Training with purpose
Although I was in good shape, I knew I needed more hilly miles in my legs (especially after the Fan Y Big run) and lungs, and importantly I didn’t want to let them down on race day as I wanted to repay their faith in me by beating the Clogwyn Station cut off time. With Bethan and Brett’s expert guidance and support, that is exactly what I did. They built a training plan for me on TrainingPeaks, and for a couple of months I trained hard: hills in and around Abergavenny, treadmill sessions in Cardiff, and runs along the Taff Trail around Merthyr. Alongside the running, I maintained my usual HIIT and strength sessions at the gym.
The recce
I did not really know what to expect. I had watched previous races on YouTube and had been up the Llanberis Path many years before, so checking out the route the day before felt essential. In the weeks leading up to the race, I had been quietly anxious about making the Clogwyn Station cut-off time of 1 hour 15 minutes, which sits around two-thirds of the way up Yr Wyddfa.
The recce was a huge confidence boost. We walked to Clogwyn in around 1 hour 30 minutes, and it helped settle my nerves. During the walk, I received a call from an unknown number. It was the Race Director, asking whether we wanted to start the race an hour early because they had “never had a blind runner before”. I gave a respectful and polite “no thank you”. I am a mountain runner. I just see differently. In truth, I was also quietly proud. That call confirmed that I would be the first blind runner to take on one of the most iconic mountain races in Europe.
The race and the strategy
Race day conditions were perfect: warm, around 21°C, and overcast. That helped, as glare from the sun can have a negative impact on my vision. Llanberis was buzzing, and I felt proud to wear the Mynydd Du shirt. Being part of a team means a lot to me.
After the national anthem and the Chemical Brothers!! we set off. The plan was to work hard uphill, especially on the flatter sections, because we knew we would need to take extra care on the descent. The technical nature of the path meant we could not simply throw ourselves down the mountain.
We used a tether, with Brett holding one end and me holding the other. We also relied on clear, specific instructions. For example Brett saying “High feet” meant I needed to pick my feet up because the terrain was tricky. “Single file” meant I had to drop immediately behind him, usually because an elite runner was coming back down the hill at serious pace, including Bethan who smashed it!!
We pushed hard and reached Clogwyn Station in 1 hour 5 minutes. From there, we continued towards the summit. By that point I was absolutely blowing, but the inner drive was still there. Brett’s encouragement, together with the support of fellow runners, kept me moving. Just below the summit, we broke through the clouds and were met with an incredible cloud inversion.
On the way back down, I started to feel cramp in my left quad, but a few salt sweets and some fluids helped sort it out. We navigated the more technical sections carefully while keeping a good pace, then pushed hard on the flatter parts. I even recorded my fastest one-mile time on Strava.
I had no idea what time we were on for. When Brett told me we could finish in under three hours, I was blown away. I gave everything I had over the final few kilometres and crossed the line knowing I had just completed the hardest sustained physical event of my life.
It was also, without question, the best sporting achievement of my life. But this was never only about me becoming the first blind runner to take part in Ras Yr Wyddfa. The real aim is to make sure I am not the last.
Representation matters. People need to see it to believe it is possible. If one blind or partially sighted person reads this, sees the race programme on iPlayer, or simply hears about it and thinks, “Maybe the mountains are still for me too,” then the race will have meant even more.
Opening the trail for others
Bethan, Brett and I are now keen to push this forward by developing a structured trail guide running course, which we hope to pilot in the next couple of months. The aim is simple: to take guide running beyond towns and cities and open up the incredible landscapes of Cymru to more blind and partially sighted people. Our landscapes offer liberation, connection and challenge. They should not be out of reach simply because someone sees differently.
What’s next?
I do not know. Maybe Ben Nevis. Maybe Scafell Pike. Maybe the Lakeland 50. The races will find us; we will not find them.
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