The Farewell Tour: My Fifth and Final Cateran Yomp

There is a saying that the definition of madness is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result. I would like to offer a correction. The definition of madness is walking 54 miles through the foothills of the Cairngorms in under 24 hours, knowing exactly what the result will be, and signing up anyway. For the fifth time.

On 5 and 6 June 2027 I will take on the Cateran Yomp for the fifth and final time. It will also be my twelfth and final event for the Army Benevolent Fund, which means that somewhere along the way this stopped being a moment of madness and became a habit, and habits, as anyone from Dundee will tell you, are hard things to shake.

What I have learned from four Yomps

You would think that by the fifth attempt I would have this figured out. You would be wrong, but only partly. I now know exactly where on the route my legs will start negotiating with my brain. I know which checkpoint food tastes like victory and which tastes like a warning. I know that the weather near Blairgowrie in June is capable of sunshine, rain, wind and something unclassifiable, often within the same hour, and that packing for it is less a science than an act of faith.

Mostly I have learned that the first 40 miles are physical and the last 14 are entirely an argument with yourself, conducted at 3am somewhere above Glenshee, and that the argument is winnable if you have trained properly and have something worth finishing for.

Why the ABF, and why twelve times

The Army Benevolent Fund has been supporting soldiers, veterans and their families since 1944. Housing, mobility, mental health support, help for families when things go wrong. Quiet, practical work that does not make headlines but changes lives, which is exactly the sort of work that deserves backing.

Twelve events over the years means I have seen up close where the money goes and who it reaches, and that is why I keep coming back despite everything my feet have to say on the matter. They have lodged formal complaints after each of the previous four Yomps. All were noted and ignored.

The company

Better still, I will not be suffering alone. Georgia Love has signed up to join me, and so has Robin Bacon, which makes this final one special. Robin and I first met in the aftermath of the 2014 London Marathon, when I was roughly the colour of a beetroot, and I am genuinely excited that all these years later we get to finish the journey together. Full circle, and probably the same colour.

The final ask

This is the last time I will rattle the tin for a Yomp, so I intend to rattle it properly.

The deal is the same as it has always been. I do the 54 miles, the blisters, the small-hours crisis of faith and the finish line photo in which I appear to have aged a decade overnight. You sponsor me, and every penny goes to the Army Benevolent Fund. And I do mean every penny. A pound is genuinely welcome, because a pound from enough people adds up to something that matters, and because I will be grateful for anything that makes mile 47 feel like it was worth it. You get the satisfaction of supporting a genuinely excellent cause, plus the entertainment of watching a man complete his farewell tour one deliberate step at a time.

If you have sponsored me before, thank you, and consider this your final boarding call. If you have successfully dodged me for eleven events, congratulations on the achievement, but the window for a clean escape is closing.

The donate button is right here on this page. It takes less time to use than I will spend retying my laces at the first checkpoint.

Five Yomps. Twelve ABF events. One last long walk through Perthshire. Let us finish this the way it started, slightly sore and entirely worth it.