Perry Jolly does the double in more than one sense, two Everests climbed whilst also taking the UK first and perhaps the youngest double Everest-er.
Surely the logical follow-on for an Everest is a double, right? That’s what Perry Jolly thought too. Find out how he prepared, or didn’t, and how he got on.
Photos by Ross Dewar.
Who is Perry Jolly?
I’m a 20 year old mountain biker, based in Bristol, with a passion for sharing my experience of biking with others through short, fun videos. I recently completed a degree in philosophy and politics, and have a specific interest in understanding and implementing ways to live an ethical and fulfilled life. Whilst I love pushing myself on the bike, my greatest pleasures outside of cycling come from the more leisurely moments in life; drawn out coffee with friends, casual dinners, and chilling out accompanied by a podcast or a book.
What’s your background in mountain bikes?
I’ve been riding bikes forever, and mountain biking since about age 10 when my mum joined a local women’s mountain biking group and began getting the rest of the family into MTB. I subsequently followed the fairly standard trajectory of XC and cyclocross club, to casual enduro and downhill, before diverting from this at university as I became increasingly fascinated with big pedals, not just big sends.
Have you done any MTB challenges before?
My first proper challenge was on the road where, after baulking at the cost of getting to the Alps for our university MTB trip, a friend and I bought cheap second-hand road bikes, borrowed kit from friends, and cycled across France to the Alps in 3 days.
Following that, I continued to get more into road cycling, before spontaneously attempting an MTB Everest at FoD, with my mate Ben, taking no time to plan, train, or prepare. At the time, the Everest was by far the hardest thing I had ever done.
What made you want to go for a double Everest?
It was seeing Ben Hildred’s double Everest that confirmed to me it was possible. Additionally, the post-Everest realisation of how poor our preparation was convinced me that, with proper preparation, I would be able to go much further. On our first Everest, I had ridden a 170mm enduro bike with downhill tyres and flat pedals, started at 11pm after a full day of uni, worn baggy MTB kit, and ridden on the rocky, undulating FoD climb.
It’s probably not a healthy mindset, but believing I could do it almost made me feel obliged to give it a crack. I love the feeling of pushing myself to the limit, and overcoming. After convincing my friend Ben to join me on the challenge, I was dead set on getting it done.
How did you go about finding the right location for your attempt?
I knew from the start that FoD was off the cards. I wanted a consistent, smooth, longer climb and somewhere I could park a caravan immediately at the bottom for ease of access to clothes, food, bathroom etc. I enquired on social media, asked everyone I knew, racked my brains for the memory of a good climb and ultimately decided on a climb local to my parents house simply because, upon completing a few casual laps there, I realised it checked all of my boxes for the double Everest. It felt so good to lock in that climb, after months of searching to no-avail.
What equipment did you use?
Trek Bristol were kind enough to lend us some Trek Roscoe 7s, complete with Pirelli XC tyres. Whilst clearly not the pinnacle of XC race machines, these bikes were exactly what we needed for the challenge, and made a world of difference compared to my enduro bike. It also felt really cool to be attempting something super tough on a bike that the average mountain biker could plausibly ride.
In terms of clothing, I fully committed to the marginal gains, sporting bibs and a road jersey, topped off with aero socks, my road helmet, and my old XC shoes. It was certainly a new look, but over the 520km and 43 hours, I’m sure it saved me some time over my normal MTB clothes.
How did you prepare physically and mentally?
As the single Everest was in February and the double in May, physical preparation was hugely limited by my focus on my dissertation, and my final university exams. I had no formal training plan, but did increase the volume of my road cycling and definitely felt an improvement in the legs. In the week leading up to the effort, my friends at Belmont Performance coaching gave me the wise advice to “eat carbs and do nothing”, so I essentially ate white rice for 5 days, and spent as much time as possible in bed. This certainly made a huge different, relative to my first Everest, where I had not known I was going to be undertaking the effort until 12 hours before.
Most importantly was the mental. Having never done anything of this magnitude before, I essentially gaslit myself into a, perhaps unjustified, level of confidence. Whenever any negative thought crept in, I literally bombarded myself with the mantra that it would be no harder than the single Everest, due to the extent of my planning and preparation for this one.
Whilst patently untrue, this was effective in silencing my doubts, and meant I went into the challenge with genuinely no doubt i would get it done. Speaking to Belmont Performance, I expressed a desire for a plan of action if I started to feel like I wanted to quit, and they reassured me that I shouldn’t even think about that eventuality, so I didn’t.
How many people were involved and what how did they help?
By far the most significant person in this effort was my friend Ben whom I completed the single Everest with and whom I attempted the double with. Although he didn’t make it to the end (more on this later) I would never have even considered attempting this without him, and the way he pivoted into a supporting role upon having to stop truly gave me the strength to keep the effort going, and was truly admirable.
Additionally, our friends Natalia, Will, Tom, Isak, Josie and Ross all came out to support. As did my parents and brother. The emotional aspect of this was beyond huge, but in practical terms, it meant that most laps I was handed a drink, handed some food, given words of encouragement, or a hug if needed, and sent on my way. These guys were fully the backbone of this effort.
Talk us through the fuelling during the ride?
I ate on every one of the 97 laps. In the first day, we focused on more whole foods (peanut butter, dates, bananas, grapes) and water so as not to get too fed up of eating. Moving into night, and the second day it increasingly became a case of gels, bars, caffeine pills, isotonic drinks and, by the end, we had a large table of assorted foods and there was no fuelling strategy. The guys made me eat every lap, but I just ate what I could stomach, not what was optimal.
Did you have any expectations of how long it would take?
My one goal was to finish before the second night. Having started at sunrise, this would have been roughly 39 hours. I could not face the idea of going into a second night, as I already knew how tough this was from the single Everest. Unfortunately it ended up taking 43 hours, taking me past midnight and pushing me to the edge. The realisation that i was going into a second night honestly felt like my world was crashing down, at the time.
Favourite moment?
After a tough first night, my dad surprised me at 6:30am to run a few laps with me. I had been suffering mentally and physically, and hadn’t seen anyone for hours. Seeing him gave me a reason to get out of my foul mood, chat, and feel like a person again.
Any disasters?
Approaching the completion of the first of the two Everests, in the depths of the first night, Ben decided he was not going to carry on for the double. This came not long after his Wahoo had started playing up, which I think really got inside his head. He was struggling with some really acute wrist pain, and the tiredness was really getting to him. I don’t think he could face the idea of doing what we’d just done again, and I can’t blame him.
Ben’s decision was well thought out, mature, probably the right call, and I respect him for it. It did mean, however, that the night became super tough. I was alone in the dark, empty woods, closing in on 24 hours on the bike and I began to get super cold, taking long breaks between laps to warm up. Whilst riding, I was listening to an audiobook and frequently crying at it. Essentially, I was making slow progress, riddled with doubt, and an emotional wreck, with nobody to reassure or comfort me.
What did you learn from your attempt that you’d take into any future challenges?
It’s the stops that get you, your riding pace is far less important than this. Over just under 100 laps, I stopped for an average of about 5 minutes (sometimes far shorter, sometime longer) and this added up to 10 hours of time of the bike. It took 43 hours, but I was only cycling for 33. Optimising this would have meant I didn’t have to face the second night.
What advice would you give someone wanting to try an off-road Everest or similar?
Don’t. Going into this, I thought the only reason so few people had done it was because it was boring, and took a long time, but it was honestly so deeply unpleasant and challenging, had I been less naive about how hard it would be, I certainly would not have attempted it.
If you do, make sure to surround yourself with people who love you and who will support you endlessly. Doing this challenge without the constant hyping up, affection, and reassurance of my mates and my family would have simply been impossible. It’s hard to describe how far a hug and a “you’re so cracked bro, you’ve got this” from one of your best mates will go, when you’re really doubting if you can keep going.
Where do you go from here?
As I’m typing these responses, I’m on the train to Brighton to get a ferry. Tomorrow I will be cycling 720km from Dieppe to Les gets on the road. I will then be staying in Les Gets for a few months, before moving to Christchurch, NZ for the foreseeable. I’m lucky enough to work remotely, and to have flexible hours so I’m taking the opportunity to put biking at the centre of my life post-uni.
