I can’t feel my hands, and my feet ache with the cold. The last climb – a solid 2 km up the stiff gradient that gains the plateau of Mynydd Eppynt – did little to warm up my extremities. It’s minus 2 degrees Celsius up here, but at least I can see over the fog.
In the distance the unmistakable outline of the Brecon Beacons is silhouetted against the faint orange of the first hint of dawn. I take a photo, and continue my passage over the plateau, eventually plunging back into the freezing fog in the valley on the other side.
Middle Ring All The Way 