The legend that is Becci Skelton has raised nearly twenty grand for Cancer Research UK and Welsh Air Ambulance with her Everest challenge at Dyfi Bike Park.
Watch the video, read the story and give what you can.
You can still donate to Becci’s fundraiser on her JustGiving page here.
Words by Becci Skelton | Photos by Laurence Crossman-Ems.
The concept of Everesting is brutally simple: pick a hill, any hill, and ride it repeatedly in a single activity until you’ve climbed 8,849 metres, the height of Mount Everest. There’s no grey area. No shortcuts. Just up, and up, and up. It’s monotonous, it’s punishing… and I’m here for it.
Friday 18th April, 2025, 8:00 AM. The stage is set. The training’s in the bank, the carbs are loaded, my Saracen Ariel is dialled, and, true to form, the Welsh weather is showing no mercy. I roll out of the Dyfi Bike Park car park in Machynlleth for the first of what will be 25 laps. This is it. The biggest ride, and the toughest challenge, I’ve ever taken on.
Most riders at Dyfi take the uplift, rightfully so. It’s one of the most renowned (and rowdy) bike parks in the world, and fatigue usually kicks in after 6 to 8 laps. But today, there are no uplifts. No shortcuts. Just me, that climb, and a whole lot of time in the pain cave. Anyone who’s ridden Dyfi knows how relentless the uplift road is: long, steep, and unforgiving.
So… why do this?
In 2017, I lost my mum to cancer. She was the most caring, supportive, and beautiful human you could ever meet, and when she passed, our world shattered.
She backed my brother, sister, and me in everything we did. She was always my biggest fan, especially when it came to sport. Even if she was often too nervous to watch me race in person at MTB events, she was always the first one on the phone afterwards: “Go get them, tiger, show them what you’re made of,” she’d say. That stuck with me.
Since losing her, I’ve wanted to take on a challenge that felt truly meaningful, something that could raise money for Cancer Research UK, and help fund the kind of work that might one day prevent others from losing the people they love most.
I’m also riding for the Welsh Air Ambulance, an incredible service that’s saved countless lives, especially around places like Dyfi and other remote bike parks. They’re the kind of heroes you hope you never need, but are so grateful for when you do.
This Everest challenge is for them, and for her.
So here I am, pedalling up a hill.
In the lead-up, my head was chaos. One minute I was confident, telling myself I’d done the training and just needed to show up and execute. The next, those imposter thoughts crept in: “Who do you think you are? You can’t do this. This is for the elite mountain goats of the world, people like Ben Hildred.”
The truth is, this was uncharted territory for me. I’d never done an endurance event anywhere near this scale, not even close. But if there’s one thing I do know, it’s me.
And Becci Skelton is not a quitter.
I might’ve been nervous, I might’ve doubted myself, but deep down, I carried a quiet confidence that no matter how brutal it got, I was going to get the job done.
Lap after lap after lap.
Some I rode solo. Others with my incredible support crew, who, honestly, were the backbone of this whole mission. From keeping my Saracen running sweet, to brewing endless cups of tea, handing me food, keeping the energy high on the climbs, and bringing the full party mode on the descents, they were unreal. I can’t thank them enough.
Now… let’s talk about food.
Weirdly, this was one of the hardest parts. It sounds ridiculous, but trying to force food down when your body’s under constant stress is savage. I started with as much real food as possible — banana, PB & jam wraps were elite, with the holy trinity of carbs, fats, and sugar. There were mountains of pasta, rice pudding, and even crisp sandwiches. But by lap 8? Everything started to feel pretty grim.
That’s when Torq Nutrition came into play. Their gels, bars, jellies, and carb powders kept the fuel trickling in when real food wasn’t an option. And when I didn’t feel too bloated, I’d dip back into the “real” stuff to keep it balanced.
Then night hit, and I won’t lie, this was the part I feared the most. I hadn’t ridden at night for years. But… wow. The first few laps in the dark were actually insane. Head torches on, silence all around, it was surreal. But the stoke didn’t last forever. I dipped hard. A couple of low laps set in, and the idea of another 8 hours riding in the dark felt completely overwhelming.
By 2am, I was literally falling asleep on the climbs, somewhere between hallucinating and singing Meat Loaf (badly) to stay awake. The lads were definitely starting to wonder if I’d lost the plot.
I knew I had to reset. My body needed rest, and my watch needed charging anyway, so I grabbed the chance. Crawled into the van, still soaked, too tired to change, and laid down. I must’ve slept for 5 to 10 minutes max, but when I woke up, I was freezing… But I was fired up.
Lying there wasn’t going to get me up that mountain. So I got up, knocked on the van window to rally the boys, and off we went.
And honestly? That tiny nana nap was magic. It reset my energy, my drive, and my stoke.
One of my favourite laps was just as the sun started to rise. It was like a mental switch flipped. I still had hours to go, but I’d made it through the night, and now the countdown was on.
At that moment, I knew, without a doubt, that I was going to finish it.
The Final Countdown
Getting into single digits on the lap count was electric. One more down. Tick it off. Another one. Tick. I was so close, but somewhere in those last few climbs, it started to really sting.
I love my friends, and their support was everything, but I knew I needed to be alone for a bit. I had to reset my mind. Let my thoughts drift. Let the fatigue and vulnerability rise to the surface. Remember why I was doing this, and what it meant to me.
When things got hard, I’d ask myself: “If my mum was at the top waiting for me, could I get up this hill?”
And every time, without hesitation: yes. A million times, yes.
Those solo laps changed everything. I found my groove again. And just like that… we were there. Ready for the final lap.
The Party Lap
Obviously, the whole crew was on board for this one. We rolled out to applause from the Dyfi café, and yep, I absolutely choked up.
The last Land Rover uplifts of the day were passing us on the climb, and the noise coming from them was next level. My brother and nieces were on the hill, and having them there meant everything. Making my family proud is such a huge part of who I am, and for them to witness this? I can’t put that into words.
We only had to climb about two-thirds of the hill to hit the Everest mark. Watching those final metres tick over was surreal.
And then, it happened.
The number clicked over. Everest complete. And the wave hit me: elation, relief, gratitude… it all came pouring out. We hugged. We cried. We hugged again.
It was pretty emotional, and I’ll never forget it. But it was also tinged with deep sadness. My mum never got to see this. She never got to know. And that still hurts, more than I can say.
But we weren’t stopping at two-thirds. You can’t do a party lap from halfway up. And you definitely can’t stop just short of 9,000 metres. I like round numbers, ok?
So we rode to the top, one last time. And let me tell you, that final lap was the best of my life. Every ounce of fatigue lifted. Stoke level: 100%. Full gas, all the way down.
I kept looking back and seeing my people behind me, blinking away tears. Tears of love. For them. For my mum. For everyone who’s ever lost someone they love.
Job Done.
So that’s it. Everest? Completed it, mate.
What an insane experience. I’ve been completely humbled and overwhelmed by the support, from friends, family, total strangers. The love has been unreal.
I want to say the biggest possible thank you to everyone who helped make this happen. My support crew. My family. Everyone who donated, messaged, gave me a high five or a kind word. And of course, to Laurence Crossman-Emms, for capturing the entire journey so beautifully, it means the world.
So far, we’ve raised £18,606 for Cancer Research UK and Welsh Air Ambulance. The page is still open, so if you want to help round it up to £20,000 (because again… I love round numbers), please do.
For my mum. For the fight. For every person climbing their own mountain. This one was for you. 💙
You can still donate to Becci’s fundraiser on her JustGiving page here.
