A soggy day out in the New Forest with Big Feat events
You’re Late!
The Arctic Triple 100 mile ultra trail in Lofoten, Norway. An event I eagerly looked forward to but one for which my preparation was screwed before I even signed up. Back in 2022 I’d already signed up to Transylvania 100 and Mozart 100 for 2023. When Matt floated the idea for this race in Norway, and him and Paul signed up, I was torn. It ticked every box on our criteria for an adventure. Trouble was, it was a week after Transylvania (we’d actually start 4.5 days after the finish time of Transylvania!) and two weeks before Mozart. This was not an ideal time to squeeze a 100 mile event into my year. But I did, of course I did! I signed up. My plan was simply to survive and enjoy Transylvania without wrecking myself before Lofoten. That didn’t quite go to plan and the race in Romania was far harder and more damaging to my body than I’d hoped for. Come Monday, I could barely walk. Besides bruising to my right quad, my feet were in pieces. They were so sore and covered in blisters. It was 3 days of soaking them in salt water, applying creams and ointments and hoping for miracles.
By Thursday, miracles had happened. Somehow my feet had healed pretty well, well enough that I wasn’t in any discomfort, maybe still missing a few important layers of skin, but after a self inflicted stressful few days I was confident again. All that was left was the day-long journey to Svolvaer where the race headquarters and finish line was based. That night, I wrapped my feet as best I could in hypercolloid dressings and KT tape. I hoped this would buy me a bit more time during the race before further damage was suffered. I also opted to wear waterproof socks to start the race (which turned out to be the best decision I’d made that week!).
The next day the journey to the start line began, this was like an ultra in itself – it involved a 2 hour bus from Svolvaer to Reine and then a 30 minute boat ride to Kirkefjord. The bus journey to Reine was scenic and gave a good first insight into the stunning scenery and terrain of the peninsula. We drove around the islands and mountains making up the landscape and crossed bridges and went through tunnels that connected all the islands. The mountains were quite a sight and dominate the skyline.
At Reine we left the bus to get a boat across the fjord to Kirkefjord where the race would start. Due to some logistical issues, the planned ferry boat wasn’t available, therefore smaller boats would complete the transfer. This worked out amazingly for us as we were stopped before boarding the boat that was waiting when our bus arrived as it was full. Instead we were directed to a smaller speed boat/dingy. This meant donning a life/body suit. I made sure we were first in line to get suited and booted. This boat looked so much fun! Straddling the seats we held on as the boat sped off. Wow. What a way to start a race and what an experience bouncing along the water, the wind and rain battering our faces. The attempts to disembark were then hilarious as we tried to climb up the jetty and needed pulling up from the marshals directing us in.
We had about 45 mins before the start and spent it sitting in a wood cabin on the ‘pier’ to take shelter from the rain and exploring a vacant building. At midday, as we made our way to the start line, we found ourselves at the front of the runners. This made us giggle as we did not belong there, but we embraced it as we set off, momentarily leading the other 70 or so runners into the adventure that awaited…
The race starts with two steep climbs. The first about 100m and the second a bit more punchy at around 350m. Straight away I was huffing and puffing. The terrain was mountainous, rocky and wet with water streaming down the slopes. The incline was sharp and the gradient reached a good 30 degrees in places. Runners inevitably started passing us as we climbed. As we reached the top the of the first climb the fun began. Groups of runners started passing us at speed as we tried to navigate the slippery, rocky terrain. In some parts small remnants of snow made the rocks extra slippery. I wasn’t ready for more snow after last weeks fun in Romania. I was making my way tentatively.
I cautiously crossed the trails connecting down to the second, steeper climb. I fell a few times along the way, slipping off the large boulders we had to traverse. As we began climbing again the story repeated itself. After reaching the top another tranche of runners went passed. We were now near the back of the field already. We’d barely been running an hour and already couldn’t keep pace with everyone!
The race description and briefing did indicate that the first 20km or so made up some of the harder sections of the race, so we weren’t disheartened just yet (even if we were only about 6km in!). Besides, from here we began the route towards the beach at Kvalvika as we descended again. We had a short road section and the first checkpoint with refreshments before we were heading off track again towards the beach with a short climb and descent along the way. Here we started to be caught by some of the relay runners who started after us. You can also cover the 100 miles in a team of up to ten people. In 2024 they are also offering the 100 mile event as a multi day adventure. The views, despite the wind and rain were incredibly pleasing on the eye. We knew about this beach after watching the short film ‘Nordfor Sola’. It’s about two young men who embark on an adventure and spend 9 months living on the remote beach, building a ‘cabin’ out of materials that wash up on the shore and that they salvage.
The beach is split into two sandy bays. As we reached the first, the trails took us right to the coast. By now Matt had fallen numerous times, the last one spraining his wrist. He was in pain, but masked the pain with his excitement of reaching the beach. The descent to the beach itself was very challenging. We clambered over large boulders and loose rocks, lowered ourselves down cracks and used ropes and chains to reach the beach. It took a little navigating for us to find our way down and the rope descent was tough going, even if it wasn’t very high! We immediately then had to climb and clamber back up and over the wet rocks to work our way around the coast.
Eventually we reached the second beach. The one made famous from the film. In the distance we thought we could see the the makeshift chimney from the cabin. A surfer was preparing himself for a dip in the vast Atlantic ocean as we began the long, wet climb away from the beach. Again, barely a 200m climb, but the incline was steep and the soggy wet ground made for slow going. This would be the theme for the climbs in the course. None were particularly long or high. But they were steep and always sapped the energy and reduced us to a snails pace. At the top a Photographer waited patiently and snapped the runners as we made our way onto the boardwalk planks installed over the boggy ground. They kept our wet feet from getting even wetter. The solid ground was greatly appreciated. The descend took us back along some gravel tracks and boggy downhills towards the next checkpoint, 20km in at Fredvang. We stopped for a short rest here having some warm soup and plenty of the ‘Triple Buns’ (kind of like a fruit loaf bun) which were excellent. We studied the route for the next section and made some mental notes of the runners around us. We were conscious that there was a new cut off (noted during the race briefing) at the 56km mark at Napp. We had 14 hours to get there but had already taken 5 hours to cover the 20km to this point. It didn’t make for good thinking, but we held on to the belief that the trails would soon get ‘easier’ and we’d reclaim a little time.
Leaving the Check point we carried on for a few kms along the road, crossing two bridges connecting the islands. There would be plenty of bridges along the course and these first two gave the initial impression, with steep inclines and descents either side (the steep shape allows for the passage of boats underneath!).
The roads then gave way to gravel tracks and, as we neared the southern edge of the island, we were back into the boggy marshland and forests near the coast. The wind and rain was continually battering us and we found this section particularly cold with the head-on wind. The coastal section was tough going and we were all over the place trying to follow other runners and navigate our own way through the bogs, sometimes slipping knee deep in the stinky mud. I was so thankful for the waterproof socks at this stage!
We were very wet now with the heavy rain pelting us from all angles and the ground soaking us from below with every step along the spongy ground. It took us about an hour and a half to cover the 7 or so kms here and emerge back onto some beautiful coastal roads making our way to the next checkpoint at the picturesque fishing village of Nusfjord. We rounded the buildings and into the shelter of the checkpoint.
The checkpoint was outside but we made good use of the shelter with heaters and blankets. We could feel the icy wind blowing from the sea so tried not to spend too long tending to our needs. Somewhere in these opening kms I’d noticed my eyesight was a little bit hazy. I’d covered up my left eye and realised everything through my right eye was blurry. It occupied my mind for a while as I’d had something similar back in January when running the Tea Round in the lake district. By the end of the run I’d lost eyesight in my right eye. It came back when I woke the next day and I put it down to a bit of mild snow blindness after running for 13hrs in the snow. I’d made a note to myself to keep being aware of it as I’d a lot longer to run this time and it clearly wasn’t related to snow! We stocked up and refilled on more triple buns, emptied our shoes of excess sediment from the bogs and warmed our hands under the hot water tap. 8 hours and 40km covered, we’d reclaimed a little time and were confident of the impending cut off at Napp. Which was good, because the next section to Napp was said to be particularly challenging and we were warned by he Race Director during the race briefing not to be deceived by the relatively flat route profile for this section. We continued to hold on to that belief that, if we got through this next section, things would become little bit easier. We just set our sights on Napp 19km away and headed off towards our target…
By now it was night time. Night time was a little different here as we were inside the Arctic Circle. During these months of the year, the area receives 24 hour daylight. Not having the changing atmosphere as darkness set in was certainly an unusual experience for us. Hopefully it would mean our tiredness would also be kept at bay and the daylight would help keep us awake – we were tired with the long day of travel, early start and effort of the first 40km. Anything that would keep us moving forward would be welcomed. The road out of Nusfjord continued for a few km, we passed some drying fish (we’d learnt about the fishing industry and exports of dried fish heads to countries like Nigeria from some local runners on the bus ride out) before we headed into the forests and started climbing.
It started with a slow and steady climb on loose scree. We jokingly (seriously) hoped this was the ‘technical’ element. Of course it wouldn’t be. We climbed further and the visibility got less and less as we entered the mist. We barely climbed 150m before we began descending on more of the same terrain with a well defined path and limited visibility. Inevitability more marsh and bogs lay in wait as we left the path and head off track with several more smaller climbs and descents to cover as we made our way back towards the coast.
Once we reached the coastline it was a particularly treacherous coastal section. I just recall boulder after boulder putting further stress on our tiring legs. More ‘light’ scrambling and scaling waterfalls (frustratingly my GoPro battery was playing up here so I’ve no visual records of this whole section, the professional photographer photos however capture a little of this brutal terrain!). It was beautiful and surreal but arduous at the same time. I don’t think I’d imagined that I’d spend so much time on his race on all fours in the water trying to haul my ass upwards. It was very slow going. The weather didn’t relent and we were cold and frustrated. I had three pairs of gloves on and had started ripping the waterproof over-gloves from all the climbing on jagged rocks. After what felt like a lifetime of navigating the coast we found ourselves upon the ‘small’ ladder mentioned in the briefing (mentioned as a safety notice as the bottom was a little broken), but it wasn’t quite what I’d envisaged. It looked huge to me. Not long, just oversized. Like it was made for some Nordic God. Down we went, my hands barely able to wrap around the rungs of the ladder and hopping to safe ground near the bottom. From here the theme continued as we descended further, still battered by the wind and rain. We had now resorted to sitting on our bums to lowered ourselves through cracks and gullies. My waterproof over mittens were now ripped and a hole torn open. I questioned why I buy myself nice kit and then do these events and break everything!
It probably wasn’t as bad as I remember, but it did take us a long time. Looking back it took us about 2 and a half hours to cover 10km along this coast. We had a few small navigation errors as we tried to keep the pink flag markers in sight. I can’t recall how, but it eventually came to an end. Somehow we came out into the village of Napp, ran along the road and found the school where the next checkpoint was. We were relieved, we’d been going for about 12 and a half hours now and were very much in need of a rest. Thankfully Napp was where our first drop bag could be retrieved and we had time. We took about an hour here sorting ourselves out. As we started changing our clothes a thoughtful volunteer started mopping up the water that we were leaking. It was everywhere. She also appeared with a bucket when Matt had a coughing fit. He had to reassure her he was ok. We’d planned this stop ahead and all had plenty of warm, and spare kit to change into. With warm kit on and more soup and triple buns consumed, I set about ‘preparing’ my feet for the next section. I was surprised that they had held up so well. Compared to the others, my feet looked great and in far better shape. The waterproof socks had worked wonders. I cleaned them up and dried them off, applied fresh compeed and taped over my soles, heels and little toes. A fresh pair of socks (more waterproof ones!) and dry shoes finished off the pitstop. I wasn’t making the same mistakes I’d made last week in Romania and was super confident that I was managing my body better.
After a good dry out and reorganisation we set off. We even had toasty fingers after warming our gloves a little on a radiator (spare dry gloves would be the one addition I would have made to my drop bags in hindsight!)! From Napp it was a short road section before a 2km stretch through an underground tunnel. By now it was about 2am (so confusing with the day light!) so there was minimal traffic in the tunnel. A lorry did pass us as we were ascending out of it and and the roar and echo was deafening. Being on flat ground, I ran this section with my Buff covering my right eye to try and ‘rest it’ a little bit and hopefully give the eyesight a chance to recover. I looked like a right Pratt.
Emerging from the tunnel we looped back on ourselves for a circumnavigation of a big ol’rock – the mountain Offersøykammen. It stood there prominently for the whole section as we ran around it. It started with gentle trails which soon became became wetter and rockier. Before we knew it we were back on boulders, scrambling along the coastline and deviating onto wetter sections where safer (we heard the following day that a runner fell and broke their ribs along this rocky section, we don’t know if that was substantiated or not though). There were a group of runners here. We talked a little bit acknowledging the difficulty of the course and conditions. As the race description says ‘this section is hardly any trail and more technical following the rocky coastline’. It was nothing but accurate! The trail looped us out onto the road which we’d now follow on a diverted course – due to local land restrictions this year, we’d avoid another coastal section to the north and instead loop south to Leknes and Brustranda before re-joining the original route further along the E10 road. We ran through Offersøy and continued on the road to Leknes.
The group of us jogged on in our own paces. Interchanging leaders and varying progress along the road. We felt we put a pretty solid shift in and ran consistently here with short walking breaks as the road inclined. We were aware that these long road sections, as tiring as they were, would be our only chance to gain some ground in a race against the clock. We made good progress, although we could all feel that fatigue was beginning to set in. We’d been up most of the night and the benefits of constant daylight was starting to wane as it was now passed 04:30 in the morning. After hitting the cross roads at Leknes it was a straight line to the checkpoint at the hotel. We entered and the first thing that struck us was that it was so warm. It was great. The smell of warm food filled the room. We discussed having a power nap so found a table and put our heads straight to rest with a timer set for 10 minutes. We needed a recharge. As we woke we went in for the food. There was a sausage (single!) and some wraps that we shared. We tucked in and, at 30 mins, probably stayed a little longer than we should have but we were ready to go again and very much needed to close our eyes for a short while. Most of the same runners who’d arrived before or after us were still here too, so we weren’t overly concerned as we braved the cold once more.
The next section was about 17km and mostly road as we followed the diverted course to Brustranda. Almost immediately my feet started to hurt. I was a little frustrated as they’d felt so good up until now and we were only half way through the race. I’m not sure if it was the long road sections or something else (thicker socks in the shoes?) but I could feel the start of some feet troubles. There wasn’t anything I felt I needed to do immediately, but I couldn’t ignore it for too long! The road running continued with a long up hill hike and a gravity fuelled downhill trot. The rain was intermittent now and we were commenting about how frustrated we were of taking our hoods off and putting them back on again. The temptation to leave it off was high, but it was still very cold, even here inland further from the coast. From the down hill the road continued what felt endlessly. We weaved around the landscapes with more breath-taking views as we made our way back to the coast at Justad. Here we ran again with the ocean on one side and steep dominating mountains on the other. We’d pass through small settlements as we continue along the coastline. A photographer passed in his van, pulled over and snapped us before continuing on again. We sensed (prayed) that the section would soon end but the inlet where the ocean met land seemed so far away in the distance. Our run had become a jog and our jog had become a plod. My feet were on fire and I knew I couldn’t wait beyond the next checkpoint to address them. It took us about an hour and 40 minutes to cover the 10km before we came upon the campsite at Brustranda Fjordcamping and entered the warmth and sanctuary of indoors. We were loving these checkpoints. They were all well stocked, spacious and warm!
As Matt and Paul went about refuelling I went to work on the feet. Blisters had formed on the pads of my feet and on the heels and more hotspots were becoming apparent along the soles. I dried the feet, removed the tape, applied another four compeeds (supplementing those still in place from the last touch up!) and secured with fresh, dry tape and new socks again. It still hurt but I was hopeful it would minimise the damage that was now inevitable. I packed up and we left. No refuelling here for me. I’d have to make do with my own, ample supplies on the go. A slightly quicker pitstop at around 20 minutes this time. We’d covered about 95km by now in just over 20 hours. Despite the extra stops and rests this felt like a good time, even if all the other runners we’d been near had now left us behind and picked up the pace.
As we left we took note of the specifics of the next section. At 24km it was the longest of the route. It also had one of the biggest climbs (although still a mere baby at about 450m) of the route. We started the slow climb. Stopping shortly so Matt could quickly assess and fix his own feet after feeling some discomfort shortly after leaving Brustranda. With a long way to go it wasn’t wise to wait until we next stopped. This gave me the chance to take on some food. As we started off again the climb started to increase in steepness. We meandered through streams and muddy tracks before huffing and puffing our way up into the clouds. The climb was broken up slightly as we made our way towards Vårliheia and Tjønndalsheia. Up top, there was snow on the ground in places but otherwise vast hills of nothingness. The views were endless but the terrain barren and bare. It snowed a little and the wind really picked up so we tried to keep moving and get off the summit as quickly as we could. Mostly off track, we made our way down along soft (of course wet!) lumpy ground similar to somewhere like the Brecon Beacons (Matt and Paul often related the terrain to the Highlands, but I don’t have that experience for comparison).
We lost track of the route a few times and I was slowing behind Matt and Paul on the long twisting downhills. I slipped at one point in comedy fashion. The wet flat grass beneath my feet caused me to slide and turn before I fell backwards on my bum and slid down on my back, coming to a gentle stop in the wet grass. I laughed it off but was a little annoyed at how wet my gloves now were (these were my dry gloves that had been kept dry when wearing the waterproof over-gloves in the rainy sections) and how cold my hands would now be. Still, nothing to do other than pick myself up and try and catch up with the others.
Once regrouped we emerged off the mountain and back on to a road. Here we’d follow the road all the way around the lake Innerpollen. Whilst thankful to once more be on a dry and stable road, it was a good 17km that lay ahead of us. The view of the lake from the mountain put it into daunting perspective – it was a long way to run after more than 100km and almost 25 hours of running!
I find that in most long distance, endurance runs there is a section where the memory becomes a bit of a blank. This navigation around Innerpollen was it for me in Lofoten. For Matt and Paul too I suspect. I can recall the road, the views, how we were feeling and the distorted passage of time. What I can’t recall is how it took us as long as it actually did! Looking back at the GPS data, it took us about 3 hours and 20 minutes to cover about 14km after we got down and away from the mountain. Almost twice as long as the 10km section leading in to Brustranda when we were hurting and plodding around the coast. At the time it felt long, but it didn’t feel like it was that long! We were very tired now. The weather had dried up and it was warmer than at any point in the last 24 hours. The problem now was that all three of us were bonking at the same time. This is quite unusual that we all become so synchronised in our tough and difficult periods. Normally at least one person is in a position to take control and lead, dragging the others on with a bit of intention. Not this time. I think in our bonks we slipped into a state of limited consciousness. By that I mean we were moving forward, just with limited momentum and purpose. We were stumbling side to side, each of us closing our eyes and experiencing little day dreams (I kept jaunting awake when I repeatedly mistook the white lines on the roads as planks of wood at head height that I was about to walk in to!). Matt was doing his best to try and keep us focused, trying to engage us both in conversation. He did a great job, asking simple and specific questions to generate discussions and get us talking. Sadly I don’t think Paul and I were that responsive though. I also recall the endless amount of toilet stops I needed along this road. I don’t think I’ve ever been so hydrated in my life!
As our stumbling continued we focused on the next check point at Torvdalshalsen where we’d get our final drop bag. We’d already agreed that we needed another power nap once we reached the check Point. There would be a few mountain passes and ridges to overcome later in the course and we weren’t in any fit sate at that point to attempt them. As we neared the checkpoint we started to be passed by the leaders of the 50 mile and 50 mile relay races. This gave us a little focus as we clapped and cheered them passed.
In the distance the pink flag at the aid station could be seen. We made our way there, smiled and laughed with the race director and volunteers as we entered, retrieved our bags and went to sleep with our heads on the table once more. I requested 15 minutes on the timer this time and Matt obliged. As we woke we found another lady on the hundred mile race had caught up with us. I was happy for her as I remember her from the aid station at 20km and she was worried about making the 14 hour cut off at Napp. It also shocked us a little into action. She was once more worried about the next cut off, so Matt started crunching the numbers. She was right to be worried. The calculations weren’t good news! We had about 27km to go to the next cut off (around 144km in) but only 6 hours to make the cut off. Given progress throughout the last 28 hours, this was going to be tough. The profile of the next section just made it a struggle before we’d even begun. The next 15km had a lot of the ‘lumpier’ sections of the route with 2 climbs of about 350m each. Sandwiched between them were smaller climbs and descents. Once we climbed the second mountain and descended to the coast we then had a 12km road section to the check point with the cut off. It was going to be tight. We set ourselves a target of 4 hours for the first 15km in the mountains and then 2 hours to navigate the coastal road. It was ambitious but it was all we had. I patched my feet once more, fresh socks and fresh shoes and we headed back out.
By now loads of 50 mile runners had passed us and we could see the route way off in the distance marked by dots of runners ahead of us. Refreshed and up against the clock we were moving with purpose again. The first climb was arguably forgiving in terms of terrain with a well defined single track leading the way. We passed some photographers we remembered from the boat ride the day before and they cheered us on. We were feeling it, the joy of the trails and the pressure of the chase. We were blocking out our pains now and power hiking up the hill and jogging where we could along the flatter parts and descents. In between the two big climbs the trail descents again gave way to the mud and we found our progress slowing. The flatter sections connecting the climbs were off track along more soft, marshy terrain with huge tufts of foliage to clamber over. I felt my right knee twist and twinge. The pain was instant, but I just added it to the list of things to ignore.
As we rounded corners and mini-summits, we followed the lines of runners. Then our Jaw dropped as we saw the ascent into the clouds ahead of us. Silhouettes of runners disappearing into the sky. Like all the climbs out here, the elevation gain was incredibly deceptive. I don’t think that 350m elevation gain is a big climb. The steepness and terrain however tells a different story. We sucked it up and slowly followed the runners into the clouds. The time pressure pushed us on and we summited with about 3 hours to go before the cut off. We were trying to estimate the distance remaining in this section and settled on about 6km or so. We thought a 1 hour downhill 6km was still achievable. Lofoten had different plans for us though. The descent began with a traverse along a ridge. The snow was falling and the wind had picked up again (it was late evening again now). In the race briefing this was one of two sections the organisers were monitoring and would divert us if the bad weather predicted took hold. The weather wasn’t as bad as expected so they deemed it safe for us to continue. Safe, but that doesn’t mean easy!
The ridge was a little intimidating. I’ve been on worse, but probably not after 30 hours of running. I was thankful though that my eyesight had fully returned (it had at some point earlier in the day but I hadn’t acknowledged it!) and I began leading us on our descent. The benefit of the ridge was that we covered significant elevation drop very quickly once we were off the ridge. The downside was it slowed us significantly and we had a real battle on our hands now. I was clock watching constantly, watching the minutes disappear. We sensed we were nearing the coast and the next check point, but the path kept winding us away in all different directions. We were back in wet marsh land, meandering through mud and streams, slowly but surely heading to the coast.
Eventually we hit the road and saw the check point in the café. It was quarter passed 6 in the evening. We were behind our pressured schedule. We had to stop and grab water and refuel. It was chaos we were all over the place, spilling drinks and food and trying the patience of the ever so helpful volunteers. We turned it around in under 5 minutes and set off. We had a little less than 1 hour and 40 mins to cover 12 km on the coastal road.
We still believed, somewhat naively, that we could make it. In our favour was a burning desire not to give up, to keep on going, to not fail. We clang to the hope of ‘its a road section’. Against us were so many factors: 130 km and 30 hours of fatigue and pain in our bodies. Our performance – at the best of times it takes me 55 mins to an hour to complete a 10km road run, to expect near similar performance now was unrealistic. The road was also against as it had ever so slight undulations and climbs, changes in elevation between 5 and 10m were enough to derail our attempts at consistent running. We also knew we couldn’t sustain a running pace for an hour and a half. We’d have to break it up with some walking.
We were plodding along full of beans and belief, maybe less than a km after leaving the check point, when Paul was crunching the numbers and working out our pace. Whilst we felt satisfied with our sub 8 min/km pace, Paul put it into perspective that it still wasn’t good enough. At that pace it would still take us over an hour and a half to cover the remaining 11km. We ground to a halt and walked the long gradual incline we were on. So many thoughts going through our heads as we tried to work out different ways to approach and over come this section. We continued with the run walk strategy and ticked off km after km. Each one we ticked off made the picture ever more clear. We weren’t going to make it in time…
It wasn’t necessarily that we couldn’t make the cut off, we still believed we could. It was more what it meant to make the cut off ever so tightly. After the next check point we still had approximately 20km to cover with the larger climb of the route and a longer mountain ridge section to cover. Before we could attempt that we at least needed a few minutes to stop and refill our water. Getting in at the cut off wasn’t enough, we really needed to arrive at least 5 to 10 minutes under the cut off. We were in a unique juxtaposition now. The more we ran, the more we exhausted ourselves and the harder it came to continually push the pace. But the more likely we’d make the cut off, but also the more likely we’d then crash and burn.
The saga continued as we reached the crossing at Sundklakk. Way off in the distance we could see the Gimsøystraumen bridge which we’d cross before the checkpoint at Kleppstad, our target. I think it was here that reality started to set in and when we really started to accept our fate. We had little over 30minutes remaining. Some 50 mile runners and, to our surprise, two more ladies on the 100 mile race caught us. We really believed we were the back of the pack, well, we were now! The other runners seemed overly optimistic (good for them!) that they were going to make it. They kept telling us it was only a few kms to go. We thought differently, believing it was longer (and were right, it was still about 5 kms before we passed over the bridge and into the check point).
These 5 kms were some of the longest I’ve ever run. Fighting the losing battle against time. Defying ourselves not to give up, but simultaneously accepting more and more with each step that we just wouldn’t make it. The inevitable happened and we gave in to the long walk to the checkpoint. No amount of pushing through the pain and running would change our destiny now. We walked more and ran less. Not long after our walk lost its purpose again and we talked and cheered each runner passing us that still held onto the dimming glow of hope. After a slow walk over the bridge, we arrived at Klepsatdd. It was like a ghost town. The Arctic Triple Trail flag being the only indication that this was the aid station. We tried the doors but couldn’t get in. It looked closed and locked off, chairs on top of tables and darkness inside. Eventually Matt found someone inside who directed us to the door. We still couldn’t get in. In our tired state we’d completely missed another side door that was the way in (in our defence it was clad the same as the building!). The lady greeted us with a very stern “You’re Late”. We asked if we could continue, she didn’t see the funny side and reiterated that we were late.
Part of us did want to continue, we’d come so far after all. But we accepted our fate was sealed. The final few kms of walking had meant we were now well passed the cut off and another one loomed in less than 4 hours after the next mountain ascent and pass. No way would we have made that, even if we had made this cut off in time!
Inside we saw most of the runners who’d passed us on the road. None of them had made it in time either. The volunteers were helpful and gave us warm food and drinks and information as to when a bus would be available to take us back to Svolvaer. There was one leaving soon which we might have been able to jump on but in our politeness we let someone else take the last spaces. We might not have been so polite if we’d realised we’d have to wait another hour for the next one!
Back in Svolvaer we had to walk to the finish line to return our trackers, collect our bags and ponder “what could have been” watching people finish the race. The consolation was a lovely fish burger available to runners which certainly warmed us up and filled our bellies a little. It was now nearing midnight and I was eager to wash the bogs off before getting some sleep and beginning the long journey home the next day…
Reflections
- What an adventure! Lofoten is so wild and remote. The little villages we ran through were so isolated and peaceful. The back drop of towering mountains and the ocean is an incredible combination. It is such a beautiful place and one I’m glad to have explored a little.
- Despite the result, we loved it. The race organisation and volunteers were fantastic (the race briefing was very informative!), the check points and support were brilliant and the location was just unreal!
- The boat ride only made the whole experience even better!
- The terrain out there is gnarly! I’ve done a lot of trail running around the world on some difficult terrain. This was something extra though. I described the mountains like someone had chopped the tops off them and just placed them close to the sea. At only 300m – 500m+ elevation it felt like you were over 2000m up. The mountains very quickly become steep, sharp rocks. The weather up high changes rapidly and varies significantly from that just a few hundred meters lower down. When not in the mountains, it is just wet. Consistently probably the longest I’ve spent in bogs. Far more so than runs in Snowdonia and the notoriously boggy Cheviots!
- A phrase Paul used was “you’re not in Kansas any more Dorothy”. This was so true and to the point. A lot of the ‘big’ European races in the likes of France, Spain, Italy, UK, Austria, Switzerland etc., have exceptionally good trails. If you’re looking for well maintained single track trails, this part of Norway is not for you.
- I thought the road sections would make it easier. I anticipated we’d have greater control over our pace and when we ran and when we walked. They didn’t, they just sapped our energy and enthusiasm. Our bodies had different plans for the roads. That said, the landscape was still incredibly beautiful, even when running along the roads.
- My perception of time has been completely warped. I’d describe this as one of the harder races I’ve done. Although, making the vaguest attempts to compare races – we covered the 100km distance in about 6 hours less time than it took me to run Transylvania 100km the week before. Compared to the more forgiven Alpine and Pyrenees trails, we were on course for a far quicker 100 mile time than what we achieved at Val D’Aran or UTMB (broken ankle aside!). This felt longer and harder in parts than these races. The cut-offs are tighter that is for sure!
- Let’s be straight, we failed. I hate all the self-motivating and congratulatory crap around ‘but I did not fail’ people use when referring to DNFs (Did Not Finish) classifications. We absolutely did fail. We set out to run 100 miles and knew the cut offs. We didn’t finish the course and we didn’t achieve what we set out to. Say what you want, this is a failure. It is black and white for me.
- The failure doesn’t subtract from what we did achieve though. 90 miles and 32 hours – it was one hell of an adventure and exactly what we signed up for. Only 22 of the 47 starters went on and finished the 100mile event.
- Looking back, how do I feel about not finishing? Surprisingly ok about it. Yes it hurt, yes it was frustrating, yes there was and is still disappointment. But I’m ok with it. There doesn’t feel like there is anything to ‘deal’ with. We had the adventure we set out for, we’ve memories that will last a life time. I think I’d feel differently if we were timed out earlier – image it happened at Napp after 56km, then it be pissed and annoyed and would definitely feel a need to try again. As it stands I am completely at peace with it. I don’t feel a desire to got do those last 10 miles.
- Perhaps I’m ok with the DNF because we didn’t give up. Right up to those last few kms we were fighting. If it was an option, we definitely would have continued as well. I believe there is a big difference in not finishing because you are timed out or medically withdrawn and whether you make the decision yourself. Maybe I’m being arrogant, but the decision was made for us, that makes it easier to stomach.
- Where did it go wrong? Immediately after, and for the next few days we couldn’t really figure out. We felt we were ok. Possibly we were just enjoying it too much and took our eyes off the cut offs a little too. Thinking back there are a few clear places. The stops – time at check points was very much needed, but a few 30 min stops plus the hour at Napp certainly affected our overall time. Mainly though, the road section around Innerpollen is where I believe we lost too much time. All three of us succumbing to fatigue and tiredness at the same time meant we just took too long on this section, far longer than it should have. Ultimately though, we just couldn’t cover the terrain quick enough. That is on us. And not something that I think has any real learnings associated to it. The route and course was just better than us and more than we were capable of.
- Norway might be my running nemesis. Trails are a bit different there. Last year Stranda Fjord almost had the better of me (and I would have been timed out there too if it wasn’t for changes to the route due to the weather conditions!). Possibly the hardest race I’ve done. This year Lofoten finished me off. I’d quite like to live in Norway though!
- We got Viking’d. Pillaged and laid to waste.
2022 – The Journey
Close to Christmas I was having a discussion with Paul which summed up the year and also my outlook on running. In short it’s all about the journey, the adventure. Both literally and metaphorically. We were discussing our motivations and what we wanted out of runs and future plans we we contemplating. This was our joint take away. If it isn’t an adventure, it no longer appeals to us. There are now so many marathons and ultras dotted around the UK (and beyond) that are so easily accessible, but what is the point if it doesn’t challenge and push you somewhere new? What is it really that intrigues us to sign up and tempts us into pressing that ‘sign up’ button?
We’ve been fortunate enough to travel to spectacular places and go on some truly magical adventures. We’ve found that , for us, it is that journey, from the start line to the finish line, which is an experience and a wild ride we desire. We want to feel not only the highs and validations of completion, but the extreme lows and challenges faced to get there. We want to be challenged.
Looking back on 2022 there were certainly plenty of challenges and achievements and one hell of a journey. 2022 literally broke me (just physically I’m glad to say!). My mind ventured to some dark places despite the incredible things my eyes were seeing, but, I didn’t yet find the limit of what I’m capable of. And, looking ahead (more to come on that) I probably (certainly) haven’t learnt from the hard lessons I’ve endured. I’m knowingly setting myself up to repeat the same mistakes in 2023, only bigger.
After I wrote these words I went back and read my opening thoughts for the year – “More of the Same“. It was like a prophecy. In this post, and last year’s reflections, I talk about similar themes, about the heavy belly, the wanky ankles and laid out the 9 events I was planning for 2022. It was never really going to be these 9 as there were two events booked on the same day, and the Centurion Wendover Woods 50 was always going to lose out to the Eiger Trail! For the first time in years the plan didn’t get stretched! This was mostly due to the injuries – my volume of running was significantly lower than the previous 3 years (best part of 50% less distance covered and marathons/ultras run!). So what did 2022 involve…
2022 started with some self inflicted injury. Over the Christmas period 2021 I ran a 55km from the coast in Swansea to Penller’ Castell, finishing near-ish to where my parents live. It was a tough but enjoyable solo adventure and one I’m certain caused me some problems with my ankles. Specifically the right one. I carried this forward into the year. I did get a little unsupported FKT on it for my pains though!
Event wise, first up was a flat 45 miler in February at the St Peter’s Way Ultra with Carl. I came through relatively unscathed and enjoyed the run more than expected and felt the ankle was ok throughout, despite some very muddy sections. What I didn’t enjoy was the difficulty of the logistics to get out and back to this ultra on a Sunday starting and finishing in the arse ends of nowhere.
The following month, the ankle issues flared up a little as I toed the line of the Hardmoors 55. After a difficult start, the pain numbed away and my mind was distracted enough to get through this notoriously tough winter ultra. Only for us it didn’t feel like a winter ultra as we benefitted from glorious sunshine throughout. This was my first trip to the North York Moors and it didn’t disappoint. Most of the run was spent with Jon and Reka and some of it with Jess and Giffy too. A wicked weekend with great mates. Post race the ankle seemed ok.
Next up was an exciting trip to Macedonia and the beauty of Lake Ohrid with with Natalia, Paul and Lisa. This was an unexpected gem and a wild adventure for sure. Everything I wanted and more from the trip – Mishaps and confusion throughout the drive from Albania to Macedonia, amazing food and atmospheres in the picturesque lakeside town and then insane weather and storms throughout the run. The 100km route was diverted and, for the first time, I was held mid race due to safety concerns. Paul and I timed (almost mistimed due to a rather large navigation mistake on our part) our pace on the 100km to meet up and run with Natalia on the 60km. Together we made our way through the storms, albeit not as fast as Natalia would have liked – I was beginning to accept my ankle injury was a little limiting on my pace now. From an organisation perspective this was one of, if not the best organised event I’d done. For such a low-key ultra in a remote location, the organisers really looked after us and ensured our safety. As a result it was one of my favourite running trips of the year!
Natalia and I then squeezed in a trip to Austria and a few great hikes in the Dachstein Krippenstein region overlooking Hallstatt before a month later it was back to the Serpent Trail for me and the scene of one of my first 100km runs. This year I was the sidekick to Nick who was running his first 100km. It pretty much went to plan (if you ignore the side effects of a burger van meat feast the night before) and he finished happy that he’d done it but certain his enjoyment was in slightly shorter distances. For me it was surreal to relive the route and recall such vivid and specific memories from 3 years earlier!
The Serpent Trail was a great ‘warm up for me’ as I was then jetting off to Switzerland for the much anticipated Eiger Ultra Trail. I’d been trying to get a place in this run since 2018 and was excited to see the Grindelwald region in all its splendour. It didn’t disappoint and the landscape was breathtakingly beautiful. The trip was enhanced with a reunion with Matt who we met during the Val D’Aran the year before. Soon we’d be lining up at the start line of UTMB together so it was great to get to know each other more in Switzerland beforehand. Whilst we didn’t run the whole race together, we all came away with our pieces of the Eiger Rock as medals – a medal I’d Been wanting since I started running and heard about. Best medal of the year.
August came around and it was time for the real adventures to begin. I’d planned a trip to Norway followed by three weeks in France before UTMB. Sandwiched in between I was honoured to be a guest at Paul and Lisa’s incredible wedding out in Chamonix. First up was the Stranda Fjord trail race which turned out to be harder than I could ever have imagined. The weather was horrific. The terrain was wild. The course was challenging. I don’t know how I made it through but I did. However, the SFTR did leave its mark on me and on reflection I suspect the damage to my ankles was really done in Norway. It does win the vote for my hardest race of the year though – It broke my kit, it broke me mentally and it broke me physically. And I didn’t have the promised panoramic views to enjoy. I must say though, many months later, I think I’m starting to come to terms with the race. My immediate thoughts post race were a little blunt and this should by no means reflect badly on the organisers, it was my own (lack of sufficient) preparation that is to blame.
The wedding, up in Montenvers Mer-De-Glace overlooking the Chamonix Valley, was a great opportunity to relax and forget about my Norwegian adventure whilst preparing for UTMB. It was such an honour to be invited to the wedding of someone I’ve not only met through running but become so close with. Paul is both the voice of reason and the voice of temptation when it comes to the ‘longer’ ultras. When times get challenging, it is Paul who you want by your side! To witness him exchange his vows with Lisa in a place so special to them was the most touching and inspiring moment of my year. Sharing that week with them and their close family and friends was a lovely distraction from running in the lead up to the ‘big dance’…
UTMB is a dream race for many people. For me it was more of a ‘tick box’ but one I was sure glad to be doing. I earnt my place at the infamous start line and I know many will never get that same opportunity, especially now as the restricted registration process has become so commercialised. Paul, Matt and I were focused and determined. We were finishing no matter what happened. One thing we share in common is this desire and determination to see it through and that’s what we did. I don’t know how I persevered in pain for over half the course, but I did, probably because of them. I know they were my extra level of strength that weekend and I’m so glad to know and run with them, to cross that finish line with them and their families, supported by Lisa, Lara, Mike, Martin and all the friends out in Chamonix who cheered us throughout the race. It was a truly special moment that I will cherish forever. I felt emotions that day I’ve never experienced before with ultra running.
The come down though was hard. Harder than I expected. Unknowingly I’d broken my ankle during the race and fractured my Talus bone. The irony was that I broke the opposite ankle to the one I’d suffered issues with all year and which I strapped up for the race! I didn’t actually find out that the ankle was broken until 4 weeks after the event. After initially being told it was “an infection from an insect bite” (!!) from a nurse at an NHS walk-in clinic, I popped into A&E 3 days after the race. Nothing obvious was seen but I took the offer of a walking boot whilst I waited for an appointment with the Fracture Clinic 4 weeks later, which is when I found out it was broken. It was good to know why I was in pain and also fortunate timing as it was now time to start weening off the cast and easing myself back into walking. In total it was 9 weeks without running which was unheard of for me. At first, whilst I had the cast, it was fine (perhaps the distraction of starting a new job the week after UTMB helped), but soon the withdrawal was hitting and the craving was coming back. Luckily though I had one more race booked in way off in December and I was able to focus on making that start line.
In November I started running again. I had 4 weeks to the race so just went straight back to increasing distances. 5 km runs the first week. 10 km runs the second week. 20 km runs the 3rd week and then back to back runs the 4th week. I couldn’t do it any other way. I knew the risks but wanted to get to the Cheviot Goat and get it done. After years of waiting I didn’t want to postpone this one any longer. I started that Cheviot Goat with more than a little extra timber and baggage after so little training and had nothing but hope and reliance on experience that I could get to the finish line. Thankfully I stuck with Jon and Yvette throughout to survived the baron landscape of the Cheviots. Like how the year started, we ran a notorious winter ultra with incredible summer-like conditions. We were so fortunate.
As the year ends, my ankles still aren’t 100%, but I’m confident they are strong enough, for now. The amount of running I’ve done this year is significantly less than previous years and I’ve lost all routines and consistency I’ve had. It’s been an incredible year for me again but it hasn’t been without struggle, self pity and doubt. All I can do now is take a moment and reassess, rebuild and re-focus. The only way I know how to do that is to sign up for more, for bigger and harder challenges. So that is exactly what I’ve done. Roll on 2023.
As always the constants in 2022 where the people. From all those loved ones and friends I share the trails with, to new friends made along the way, to the team at Maverick Race who indulge my habits and let me help out and volunteer, these are the kindred spirits who provide the adventures, the challenges, the love of running I experience.
My final thoughts for the year are my two observations. Firstly, my desire to persevere, to block out pain and to see it through is possibly stronger than I’d thought. I’m now not sure what my limit is and what would need to happen for me to decide to withdraw from a race. What I do know though is that broken bones won’t stop me if there is time to hobble to the end! Secondly, running without any fear is easy. I’ve not had to experience fear crippling my mind and my ability to make decisions when running. Those who experience true fear but continue to push on, these are the truly strong ones among us!!
Cheviot Goat
It feels strange. I feel like I should be experiencing some form of runner’s high, but I’m not. I don’t quite know how to describe it, it almost feels like I’ve travelled back in time to a lesser experienced version of my running self…
I’m putting it down to a few things. Firstly, for a few years now I’ve been going from one race to another, month after month and often week after week. After breaking my ankle during the UTMB in September, I’ve not had a big running adventure for 3 months. I’ve barely run in that time. So my fitness has gone on a little holiday and I felt more like I did when I first started running ultras, things felt unfamiliar and hurt more than I am now used too. Add to that I’ve also not planned any further races for a while whilst I recover, so the mind and focus hasn’t immediately switched to the next challenge.
Secondly, The Cheviot Goat has been lingering on the horizon for quite sometime, almost 3 years since I first signed up early in 2020 it has been taunting me. Last year we got as far as going to the race location when it was cancelled (due to the aftermath of storm Arwen) and running our own (much shorter!) adventure around the Cheviots – the lesser ‘Cheviot Mutton’ as we dubbed it. So the Cheviot Goat has for a long time been on the ‘Ones that got away‘ list. Last year’s run, whilst great for experiencing the terrain and climate, kind of put me off doing the actual race a little.
So here I was, lining up for a race that I could no longer be bothered with, and really had limited confidence in how I’d physically cope. 9 weeks of rest and 4 weeks of short, easy running (most of which were on roads) was not the build up required to put me in a place where I was excited and looking forward to this run. Thankfully though I was fully prepared for it to be tough and knew I’d get through it somehow. I don’t give up, I won’t give up and I had Jon and Yvette to run with (assuming I could keep pace with them).
The logistics of the race were almost identical to the year before, we even stayed in the same AirBnB in Wooler (and ate in the same restaurant, possibly even the same order for me (minus the dessert!)). We registered the night before and felt the cold in the air as we checked in with the Mountain Rescue volunteers (showing our emergency kit – it is mandatory to have warm layers sealed in a waterproof bag for this event which you can’t use to run in, as well as a bivvy bag – foil blankets won’t do shit out here!) and received our bib numbers and trackers. 10 hours later we were back at the start and ready to go.
For 2022 the route had been changed from previous years. We’d benefit from two aid stations with drop bags (roughly at 20 miles and 40 miles), however as a trade off the route was slightly longer and with more elevation. It didn’t matter that much to me, I had everything I needed and even put a complete change of kit into each drop bag. I was covered for all eventualities. The weather forecast was good, surprisingly good. For a race usually taking place in minus temperatures and either snow or rain, we had sunny spells forecast pretty much throughout and the only minus temperatures were “feels like” temperatures on the higher summits like the Cheviot itself. So I started in shorts. I wasn’t alone in this, there were a few others like me who no doubt overheat quickly and don’t really feel the cold in the legs. I had tights and longer waterproof socks in my first aid station and my plan was to change into these when we arrived there. On top I had a t-shirt and a merino base layer on with my super lightweight OMM sonic smock to keep the wind off. I started questioning my decision a little looking around at the thick down jackets and long trousers and water proof bobble hats many others were sporting at the start line. But I was more distracted by judging people’s footwear choice. I’d opted for the Adidas Terrex Soft Ground. They have absolutely naff all cushioning or support but mega grip. I wore them last year for the 50km we did and they filled me with confidence. I’d hoped to get my cushioning from the soft, boggy terrain. I was surprised to see many runners in more ‘normal’ trail shoes, with plenty of Hokas and Salomon shoes to be seen. I even saw someone in a pair of Brooks road shoes. This I wasn’t expecting!
Anyway, enough people judging. We were directed under the orange glow of the Montane starting arch and soon set off. The route began with a slow steady climb over the first few km to Cochrane Pike. Way off in the distance we could see headlamps disappearing into the darkness as we walked steadily. For the first hour or so it drizzled on and off. This meant I was pulling my waterproof jacket out, then not long later stopping to take off the windproof from underneath as I was too hot. Then stopping again to remove it when the rain stopped. I was fussing. I couldn’t settle. So far so good though. The first 10km or so the terrain was delightful. It was wet, but firm underfoot with very few areas of concern and we were able to cover the undulating route with ease in the darkness until the sun started to break as we ran towards and along Wether Cairn, the highest point in the first section of the race. From here we had a lovely runnable section as we descended. The last part of the descent down to the road was rather steep, but caused no issues. From here we snaked along the road before starting an ascent on the other side.
Jon and Yvette were doing a sterling job of navigating (I was being selfish and hadn’t turned on my own navigation route) and kept us on track when some runners further ahead missed a turn. We all joined back up though pretty much straightaway. I think it was somewhere along this section that we first encountered the bogs. I recall a few sections of relatively flat routes (between the climbs/descents) where we hoping from bog to bog for a while. It wasn’t easy. We don’t train for jumping. Whilst you could easily navigate around the majority, some required a leap of faith. As a bang average height male, none of the jumps were particularly challenging for me, but I couldn’t do that continuously for the rest of the run! We managed to navigate them with nothing more than soggy feet, or rather soggy socks thanks to wearing waterproof socks! It made me think that the stories you hear are all a little bit exaggerated. You’d either have to completely mis-time a leap (feasible!) or be intentionally looking to go into a bog more than knee high. Unless you are running super quickly without time to think/adjust direction or are running with your eyes closed, the bogs aren’t anywhere near as bad as people like to make out. Either way, we’d survived the first bog section and soon completed a few more climbs and descents and were somewhere near Barrowburn, where the aid station would be.
As we were approaching Barrowburn, the day was glorious. It was cold, but it certainly wasn’t anywhere near as cold as I’d expected. I’d been running in two thin layers all morning and only put my liner gloves on when we were bog hoping. With a few more hours of daylight ahead, I felt I could get away without changing into the tights for a bit longer. So planned to just eat and change my socks at the aid station. Arriving at the aid station we headed inside and took the risk of sitting on the comfy sofa whilst the volunteers served us warm soup and bread rolls. Perfect. I struggled to get the fresh socks on and we probably stayed here a little longer than planned. With a long climb to Windy Gyle to follow though we weren’t concerned by the length of our rest and knew it was time well spent to set us up for the next section which, arguably, would be the longest and toughest of the course. Refreshed we headed back out. Despite the sunshine, I added the OMM layer back on top. We were heading towards Scotland after all!
The section to Windy Gyle was delightful too. Slow steady climbs, mostly dry tracks to follow with some undulations. The views here though were fantastic with clear skies showing the rolling hills for as far as the eyes could see. The best bits though were numerous rainbows of insane clarity and brightness. I feel like we passed through the end of rainbows several times. No need for pots of golds though with the fulfilling views we had!
From Windy Gyle, before the section in Scotland we had a short stint along the Pennine Way and the infamous slabs (or Flag Stones – I did get side tracked on the way home reading about the difference between slabs and flags and still don’t know which is the correct term to use). These aren’t too enjoyable to run on. I think some runners do like it, but I’m not one of them. Hard, slippery and uneven, they aren’t particularly fun to run along. Yet they serve a purpose (or many!) particularly on the section later on to the Cheviot Summit which really do keep you away from the bogs. Once we reached the end of the planned route along the slabs we were welcomed to Scotland by the Mountain Rescuer Team (there were numerous points marshalled by mountain rescue on this route. They were all so friendly and helpful and really did keep all runners safe out on the course) and directed off the Pennine way towards the Farm at Cocklawfoot. As we navigated through the farm we were a little confused as there were a few ways the route could go and some signage which we weren’t sure was for us or not. We followed the GPS route and were soon confident we were heading the right direction as the climb towards the Cheviot began.
The climb to the Cheviot summit is the only section of the route we covered on our adventure the year before. We were approaching from a different route this time, but would join up at the Mountain Rescue Hut (Auchope Rigg) for the actual ascent. Like last year, we stopped at the hut for a little break and opportunity to adjust our kit. We sat in the hut chatting to two local lads as we layered up (waterproof on now as it hard started raining as well as warmer waterproof gloves and mittens overtop!) and ate. Chicken and chorizo empanadas for me, wraps for Jon and Yvette (yep, I was keeping pace with them so far!). This is ultra running! As we pressed back on and began the climb it started to Snow, just like it did the previous year, only not as heavy. Annoyingly though it was head on which was a little awkward as it meant I was head down trying to climb. Still until this point we’d been absolutely spoilt with the weather. We were making decent time too and should be able to get off the Cheviot before the sun started to go down. As we overcame the bulk of the climb, the snow eased off and we were rewarded with incredible sunset views over the glistening white hills.
The one thing we learnt from last year was that, once the climb was over, you are still not at the summit! There is a section of a few kilometres along the slabs again before you reach the actual Cheviot summit. Last year it was frustrating. This year it was a known formality. We’d go out along the stones and ‘tag’ the summit before returning along the same track and then descending a different direction. So along we went, cheered on by the Mountain Rescue team who were manning the turning at the return point. The section was dull. There aren’t many things you can truthfully say about it in a greying December evening. Its like some parallel universe from a sci-fi film, just bleak and cold. To your left and right, as far as you can see in the clag are dark bogs broken up only by glistening white snow on the firm sections. Deviate from the slabs and it is likely you’ll get pretty wet. From time to time slabs were ‘missing’, presumably consumed by the bogs. We gingerly crossed them, hoping they were just covered by a layer of water rather than missing altogether. The traverse was slow as we’d stop and give way to runners coming in the other direction. Eventually we reached the summit Trig Point, grabbed a team photo and then set back off towards the marshals.
And here, a little over halfway through at 55 kilometres, things began to get hard…..
We were in good spirits and in pretty good condition. Yvette seemed completely fine, Jon was starting to experience some knee/calf pains and my biggest issue were my left metatarsals hurting, which I think was a shoe/laces issue (I was constantly having to stop and re-tie the laces on the Adidas SGs which kept coming loose – perhaps a design flaw with the flat lace design?). Mentally we were happy, but that all started to change as we descended. The initial part of the descent was rocky. Whhhyyy. Rocks are my nemesis, why I do mountain ultras I do not know. The rocks were small, loose and very slippery. We were very slow to cover this section and to reach more forgiving terrain. Here Jon realised that it was the descents that were aggravating his knee/calf. Whilst the descent ended pretty quickly, it was probably the last time we ran as the ‘flat’ section towards BloodyBush Edge was just wet, boggy and covered in tussocks. The lumpy grass meant we were slow, rolling our feet and angles, bobbing from side to side and trying to avoid ploughing straight into a bog. The headlamps were out by now and runners around us were complaining they couldn’t feel their feet they were so cold (post race there were murmurs that one runner finished with a single shoe and hadn’t realised he lost one because his feet were so cold!). Waterproof socks were proving to be wise choice though as our feet were only cold when fully submerged in water,
The trek felt like it went on for ages, passing the next set of Mountain Rescue marshals as we ascended the short climb to Bloodybush Edge. This was by far my least favourite section of the race so far. From here we headed along an ‘ok’ kind of track towards Cushat Law where we began to descend again towards the next aid station at High Bleakhope. We left the track at Cushat Law and were going ‘off piste’, wandering around in the darkness trying to roughly align with our gps route. We weren’t the only ones. Head torches seemed to face all directions in the darkness and every now and then another head torch would join up with us from somewhere else and say “not that direction”. ‘Bleak Hope’ is a rather apt name for the location were we found ourselves at this point in the race! There was one runner who’d done the March edition (a one off event) and kind of knew where he was going and said we should join up with a quad track somewhere, which we eventually did. From here it was a little jog into the second aid station.
This aid station was in an open barn. There was a fire pit outside and chairs inside. We sat down and went to work. I stuffed my face with crisps, mini eggs, biscuits and a warm cup of coffee. I then decided to swap my thin lioner gloves for a drier pair (hoping they’d add a little more warmth), add a buff to my neck and swap the one on my head for a thin merino hat. This along with refilling my bottles and adjusting my bag seemed to take an age and Jon and Yvette were patiently waiting for me. I first needed to re-tie my laces (again) and then warm my hands by the fire before putting the gloves back on. Which also took an age as my fingers seemed to have swelled and didn’t easily fit back in. We did eventually leave and I was lifted by the knowledge that from here we would finish. I joked that I always say if you get to the last check point/aid station then you can get to the end. It amused me that the second aid station was also the last one on this race. Admittedly there was still a very long way to go and more bogs and obstacles lay in wait!
We had another climb straight from the aid station and then a reasonable descent. I think my mind switched off at this point as all I remember is a section where we had to turn left, only there was no way through thick, knee height heather. So for what felt like a very long time we were bimbling along lifting our tired legs high and then sinking further down than expected as the ground below disappeared. It was energy sapping. Like much of the course since we left the Cheviot, it was difficult to generate any sort of momentum even when walking. The uneven ground meant your stride was constantly interrupted with a wobble to the side or a rocking backwards motion. It required a lot of concentration to try and keep moving forward! A little later, we descended alongside a fence line down to a river where we found two head torches in the darkness pacing back and forth trying to find a way across. They’d seen other runners come this way but couldn’t see where they crossed. A small committee formed as maybe 7 or 8 of us looked for a way. Another runner joined on the other side of the fence and I climbed over and we found a place to cross a littler further along. From this point it was a very, very wet and muddy climb as we started to make our way towards Hedgehope Hill (the second highest point on the route).
Underneath us was some semblance of a man made path, some honeycomb type carpet laid out to try and provide some protection from the bogs. For the most part it was ankle deep below the surface of the water/mud and I remember it bouncing as we walked. At this point I’d given up all desire to navigate around any bogs or attempt to leap over them and was playing roulette trudging straight through. It wasn’t that bad though and once more I never lost my legs to anything more than kneed high.
As we approached the last ‘big’ climb up to Hedgehope, the snow started to fall, again head on. We’d been lucky and it had only rained a few times for short periods, once it was sleet and a few more light dustings of snow. With each though I was looking down at my feet to see where I was going and now my shoulders and neck were starting to ache. I hoped it wouldn’t last long. Thankfully by the time we completed the climb it cleared up and we were able to begin the descent. Albeit slowly as it was yet another slow trek as we navigated the mud and random broken fence posts sticking up out of the ground. For a small deviation we somehow left the path and went off on a tangent and had to trudge along a lumpy section to find our way back on course. I’d realise we went wrong on this section because I’d been following the muddy foot prints of previous runners, where the snow had been melted, to navigate around the bogs. What I hadn’t realised was I was soon following a single set of foot prints belonging to the runner ahead who’d made the wrong turn!
Somewhere along this descent Yvette and Jon mentioned we still had about 10km to go. This broke me a little as I felt like it should have been a lot less by then. We started a climb (I assume somewhere around Dunmoor Hill) which we all assumed was the last climb towards the end of the race, it wasn’t. This was also very rocky and slowed us down somewhat. A few km later at the bottom of the long descent, we caught a bigger group of runners and all got lost together. In the darkness with our tiredness we were all struggling to identify the correct way and would stop every now and then to climb a fence (there was a lot of fence climbing on this route!) to get back on track. Sometimes we’d be leading, sometimes others would be leading. Progress was slow and our moans and groans were becoming more audible. We eventually emerged on a road section and were cheered on by some more marshals. I felt the finish was imminent, but it wasn’t. We were now at Brough Law. The last climb and still a few kilometres from the finish line. Here we were circumnavigating Brough Law and not climbing over it. Jon and another lady were leading the way and pointed out we needed to climb a little higher onto a rocky path. We were ever so slightly scrambling now. Bloody rocks. Most of the pack left us and bum-skidded down and onto some greener tracks. They powered ahead. We continued on the rocky track and eventually emerged behind them on the climb.
After the ascent, as we descended for the last time it dawned on us how long we’d been out there. Yvette pointed out we’d been going for over 19 hours. We were hoping to be finished sometime between 10pm and midnight. I was now nearing 2 am. Bugger, it was going to be an exhausting journey home the next day! Not too long after our whinge at the time, we were back onto a sealed road and Yvette powered on ahead and Jon started running. He could sense the finish. I couldn’t give a shit at this point. We’d been walking for hours, I had no desire to run and finish minutes sooner. I plodded on behind them, passed some parked cars, over Ingram Bridge and onto the gravel track that led around the back to the Café, the finish line. Jon and Yvette waited for me and we walked through the Montane arches, into the café to finish the race together. Ben was waiting for us (legend, coming out in the middle of the night to support us) and we were handed our medals and had a finishers picture taken. We then went inside where Ben brought us all hot soap and bread.
We stayed as long as we could before the risk of falling asleep on the table became real. We collected our drop bags and Jon drove us back to Wooler where a warm shower and a cosy bed was waiting…
The Aftermath…
Let’s start with the ankle. It hurt the next day. I wasn’t sure if I’d done more damage and needed to wait until the ‘pains’ of the run settled before confirming if it was actually a problem with the ankle again or just the exertion of running 95km. Thankfully I think it was the later.
I didn’t come out of it completely unscathed though. I think I might have pulled both hamstrings a little. A week later and I still have two fist sized black bruises, one on each hamstring. For a few days afterwards I was in pain trying to walk/bend my legs. No idea how I managed that.
Mentally all is good. I started off writing about how I wasn’t arsed about this race. I think that somewhere during the last 3 years I’d built this event into a monster in my head. Severe weather, difficult terrain etc. Don’t get me wrong, it is very tough, but this year I’ve done a few races that have been beyond tough in comparison. So overall it wasn’t anywhere near as hard as I thought it would be. Mostly mild weather throughout and no waist high bog incidents. So a winner! Having good kit certainly helped!
For comparison though, runners who’d done previous versions of the route were indicating there was maybe an hour or two extra duration this year in their times. I’d expected close to 18 hours (and last year was even thinking 15 hours!) and it took us 20 hours, so timewise it would suggest it was tougher than I’d planned. And, for further comparison, this year Jon did the Lakeland 50 (another notoriously hard 50 miler) in 13 hours. This was almost 50% longer in duration.
I think the think I struggled with most was the disorientation of the darkness. Whenever we looked up, in all directions you could see head torches coming and going. It was difficult to get a bearing and a sense of where you’d come from or where you were going. For me this made navigation that little bit harder.
So despite the ‘bla-ness’ I’m experiencing post race, I’m bloody happy. Happy to have finally done the Cheviot Goat, happy that my ankle might be ok, happy that I didn’t get frost bite or sink to a slow, cold death in a bog and very happy to have had the company of Jon and Yvette throughout. Running with likeminded friends always makes it easier and these are two of the best running buddies you could ask for on an adventure.
Huge thanks to Coldbrew Events for putting on this bastard and to the Mountain rescue Teams for supporting us throughout.
Cheviot Goat, I won’t be back again!
Fuck You
When recapping my last race I mentioned how, during the Eiger Ultra Trail E101, I fell over for the first time in a race. We’ll I think it was a floodgate moment. In my next race I must have fallen about 50 times, no exaggeration, I spent a lot of time on my backside in Norway…
The Stranda Fjord Trail Race in Norway had been on the cards for a long time. Originally I signed up to the race back in 2019 and hoped to do the inaugural 100km run in 2020. But we all know what happened that year and the same cause meant 2021 also wasn’t possible for us. Oscar, the Race Director, was incredibly supportive in deferring entries until we could travel to Norway and race. So in 2022, a slightly smaller than planned group of us headed out to finally run in the fjells of Norway.
In the days leading up to the weekend it became increasingly clear that the weather was going to be less than ideal for the race. Clouds and rain meant a weather warning and amendments to the 100km route were activated for safety. At this point I was kind of ok with it. We can’t control or change the weather, and I was expecting the route to be very difficult. So removing some of the most difficult sections would be in my favour I thought. A small benefit to missing out on the legendary panoramic views from Slogen.
Nick and Natalia woke at 1am to escort me down to the town of Stranda for the start. An unnecessary and kind gesture from them both given they would need to wake up in a few hours to prepare for their 48km race. After collecting my GPS tracker I sat inside the building (where we collected our race numbers) with the other runners, waiting until it was almost 02:00 and time to run. We first lined up under the finishers arch before being led around the corner to the real start line. Here I fell for the first time, stepping in a hole in the concrete pavement, before the race had even begun!
Section 1: Start –Duklidalen
The course starts on the town square in Stranda. From Stranda you will first be running a few km on a asphalt road until you hit the trailhead on Framhus. From Framhus you will be running on a nice trail up to Dregetua (693) and then off trail over to Vardnakken (878masl) and further to Blåhornsvatnet on trail. From Blåhornsvatnet you will be running on a nice trail down to Vasset. From Vasset you will be running a few km on a gravel road until you hit the trailhead for the trail towards Lievarden (799masl) and Duklidalen (820masl). In Duklidalen you will find an aid station.
Excerpt from the Race Manual
Moments later and we were off, running the tarmac road switch backs for the first few kms. I was pleasantly surprised at this point that we stuck together mostly as one big group of runners and that I hadn’t been left behind completely.
The roads soon gave way to the forest and we began running in single file in the darkness. And it was very dark, something about it felt darker than the usual nights I’ve experienced. Though the trails were clearly lit by the dozens of head torches bobbing about.
Mostly it was silent now other than the sloshing sounds as we ran through puddles and muddy trails. I felt that most runners were, like me, trying to avoid getting their feet wet. I accepted that it would be wet but didn’t plan on being waterlogged for the whole race so was happy to skip around the trails when I could. I should have known better that weeks of rain in this area would have meant the ground conditions would be far worse than I imagined! It was soon clear that the trails would consistently be this way at the best of times.
Through the forests two things stood out in my memory. Almost getting lost – the spacing between runners was now increasing and a few of us lost sight of the runners ahead of us and this section was not course marked. A quick stop and check of the GPS and we were back on track before the damage was done! And a point where there was a delightful bunch of supporters with coloured lights and music who cheered us through one small section of the track. It created a good atmosphere and led to a few of us to start talking. Whilst talking to a few climbers who were doing the race it made me realise that most of the runners around me were head to toe in waterproofs (or wearing hiking trousers!) and there were very few like me in shorts and tshirts without a waterproof on. Even though it was drizzling with rain, I knew though that I’d overheat on the early climbs so was waiting until the climbs were exposed before I’d layer up.
After a little section on some wider gravel roads, the forests returned and became a little steeper and very, very muddy. Every now and then a series of wooden walkways assisted in avoiding much of the mud. The forest soon gave way and the mountain opened up into a vast exposed climb. The single tracks we followed, still trying to skip around the mud and bogs. So far so good although it was now very windy and cold (the drizzle of fine rain had become more constant now) so I took a moment to layer up with my waterproof jacket.
We continued climbing before reaching the first of the smaller summits (which must have been Dregetua) marked by a stone trig pillar. We then began descending and running again. I set off and was enjoying seeing the head torches of other runners way off in the distance. Here though it was becoming increasingly difficult to avoid the mud as the narrow tracks left little room to manoeuvre as the ground was so uneven. It wasn’t long before I was soaked to my shins and covered in mud. At one point my left shoe came off, stuck and wedged in the mud completely. I had to bend down and pull with both hands to get out back out. I took the moment to tighten both my laces! We then climbed a little more in similar lumpy conditions which was quite tiring on the terrain and in the cold of night. The heat from the first bit of climbing meant my t shirt was soaked with sweat so I couldn’t really avoid getting cold even with the jacket on!
From the next trig point (Vardnakken) we began descending. Down we went through a long series of lumpy bogs. The undulating terrain meant it was quite difficult to get a good rhythm when running. One foot would descend then next foot would ascend a lump. I felt like I was jarring up and down and running very inefficiently. There were rocks hidden in the darkness too.
Once more my shoe got sucked off (the right one this time) and after retrieving it I tightened my laces even more. They were so tight now that they weren’t particularly comfortable. But thankfully they never came off again!!
The descend was consistent until we reached Blåhornsvatnet. From here the descent became steeper and significantly harder. We we going down muddy and rocky switch backs, sometimes off trail, sometimes through streams and always having to look and see which way was the most obvious. It wasn’t long before I was on my arse and covered in mud. Within a few minutes I had fallen multiple times. The mud was so thick that there was no way to grip it properly. Whilst my Inov8 Trailrocs aren’t ideal for muddy runs, I also couldn’t imagine many trainers being much use here! I wasn’t alone. I could hear the gasps and groans of other runners in the night too and could see runners in front of me falling over.
I was already thinking to myself that this was the least fun I’ve ever had in a descent. It was relentless and torturous and I just had to accept it. Accept that it would be uncomfortable and that I’d keep falling. So I just kept moving, letting gravity pull me down, hoping it would be done quicker that way. There were a few points where I just ploughed straight through bogs above my knees and had to drag myself out with my poles. There would be no warning as the ground just sucked you in. Mostly though it was just about shin high. I remember thinking to myself that this was suppose to be the easiest section of the race! The alarm bells were ringing. I then took an almighty slip, skidding a little bit on my heels before twisting and going down on my left side. I know I swore loudly (not for the first time) and I heard a sound from my pole which I landed on top of. It sounded like a crack but I hoped it was just the sound of it hitting the the ground and my weight on top. Once again I picked myself up and carried on, thankfully the trails finally came to an end and we had a section of gravel track to run on. It felt quite long but soon enough we were climbing again (which I believe meant we were now connected to where the 48km runners would start). The gravel was a welcome change and I took the opportunity to remove my jacket again. I was also surprised how quickly my feet and shoes seemed to dry out. It was around 04:30, the morning was breaking and the sun starting to rise, giving a glimpse of the amazing views of Stranda and the Fjord below us.
Inevitably the gravel road became a forest track and the climb became harder as the wet ground and mud returned. Over the course of a few 100m of climbing the tracks became off/track as the mountain opened up to us. The tracks returned and brought with them incredible views off to our left of the Fjord and over to Liabygda. I stopped for a few minutes to layer up again as the exposed mountain meant more rain and the temperature had dropped as the wind picked up. It did give me an opportunity to absorb the views all around me in the early morning mist.
From the climb we descended again, the tracks weren’t too steep but they were very wet and we ran on waterlogged tracks and bogs from the many streams. Up ahead a tent could be seen alone in the wild. The first aid station at Duklidalen and the first opportunity to eat something!
I checked my watch and timings and I had covered the 20km or so in pretty much the time I estimated I would. Not a bad start considering the state of the trails!
Section 2: Duklidalen – Fjørstad
From Duklidalen you will be running on and off trail up the Mønet. There are sections here that´s up to 45 degrees steep, you will have to use your hands at times on this section. Mønet is a cliff with a several hundreds meter drop on the fjord side, be careful and stay on the trail. Further on you will be on and off trail in scree up to Fremste Blåhornet (1478masl). From Blåhornet you will be running off trail along the ridge high above the fjord over Rjupskartind and towards Åknesnibba (1296masl). This section is very technical as the ridge is narrow with drops on boths sides. We recommend you to be catious here. There are parts where light scrambling is involved on this section. Before Åknesnibba the course will take a hard right turn down into the valley with a steep technical descent down, this is also a good place to be xtra catious. Then along Rjupeskarvatnet, and further out Fjørstaddalen past Heimfjørstadsætra and down to Fjørstad on a nice trail. On Fjørstad you will find an aid station.
Excerpt from the Race Manual
Immediately from the aid station we began making our way to the ‘wall’. I believe it was the cliff called Monet. But to me it was a wall on the edge of the world. I couldn’t see where we were heading. Making my way towards it I was texting Natalia ahead of her race and slipped and fell again. This one was my fault for not paying attention. The ground was soaking wet and cold where I fell.
As I reached the ‘wall’ it became clear we were climbing up it. I could see runners scaling it and became apprehensive. It was steep. I held my poles in one hand and used the other to pull myself up with each step. I dared not look down but accepted that it wasn’t as bad as it initially looked and I was at the top maybe 15 minutes later. Up top the grassy cliff turned to rock almost instantly. The climb however continued.
Looming in front of me was a giant of a mountain. Grey in every way. Grey rocks. Grey clouds. Just grey. I assumed this was the first change in the route and this is where we wouldn’t climb. I was wrong though. People ahead of me kept going further up and disappearing into the grey clouds. I put on my gloves as it became colder the higher I went. I then put away my poles and began climbing on all fours. It was quicker that way. I briefly started talking to Kristofer who’d done the 48km last year, who explained this was just the climb to Fremste Blåhornet (I believe he called it ‘Front Bluehorn’) and that the removed part of the course was further up still. He powered on passed me. Eventually I made it to the summit and the timing mat and turned around. Now we were on the diversion route which meant going back the way we came then across and down a valley.. There were a few runners ahead of me but they soon disappeared into the distance as I move so slowly over technical descents like this. I kept watching and making mental notes of where they were and went so I didn’t get lost. I felt alone now, for the first time in the race. I soon couldn’t see runners ahead nor behind me.
After completing the rocky downhill the diversion route took us left and away from the next climb. There was no path though and it was an off track descent from here to the next aid station Fjorstad. I was beginning to see the pattern now and off track terrain meant crossing lots of streams, slipping loads in the mud and bouncing up and down with the lumpy ground. Every now and then I’d get a glimpse of a single runner ahead and another behind me. This was another down hill I did not enjoy. I was initially glad when the route entered a forest area but that happiness soon gave way to frustration as the mud returned with a vengeance. Once again I was constantly on my bum. I started saying “fuck you” loudly. Like a chant. Every time I stubbed my toe on a rock “fuck you”. Slipped on my arse “fuck you”. Stepped in a bog or stream “fuck you”. It became my mantra as I continued tumbling down.
Finally the forest let me free and I ran the small down hill to the aid station, slipping and falling for the supporters and volunteers to enjoy! We all smiled and laughed knowing I wasn’t the first and wouldn’t be the last to provide the entertainment.
The aid station was a good one. Kristofer was there and changing into spare clothes. On this race you could have a drop bag at each station. I’d opted just for one at the 63km point. I regretted it slightly seeing Kristofer change into dry clothes as I was soaked through. It was warm inside the building so I packed the waterproof away again and noshed down on plenty of watermelon, crisps and cinnamon buns.
Section 3: Fjørstad – Habostadsætra
From Fjørstad you will be running the asphalt road down the Strandavalley for 4km and then into Moldskreddalen on a gravel road for 3km to Mesætra. By Mesætra you will hit the trailhead to Storhornet and cross the river on a bridge, and start the climb up to Storhornet (1309masl) on and off trail. Parts of this trail is technical. After summiting Storhornet you will turn around and follow the course back down for 1km, and then turn right and hit the trail down to Habostadsætra. Ths downhill section is very steep but the trail is very nice. On Habostadsætra you will find an aid station.
Excerpt from the Race Manual
Before long I was back out running with Kristofer on a long road section. It felt good to run. I’ve never wanted to run along a main road with cars driving passed me (very safely and courteously I should add!) so much in my life. It felt like it was the first time I could actually run. It was also a strangely therapeutic few kms knowing I could see this road from our incredible mountain accommodation.
From the road we were once more on a gravel track uphill before, yep, you guessed it, we were back in the wet and slippery forest hiking off track up a steep climb. Kristofer started getting further and further away as I huffed my way up. Once out of sight I had to concentrate more looking for the red trail markers painted on trees or rocks. This climb felt like it took so much longer than it probably did. After the forests it was wild and rugged terrain. Up and down lumps whilst still generally getting higher. There was a person out here all alone. It took me a while to realise he was a photographer. It took a while longer for me to get to him, he waited patiently and snapped me as I said hello and made some bad jokes. I asked if it was Ian, and it was. A world reknown adventurer and photographer. I’d read his blog from the 2021 event and we had a brief chat comparing the contrasting weather conditions. He kindly shared some advice on the climb and temperatures awaiting me and wished me well on the journey.
From here things got a little harder. The climb went off for an out and back section to the next summit of Storhornet. It went ‘up’ pretty steeply and the trail was more prominent and clear for a short while as the the mud and wild terrain tagged out and the went rocky tracks tagged back in. There were many runners coming back and I’d let them glide effortlessly passed me. I had no idea how far I had to run to get back to this point. But up I went. There was another photographer filming runners coming down and he had to film me slowly walking up. I made it clear I wouldn’t be running down like they all were!
Like the Blåhornet summit, this one became very rocky very quickly. It was now just like before as I was stumbling from rock to rock heading into the mist in the direction shadows were coming from. Here I had one moment that ‘threw’ my mind a little off. A lady was coming down and started speaking to me, I assumed in Norwegian, and I explained I only spoke English. She then told me that it was very cold further on and asked if I have any more clothes to put on. I was caught off guard. Whilst her intentions were no doubt full of kindness and support of other runners, I didn’t quite understand the comment. There was mandatory kit and I was clearly in the race with a full bag on my back I also had on my waterproof coat and gloves on, so I don’t think I looked under-prepared compared to anyone else. I assume she was concerned because I was just in shorts. But I reassured her I was fine and carried on. Soon Kristofer ran back passed me and sometime later I looped around the summit and too was heading back down. On this section many runners overtook me as I once again descended so slowly.
Eventually I completed the out and back and was then going down a steep hill in another wet and slippery forest section. I was all over the place. Sliding and slipping everywhere going down the switchbacks. A lady behind was asking if I was ok as I was swearing constantly. Then it was her turn as she slipped and did a pencil roll down one bend/turn. I can’t quite describe how fantastically she rolled and ended up down ahead of me and back on her feet laughing at her ‘shortcut’. She then sped off descending rapidly with ease. She called back to check on me a few mins later when I let out a rather loud expletive laden cry. I was ok. I’d fallen again (Fuck you!). This one was worse though. Whilst I was fine, in the process I’d snapped my fucking pole again (I snapped one in the VDA last year). I was really pissed off. It snapped right at the handle where it slides in and the locking button is. It was fucked and useless now and I’d only covered around 40km of the race. In a mood I carried on into the aid station that wasn’t far away.
A few runners looked at my pole and the volunteer was a superstar, running around looking for things to fix it (his plan was to tape a small rod to the handle to strengthen it). I knew it was a lost cause though but I appreciated their efforts. I filled my sorrow with meat soup (which was frikken ace) and Coke. The aid stations were pretty great for variety in my eyes! I checked my timings and, once again, felt I was pretty spot on to plan as it was about 30 mins before the first cut off. And so, having experienced running with one pole before, I knew I could overcome it, I packed it away and carried on with the single pole.
Section 4: Habostadsætra – Myrsætra
From Habostadsætra you will be running on the marked DNT hiking trail trough a lush birch forrest to Nysetvatnet with a great view towards Brekketind and the Brekketind glacier and then further to Patcellhytta where the climb to the iconic mt. Slogen (1564masl) starts. You will be running on the marked DNT hiking trail up to Slogen. The last part up to Slogen is very steep and involves scrambling, be catious on the way up and down. From Slogen you have a majestic view over Hjørundfjorden. The summit is very narrow, so one have to be carefull on the top. Here you will turn around and go back the way you came up for 1,5km. But instead of going back down to Patchellhytta, you will turn left and continue towards Isavatnet and further down Langseterdalen past Storevatnet on a nice trail. At the parking lot at Myrsætra you will find an aid station.
Excerpt from the Race Manual
The next section began with us walking up a stream. Really?! Fuck this trail I thought. I was waiting for the pain of constantly wet feet to kick in. Like the rest of the route, there was nothing to do about it except power through. It was kind of up hill, but very gentle and certainly not runnable (for me) as it was mostly rocky. My power hike was in full flow though and I was enjoying the intimating views of the mountains surrounding us on all sides and thunderous roar of the river besides me. Off in the distance I could see the lady along with another runner. I kept thinking I was gaining on them but I really wasn’t. The section was another that felt like it went on for a while, but I was content knowing we were at least climbing gradually higher. And so my mind wandered a little. I got thinking back to that last aid station and my timings and realised that all wasn’t quite what it seemed. Whilst I was ‘on time’ and within the cut off. We hadn’t done the climb from Blåhornet nor the ridge or its ‘more’ technical descent. That was the very technical section and no doubt a harder descent for me. So I highly doubt it would have completed that longer section of the route in my spare 30 minutes. I realised I would have been timed out at the first cut off (which was 13:00 at the last aid station) if the route hadn’t been changed due to the weather. I clang onto the hope that if the weather was better then the terrain would be less muddy and I might have moved a little quicker!
In the distance there was a little mountain hut of some sort and a guy out sweeping the decking area in the rain. It amused me. As I walked passed a volunteer called to me and waved me up to him. I checked my watch, yes, I was mindlessly following the two in front. I called after them and they walked back to join me on the climb. Each climb in this race seemed to find a way to be more challenging than the one before. This one was just a pain to start with as the terrain fluctuated between single track and off track frequently and we traversed so many streams and flows of water down off the mountain. It was just miserably wet. Like the number of times I fell, I wish I’d counted the number of streams we’d crossed on this course, I’m certain it would be hundreds. The mountains were leaking water everywhere due to the recent weather. It only stopped the higher we got. And it only stopped because the terrain became rocky. Once more we were playing dot-to-dot connecting the red trail marks and traversing the huge boulder fields.
There was a giant sleeping here. To my left I could sense and enormous presence and was admiring the mountain in the clouds. It was Slogen. The original route included an out and back to summit of Slogen for ‘panoramic views’. But we wouldn’t be doing that today. I was glad. This was also one of the hardest parts in the race so I was relieved to be skipping! Instead we carried on straight passed it. Straight into and across the snow fields. These were fairly short but difficult with one pole and not so aggressive soles on me shoes.
After some time we began our descent towards Myrsætra. This is where my drop bag would be. So I was in good spirits anticipating it. But the descent was tough. It was, you guessed it, rocky. So the the three of us moved slowly. I don’t remember much more than passing down alongside some lakes and rivers. I do remember we were in a valley and it reminded me a little of a section the TDS route in how it looked (but harder!).
There was plenty more falling over here too and I was losing track of my orientation and where we were going. The lady reminded me that soon we’d have the out and back to the aid station to the left and then we’d go back to the right to climb out of the valley. It made sense when she explained it.
Oddly, here I also realised my eyesight was a little hazy. I could see ok, but it wasn’t crystal clear. Almost as if I had clingfilm on my eyes. There wasn’t anything I could do and I assumed it was a combination of tiredness, constant concentration, the wind and the rain and perhaps the white glare from the snow. Anyway, I wasn’t worried, but I was conscious of it and to keep an eye on it (Whey hey!)
We reached the out and back section and now, like before, saw runners and familiar faces going in the opposite direction. There were a lot less of them this time though! I didn’t know how long it would be to the aid station but I was aware of how wet and muddy the track was again. I immediately decided that I would not be changing my shoes or socks. My socks would be soaked as soon as I changed them so I thought it wasn’t worth the effort. As I rounded the last corner into the aid station I had one of my best falls yet. I slipped in some mud and both feet went up in the air, above my waist, as my hands and head threw up behind me with the motion. I landed on my bum and back straight into a boggy patch. I was covered in mud. The volunteers laughed as I arrived (they heard the ‘fuck you’ scream) and I apologised as I sat straight in one of their chairs and covered it in the fresh mud. I ordered more soup, ate more cinnamon buns and finally changed into a dry tshirt after 14 hours.
Not long after the three of us reached the aid station, we were shortly followed by a fourth runner a Polish man I’d been near throughout the day. We sat and ate and drank and joked with the volunteers. We had our own little party before cheering ourselves back out knowing we had five hours to cover the 10km to the next (and final) cut off. Easy we thought… Wrong…
Section 5: Myrsætra – Brunstad
At Myrsætra you will run back up the same trail you came down up to Langsætra where you will follow the DNT marked trail up to Gullmordalsvatnet passing by the Gullmorglacier along the trail (you will not be running on the glacier). This section is very technical and you will be running parts of it on scree. After passing Gullmordalsvatnet you will be on the top of the Gullmorbrekka (979masl) pass, from here you will be running technical downhill to Velleseterhytta and further on gravel road down to Brunstad where you will find an aid station. This is also the location for the the cut off time at 21.00.
Excerpt from the Race Manual
The first section was ok. It was a repeat of the out and back. After which we we were constantly looking for the trail. This section wasn’t marked by the race and no red trail markers could be seen anywhere. We followed our GPS and would be on what seemed to be a trail, then all of a sudden the GPS would say the trail is off to our side by 50-100 m. This meant we were zig zagging up the climb. Crossing all sorts of wild terrain to ensure we kept heading in the right direction. Every now and then the Polish guy would appear from nowhere. He was having the same navigation issues. After an ‘age’, the lumpy foliage turned to rock. But that didn’t make it any easier and the same thing would happen as we’d turn at right angles to try and maintain the correct direction. We at least could now occasionally see some red trail markings on rocks though.
At this point we were sticking together as a foursome as we crossed many more snow fields and rocky sections climbing and traversing our way out of the valley. The lady, who was from Argentina, lady kept kindly offering me her poles as I was really struggling on all the snow crossings. So mostly I was behind them all and would time to time shout out when I thought we were ‘off route’ again. To me it felt like it was night time. We were deep in the clouds and the grey-ness of the mountains. The only light was coming from the snowy floor we trudged over. It was surreal and disorientating at the same time, yet it was only about 17:00.
We were trudging across another snow section when I noticed we we starting to get further from the trail, which was going off on a sort of angle above us. We stopped and debated for some time where to go and eventually agreed we shouldn’t continue on the snow. For one thing, we couldn’t see any recent signs of activity on them! The issue however was that the snow was sloping and above it was a wall of rock. It didn’t look feasible that the route could be up there. But that’s what the GPS was saying (and scrolling out we could see that the route would turn further that way after about a km further along). If we carried on the snow instead we’d soon be far off course and could see nothing ahead to make us want to continue (into the unknown).
So we back tracked and headed for the rocks. It took me a long time with one pole to get up to the rock and my troubles didn’t stop there, the climb facing us was a beast. It was essentially bouldering and rock climbing. I was trying to use strength from my arms which I just do not have to haul myself up onto rocks. And it was all loose. Admittedly I was scared. Actually, very scared. A fall here would be bad. A certainty of a serious injury and likely a very long wait to be rescued. I was glad I wasn’t alone and Argentinian Lady was very supportive and looked after me with constant reassurance. I knew we had to keep going though and that we should even get a little higher to be safer and further from the steep drop.
The climb, even just covering a few meters, was very slow. We were barely moving and the loose rock was causing us difficulties. Several times we knocked rocks back on each other, one time I released a sizeable one that went tumbling down. My warnings weren’t enough for the Polish guy to get out of the way in time and all he could do was raise his arm to protect his head as the rock fell straight into him. I felt so bad, but he reassured me that he was ok, just annoyed by the situation. It only added to our frustrations and concerns of safety.
We were at least now tracking in the right direction according to the GPS and the rocky climb eventually gave way to firmer ground, albeit more snow capped fields. I thought it couldn’t get worse than that section, but I was wrong (again). We were now faced with another directional dilemma. The route indicated we needed to leave the snow and descent a very narrow, very steep rock face. I looked over the edge and it felt like an abyss, the end of the world. Meters below us all I could see was a dark grey mist cloud wrapping the mountain. I couldn’t see a trail or path. It is fair to say I was not keen and I didn’t want to go that way. The alternative though was to remain higher up and walk along the snow covered mountain. I’d had enough of them though and we couldn’t see far enough ahead to determine where we would go or how we could re-join the path if we did continue that way. It felt like ‘down’ was actually the better option. Two of us started to descend…
I was still on top of the snow when, in the distance, a lonely figure, in a bright blue coat, emerged through the clouds with his hand in the air waving. I didn’t know what to think. He was clearly gesturing to us so we called back to let the others know someone was coming. We walked on and met him. He explained he was a volunteer from the race and he’d show us the way. He confirmed we could go either way, but the snow might be the easier route for us. So we followed him.
He was moving so effortlessly I struggled to keep up. He pointed down a steep snow slope and said we can go down here. And off he went, sliding, skiing (without skies) down hill. The French guy went next and pretty much made it the whole way standing up too. I followed and immediately landed on my arse. I sped down like I was on some sort of toboggan, bouncing up and down with the lumps. In no time at all my arse was so cold and starting to hurt with the freeze and friction. The whole thing lasted a matter of seconds. Looking back, my Strava indicates we went down a slope of approximately -50 deg and covered around 70m in descent. My apparent pace was 1:32 km per minute. What a ride!
One by one we all made it and we were at least treated to an incredible view of the Gullmordalsvatnet lake and valley surrounding it. The downside, I could still see no clear trail or path. We were told that we needed to traverse along to the right of the lake. I couldn’t believe it. What?! It was just the slope/side of the mountain with alternating layers of snow and rock. How? He reassured us that as we got closer we would see some race markings to indicate the way we should go. He told us that we would need to climb and descend on the rock and avoid the snow slopes at all times. I could see why, if you slipped on those, nothing would stop you sliding all the way into the freezing lake. Game over. There was another catch though, first we would need to ascend on the initial snow slope, but not to worry, there is a rope. Fuck sake…
One by one we ascended the rope climb. This was awful for me. I had no energy or strength to pull myself up and no grip in the snow to provide any traction. It was yet another very slow ascent. I relied on a tactic of pulling myself up and looping the rope around one hand with each pull to get more leverage. I thought my shoulders would pop out here. Thankfully I soon reached the sanctuary of the rocks. Ha! Now I was thinking that the rocks were my friends!
The volunteer left us here and went back to look for the remaining runners behind us in the pass somewhere. We thanked him but I never got his name. His final words were “it is 2 hours to the next checkpoint”. I looked at my watch. We had 2 hours and 10 minutes until the cut off. Shit. I thought we wouldn’t make it, that we would be timed out. If he was saying 2 hours, it would probably take us longer. I hung on to the glimmer of hope that there might be some sections we could run and that he was talking about walking time.
We still had to travers the lake first though. Painstakingly, we looped up and down each rock section, maybe up to a 20m climb and descent each way. Looking and following the trail flags which we could finally see. Each loop required a small traverse either along the top of the snow slope or along the bottom, right next to the water. I could feel the chill coming off it. At one point I sent another rock tumbling. Down the snow it rolled and then bounced off the bottom of the slope, launching into the air and over the water onto a floating patch of ice with a ‘boom’. The lake didn’t flinch and I didn’t want to follow the rock!
As we finally reached the end of the lake, the paths did become a little easier. They were far from runnable though. Just easier than what the last few kms entailed. It was still a horrid down hill though. In maybe 3km we descended over 500m. It was very rocky and very slippery as we navigated through tens and tens of waterlogged paths and streams. There was plenty of falling over and slipping here too. We mostly descended in silence. I’m not sure what the others were thinking, but all I could think about was the cut off and whether we would make it or not. I wanted too, but I was also wondering how I’d feel if the decision to continue was taken away from me. I genuinely believed that, after this cut off, we would have plenty of time to finish (there was 13 hours for the last 20km or so). So I wondered if we were close to the cut off if I would be of mind to try and negotiate my continue. It was all theoretical, but it kept me focused. Going further down, fast hiking, moving with purpose. It as all I could do.
We then came upon a forest section which was far less steep than before. The trails became a little drier and other than a few big leaps across streams (with broken planks that were intended to be crossed) the next few hundred meters of descent were a little more forgiving. We still weren’t running, but were able to pick up the pace at least. We were racing the clock though as time was against us and I kept looking at my watch and doing the calculations. 50 minutes to go, 40 minutes to go, 30 minutes to go… With every step I adjusted our progression, but it didn’t really make much difference. It was going to be tight if we couldn’t run. And then luck was finally on our side…
From the forests we came across a house with a lady gardening and a man tending to the path. We ran down, said hello and left through their gate. He wished us well and said he hoped we were enjoying ourselves. I think I just laughed. But, from the gate, there was a gravel road. It was steep, but it was dry and even terrain. Gravity did its ‘thing’ and we ran. We were a little spaced out as we all descended at slightly different speeds. But we were all running. After maybe 1.5km, there were people further along. It was the aid station at Brunstad. I looked at my watch. We had 20 minutes to spare. We’d made it. This 10km section of the race had taken us 4.5 hours to complete!
I ran into the aid station with belief. I believed now I would finish. I believed in me. The decision to continue was in my hands, and I know there is only one answer to that question, pulling out is never a consideration, never an option. I would continue and I would finish. We sat and set about refuelling. Eating more soup, more cinnamon rolls, more chocolate sweets and crisps. At the aid station, the Argentinian lady’s family were waiting. It dawned on me that her and her husband, along with their dog, had been sitting opposite me in the reception at the start line some 18 hours earlier. With the positivity we were feeling, the Polish guy said what I’d been thinking “we all stick together now right, and finish?”. There was no hesitation from me. Absolutely, yes I said. The French guy agreed also. I’m not sure if I missed it somewhere but the lady had decided that this was where her adventure would end. She simply had no more desire to continue. I only realised when she was offering me her poles to continue on with as ‘she didn’t need them anymore’. Even now, after bowing out she was still supporting and looking after me. I felt sad and emotional that she wouldn’t be seeing it through with us. I declined the offer of the poles though. I made it this far and was confident I’d be ok.
As we set back out we were a little deflated that we still had over 20km to go. The amended route GPX had indicated we would be doing around 88km in total, but we were already around 77km at this point. It made sense though, the final two sections were unchanged and we still had to complete them. We left just before 9pm (and then stopped straight away as I had forgotten to get my head torch out ready for the darkness).
Section 6: Brunstad – Svartevatnet
From Brunstad you will run to Brunstadsætra through lush birchforrest and crossing the river right before Brunstadsætra. On Brunstadsætra you will get on the nice and very steep trail up to Storevatnet. From Storevatnet you will be climbing off trail up to 1100m and traverse over to Vassdalen (The course is not going to the peak of Ystevasshornet) where you will be running downhill on technical trail down Svartevatnet. At the parking lot by Svartevatnet you will find a aid station.
Excerpt from the Race Manual
Initially we had a gravel road ascent similar to what we had just descended. This was good for easing back into the task ahead. We took this opportunity to chat and for the first time exchanged names. It felt silly that we’d been through so much together without knowing who we were. This was where I learned that the Polish guy was Kamil and the French man was Matt. From the results table I now know that the lovely Argentina was Margarita. These were my companions, my saviours.
A few kms later the gravel changed to forest. The gradual climb, with no warning then became very steep switch backs as we climbed for another 500m in the slippery dense forest. I had to stop a few times to catch my breathe and refocus. It was tough going, but I was happier with this type of climb than the many we’d done before.
After leaving the forest it was more off-track plodding in the open mountainside as we continue to about 850masl where the ground flattened out. Here we could see up ahead a semi-circle of mountains surrounding us. Once again I had no idea where we were going and how we would ‘escape’ from here and descend back down. We continued walking towards it as the day light diminished and darkness began to set in.
We reached a lake where our head torches started to pick up the feint shimmer of the reflective tape for the race markings. One or two at a time. They gave an indication of where to go, but not too much insight as to where we were actually heading. Slowly it became clear that we were just going ‘straight up’ to get out of the plateau. Seriously? Fuck you. In the darkness we began to climb the rocks again. I was struggling with the climb. Matt and Kamil were getting progressively further away. I set myself a target to rest and breathe at each flag marker, only meters away from one another, but I was stopping multiple times between each one. We climbed for maybe another 200-300 meters, up and across scree slopes, the rocks loose under foot and when I grabbed at them with my hands for support. As I reached the top we were now in complete darkness. Besides the reflective trail markers I could now also navigate by following the head torches of the others in the distance.
We began the descent which wasn’t any easier. Loose and sharp rocks, winding switch backs and wet streams to cross. We stopped at one stream and filled our bottles with ice cold water. It was delightful. I gulped back two bottles straight away. Like many before this one, the streams we needed to cross were often bursting at the seams and the ‘path across’ was submerged under rampant and powerful flowing water. They were difficult to cross and even more so in the night. It was a case of steadying ourselves and hoping for the best, accepting that we would be wet to our shins. The aim was to get to the other side and not to get sucked in or fall over. The roar of water in the night was quite something. It was the only thing we could hear out here in the wild.
After a while the rocks gave way to forests and you already know that these were steep, muddy and slippery. As we progressed, a huge lake started to come into focus below us. Way off ahead, on top of a mountain silhouette in the darkness I could see two head torches way up in the sky. I knew where we were heading now. We would descend to a road crossing (Svartevatnet) before the final climb on the other side. I remember looking at this section when we drove along the road into Stranda when we first arrived.
I was glad to get off the forest track as we bottomed out at the lake. Here there was a slightly flat gravel section towards the road. At this point Kamil, who was in front on the descent was now behind me. Matt was up ahead on the road and I shouted at him when I saw the markers on the other side. We started to cross. Then loads of volunteers came into sight further up the road at a lay-by. They gestured us towards them. It was another aid station that I had complete forgotten about.
Here I was ready to leave quite quickly and just get on with it. I was sick of soup now so ate some crisps and cookies. Matt had some soup and a French man came to say hello to him. He was in the area, saw about the race and heard there was a French person running, so he stayed out to say hello and cheer him on. How lovely that was. Kamil sat in a chair and told us to go on without him, that he was going to have some sleep as he was struggling with fatigue. He wrapped up and tried to get comfortable. I let Matt know. Whilst we were there I had a half cup of coffee to try to fight off my own tiredness before we set back out. For now, we were down to two. I was sure Kamil would catch up with us at some point on the climb in the night.
Section 7: Svartevatnet – Stranda
By Svartevatnet you will cross the road and get on the trail to Langevatnet and further to Roaldshornet (1230masl). From the summit of Roaldshornet you can enjoy the epic view over Storfjorden and down to Stranda. You will continue to Blåfjellet and downhill Trollvaregga with technical running down to Skuravatnet. (The course is not going up to Skurahornet, it goes straight to Stranda from Skuravatnet) .From Skuravatnet you will be running on a nice trail all the way down to the outskirts of Stranda, and then on gravel and asphalt roads down to the finish line at the town square in Stranda.
Excerpt from the Race Manual
And so, at 01:00 in the morning we began our final section. From the aid station we crossed the road and began heading into the darkness of the forests once more. The trees lasted only a short while and the climb began. Initially I had flash backs of the first climb of the race when we left the forest and the mountain opened up. The terrain felt very similar. It was a series of gently inclining winding big paths littered with bogs and waterlogged foliage. Compared to the other climbs of the race I was very happy at that moment in time. This felt very manageable.
As we had previously, we navigated by reflection of the race markings. Each one opening another insight into where we were heading. The large silhouette of the mountain standing tall in front of us and getting closer with each step. As we neared it, the climb took us to the mountain face and the rocky ascent began, but, it was no where near as bad as the ones before. I felt this was the easiest climb of the night and possibly of the whole race. I was thankful.
Before we reached the summit, my watch died. I hate this watch. I accept it is now a good few years old (it is a Suunto 9 Baro) but the battery just does not last what it indicates it will. Barely 24 hours with some of that on the Ultraks mode. Useless. I couldn’t care less about charging it now. I just wanted to finish the race and rest.
The climb wasn’t too bad either and we emerged onto the roof of the mountain. It was, of course, rocky but for the most part we were now traversing the top along to the next point at Roaldshornet. It was very cold and windy on top and we stopped to layer up ready for the final climb to the summit. As we hiked along to the summit, with a gentle undulation, the sun started to rise to the East. It was going to be spectacular. We’d miss the full sunrise and views from the summit, but we had a glimpse of the orange glow breaking up the darkness. We kept moving and covered the final little dip and climb back up to Roaldshornet where we could start to see the landscape ahead of us for our descent back to Stranda. From here it was all ‘downhill’ (of course every trail downhill has some sneaky ‘uphills’ included!).
The descent was going to be long though and it was still very technical. Once again lumbering over a boulder field of rocks. For many parts I had to sit and lower myself down and we were trying to find the best and most accessible route between markers, sometimes straying from the more obvious path due to slippery rocks or muddy sections that we were still slipping and falling on. Eventually, further down, we could see a short ridgeline way below leading to what looked like dry dirt trails. We were heading for it and we’d then loop down into the forests back towards Stranda. We had a visual aim, although it still felt like a very long time until we reached the ridge.
We continued the descent from the ridge which was a lot harder than I expected. It was a complete mess from the rain and the mud and bogs were everywhere. Where possible we avoided the trail, running over the lumpy ground along the sides instead. In some places, wooden structures were there to go over the marsh land, but they weren’t really helpful to us. With so many runners having been through the day before, the land was completely churned up and the walkways covered in mud and equally as slippery and dangerous. I think I fell more along this section than anywhere else on the course! Matt must have been sick of hearing me swearing and groaning. I did one spectacular fall where I slipped and skidded downhill, completing a 180 spin and falling flat on my front, face first, into a bog. The mud muffled my scream. It was slower progress than I expected at this point and it certainly wasn’t the dry dirt trails I’d been imagining from the view at the top. From time to time we looked back, expecting to see Kamil come bounding passed us. At one point I swore I saw a head torch on the summit at Roaldshornet.
The mountain side started to give way to forest tracks, which weren’t all that better. They felt steeper and, whilst drier for the most part, still had many wet and muddy sections. The benefit now was that the trees could be used to steady ourselves and break our falls. As we ran down, we were getting hotter and hotter. The layers from the mountain were definitely no longer needed now, but the inclination to stop and delay the finish further was low. We wanted it to be over as soon as possible.
A few kilometres later we left the forest and hit some road. We crossed some fields and were then back on the road in a section we both recognised from visiting the town. It wouldn’t be long now until we were on the main road into Stranda and down to the finish line. We were running. Probably very slowly but we were running for the first time for many, many hours. It was painful and slow but we were inching towards the finish as we ran down the deserted and quiet road. It was some time after 06:00 in the morning.
We rounded the final turn and climbed the steps into and through the hotel before the finish line (it was strange passing straight through a building to get to the finish!) and emerged into the final stretch to a lone clap from a volunteer at the finish line. We walked over the line. The final finishers. We hi fived and smiled. We’d done it.
I thought the volunteer was Oscar (the Race Director) but it was Martin. He told us he was at the last aid station with Kamil when he dropped out. It took us a moment for the realisation to set in, Kamil hadn’t continued on after his attempt to sleep. I felt bad for abandoning him and wondered if he would have been ok if he kept going? Martin gave us our medals, congratulated us and went and fetched us pizza. Then Matt’s wife, Natalia, Nick, Arlene and Gif all arrived and congratulated us, taking us back to the safety of a shower and bed! We had done it.
Final Thoughts
I knew this race was going to be difficult and would include terrain that I’m not always comfortable with. However, it was worse and harder than I imagined. The weather for the race was actually ok, but the terrain had suffered from weeks of rain and that made it far more difficult that it could have been. I reckon I must have fallen 30-50 times. I wouldn’t be surprised if we crossed 100s of rivers and streams throughout the 100km. I’m actually surprised my feet weren’t in a worse state when I finished (they were pretty mangled though!). Oscar acknowledged the conditions in has post race breifing:
SFTR 2022 was just as hard and muddy as it can be! We got a bit of everything with some glimpses of sun, rain, snow, wind. The feedback from the elite field in Golden Trail World Series was that this was the most technical race they ever participated in. So all of you who joined the race should be proud of your effort! The good news is that we ordered sun for SFTR 2023, the bad news is that we ordered sun for 2022 too 😉
Oscar, RD
It is without doubt the toughest 100km I have done (and we didn’t quite get to the 100km mark!) It took around 5-8 hours longer than my typical time for a mountainous 100km. That is quite a significant time difference. Despite the course and the conditions, the local Scandinavians ran incredible times. I’m amazed at how effortlessly they cover this sort of terrain, they are phenomenal athletes.
Reflecting back on the progress, I actually would have been timed out at the first cut off (around 40km / 11hrs) if the route hadn’t been amended. I see no way I could have completed the original route in the time I had remaining at the cut off. The gods were on my side on this occasion!
I also think we would have been timed out at the second cut off (Brunstad) if it weren’t for (1) the volunteer who found us in the Gullmorbrekka pass at showed us the way (thank you so much!) (2) the short road section down to the aid station at Brunstad which meant we could run! without those, I’m sure we wouldn’t have made it in time.
I came away from this race with my ankles pretty beaten up, loads of cuts and bruises, one broken pole, a ripped pair of gloves and a shoes shredded on all sides. Yet, I saw it through, I persevered and once more can say I’m a finisher and have re-evaluated my own limitations and strengths. I love this sport!
As with every race I met some incredible people. People who show all kinds of determination, strength and will power who go above and beyond to help and support you. Thank you Margarita, Kamil and Matt. And of course, thank you to Oscar and his team and thank you Norway!
For an expert view on the race (all distances) take a read of Ian’s race report – Strand Fjord Trail Race 2022.
Some of the professional race photos:
Five O
At the start of 2021 I wrote my thoughts under a title of ‘A New Dawn’. It turns out it was more of a false dawn. I wrote some shit down and instantly forgot about it. Hey ho, whatever. I talked about consistency and how I was intending to be more structured and consistent. Well that went pretty badly to start with as I began the year with an injury. It did soon fall into into place as the fear of running 100miles in the Pyrenees shocked me into a routine. Inevitably the intensity of training for for that event and the subsequent fatigue after it led to more injuries and down time. Before I knew it I was once more stuck (and still am) in the old habits of running far, followed by not running much and just repeating over and over. Maybe in 2022 I’ll try again. ‘Something needs to change’ I said, I tell you now that what needs to change is the pumpkin of a belly I’m lugging around on the runs – It is getting heavy and bounces about now! I also nattered on about showing respect to running. To some degree that is there, the experience levels keep increasing and the learning that goes with it too. I am also still more than slightly obsessive about it. But I’m more willing to accept that that is just who I am at the moment. I love it, so why shouldn’t I enjoy and obsess about it?
So as I’ve been doing each year, I stop and look back and reflect. 8 of the races I’d planned didn’t happen. I found many others which took their place instead though and, through these, I achieved something else that I mentioned at the start of the year…
I wrote about the big Five-0. Hitting 50. Nope, not my age you cheeky beggars. But a milestone none the less. A pointless one though really, as it is just a number and meaningless in the grand scheme of things. However, I’m using it as a marker, a point in time of you like. A marker to celebrate me. Yep, this is a narcissistic bit of writing and more about me than all the other posts about me which I evidently like to write. I’ll reflect beyond the last year and look back on the past few years since I started taking on endurance events.
So what is this ’50’, well, it is the number of ‘official’ events of marathon distance or longer I’ve completed. Haaa. Told you it was meaningless. There’s a lot to summarise here as I’m going to be touching on each and every one of those runs. If you fancy it, you’ll find links throughout to all the write ups I’ve done after each event.
In some ways this is a reflection on who I am now. How I came to be here, now, writing about having run 50 ‘marathons’. When I think about it, it really is quite something (back slap to me). They say 1% of the population have done a marathon (not sure what kind of bullshit that is, and I’m going to reference it without any research to support it), if that is true, then I’ve achieved something very few do (although I personally know many people who’ve run hundreds!!). So let’s celebrate and indulge a little. Time to reflect as it has been quite the journey…
First off though, I’m going to explain how I define this number. What my definition of ‘official’ really is… You see, there is such a thing as the “100 marathon club”. I looked into it. Personally I think it’s a complete load of bollocks (contradictory given I’m writing about a half century achievement?). From what I’ve understood about it, you register and pay them to become a member, they validate and vet your achievements against their definition of events that qualify. This then gives you the “right” to wear their kit (a twatty tee shirt with ‘100’ on it. Yuk. Naaa thanks). It seems very much like an ‘old boys’ club. Exclusive and elitist and more focused on road running. I may be very wrong, but that’s what my takeaway was when I looked into it. Each to their own eh, but I decided that it is not for me. I believe that you are what you achieve, not what someone else says you’ve achieved! I do agree though that each run only counts once, and a 100 mile run doesn’t count as four marathons!
So I decided to define my own runs, I’ve run the bloody things after all, and I could have cut this a number of different ways. I decided that, for me, the definition of an ‘official’ event/race was one that is paid for. Or more specifically where there is a cost for participation as it doesn’t necessarily mean I’ve paid for it. For example, I ran the 50k event at a Salomon festival a few years back, but as a support runner, I was gifted the place to help out during the run. So that counts as other people paid for that run and I would have too if I didn’t work at the event. Another example is a Wild Trail Runners event that was organised. A group of twelve of us ran a marathon along a planned route with a medal for finishers. But, it was free to anyone to join. So that doesn’t count in my tally. Oh, and of course I had to complete the distance set out to run. So yep, that blotch on the running CV, the Limassol marathon, doesn’t count either!
So what is the outcome of this classification? Well it ruled out a surprising amount of runs I’ve done. At the time of writing this, 32 times I’ve run a marathon or longer which I now consider “unclassified” or ‘Training runs’ if you like. Shit, so really I’ve run a marathon or longer 89 times as I write this!! Double back slap for me. I didn’t realise it was quite that many. I vividly recall making the decisions to do the first one!
So time to reflect, let’s break it down. It’s been an (exponential) learning curve for sure…
Pre-2017 – The early years
2013 is when it all really began, back in London. What a way to kick off this journey – The London Marathon. I really did enjoy. After 5 years of rejection I had a guaranteed place (an old rule!). After completing the race I did immediately say that I’d like to do one again one day. I soon came up with the very non-committal challenge of ‘I’d like to do a marathon on every continent’. Plenty of time before I die (hopefully!) to achieve that…
I then didn’t run far again till 2015. Gate-crashing a colleague’s holiday to hike Kilimanjaro, with 6 weeks to go, as we arranged our tour I stumbled across the Kilimanjaro marathon in Moshi. I then had the thought to tick off another continent on that non-committal challenge. A little persuading to change our tour dates and I was in. This was like no other event though. Fresh faced and naïve with only having run London, I was amazed to find (unsurprisingly) there were only 300 or so runners at the start line. Probably about 90% of whom were either Kenya or Tanzanian. 4 hours later with very little time spent running around other people I crossed the line. The next day I began my recovery by hiking the highest peak in Africa.
The same routine followed and I didn’t run much again for the next 18 months or so. Then, in the summer of 2016, I felt the now familiar itch. I wanted an adventure. I wanted to run again and I also wanted to go back to Asia. Time to get another ticked off, and so, after some research I settled on the Bagan temple marathon in Myanmar. I tried desperately to get out of the tour that accompanied the race but I wasn’t successful. On reflection, what a blessing this was. On this trip I first met some friends who’d heavily feature in the adventures to come and, having spent a week with people who travelled with the intent to run, I was surrounded by stories and experiences beyond my wildest imagination. The bug sunk its teeth into me that week.
Yearly Marathon count = 3
2017 – Welcome to the trails
After Bagan, my decisions were made for me. I had friends signed up to Tel Aviv (Feb 2017), Paris (March 2017) and Lisbon (Oct 2017) marathons. I signed up to join them and after returning from Bagan in December I carried on running through the winter to maintain the marathon fitness.
Sometime in the spring of 2017, I first heard about ultras from my great friend Daryl who was also curious about them and directed me towards the Race To The Stones non-stop 100k. My curiosity was getting the better of me and so I signed up to run it with Daryl. He never signed up to the event, but a chain of events had been started and I couldn’t undo the thoughts in my head. I was trained and marathon fit. But unsure about how to approach an ultra. I knew I couldn’t keep running at the marathon pace I was now used to and struggled on each run to slow down. So I stated reaching out to run with other people. ‘Run With Dai’ was born. In the lead up to July’s race I ran my first ultra of 30 miles in solo laps around Richmond My first non-event marathon distance! Then I just dived straight in to the 100km distance, completing RTTS in 11.5 hours. The feeling was unbelievable, I was buzzing afterwards.
Shortly after the race, the itch was beginning to take control and I remember skiving in work one day looking at other 100km events. I stumbled across the SVP100 which was 3 weeks away and I signed up. I felt the training was there and would naturally just carry over. I misjudged this race big Time! Being my second trial race I hadn’t yet understood how different they could be. The set ups, the organisation and aid stations, the terrain, elevation. Everything! Everything is incomparable between trail events. This run battered me (I was ruined for weeks afterwards with a bad back) and took some 13+ hours.
As the year went on I felt I would continue the running and looked forward to 2018 where I began planning to do a marathon each month. I quickly started booking events and soon had 6 in the diary including my next world major in Berlin for Sept 2018.
Then, in December that year, a colleague introduced me to The North Face Never Stop London – community. I became a regular and met many, many people I now call friends. Jana introduced me to a series of trial events called UTMB and that registrations would soon open. It turned out those two 100km races I’d completed gave me enough points to apply to one of the races – the CCC. Another 100km event in the Alps. She also invited me along to their weekend runs and I soon started trail running most weekends with a group of (at the time) strangers. Welcome to the trails!
Yearly Marathon count = 5 (+2 unofficial)
2018 – Chasing times
And so began the next chapter of my running. The more I ran with other people, the more time I spent running on trails, the more I fell in love with enjoying running. Running became easier (but never easy!) as I ran with very little pressure.
As the year began I soon I started filling the rest of the year with trail and ultra distances instead. Including, The CCC as I got lucky first time in the ballot. Admittedly I was afraid, very afraid. I’d never been to the mountains before never mind running in the Alps! A new challenge lay in wait and it was one I couldn’t quite comprehend back then.
I soon started ticking off the marathons and with each one my finish time decreased substantially. First there was the Muscat Marathon in Oman (where Angela and Stephan from Myanmar joined me!), followed by the Malta marathon in February. Come March I was heading to the Limassol Marathon in Cypress with a 3:02 minute PB. For the first time ever a ‘sub 3’ hour marathon became a a recurring thought in my mind. It was very possible, and with with little thinking or planning I ‘went for it’.
This was a pivotal moment for me. A moment of sheer ignorance and naivety. I was now taking marathons for granted and thought I could just do anything. Yes, trail running and regular long running had improved my speed remarkably. But to think I was ready to run 26 miles averaging 6:52min miles was stupid. But not as stupid as the plan I concocted to get around it… knowing I’d struggle to be that consistent, I decided to front load the run and “bank some time”. So I ran faster than I believed I could – I ran the first 10 miles at 6:20 min miles and the next ten at 6:40 min miles to ‘bank’ those minutes. I told you it was stupid. I blew up spectacularly. So much so I woke up in a medical tent having passed out (I guess – I’ll never know what exactly happened) at the 25 mile mark. My first DNF and a wake up call. I vowed never to put myself in such a position again and wouldn’t chase times, care about the figures on a watch nor to put myself at risk.
I was back running the following month and continuing my monthly adventure with the Brighton Marathon and then the Helsinki Marathon in Finland. Leading up to September’s alpine adventure I ticked off a few more ultras including my first trip to Brecon for the Brecon Ultra and completing the trilogy of Threshold events with the Race to the Tower and Race to the King events. This was then followed by my third and fourth 100k distance events in the Freedom Racing Serpent Trail and back once again to the SVP100. I was hooked and loving it. I was even persuaded into a trip to Chamonix to experience some of the course before the CCC race and I am so glad I did. A learning experience for sure.
When it came around to doing the CCC I felt like a fraud. Imposter syndrome is a real thing and I was suffering from it at the start line with thousands of other runners from all over the world. I didn’t feel like I belonged. Truth is though, I did. I’d earned my place at that start line and I was there having trained hard (although the more experienced version of me doesn’t think the events I used to gain the points should be valid – they don’t prepare you for the dangers and rigour of the mountains!). Looking back, those nerves weren’t justified and perhaps I just didn’t enjoy all the hype around this “prestigious” event. I came through the CCC well within the cut offs and did, despite what I’ve said and written, enjoy the event. A huge achievement and perhaps another milestone on the running cv.
Two weeks later I was back on the road for the Berlin Marathon. I felt good. I was at the start line with zero pressure having just completed what I felt was a far bigger and more significant challenge. My recurring thought was ‘I just ran for 21 hours, I can run for 3’. Three. Three hours. I wasn’t thinking about additional minutes. Just three round hours. I ran. I was happy. I was comfortable and enjoying it. I just kept going, kept smiling. I was very consistent and I can remember the moment when I knew I was going to break 3 hours. The difference from 6 months earlier in Limassol? Just the lack of pressure. I clearly excelled in it. I laid that demon to rest.
I finished the year with 4 more ultras over 6 weeks, a trip to Poland for the 48km Lemkowyna Ultra Trail, back to Brecon for the Brecon Beacons Ultra, Down to Dorset for the Endurance Life Coastal Trail series Dorset and an ad-hoc one in London called the Thames Bridges Ultra.
I was deep into the ultra trails now and was signing up to races for 2019 as soon as they became available. Without thinking, with no long term plan, I was signing up to races that were longer, involved more elevation and which would take me on more adventures to incredible places. I was hooked. The next phase of my running I was like an obsessive collector.
Yearly Marathon count = 15 (+4 unofficial)
2019 – Bigger is better
Wow what a year this was! 2019 started straight away in January with the Country to Capital ultra which finishes in London. Here I met Paul for the first time who’d soon become a fixture in these achievements. This was a race as part of my plan for my biggest challenge yet – The Trans Gran Canaria. This would be the first time I’d go further than 100km, a fair bit further too as it was 128km in some rather challenging terrain! Another whole new experience and steep learning curve in what remains one of the mentally darkest, grumpiest runs I’ve ever completed.
There was no rest though as the next trip saw me head to Italy for the Sciacche Trail in Cinque Terre which was another race to prepare me for what was to come – MIUT, the Madeira Island Ultra Trail. This was a bucket list event. Ever since I saw some pictures of the landscape I was hooked on the idea of running it. at 115km long this event had the largest elevation profile of any I’d done so far. It surpassed my expectations and remains one of my favourite running experiences to date.
Madeira was followed up with a number of other events both locally and overseas. There was the Three Forts challenge on the South Downs, a Maverick ‘Run Free’ event in the Chilterns, Nick’s first marathon in Luxembourg and the Salomon Festival 50km
By June I was preparing for the next big event which was the Lavaredo Ultra Trail. 115km in the Dolomites. Another spectacular, and physically painful, event. This was followed up with my 3-star achievement at the SVP 100 again at the beginning of August before heading abroad once more for the next set of events.
Then, ignoring everyone telling me how stupid it is to do a mountain ultra 3 days before the biggest run of my life (felt like every run in 2019 was the ‘biggest run of my life’!), I headed to Switzerland for the Ultraks Matterhorn Ultra. I loved this event and felt free running in the shadow of the Majestic Matterhorn all day. Afterwards I slowly made my way to Chamonix once again, this time for the TDS by UTMB. This was something quite remarkable and incredibly satisfying. Despite the difficulty of this race, I felt (mostly) alright throughout and, after a long sleep, OK afterwards too. This will forever be possibly one of the most enjoyable ultras I’ve ever done.
What wasn’t enjoyable was the Tallinn Marathon in Estonia two weeks later. Everything about that event was slow and painful, especially the cobbled streets of the Old Town. The exertion of the TDS was clearly being felt as I pounded the pavements and cobbled Estonian streets for 5 hours.
Thankfully, by the time I headed back to Poland a few weeks later for the 150km Lemkowyna Ultra Trail, my body had recovered enough and the conditions of the event weren’t quite up to the muddy standards they tend to expect. This is an incredible, lesser known event that is very well organised and takes you on a journey through some beautiful hilly landscapes of southern Poland. It was this race that I think I properly felt tiredness and fatigue during a race for the first time. I remember maybe 10km from the finish I was struggling to keep my eyes open and knocking back copious amounts of caffeine to keep me going!
To finish the year off it was a shorter and more local event as I took on the Hurtwood 50 with Nick in what would be his first ultra. The similarities and familiar feelings were there as I experience Nick beginning to go through the same motions as I did a year or two earlier. What a year 2019 was indeed! Having never run more than 100km before, I did so 5 times that year and each time in a spectacular location. There were also another 5 solo ultra adventures including an epic 30miler from the Brecon Beacons to my Parents house on Christmas day. This was never the plan, but I couldn’t get enough. The ‘bigger the better’ seemed to be my new approach. But ultimately these were all races that excited me and it was that which enticed me to enter them in the first place – I’m not doing events for the sake of it. There are many events each week (even on most days of a week) where you can run laps on a course to make up a marathon that is eligible for the ‘100 marathon club’. I have no interest in that. I want to combine my running with a sense of adventure and explore somewhere new in doing so. Yes the events I enter are all mainstream, but if you’re not into your trail running then they need some explaining. I loved it. This was my passion.
In 2019 however I realised that, the more I ran though, the less I could ‘run with Dai’. Most runs were now social runs and often in groups though. I simply didn’t have the time to arrange to travel and meet individuals for runs that would often now be quire ‘short’ (it is all relative!). So it’s taken a back seat instead as I chase personal glories and the thrill of finishing events that challenge me in new ways.
Travel was clearly a big part of my running lifestyle too. I wanted to go where the new experiences would be. Run in places that scare and excite me. Places I can fondly look back on with epic memories. I promised myself to continue doing just that.
Yearly Marathon count = 15 (+5 Unofficial)
2020 – Miler Man
On the topic of travelling for running, midway through 2019 an opportunity to travel with friends to New Zealand presented itself for the beginning of 2020. I didn’t need too much persuading, I was in. I went to sign up to the 100km event with everyone else, then, I saw the finishers medal for the 100 mile event – A jade stone pounamu – I thought fuck the 100km, I wanted that pounamu and I signed up to the 100 mile distance at the Tarawera Ultra Trail event instead. There was my motivation to finish right there!
The obsession with running carried on and I ticked off that first 100 mile event (and later that year the second one too). I followed up the NZ adventure with 10 days running in Borneo with the Maverick Race team. I’d done a few of their events by now and really liked everything about them and what they offered. Borneo had always been a place I wanted to visit and this was the perfect opportunity to do so, combining it with my love of running. The week ended spectacularly with the 109km Borneo Ultra Trail Marathon. I’m not sure I’ll ever run in such heat and humidity ever again!
Looking back, I was so fortunate to squeeze those trips and two events in before March and when the global impacts of Covid started to become clear. This naturally led to a year (and more!) of disruption and as races started to be cancelled, I looked for different ways of getting my running kicks without the travel adventures. I embraced the local running and found many incredible places that are within my running reach. 12 times in 2020 I found myself running my own ultra challenges, including an 80 mile loop around London with a good buddy Paul as we decided to run the entire Capital Ring route.
Later in the year as restrictions started to relax, I’d managed to sign up to numerous other events to replace those that had been cancelled or postponed. The North Downs Way 100 was one of them and turned out to be a long and arduous trek as the British weather decided to try and top the temperatures I’d experienced in Borneo now many months ago.
I followed this up with the excellent Eden Valley Ultra, the Pilgrim’s Marathon in Farenham and trips to both the Peak district and Dorset for the Maverick X series Peak District and Maverick X Series Jurassic Coast. Throughout the year as I was ticking off more events and when I realised I was creeping close to this 50 milestone. It was probably late summer when I started thinking about it and came to the definition I summarised earlier. The way things were going, with more events signed up too, I’d hit 50 before the end of the calendar year. That obviously didn’t happen in the end though and here I am now a year later reflecting on that achievement.
Yearly Marathon count = 8 (+12 Unofficial)
2021 – New Adventures
Just like the summer of 2020, there was a long pause on mass events and it wasn’t until April that I did my first organised event of the year. Up until then it was a few more months of local trails and exploring new places I could reach from my doorstep as well as some recces of routes for other events scheduled for later in the year.
One of my favourite places to run near to home is Coulsdon and the Happy Valley. There are so many different trails and ways I can get there from home and its also feasible to venture down and along sections of the North Downs Way too. I spent a lot of time running around Caterham also and decided this would be a great place to start the ‘Centre of the Universe‘ ultra organised by Camino. A mass event where the runners dictate where they start and what route they take to reach the finish at the ‘centre of the universe’ (or Hackney!). I loved this concept and had a great time running with a group of friends (and Bruce!) all day.
Come may I was once more racing on the North Downs Way as I ran the North Downs Ridge, the third of my events with Freedom Racing who do an excellent job! I then ran the 100km Ultra X Spring Series in Haselmere with Ged and then, in June, I was heading back to a Maverick race with the return of their X Series Exmoor ‘The Beast’. I’d never been to Exmoor before and it was an incredible place with some absolutely stunning trails to explore. In between these two events I fancied something a little different so ran the length of the Downs Link from Guildford to Shoreham-by-Sea. Whilst it was nice to explore somewhere new, this one was for the brain. It was flat and straight and the terrain consistently gravel tracks. I knew it would be a mind-bender but that was all good training in my eyes.
That training would soon be put to good user as the year’s big event was looming in the not too distance future. First though, another Camino Ultra event with their Lea Valley Ultra, another run ending in their universe of Hackney.
From here it was a few weeks of stressing about travel requirements, testing and worrying about phantom injuries. At the beginning of July I headed out with Paul and Darryl to a new event Val D’Aran by UTMB in the Pyrenees. For the third time I’d be running a 100 miles, I never planned it to become a regular thing. This time though I’d be doing it in one of the most technical places I’d run and would have to overcome 10,000m of elevation for the first time. It is unquestionably the hardest event I’ve ever done. It took 47 hours and was basically a long distance hike to the finish. Though as the hours ticked by, nothing was going to stop me from getting to that finish line!
After VDA I made one of the most sensible running decisions of my life, I did the 50km event at the SVP100 instead of my favourite 100km! Ok, perhaps not so sensible seeing as I ran a marathon with Nick the week before and self diagnosed myself with an Achilles injury. Still, it felt slightly better at the SVP. I’m useless at resting and I soon signed up to some more events though and next was my first trip to the Lake District to run the Grand Tour of Skiddaw with Jon. Here I sampled the best soup I’ve ever had in my life! you need to sign up to this event just four the Soup that Gaynor, the RD, makes. you won’t regret it. The race is pretty ace too.
After the lakes I also ticked off another place I’ve been trying to get to for a while and ran an ultra around the Malvern hills with Lauren. She was soon heading off to achieve phenomenal things at the Marathon Des sables, whilst I was back out with Nick once more for his longest run to date – the Centurion Chiltern Wonderland. We had such a great time running a big loop around the Chilterns and it was a great feeling to see him run so confidently and use all his experience to great success.
After dialling it back a little and getting into a semblance of a running routine again, it would soon all be disrupted once more as a few of us broke free and headed to Turkey for the exceptional Cappadocia Ultra Trail. In Urgup I took on the 120km CUT and had a mixed time to begin with before finishing strongly in what has to be one of the rewarding and most incredible events I’ve done.
I then squeezed in another Maverick race, their Frontier South Downs with Nick before getting ready for my final event of the year… Sadly, the Cheviot Goat didn’t happen due to terrible unforeseen circumstances with major storms in the area causing devastation the week before. After 6 hours of travelling, we were notified of the cancellation when we were just an hour away and 3 hours before registration was due to begin. We made the most of our trip though and planned our own, shorter 50km run in the Cheviot Hills instead.
With the year almost over, I made one last attempt to squeeze in another adventure whilst I was home in Swansea for Christmas. After being banned from running for a week, I desperately needed that escapism so persuaded my parents to Taxi me to the coast and I ran the entire length (55km) of the Gower Way path.
Yearly Marathon count = 11 (+9 Unofficial)
Reflection
Well, I’ve mumbled off on a tangent and a right ‘ol trip down memory lane! What was suppose to be a reflection on 50, has turned into a reflection on my running journey (hate that phrase!) as a whole. As I type this, The Beast by Maverick, the X-Series Exmoor was my 50th official Marathon. At the end of the year the official count is at 57 (41 ultras, 16 marathons). My unofficial is standing at 89 (64 ultras, 25 marathons). Phwooar.
That is over 4,100 km of running official events (>5,500km unofficial) in 20 different countries (on 4 different continents) visited purely for running. I guess that non-committal challenge I set 8 years ago is well underway now! It is hard for me not to look at the distance per event too. I know I said each event counts once, but over those 57 events, the mean distance is 73km which certainly is significant in that the number of longer distances has substantially increased in the last 3 years!
Each of these events has beaten me up in new ways. The Trans Gran Canaria attacked my mind (and feet!). The Madeira Island Ultra Trail destroyed my quads, Lavaredo wrecked my feet. The TDS pushed me longer than I’d ever ran before. The Lemkwoyna Ultra Trail pushed me through the mud, the cold and the tiredness of the Polish mountains. Tarawera sent me deep into the darkness of the bush and Borneo brutalised me with the intense heat and humidity and then there was Val D’Aran which was like nature declared war with my body and mind. Just when you think you’ve experienced it all, the technicalities of the Pyrenees shows you there is so much more!
So what now… More of the same obviously. The path continues into 2022. It won’t stop here. 2022 is already full of more plans and adventures. Maybe I’ll get to an ‘official’ century one day. Maybe I won’t. But for now, this is me. This is my lifestyle of choice. It’s not without sacrifice nor stress. But that’s within my control. I love nothing more than getting a bag of food and clothes together and exploring somewhere new for the first time.
North Downs Way 100
This was my second time running the North Downs Way 100 by Centurion Running, 5 years after my last outing. I’m not in a story telling mood so won’t be recounting step by step this adventure. 100 miles is a long way and I’ve described the course and experience in detail already, but I have captured some thoughts:
The why – Why did I sign up to do a 100 mile run I’ve already run? Why did I sign up when I swore I onl want to run 100 mile races that offer something truly different and special to me? Western States is why… As I mentioned in my last post about the Glossglockner Ultra Trail, I now needed to complete a qualifying event to be eligible to enter the lottery for the Western States Endurance Run. I toiled with many other qualifying races, but the logistics, costs and timings were all unfavourable. So it was really coming down to doing one of the Centurion Running 100 milers. I didn’t want to run the NDW, so it was a bad place to start in terms of not really being mentally invested, but the logistics were just by far the easiest to accommodate. Despite this, the desire to get that WSER qualifier was strong enough to ensure I would finish though.
The short notice planning – Signing up to a 100 mile race with just a weeks notice is weird. It did however remove a lot of anxiety involved with the lead up to big events. Whilst it was kind of silly, it also feels good to know that I can do that. Not just start. But finish strongly! In the week leading up to the race, I went back and compared my previous time with that of Paul and Maria. We were all similar (finished within 30 mins of each other’s times over different years) but had massive variations in our pace. Maria was consistent throughout. I blew up at 50k, but then covered the last 40k significantly quicker. Paul had a speedy mid section and then blew up at the end.
My 5,6,7,8 Plan – From this I made a plan. Finishing was the goal (that is enough for the WSER qualifier). Finishing quicker than my 2020 time would be nice. I figured if I could move more consistently it would be a good day. I broke the race into 4 x 40km and gave myself a really intelligent and thought out arbitrary timings for each. Do the first 40km in 5 hours. The second 40km in 6 hours. The third 40km in 7 hours and the last 40km in, yep you guessed it, 8hrs. That would give me a 26 hr finish. Nice. Now the more informed reader will be aware of a gapping flaw in that plan. The race is 103 miles. So not exactly 160 km as per my plan. It also didn’t accommodate for any ‘dwell time’, of which there would be plenty. But I didn’t care. That was enough of a plan for me to be satisfied.
The friendly faces – There were many people I met at the start, during the race and at the finish. At registration I saw Pierre who was working as the Official Photographer for the event. Thanks so much for the pictures! Sarah who I met during registration and then ended up running the first section with. We had a good ‘ol natter and put the world to rights. Come the first aid station I couldn’t keep up though and she sped off. After box hill I never saw her again as she finished an impressive 3+ hours before me as fourth lady. Incredible performance. There was also Frank who was volunteering at Box hill. Thanks for the mood boost and filling me with food and water! Ian and Jamie were at the finish line and were out pacing other runners throughout the night. I always see them both at various races, Ian I shared many miles with on the North Downs Way back in 2020! Then there was Jamie (another) and Robin who I shared some miles with throughout the day. Always good to have company.
The first 40km – The start felt good. There are lots of flat sections and runnable trails from Farnham to Dorking. I ran pretty hard. Think I did it in about 4.5 hours which I was very happy with. The section after St Martha’s in particular I don’t enjoy (it’s so flat and repetitive) so I was glad to keep moving through these sections. At Box Hill it amused me how people have turned Box Hill into a mountain. The amount of huffing and puffing and sweating. The amount of runners using poles. It’s become this mystical beast. People walk up there in their Gucci trainers carrying buggies for fuck sake! It’s only about 100m of climbing!
The North Downs Kiss – I was running the section from Box Hill to Reigate with a guy I met called Jamie. Chatting away I must have completely switched off. I stubbed my toe and fell spectacularly. I let out a whelp and did a sort of shuffle stumble forward. Thankfully the shuffle gave me time to react and break the fall. Rather than go down like a sack of spuds I sort of skidded along the trail as I gave the North Downs way a kiss. Frustratingly it’s a Root-y, lumpy area and I did feel some impact. Grazed arms and knees mostly and I was covered in dirt which clung to my sweaty skin. I was shocked. It messed me up a bit. I was happy and moving well. Now my body was shaking and my mind wobbled. I couldn’t shake the thoughts about what damage I might have done. I told Jamie to run ahead as I walked and tried to compose myself. It took me a few km. I walked up Reigate hill and walked / shuffled to the aid station at Reigate cafe. I took ten mins here to sit down and breathe. I was ok. My hip hurt. But I was fine. The rest did wonders and I was able to shift the negative thoughts and get back out there. Turns out I didn’t break the fall entirely. A week later I still have a massive bruise on my hip which has gone through the whole spectrum of black, blue and then yellow!
Caterham – Running through Caterham was odd. 8 months ago I moved there. Now I was 38 miles into a 100 mile event running along trails I run every week. It was a mental thing running past knowing I could quit and be home within a few kms. It was never going to happen though. It also surprised me how hilly it is here. I run these trails without thinking every week, with 38 miles in the legs you feel every incline!! From Caterham to Otford it was hot. Not like in 2020. But it was the warmest part of the day on one of the most exposed parts of the trail, running through many open fields was tiring and energy sapping in the heat. I clocked the second 40km including an extended stop at Knockholt in about 6 and a half hours. Perfect. Right on time. Ready to go get Paul.
Secret Service – Leaving Knockholt a spectator made a weird joke about “look out for the secret services”. It went over my head. Down the country lane we came across some coppers. I thought nothing of it. Later on I found out that JD Vance was in town visiting the Foreign Minister who lives down that lane. So there was a high security presence. The joke made sense then all those hours later!
Meeting Paul at Otford – It was good to have a friendly face and someone to chat with. It had been a while since we’d seen each other, longer than usual! So it was good to catch up here over the next 14 hours or so. He’s such a top guy and happily volunteered to support me through the NDW to get the WSER qualifier.
Night time – I’d forgotten how many road sections there are in the race, even so in the second half of the race. There was a long flat section after Wrotham (about 60 miles in) that I couldn’t remember. And the roads to Blue Bell Hill and those at the end through Ashford were also longer than I remember. Conversely, there were a lot more hills in the last 30 miles than I recalled. A few of the obvious once I recalled but there were lots of undulations I’d completely forgotten about. Also at night the red moon at was epic. Here’s a picture from Pierre the photographer.
Bluebell Hill – Once upon a time there was an aid station here. There isn’t any more. It threw me. I thought I looked at the race instruction but clearly missed it. It was annoying as mentally I was looking forward to the stop and break. It made the section harder mentally as we carried on for a few more miles before reaching Detling. On the climb to Bluebell Hill I ticked over the 120km mark. That last 40km was a tad over 6 hours, far better than the 7 I’d planned for.
Pot Noodles – My drop bag for Detling (mile 82) was just 4 Pot Noodles. Nice and simple. Making sure me and Paul had something to fuel us for the last 20 miles. Paul wolfed them down. I spent 30 mins trying to get through them but only managed one and a dribble.
Sleepy Time – Arriving into Hollingbourne I was tired. Very tired. I’d shut down and was just trudging along. Not really talking. I was swaying aide to aide and my eyes were closing. I tried a 2 min trail nap but it wasn’t enough/ didn’t work. I told Paul I needed a 10 mins stop and wanted something I could sit on. Thankfully the ‘cyclist/ramblers rest’ spot on the Pilgrims Way had a lovely bench. We stopped and had a snooze. A little while later I was still sleepy. It was starting to get lighter but in the forests it was still pitch black. I found a stile and had another ten mins. I think I went to dream land on this one. Paul woke me up and I was fine afterwards. Daylight had arrived and the tiredness subdued.
The Pilgrims Way – This last section, the last 10 miles, was a constant plod and shuffle. Way better than 5 years earlier. The trails are now flatter with gentle undulations and mostly on gravel tracks until the last 3 miles of road to the finish line. We had a sit down and coffee at the aid station at Lennham and then breezed through Dunn Street into Ashford. It took about 8 hours to cover the last 40+kms.
The Finish – I crossed the finish line in about 25 hours and 20 mins. Almost 2.5 hrs quicker than when I ran the route in 2025. Pretty much nailed my 5678 plan. I’m aware that a sub 24hour finish is possible. I don’t need to move faster. I just need to spend less time at aid stations – the tracker suggests it had almost 2 hours of dwell time. I looked up other runners finishing hours before and hours after me and many stop at aid stations for only a fraction of that time. Still, it works for me. I like to faff about.
Final Thoughts – As always all the centurion staff and volunteers were awesome. It is such a well planned and organised event, as are all the Centurion races. And so, the objective was achieved and the bonus secured. A Western States Qualifier for the year is obtained and the dream is kept alive…And of course the biggest thanks to Paul. Since I mentioned the Glossglockner cancellation he was in my corner supporting me. Helping look for alternatives. He made the logistics for the NDW much easier and cheaper too by letting me stay in Guildford the night before, driving me to the start. Insisted on keeping me company for almost half the run. Drove me home. Looked after me. Not many would do so much. Only a few weeks back he flew to the states to do the same for Matt at Hardrock100. He’s one hell of a good friend!
Glossglockner Ultra Trail
We arrived into Kaprun to be welcomed by the rain. Immediately on the drive in the mountains were spectacular, towering above us in all directions. We managed one dry little hike the day before the race. Other than that, it rained, sometimes torrentially, for the few days we were there before the race. We also took advantage of the physio taping available, each addressing our own little niggles. Mine, some weird heel issue that has come out of nowhere to cause me pain (so much so that I added Codeine to my medical kit incase I needed to ‘block it out’).
Whilst the rest of us enjoyed a lazy morning, Ale did the 37km race, where he ran along the first 30km of our route, only in the opposite direction back to where we would be starting later that night. At the finish, he was soaked, but happy. That afternoon, the safety briefing for our race was released. It was comprehensive and very detailed. As we suspected it might be, the course for the other races was changed. For the 110k there were two changes, both in the second half of the course, we’d lose elevation gain and instead be re-directed through the valleys rather than up and over the mountains. We were ok with this change, the other potential change (that we were aware of) that could have happened was a complete re-route of the first 30km where we’d follow a road around the mountain. We were glad we wouldn’t be doing this diversion. They also changed the cut-offs, reducing the overall cut off by 2 hours. I guess that suggested the course would be ‘easier’. It didn’t affect my plan though – I intended to finish within 28 hours as that was the time required to use the race as a qualification for the Western States (WSER) run which I keep trying to get into.
At the start line it was raining hard. Jon and I kept dry as long as we could. Just before starting the rain eased up and the MC indicated that they didn’t think it would rain anymore. Knowing we would be climbing uphill for pretty much the first few hours (we’d cover just shy of 2,000m elevation gain in the first 20km), I removed my coat to avoid overheating. Naturally, as soon as we started running it began raining again…
The route started in the main town square. Immediately we were walking as they funnelled the runners right after the start line for some reason. Then it was a free for all along the road. I ran with Jon to begin with. After a short while we left the road onto some wider gravel tracks and then about 2km later we hit a climb. The poles came out as we slowed to a walk up the switchback narrow tracks. But it didn’t last long and we flattened out pretty quickly and started running again. I kept moving with the crowd and lost Jon in the masses. After the climb we ran first through muddy fields and past a building site/quarry of some sort before we were back on the wide gravel tracks again. It was an ever so gradual incline as we ran passed the Sigmund Thun Klamm Wasserfall that was spectacularly lit up in different colours in the night.
It proceed to rain and piss down as we made our way uphill, the climb getting steeper and steeper. There was a combination of narrow tracks, switch backs and wide roads. Occasionally, heavy machinery passing us on the roads in the night. We made our way through numerous tunnels, some on the roads, and some on the trails. They added a bit of adventure to the course. So far, so good. The climb was long, but easy going. The terrain was varied and, early on, at its hardest it was because of the water and how muddy the trails were. We weaved around the mountain, crossing many streams through the early hours. I was soaked right through, head to toe, but mostly warm. I told myself I’d re-assess the clothing options at the first checkpoint once we got higher. The decision was almost made for me as we passed through the bigger of the tunnels, running inside a narrow footpath beside the road.
As we emerged back out to the footpath, there was a queue of runners and a marshal. We were going to navigate along the cliff edge. There was no path anymore, just slippery rocks and a sheer drop below us. There were metal rungs occasionally there to aid our step and a metal cable along side for support. It was slow going. The worst part, above us over the mountain, the water was gushing down and we were essentially crossing a waterfall. It was a cold, midnight shower. Suddenly I was drenched and freezing and knew I’d need to put on a warmer layer at the aid station. Thankfully it was just around the corner once we were back on solid ground.
We were 2,000m up now. It was much colder. There was a large gazebo on the side of the road. It was the first aid station, Mooserboden. Like me, other runners were changing tops/putting on jackets as a priority. I put my coat straight on. Whilst I was wet underneath, I knew keeping the cold, windy air off my body would be sufficient to keep me warm. The effort of the climbing would mean my body temperature wouldn’t drop. I quickly had some warm potato soup (amazing!), filled my bottles and set back off.
Now we had one of the more spectacular sections of the race, alongside the damns and reservoirs above Kaprun. Only it was about 1am, so there was nothing for me to see. The route here was fairly flat and a mixture of pathed roads running across the damns, then rocky trails along side the streams that fed the reservoirs. It was undulating with a few climbs and again very muddy on the trails. I wasn’t expecting this, but it made so much sense. Even in the darkness I could sense the presence of the mountains, they were huge and dominating. They create their own weather system in the area and the vastness of the water-cycle became obvious.
After 4 or 5 km of these trails we started climbing again. It was steeper than before. Again, initially muddy, then progressively steeper and rockier. The rocks became boulders and it was a slow slog. Occasionally a little scrambling was required. Watching videos of the course I was mentally prepared and had put my poles away along time ago. They wouldn’t help on the giant, slippery rocks and the freedom of my hands for scrambling was a definite winner. At the top, a narrow squeeze through the rocks took us over the summit. I took a mount to breathe, looked down and assess the descent.
It started with a slow scramble down, using my hands to lower myself between rocks. The rocky switch backs then dominated the track as we weaved down slowly. As the rocks became smaller, the trail became narrower and wetter once more. I was moving freely though. Behind me another runner stuck with my pace and we started talking. It was a guy called Jakob. Between us we struggled to navigate in the darkness. The mist and clag severely limited our vision and the head torches couldn’t pick up the reflection of the course markings. It was slow but steady progress together. Thankfully I remained upright throughout, despite the odd bog reaching above my shins. For parts the trails reminded me of the boggy trails I’d run in Norway.
After the descent the trails were similar to before – flooded, muddy and narrow. Once more we weaved across many mountain streams as we made our way to the next climb. This one was a little slower going. It felt steeper, the rocks felt bigger and my breathing felt heavier. We were open to the elements up high and the wind was howling. After about 300m or so we emerged at the next aid station Rudolfshutte. Jakob set about tending to his feet and I went and had a few vegetable soups. The warmth and saltiness of the soups were delicious. Best I’ve had on a race for a long time. I didn’t stop long and went straight back out.
In the darkness of the night I ran down the path out of the aid station, a straight, fairly steep downhill that woke the legs up. It wasn’t long, although with the mist I couldn’t tell. At the bottom I found myself running with a few others. It was stop start as we navigated the course with difficulty. After a while we completely lost track of all markings and found ourselves to be off course. We’d followed the more obvious path, but now needed to back track a few hundred meters. Back on course we were climbing again. Just like before, out in the open on the mountain, steep rocks leading us up. There were no switch backs here. Just head down and follow a straight line up to the summit of the climb. It was once again slow going but I kept moving. The higher we climbed the colder it got.
When I reached the summit, I felt on top of the world. Morning was slowly breaking and the darkness of night was becoming more grey in the rain. Visibility was improving as I headed straight back down. I knew now it was all down hill to the half-way mark. It was about 16-18km of downhill though! The initial descent was steep as we clambered over the boulders to lower ground. Then we followed narrow switchbacks on loose scree. The ankles were screaming, but the descent was quick. After descending a few hundred meters the incline decreased and the trails became less rocky.
The morning was clearing up, the rain stopped and I finally had enough light to get a glimpse of the surroundings. Wow! We were in a vast valley. Surrounded by huge mountains. It reminder me of those in the French Alps. All around us were spectacular rock formations and huge waterfalls. I tried to take some pictures, but the lighting didn’t do it justice. Jakob went flying passed me as I continued to plod down. Way off in the distance was a lake where I could see runners heading too. From there who knows where the course would take me…
It felt like an eternity, trundling with wet, muddy trails and dry gravel tracks to make any progress. Occasional short inclines brought brief moments of rest. I was conscious that I was going to destroy my quads, but this was probably going to be the best trails and terrain I’d get for any consistent running, so kept moving. Partway down there was a water stop at a farm. Well, water and beer. I filled my bottles (with water!) and left, carrying on the consistent pace where possible. There was another runner here, Jan that I started chatting with and we ran pretty much all the way to the aid station together.
At one point on the descent, the trail took us through another tunnel. Jan was way ahead at this point as I entered and tried to film the tunnel. It was however longer than I expected and pitch black inside. As I ran I fumbled around to find my head torch. It was a huge tunnel. As I ran I could here a rumble. It was loud. Like the night before I assumed there were works and heavy machinery somewhere. It grew louder and louder and I couldn’t ascertain where it was coming from. Then I looked behind me and saw a faint glow of headlights. There was something very big coming behind me! I stepped up the pace. I was almost sprinting in the dark. There was no where to step aside in the tunnel. I could see the daylight ahead and ran as fast as my tired legs would take me. Outside Jan was waiting and moments after me a huge tractor and trailer emerged right behind me. I made it just in time! A race within a race.
The last few kms into the aid station were a walk run as we ran through the town and up to the aid station. As I arrived the 50km runners were lining up about to start. The MC called out “one minute to go”. I looked for my friends in the crowd but couldn’t see them. So I started screaming their names. The runners loved it. Many cheered back, many clapped me and there were a few hi-fives too as they set off running passed me in the opposite direction, to begin their own adventures.
Inside, I got my drop bag and did a full kit change, dried and cleaned my feet, reapplied some tape and had a nice warm pasta dish. I spent a little over 30mins preparing myself. I felt good. Very good. It had taken just over 10 hours to get through Kals, which was just shy of 50km. As tough mountain 50kms go, it was alright! For comparison it took over 13 hours to do a similar distance at the Dolomiti Extreme Trail recently and Stranda Fjord 3 years ago took me about 12 hours. I psyched myself up to head back out in the rain, optimistic I’d be finishing far quicker than I planned for.
Only I didn’t realise just how quickly I’d be finishing… After leaving the aid station we were on wide un-pathed roads. Climbing almost immediately. Some parts were fairly steep but overall it was a manageable incline to hike steadily. I passed the turning where the original course would have take and probably got about 2-3km along, climbed maybe 300m before I saw a runner coming down hill. I assumed they were either not in the race or had decided to quit and return to Kals. Then they stopped me and explained the race had been stopped. Cancelled. It was over. Due to weather conditions near the GlocknerHause the organisers had decided to stop the races and runners were to return to the nearest Aid Station (either Kals I’d just left or to GloreHutte for those further along). I was in disbelief. I didn’t want to believe them I stayed there and waited as they headed back down. A few moments later more runners were coming. Acceptance set in. Once of the runners was Jan and he confirmed he’d spoken to his wife who’d said the same. Begrudgingly I turned around and began slowly heading back to Kals too. On the way down more and more runners passed me.
As I descended I got chatting to another, a French chap. We acknowledged it was disappointing but safety is always the right call. He said that the organisers were arranging for buses to transport runners back to Kaprun from the aid stations. At Kals, I looked for Jon and the others but couldn’t find them. Then a lady announced there were two buses. I made sure I was on one. An hour and a half later I was back in Kals where it all began. A whole day ahead of me with no idea how to use it!
As disappointing as it is, it’s always the right decision for an organiser to prioritise safety of runners above everything else. People will moan, but no organiser wants to cancel their race! I was glad to get on the first bus (good timing!) as some of the others waited hours for buses. The only thing I’d criticise is that since the race was cancelled, and still, there has been no communication from the organisers whatsoever to participants directly. An explanation of some sort would be appreciated. That said, I’d definitely go back to this race and finish the job! I was running well and on for a good time! I also feel bad for my friends on the 50km race that only managed a few kms before their race was cancelled less than an hour after they began!
Later that week I emailed the organiser of WSER to see what the situation would be regarding qualifiers. They quickly responded saying they’d still accept the GGUT as a qualifier IF I’d reached GloreHutte before it was cancelled. Sadly I didn’t and was probably still a few hours away from that point. So I immediately went off looking for another qualifier. I looked at several options and begrudgingly signed up to run the North Downs Way 100, again. Logistically it was the easiest and most sensible option. The race is next week… yeah, a 100mile event at a week’s notice can be ‘sensible’ with this addiction!
Pickle Me Up
Another week, another race. I almost didn’t sign up to the inaugural Tea & Trails ultra as I thought the cost of an entry was far too steep (I think it was about £150 for a 50km!!). However, after Jon got a discounted entry for a friend, I decided it was more reasonable and jumped on board, ready to explore a little more of the Lake District.
We travelled up on Friday morning along with Ilona and Phil and would meet Shirin and a few others in the lakes. As part of the event there was camping and various talks and stuff happening over the weekend. Thankfully though Jon isn’t fond of camping and neither am I (when running anyway!) so we dropped the others off in the field in the rain and made our way to the hotel to check in.
The next morning we arrived bright and early to register and spent a short while chatting with the others before deciding to just start. Yep, just start we did – the organisers had a rolling start for an hour before the mass start. We’d planned to join the mass start at 8:30 but thought there was no point hanging around for another 45 minutes when we could just get going. Besides, Jon had a plan to deviate from the course and ‘tag’ a few more Wrainwrights, so the extra time would be put to good use.
After a quick kit check and receiving our trackers, we spent a few mins explaining to the tracking/safety team our plan to go off route. It was better to let them know in advance rather than panic if they saw our trackers go ‘off route’. Then we casually walked over the start line and out of the field…
It started with a bit more faffing as I forgot to start my watch and didn’t have my heart rate strap on (great fun trying to get on without taking my jacket off in the rain) which I did as we slowly jogged along the country lane upon leaving the field. It was already wet and miserable as we slowly walked the long road and made our way up to the car park at the bottom of Skiddaw. Despite this, it was way too hot so I peeled my jacket off half way up. From the car park we had a nice gentle single track descent and, momentarily, the clag lifted and we could see a glimpse of a view back down through the valley.
We passed some Marshall’s before continuing down on a slippery and wet section before seeing some of Jon’s friends who were volunteering out on the course. Next up came a wide and gentle climb as we made our way along the other side of the valley and towards Blencathra. By now we’d passed a few others from the rolling start and could see the masses from the main start making their way along the other side of the valley we’d just traversed. The front runner already had a significant lead and we suspected he’d be passing us very quickly.
We had a short descent into another car park before heading onto some single track to begin the first of two big climbs on the route. It was straight up to Blencathra from here. We were on the gravel switch back climb when the first runner did indeed come speeding passed us, running the steep climb effortlessly. It is always so impressive to see lead runners running, not something I get to experience in a mass start!
As we reached the top the summit was completely covered in clag and visibility was just a few metres. It was windy, but a decent temperature and not cold at all. After a quick summit photo we made our way across Blencathra (I was trying, unsuccessfully, to see were Halls Fell ridge was, which we descended down on the Lakes In A Day last year) as we passed.
It wasn’t long before we were descending again with initially nice wide trails and a little bit of off-track running. It was enjoyable and the further down we went, the better the visibility became. Off in the distance we could see other runners and where the route would take us. It was probably about 45 mins since the lead runner went passed and now more and more runners were following in his footsteps.
We continued to descent in a lovely single track that very quickly became a stream. The relentless rain for a few days (whilst the rest of the UK was experiencing a heatwave, It had been pouring down in the Lake District!) meant there was a lot of water running off the mountains and temporary streams were forming as the water followed the shape of the footpath. We embraced it and the descent was still enjoyable even with cold and wet feet.
As we continued, so did the build up of water. There were puddles galore and some were quite deep. Despite mocking my choice of footwear (they were far from aggressive on the grip front) it was Jon who slipped and fell (not once, but twice) and had a small mud bath. I almost joined him when I stopped to take a photo and almost slipped whilst standing still!
We made it to the first aid station after about 20km and were glad for a quick fuel stop. The aid station was quiet but exceptionally prepared inside the Mungrisdale village hall. The lovely volunteers pandered to my constant requests for sandwiches (first jam and then cheese and pickle) and afterwards stocked me up with wonderful cakes (the salted caramel brownie was delicious) before we left. As we walked on, I tried to eat all the food I was carrying, but had to stash a bit of brownie in my soft cup which I was just to stuffed to finish. I forgot about it later and found it all mushed up in my cup after the race!
We started seeing more and more people now and Jon became more and more recognised too. Besides being recognised from his (brilliant!) adventure on the Northern Traverse (organised by the same race director), Jon is a bit of a Tea & Trails super fan and featured as a guest on one of the episodes. A handful of people recognised him along the day! Much to my amusement as I mocked him each time (think “oooh podcast friends” and “I’m kind of a big deal”).
In the midday rain we continued along the undulating road section to Mosedale (this was pretty dull and a little tiring with the small inclines and descents) before re-joining the trail that leads to Skiddaw House (the next aid station). From here I knew the next few kms as we’d run the same trail years back (with Jon!) on the Grand Tour of Skiddaw race. As we reminisced about previous races the Tea & Trail hosts popped up on course, much to Jon’s delight and my amusement. I said Jon was like Troy McClure from The Simpsons – “hi, I’m Jon Zincke, you might remember me from such adventures as the Northern Traverse and the Tea & Trails Podcast”). After a quick chat we carried on.
It wasn’t long before we reached Skiddaw House (the highest hostel in the UK) and stopped to refuel (or chat Northern Traverse with fellow runners/volunteers in Jon’s case!). As I mocked him a little more, I stuffed my face with more cheese and pickle sandwiches (Pickle me up!) in the rain. It was good proper soggy weather now!
From here we’d have our first course deviation to ‘bag a Wrainwright’. After a few kms of lovely runnable trails we left the trail and headed straight uphill on a vague track. It was steep and slippery and slow going. We added a few hundred extra meters of elevation here to see a pile of rocks before turning round and heading by back down to re-join the route. This was the biggest deviation we’d do and I was quite glad when it was over!
The trails took us along a gentle track back down through the valley and we joined a road we once again recognised from the Grand Tour (it was a different experience that day which was very hot and sweaty!). The next few kms took us through several fields and trails as we made our way to the bottom of Skiddaw. Here there was the final checkpoint (no more sandwiches as it was just a water stop) before we would start the biggest climb of the course.
And climb we did. We’d be climbing Skiddaw the way we descended on the Grand Tour up (along Ullock Pike I think). I thought I remembered it well, but clearly I didn’t. The initial part had a few longer and steeper climbs than I remembered. Nothing too bad but a few slightly technical sections and it was slow going on tired legs. Before we reached the steep ‘scree’ part of the climb we took another diversion. A very short one as we extended a corner to a tighter angle to bag another Wrainwright. Passing the pile of rocks (so memorable I can’t even recall its name) we re-joined the course and began the toughest part of the course.
Here you climb steeply along the side of the mountain with small loose rocks underfoot. By now the wind and rain was pummelling us. It was very much a case of head down, keep breathing and keep slowly moving forward. It was far longer than I remembered and the legs were screaming out for it to be over! We kept going and made it to the top where the wind really kicked in. Strong winds were blowing runners around and making it difficult to traverse the short out and back to the actual summit point where we’d turn around. We thanked the volunteers who were braving the elements for us and headed back. The mission now was to get down as quickly as possible to get out of the wind. We were cold and wet as we tried to run whilst holding our hoods and hats on our head and hold our race numbers to our shorts. I was leaning back into the wind as it pushed against me, pushing me upright and vertical. The whiplash of my hood flapping violently against my ear was annoying and I was so glad when we’d descended enough to get out of the wind and clag.
We made a decision to skip our planned, short detour to Skiddaw Little Man as we really just couldn’t be bothered now (it’s an easy one for Jon to access and tick off this Wrainwright another time) and kept with the momentum of running down the descent off Skiddaw. The descent was tiring. A quad buster for sure. I’d only ever ascended on this route before and once again had forgotten how long it was. Running down hill was quickly exhausting. The legs had had enough now!
Eventually we made it back to the car park (the one we’d passed first thing in the morning) and confused some spectators as we detoured again and left the route. We were off for the short detour to Lattrig. We took a slightly different path than we’d initially planned and it turned out to be much nicer (longer but less steep!). We had a brief chat with some hikers at the view point (not knowing that we hadn’t actually made it to the summit point!) and then turned around, ready for the last few kms to the finish line.
The descent was nice and gentle as we ran single tracks before joining some flatter fields that headed back to the country road we started on. It was a short few hundred meters back into the campsite and over the finish line, through the human tunnel the volunteers created as they cheered us in. We were given our finisher’s mugs and we played around as we had our photo taken. We then met up with the others and also cheered in Shirin who finished just behind us. After the finish we had a quick dry off and change in the car park before driving back to the hotel for a lovely warm shower and fish and chips. We later headed back down to the campsite to watch a live recording of the podcast.
It was a brilliant weekend and adventure with a great organisation of the first Tea & Trails ultra. It might have been typical to get blown about and soaked through in the Lake District. Certainly true that races in the Lake District always have the best aid stations and food!
Never trust Italians
Here we go then. The first ‘big one’ and real ultra test of 2025 – the Dolomiti Extreme Trail. 103km of trail running around the beautiful Dolomites. It wouldn’t be my first running adventure in the Dolomites – back in 2019 I ran the Lavaredo Ultra Trail – so when Matt messaged about joining him for the race, part of me thought ‘oh I’ve been there and done that’ but after looking into it I realised the race is in a completely different part of the region. So I was in, ready to explore some more of the beautiful Dolomites.
Leading up to the race, the organisation seemed top notch. There was a plethora of information provided and heaps of services for runners. For example, being in a small town, many runners would be staying in other parts of the valley and a bus service to transport you around, between registration and hotels and to and from the start and finish was provided. This would be great…
We were staying a little further up in the valley in Mareson and I flew in the night before Matt and stayed overnight near the airport in Venice. We rented a car and drove over the day before the race. We checked in to the hotel and were all set to use the bus service to head down and register. The hotel even called the organisers and confirmed the bus schedule for us. We hung around and waited for a bus that never came. The hotel owner’s son very kindly drove us down to the Forno di Zoldo to register. After registering we checked and asked about the buses (and also ‘booked’ our bus back to the town for the start the next evening) and were told ‘oh, the buses aren’t running today’. Despite them being advertised and the schedules being provided to all the hotels and confirmed over the phone a few hours earlier… this was frustrating. It also seemed unclear whether we’d be able to get a bus back in the early hours of Sunday morning when we were likely to finish. But that was a problem for two days time. As we left to find our own way back up the valley, It was at this moment we joked ‘Never trust Italians’. The phrase held true for the whole weekend…
Friday evening we were making our way down to the start line when we were talking to the hotel owner’s son again. He wished us well and said he’d be volunteering at a checkpoint. We didn’t recognise the checkpoint name and after a little discussion it became apparent from him that we’d be doing an alternate route due to high snow levels on the summit. We hadn’t been told this… he also mentioned that 8 out of the 10 years of the event the alternate route had been run (sounds like it is the main route rather than the alternate!). At the start line we confirmed and clarified this with someone from the organisation. With appropriate mental adjustments and re-calculations made, we were set. We left our drop bags off at the dedicated zone and waited for the race to begin. A little while later in the start pen, just a few moments before the race began, there was a medical emergency for a runner and the start was delayed whilst they received medical attention. Then, a little after 10pm we began…
The race began quite quickly. 100s of runners running fast down the wide main road. A gradual decline, the pace was excessive for the first few kms of a 100km mountain race. We were caught up in the moment trying to maintain our place in the pack. We ran down and through the tunnel we drove in through on the way in the day before. The tunnel seemed so much longer on foot! Leaving the tunnel we left the road and hit the trails at Le Bocole. Loads of runners stopped to ‘water’ the piles of gravel and aggregate. Then we had the greatest ever bit of support from a local (I assume) as they rev’d a chainsaw above their head in the darkness of the night “Vrrr Vrrr Vrrr”. It was different and made us laugh and a real talking point!
My memory of the course was a long single track climb that lead to a real dense forest where it was very soft underfoot. The floor was covered with pine needles and bounced and wobbled under our weight. Through the forest we climbed higher and higher in the humid night. It was hot and stuffy. Very hot. Somewhere the trails opened up and we had some enjoyable runnable descending for several kms mixed with a few short technical descents and bottlenecks at each. One technical section had quite a pile up as runners had to cross a fast moving river. Volunteers lit up the river with massive fires and helped ensure we all crossed safely.
The other side of the river led us back up a very steep long climb and back into the humidity of the night. The forests around us smelt so fresh and the night was so peaceful despite the sounds of runners huffing and puffing their way upwards. Once more what went up must come down and so we did once again on an enjoyable descent that was a joy to run down. It lead to the first aid station, a water only stop where we quickly refilled and moved on.
Looking back, this first section was probably one of the easier bits of the course but also gave the first insight into the route. Throughout, and what followed was long and steep, very steep climbs. Each one caught us out and we moved slowly. The terrain however changed and the ground became softer and wetter and harder to move through. A few days of relentless rain and storms had saturated the mountains and made them far muddier than I was expecting. Our pace on the climbs dropped as we moved more slowly. The descents too became rockier and more technical. Gone were the lovely runnable descents we’d first encountered.
As we continued the theme of the night became persistent. It was hot, very hot, yet we were very cold with the sweat of the humid night and gentle breeze. When the mud subsided, it gave way to big rocky sections and boulders to climb up. The combination was exhausting. We ran through forests, passed lakes and broke out into lightly coated snowy trails on the side of the mountains. Despite the steep climbs, we weren’t hitting summits and were skirting around the side of them. As we descended back into forests the day light started to break through the darkness and we could see the shape of the magnificent landscape around us. It was early in the morning and the birds were bringing the music and soundtrack to the trails.
Reminiscing, the trails of the first 50km have all blurred into a series of tough climbs, muddy trails and rocky technical sections. At one point there was a particularly technical descent with a safety rope/chain. Runners were tentatively making our way down when the lead runner of the 50km zipped passed. He flew down, barely touching the ground. No chain or support, no fear. He descended effortlessly and out of sight in the time it took me to cover a few meters of the descent. It was so impressive.
After a few aid stations it became apparent that the information on the distances and tracks between them was a bit… iffy… some aid stations would come around far quicker than expected one was even 3 or 4kms earlier than we thought. We stayed high for a while and had some pathed road sections that climbed between aid stations. After one we could see runners far off ahead going up a ski track. Soon we followed. It was short but steep. Naturally after a while we had to drop the equivalent on a steep descent down.
By now it was close to midday. The temperature had soared and the humidity persisted. I was looking forward to a change into dry clothes and tending to my ‘personal’ needs at the half way mark. It wasn’t long before we were making our way to the half way mark where we’d have our drop bags. It was at a refuge we’d visited in the car the day before. We recognised the trails and we happy to arrive.
The aid station was chaotic. A big marquee was full of runners from the 100km, the 70km and the 50km. Supporters and families of the runners filled the tent and we struggled to find a place to sit down and make space for ourselves. We bunched some others up on a table and also identified a volunteer who was sorting the drop bags. We gave her our numbers and she said she’d get our bags and bring them to the table for us. Great. But this is where things went a bit rogue. Remember, never trust and Italian!
As we set about our ‘break’, we were a bit deflated by the lack of hot food or variation to food at the aid station and settled in for some more of the very bland and tasteless ‘soup’ with some small bits of noodles which had been available at most aid stations. It was by far the worse ‘soup’ I’ve had at a race. We stripped off our wet clothes and sat topless in our pants, sweating away in the busy tent. Time was passing by and we still didn’t have our drop bags. We had to ask again 3 or 4 times over the course of about 20 minutes. The woman kept saying they were coming, she also came a few times to re- ask our numbers. It was irritating. Eventually Matt’s bag showed up. But mine didn’t. God knows how much more time had passed when she started bringing other people’s bags to me. It didn’t make sense. Finally she told me they couldn’t find my bag and to put my shirt on and go look for it myself. Not what I wanted to be doing…
Annoyingly the drop bags were located a little distance away from the marquee. And this is where I could see the problem. It was essentially a human chain, like ‘Chinese whispers’. Volunteers passing numbers verbally between them. Then telling kids who’d run off and collect the bag and return it. No wonder she was bringing the wrong numbers and having to keep asking what was our number. It was just chaotic confusion!
At the bag location the volunteers all spoke little English. One German lady was very helpful and also very traumatised that they couldn’t find my bag. Sadly, regrettably, she was getting the blunt end of my frustration. She was explaining that they didn’t know where my bag was, and suspected it had been sent to the finish line. I could see the pain she was experiencing as her ‘system’ had failed and she couldn’t explain or account for why my bag was there. My issue though was that it was all guesses. I wanted clarity, if they could confirm where my bag was, my mind would be at ease. With a late night finish expected, and an early wake up to drive to the airport, I wouldn’t have the time to go looking for my bag the next day. It took a bit of persuasion from me to get get them to call the finish line and look for my bag. The lady also roped her husband in to translate as he spoke more English (and I spoke no German nor Italian!). This was helpful as the volunteers were planning on getting my bag brought back to the aid station if they found it at the finish! Through him I was able to express that this was not going to be helpful – I was cold from the wet clothes and needed to get moving again. I didn’t have the time to wait for the bag to be found and driven back up the mountain!
I went back to eating and waited a little longer whilst they tried to confirm where my bag was. The man kept providing me updates – it wasn’t at the finish line either, so they suspected it was now in a van on the way to the finish – but it got to the point where we had to leave. We’d been at the aid station for over an hour now. As we left, crossed the road back to the trails, the man came running after us. They’d found the bag, confirmed it was in the van and now at the finish line waiting. I thanked him. At least my mind was at ease now knowing where my bag was.
Despite knowing though, my mind had ‘gone’. For God knows how long I moaned about the experience. Much to Matt’s annoyance, I couldn’t let it go. I moaned endlessly about how it shouldn’t happen, the process had failed, what I didn’t have (my preferred hydration/personal effects etc.), that every runner I recognised that we ran near had changed into fresh clothes and I hadn’t… everything. I just moaned. I made bold statements about the harsh words I’d have with the race organisers at the finish, the regret I had for the frustrated tone I’d spoke to the very helpful lady with etc. for kms after the aid station and throughout the next 50km I moaned and moaned and moaned.
The only flipside was it lit a bit of a fire in me. I was very uncomfortable with chafe, wet itch clothes and worrying about how my energy levels would drop as I’d now be reliant on the horrible soup and weak isotonic drinks at the aid station, so I was pushing us an moving quicker with the single aim of getting it over with as soon as possible. Matt occasionally would have to reign me in and stop me from burning us both out, we did have plenty of time after all!
This first section of the second half the race was a long 11km stretch between aid stations. It was mostly the very familiar gradual climbs through woodlands and dense forests and long dirt gravel tracks. In our minds we would have a course split around this point and no longer have the masses of 70km and 50km runners with us. But our understanding of the course was off and we were ‘in with the masses’ for far longer than we expected. This made the trails busy and frustrating. There was a very long descend on the same terrain down into the next aid station which was in another town in the many valleys of the area. Matt saw an opportunity to visit the town hall and I waited for him at the aid station a little further along the main road. Here I had the cheekiest reminder of my bag drop situation. A volunteer saw my number and said “ahhh, you are the runner who didn’t get your bag / are waiting for your bag”. I said “yes, that is me!”. To which they politely but bluntly stated it wasn’t here either. I had to laugh. It was meant in the most helpful and supportive way, but with the language barrier it came like a slap to the face. Almost like hey you, guess what… I was able to see the funny side of this interaction at least.
After a short break we moved on. We were straight onto a pathed road. It was pretty much following this road for about 5km to the next aid station. Whilst not particularly scenic or enjoyable, the road did bring a bit of a change to the terrain and relieved a bit of the pressure on the feet and ankles which were now very sore and blistering.
At the next aid station we arrived to a mountain hut to the biggest welcome from the Lady running it. In broken English she reeled off all the things she could give us, including “Meat Soup”. She couldn’t understand our excitement when we repeated and clarified that she had soup with meat in it. She was saying everyone was reacting the same and she didn’t know why. We tried to explain how everywhere else the soup was terrible and even the thought of something more substantial was a blessing. Matt took one look at the meat and changed his mind (he did get a coffee, albeit a terrible one, it was the only aid station of the race that had hot drinks!). I took extra meat and enjoyed it with other runners like it was a last supper!
We were soon back out on the course heading to the highest point of the race. We were joined by an American called Paul and spent the next few kms together chatting away. It was a very long and steep climb ibn the forest. One of the biggest of the course. The foliage here was so different to what we’d experienced previously with massive leafy plants covering the ground as we hiked up slowly. The higher we got, the steeper it became. We were leapfrogging with many other groups of runners who we’d spent most of the race near. Eventually the path broke out of the forest and up onto the mountain top. Way off in the distance we could see runners climbing higher and higher. There were many false summits as climbed to a museum on the summit. Around us the clouds were forming, darker and darker and the wind picking up. It was cold and a downpour felt imminent. We knew from here, once we reached the museum we would back track and descend quickly on a road.
There would be no time to stop and enjoy the view, we wanted to get lower before we got caught if the weather was going to change. I did however need to stop as I found a tick on the side of my lower leg. As I sat and tried to get it out I started cramping and needed Matt’s assistance. It was a big one, even with a tick removal tool and Matt pulling hard and me holding my skin tight it was putting up a fight. Then with a loud popping sound it came out. It was the biggest tick I’ve ever seen. Thankfully it came out intact! Matt went on (as it was cold) whilst I re-packed my bag and then ran after him.
It was a long but fast descent. We dropped about 600m over 4 km. First on switch back pathed roads, then switch back gravel trails before into a steep drop in the muddy forest. We made it down though before any weather changes hit us. It was a good mental boost. The afternoon was drawing to a close and before long the sun would start to set. The lower we could get before darkness the better and we were into the last 16 or so kms of the race now with only one more big climb left to do. We had a new mission to get that through before dark and get to lower altitude (below 1,500m) before needing our head torches for the final push.
The climb came and went. It must have been like all the others we’d encountered (the race profile has it as one of the more prominent climbs of the course!) but my memory of it was over shadowed by the descent that came next…
We were about 1,900m up and had to drop about 600m. Way way down below we could see a dried up glacier bed. In it was a tent. It wasn’t an aid station but we guessed some volunteers/mountain support. It was a dot way off below, and we couldn’t see any obvious way down. It looked like we would just be dropping off the side of the mountain somewhere. And so we did. It was a very technical descent. Often we were scrambling on all fours. We were tired and it felt quite dangerous (it absolutely wasn’t though!) in our exhausted state. It was a real bruiser on the fatigued legs and ankles. Day light was quickly disappearing as we navigated our way down, being thankful that we weren’t doing this in the darkness guided only by our head torches. After descending about 600m in 2km we reached the rocky glacier bed. We were so glad that was over! A quick stop and chat with the volunteers and we headed across the rocky terrain into the forest again.
We now had a very short but mighty steep climb in the darkness of the forest. Our watches were telling us the gradient of the climb was over 40%. It was pitch black and we struggled to see and navigate the course through the wall of soil that we faced into. It was a very slow and tiring climb which we were glad to get to the top of. There was a lady as we exited onto some farm land. She gave us conflicting information as to the distance to the next aid station. The volunteers at the Glacier bed, this lady and our own understanding of the course all came up with radically different distances as to the location of the next aid station. it was confusing but ultimately didn’t matter, we had to keep moving forward.
We had another steep descent through dark slippery forest trails. we were moving pretty freely downhill and Matt did a terrific job of navigating through the darkness. Somewhere in front of us we could here a lady’s voice talking away. As we neared Matt could tell she was on the phone speaking Dutch. There was a rocky section navigating over and along a river and we caught up with the lady who was chatting to her dad for company in the loneliness of the forest. Matt could here she was a little uncomfortable on her own and that she’d told her father there were some other people around her now which made her feel safer. Still, we held back a little bit and gave her space. We then found ourselves arriving at a cabin in the forest and the final aid station.
From here we still somehow had 12km to go to the finish. That last section felt so much longer than it was. At the aid station there was more confusion. We believed we still had two climbs on the course before the descent back to Forno di Zoldo. The route profile displayed at the aid station suggested that the aid station was located after these two climbs we thought we had. Another runner and the aid station volunteers were also saying it was all downhill now with no more climbing. It didn’t feel right, but we took their words for it. The lady asked if she could run with us through the forest sections for company and the three of us set off chatting away. I think she was pleased to hear Matt speak Dutch and find out he lived in the Netherlands. It turned out this was her first 100km event (incredible effort!) and her dad was at the finish line waiting for her.
We ran down further back into the dark, dense forests before we found ourselves climbing (yep, we knew it!) on a very long grassy climb. No more climbs my arse! The trails were twisting and turning and our orientation was completely messed up now. We had no idea where we were going and would catch up with other runners who were stopping and checking their navigation. The trail markings were few and far between now and difficult to spot in the darkness. The grassy trail did lead us back up onto the side of a mountain where the terrain quickly become very rocky as we traversed a path around the mountain. To our left a sheer drop in the darkness. We plodded along as quickly as we could move over the rocks, determined to get this over an done with. The enjoyment had left us many hours earlier! I kept moaning “why are there always rocky sections so close to the end of races to torture us?!”. The rocky path then led steeply downhill as we found ourselves heading back into a forest.
We were on it now though. We were hustling with a decent pace as the forest trails become more substantial and gravel tracks started to dominate. We knew that we must be close now and sooner or later we’d hit a main road that would lead us back into the town. Then, it did. In the distance a head torch. It was the Dutch Lady’s father waiting for her. We ran on and were power hiking along a road when he whistled and called after us. We were just about to miss the turn on the road. It was a huge, wide turn but not obvious in the night. The markings were chalk arrows drawn on the road and easily missed in our tired state. Thankfully he was there to ensure we didn’t continue in the opposite direction to the finish!
The road was long and climbed a little as we found ourselves crossing fields and farm land of smaller residential areas behind the main town. Then we could see and here the lights just below us. We rounded the bend and had a few metres to the finish line which we crossed just as the heavens opened and the rain started hammering it down! Damn we were glad that was over!
After the race we collected our Medals (which Matt dropped and broke 5 minutes later), were given a finishers jacket (although similar we later found ours are both different from one another – we suspect different versions/models of the same jacket) and then tried to get a “finishers gift from the sponsors” only to be told there were none left as they’d only provided them for half the runners. As suspected, there was confusion about buses and if any were running (we weren’t the only ones trying to find one) so decided to go have a shower, get into warm dry clothes (thankfully my Drop bag was indeed waiting for me!) and then get some food whilst we figured out how to get back to the hotel. After the shower Matt had his broken medal replaced whilst I went off and found out that there was no more food available (great). The only success was when Matt proactively went and flagged down a bus driver who personally took us back to the hotel.
Looking back… I did enjoy the race and having another adventure in the Dolomites but the experience was dampened by the few organisational mishaps we encountered. Since day one the confusion over the buses left a sour taste in my mouth. The frustration over the drop bag going missing made my run harder than it needed to be and meant I ran with a dark cloud in my head for half the race. The continuation of a poor experience at the finish line just reemphasised how crappy the organisation was. Why they stop serving hot (any!) food when runners are still out on the course and finishing blows my mind. I was also cheesed off that the organisers/sponsors provided some additional ‘gifts’/merchandise for only some runners. The number of gifts seemed to vary from social media posts and information at the finish and it also seemed like volunteers were reserving gifts. Everyone enters and participates in the same way, so to then offer extras on a first come first served basis whilst the race is still happening immediately puts the slower runners at an unfair advantage. Either provide enough for everyone or make it first come first served the day after the finish. I sound bitter, but it is the principle and the frustration of the wider experience I had on the Dolomiti Extreme Trail.
Of the two events I’ve done in the Dolomites, the Lavaredo Ultra Trail is by far the better of the two. Not just because of the experience, but the Lavaredo trail does take you through far more scenic parts of the Dolomites.
Three Castles
I was looking at this race by Embrace Ultra, the Three Castles 50k last year. I couldn’t make it so added it to the to do list. A year later I was able to join their second edition. By this point I was living a lot closer to Kent and have access to a car, so logistics were pretty straight forward for me. I had a 20 mile drive to the finish line where I could get the organised bus to the start.
Leading up to the event the organisers provided a load of helpful information and guidance for runners. It was a great start! Come the morning of the event, I arrived at 7am to the school in Tonbridge ready to get on the bus by 7:20 as instructed. We were waiting at car park/school for the buses and it all felt a little bit of a rush (we were told ‘don’t be there before 7 but be on the buses to leave by 7:20’). As we waited though, there were no buses, soon enough we could see them arrive and park up on the other side of the school. By the time they came over to us and we boarded it was 7:45 before we left the school grounds. This was quite good for me as I was in the second starting wave so would have less time waiting around at the start near Rochester Castle.
Registration was straightforward. After a short wait I had my number and tracker and started walking down to the start line. I was there with plenty of time and sat and listened to the wave 1 briefing and watch their start.
The race director gave plenty of information in the briefing and I heard him mention that the initial few miles of trail had single track. I made a note to try and start near the front of my wave and not get caught in a bottleneck. The waves were split roughly by expected finish time with under 5 hours in the first wave and over 5 hours in the second. I was thinking I’d get to the finish in about 6 hours, so didn’t want to get too caught up on the single tracks if I could help it.
As we started I soon found myself running in a breakaway group of about 10 people. That worked out well for me. After a few kms it became a group of about 5 of us. We covered some road kilometres before hitting some trails as we ran under the M2 bridge. I recognised the bridge as the crossing you use on the NDW100. It made me smile now running under it.
After about 5k I was very surprised that we already caught up with a group of about 10 runners walking the route. I expected to catch up with some runners from the first wave throughout the day, but not this soon considering they started approximately 30 mins before us. They were very cheerful as we passed. I was doing the math in my head and thinking that they wouldn’t make the cut off at that pace…
The trails alongside the river were scenic as we made our way through the village of Wouldham and on towards Aylesford. They were hard packed underfoot and very dry and uneven in places. After about 13km we had our first aid station. I made a quick stop. There was plenty going on. Loads of sweet and savoury foods and great vibes and support from the volunteers. By this point I’d passed loads of runners from the previous wave too. I was moving up the field! I didn’t stop for long and got back out on the course and kept moving. The course was pretty much pancake flat so I thought I’ll keep running until I inevitable tire somewhere between 30 and 40k then switch to a run walk strategy.
After Aylesford we were back running along the river to Maidstone. I think we passed the second of the ‘three castles’ here but I can’t remember. It was very hot now and closer to midday. There were loads of riverside cafes and bars and plenty of cheers and support for runners. We crossed over to the other side of the river at Maidstone. Somewhere a volunteer was informing runners of what position they were in (as in how many had passed him anyway). He said something 130-odd as I went passed. If true, I really had been passing lots of people and the wave set up wasn’t that accurate/strict.
Come the second aid station I was thinking I hadn’t seen another bib from the second wave for a while. But I was constantly around other runners. I took a bit longer at the second aid station and ate a few jam sandwiches to keep me fuelled. From here the rest of the route blurred in my memories. We basically ran all the way to Tonbridge following the river. Sometimes in the open on canal paths, sometimes on single track and forest trails. There was a third aid station in a camp site somewhere and I remember thinking it seemed to be a nice area for river sports. There were people swimming, kayaking and paddle boarding all day long.
As we reached Tonbridge it was getting busier and we ran a little bit through the town and by the castle. It was lovely and I made a mental note to come back one day and explore the area more. We then left the river for a loop of about 5km out and around the town to make our way back to the school. By now I’d slowed a fair bit. From 30ish km in my pace had dropped as I aimed to keep running. Over that last 5km I walked a few times to break it up. Specially as we had a few road sections. The last km or so along with he busy B road. By then I’d lost all interest in running.
I got back to the school and jogged around the track to the finish line. Job done. I was way ahead of my 6 hour target and actually closer to the 5 hour mark. I grabbed a hot dog and alcohol free beer and headed back to the car. Rather than faff with a drop bag for the finish I left my changes of clothes in the car. And rather than walk back to the school changing rooms I thought I’ll strip down in the car park. Little did I realise that I parked over looking the trail. Hopefully no one was greeted by my bare buttocks on that last climb to the school grounds!
Overall an excellent day out with great organisation by Embrace Ultra. Got my eye on their 100km loop in Kent later in the year now…
Test Way Ultra
When I ran the Hangman ultra, the course followed a section of the Testway walking route. I liked it so I looked it up after the race. It runs from Linkenholt down to Totton (just outside Southampton). Soon after I came across the Testway Ultra by Andover Trail Events and added it to the list of things to do.
Darryl signed up to the race with me and we decided to park a car at the the finish so we could make our own way back to the start rather than faff with timings of the shuttle bus service offered. We stayed overnight in Andover (proper shit hole) where we saw things we’d never seen before. A very odd place. On the morning of the race we drove over to the Linkenholt Activity Centre for about 7:30. After a straightforward registration we sat in the car to keep and waited until everyone started lining up just before 8 before joining them. The morning had a bitterly cold chill to it with a crisp wind blowing hard.
The first 10miles of the route was a loop out of the Activity Centre and up over to Combe Hill where the Combe gibbet is. I remembered this well from the Hangman Ultra where the gibbet was the ‘turnaround’ point. There were a few small hills on this loop and we quickly racked up pretty much all of the elevation of the course before the first aid station when we arrived back at the Activity Centre.
We stopped briefly to eat some cocktail sausage and empty a few small stones from my shoe. On leaving the aid station we re-joined the Test Way and followed it south to Longparish. I knew this whole section from the Hangman Ultra too. We’d pass through little villages, farms, up a few little climbs and follow single track footpaths along the top of the hills.
There was another aidstation after about 10 more miles where we ate more cocktail sausages (if you’re not a meat eater, the aid stations on this event aren’t designed for you!) and carried on to Longparish. I kept recognising points of interest that triggered memories and recalled the section arriving into Longparish. We carried on through and upon leaving the village we got chatting to two guys who’d arranged an ‘unofficial, bonus’ aid station outside their house. They had all sorts including pizza. This was by far the best of all the aid stations. We stocked up when they told us it was still about 5 miles to the next official aid station. So this section was the longest of them all. We needed the bonus stop as it was now very hot, almost 20 degrees and we were starting to drink a lot more fluid that need been used to in the colder weeks preceding the race.
Leaving Longparish we had a few miles of very scenic trails with more beautiful villages, countryside trails and open commons. Eventually we came to the next aid station, joked with the volunteers for a few minutes and fuelled up for the ‘second half’ of the race. The 30 miles we had so far covered had been varying in terms of terrain and undulating throughout. The next 20 miles would be pretty much dead flat the whole way to the finish line.
After a few kilometres we came into Stockbridge and joined a straight gravel track running parallel to the main road and river. It was hard going. We covered about 12 miles on this path breaking it up into a run walk strategy. Our legs ached and our muscles were tightening with the lack of variation and general fatigue setting in.
For hours we had been entertaining ourselves with a guessing game. One of us would think of an actor and the other had to guess using nothing but clues based on films they had been in and characters they had portrayed. By now we were both struggling and finding it hard to think of actors or mixing up clues and characters. It passed the time for many hours and kept us going though!
Thankfully we did leave the gravel track and spent a short while running on softer ground through grassy fields before reaching another aid station. Here I managed to knock a whole box of brownies and flapjacks onto the floor. I felt so bad. We didn’t hang around long after that! Whilst at the aid station a load of runners came in shortly behind us. It messed with my mind a bit. I felt like we’d had a strong section and hadn’t seen many other runners. Whilst on the gravel trail, then all of a sudden loads passed us and I felt a bit deflated. Darryl was right though, it made no difference to us nor our adventure. For a while we followed two other runners, One in red and one in purple. We enjoyed Their little battle and followed closely as they kept leapfrogging each other for a few miles. We were all shuffling and walking now. There wasn’t any speed involved!
Thankfully the trails were much nicer once we’d left that dreaded gravel path behind. We followed single track trails through fields, woodlands and alongside the rivers all the way down to Romsey and the M27. Here we had a final aid station which we knew was only a few miles to the finish. It was a good boost. We were exhausted now, sun kissed from the exceptionally warm weekend and drained from the flat terrain. We plodded on.
After red top guy missed a turn we found ourselves in-between him and the purple top guy. There were some overgrown bramble covered trails as we made our way onto the Lower Test nature reserve and ran over the boardwalk and into Totton. Once we got through Testvale park we were clapped into the finish line as we ran around the library and into the finish at Empire Hall. We took a picture by the bins before heading back to the car, getting changed and driving all the way back to the start to collect the other car.
It was an enjoyable day on the Test Way and great as always to catch up with Darryl, push the body on a 50mile run and enjoy and experience somewhere new. The organisation was good and the course exceptionally well marked.
Hibernal Hills
After a long week of travelling ‘up North’ with work, I dropped by Nick’s on the way back through London, borrowed his car and drove to Carl’s and then back to mine. A quick pizza, unpacking the week’s bag and hastily packing a bag for the run (including ripping the zip off my Salomon pack) and it was straight to bed ready for an early wake up.
We left home just before 6am to get to Queen Elizabeth Country Park for 7am, a whole hour before the race was due to start. To our frustration we were told the car parking was already full and we needed to use the public parking a few hundred metres away. When we got there that too was full and we had to drive further along and park near Gravel Hill. It was a whole 30 mins later by the time we got back to register. I was a little frustrated by the situation. The race organisers did email and mention parking could overflow and that we’d need to use the public parking. But to have both car parks already full an hour before the start wasn’t expected. Clearly they haven’t secured enough for the size of the event.
Anyway… moaning aside, onwards. Registration was brief and we now only had to wait a short while in the ice cold morning before the race started. It was a small group of runners in the 50km, as it was the 50mile race that started 30 mins before us. We started right at the back of the group as we ran through the start arch and back down towards where the car was parked. Here in QECP we went up into the forests near the main visitor centre before crossing over to and up Gravel Hill and the first of many many climbs of the day.
As we ran through QECP the trails were mostly gravel and hard packed. As we left the park we had a number of long road sections connecting between short trails. We both started to regret our choice of aggressive footwear expecting more mud and softer ground conditions.
It was a nice start though and whilst cold, the short sharp hills helped us warm up quickly as we made our way slowly through the pack. Time moved quite quickly in the cold, grey misty mornings as we talked away and caught up on the months of life changes since we last saw each other. After about 10km we passed the first (last) 50 mile runner who was walking slowly with the sweepers a few paces behind him. We assumed he was injured and pushing on to the next aid station as he was moving so slowly. The course had 4 aid stations and the first was 11 miles or so in. I liked this. It’s always nice to get a good chunk of the race done before the first stop!. We left the trails and out into the village of Rowlands Castle. In a small hall the aid station gave us warmth, albeit little else. The event emails talked fondly of the quality and quantity of food options that would be available at aid stations. This one certainly didn’t reflect that. A solitary portion of cake, small paper cups (think sauce portions at a fast food chain size) of two or three crisps, a few skittles and singular wrapped ‘celebration’ chocolates (why these were separated into paper cups I do not know!). It was a poor show. I assume the 50 mile runners had feasted well before us. Thankfully we didn’t have long, just 4 miles, to the next one. We ate a few snacks, refilled waters and headed off.
The stop cooled us down so the gloves were on and we moved with purpose again to warm up as we traced back through the village. We passed Jamie, who I’d met on several other events too. He was braving the elements for the 50miler. My memory of the course soon becomes as blurry as the race conditions. I recall the route becoming much more trail and less road and our aggressive footwear came in more favourably. We passed many runners who were moving more slowly with the muddy, slippery conditions. The next aid station came so quickly and was much better with many savoury options and was better stocked than the previous. We took a few moments and chatted with the volunteers before moving on as it was outside and cold.
The next section was 7 miles long and we made it longer with a bit of a navigation mishap. We’d been running through a big open space passing many 50 miler runners and were discussing how we hadn’t reached the course split yet. We talked about the extra 30km loop they had to make and whether we were glad we weren’t doing that course. Shortly after the fields, on a single track we came to a trail cross road and the path opened up. We followed runners straight and up the hill ahead. I remember looking at walker with their dogs to our right as we crossed the trails. We were deep in conversation. Further along as the hill levelled out we caught the attention of the runner ahead who missed the turn and helped him back on track. At this point we realised we were ourselves off track. He confirmed that there was a turn a while back for the 50km. Doh. Damnit. We back tracked, passing loads of runners we’d passed before walking up the hill in the opposite direction. And there it was, a little over half a km back, at the damn cross Road in the trails where the dog walker was. We’d missed two very big and clear direction signs for the course split. Back on track we laughed at our mistake and carried on down the trail on a lovely descent. We caught back up with many of the 50k runners we’d passed previously. One even comment how we kept overtaking her. Our explanation made her laugh.
The next aid station at Compton came about and once again we were indoors and had a chance to warm up. Here there were all the promised goods and various sandwiches too which were very much needed. We ate a few then headed back out in the now very wet day. The misty rain had been getting progressively heavier throughout the day and soon we had to make the decision to cover our wet bodies with a waterproof coat. Whilst we wouldn’t be dry, we did start to get warmer finally. Here the course took us up higher onto the South Downs and visibility was piss poor. It was hard to spot the trail markers so we followed our gps instead and were soon running down a very wet, slippery steep hill. There were loads of slid marks from runners who’d clearly slipped their way down. Our great grippy trainers kept us upright though. We were on the last stretch now and the final 10 miles ticked off quickly as we continued chatting non stop all day. The undulating terrain forced us to a run walk approach which I was most grateful for. For hours we hadn’t caught up with any other runners but knew we had a group not far behind us.
We kept a pretty decent pace and passed through the final aid station at South Harting, after winding our way through the village streets, quite quickly, keen to get finished and make our way home. A few km later we passed through the lovely little village of Buriton and began a long climb back into forests and realised we’d made our way back to QECP. Before we knew it we were tracing our steps from earlier in the day.
The last few kms were longer than we’d remembered. We came down near Grave Hill, passed the parked car and onward to the finish where we came into the event space to cheers from a few volunteers, we took our medals and headed straight into the tent to get warm. A warm soup with bread and zero % beer perked us up before we had the cold 10 min walk back to the car. With freezing hands we got changed outside before driving home with the heating on.
It was a great day out with Carl. The conditions and weather made for a tough day and it took longer than I thought. It was a decent event and whilst well organised I thought a few things could have been improved (the parking situation annoyed me and the course markings could have been better for a ‘fully signposted’ course). That was the first race of the year and I’m excited now for the planned adventures that await!
Chilterns Ridge
Every now and then I get that itch. There’s space in my life when one running adventure ends and the next isn’t planned or any time soon. I get restless. I need something no matter how small to fill the gap.
Earlier in the year I’d seen this gap coming and noticed that the Winter Chilterns Ridge 50km by Runaway Racing was organised to fit nicely around this time. I mentioned it to a few others, but ended up signing up alone. I did a Runaway Racing event many years ago, the Eden Valley, which I loved. So knew this would be a great and well organised event.
It was an early wake up to get to Berkhamsted for about 7:30, giving time to register and get ready for the 8am start. After registering, whilst pinning my number on I saw a few familiar faces. First Mark, one of the Shannon brothers and then Jay and Cat. We had a brief chat before Chris from Runaway Racing set us off on our way.
We started off with a punchy little climb of about 50m or so as we left the cricket club, which to be honest, took the breath out of me. I’m not sure what it was, but I immediately felt ‘unfit’. I think it was the brisk, cold morning and initial stampede of runners which I got caught up in leaving the start line. Thankfully it went straight back down hill and I soon found a better rhythm and pace to settle in to.
The route was delicious. We started out in fields and then weaved our way through lush forest trails making our way towards Tring. Here the paths opened up into the hilly countryside and we were presented with the early morning views. Tring can be a bit lumpy at times, but the route avoided some of the bigger climbs available. The participants started to spread out a little as we followed the undulating trails before hitting the first aid station. We were about 18km in by now and I was quite peckish (breakfast around 5am was a long time ago!). I stopped for a fair bit and scoffed down plenty of Jaffa cakes, crisps, sweets and party rings. Love a party ring! I briefly saw Jay and carried on.
From here we passed through Tring and joined some forest trails that would take us through Tring Park and over to Wendover. This section was all quite new to me. I’ve run a few times in both Tring and Wendover but never the bit in between. We’d run on both the Ridgeway and Chilterns Way paths. I really enjoyed this section. It started with a big hug from Zuzana who was volunteering and I hadn’t seen since this time last year when we ran the Yorkshire 3 Peaks together. I spent a bit of time running with Jay and another runner who we kept leap frogging with. The chatty miles through crisp forests with trails covered in golden leaves was refreshing. We had a nice long uphill section and eventually came to a fork in the paths where we split off to run downhill to the second aid station at Wendover. After more fuelling it was a brisk hike back up the hill to the fork and off in the other direction.
Most of this next section I ran alone as the field spread out more. Jay had stormed ahead before the second aid station and I just couldn’t keep up. With 30km done I was aching and my left ankle was quite sore (I rolled it on a run the week before). I tried to block it out and walked any inclines and tried to take it easy and maintain a decent pace. Somewhere here I caught up with a runner who was hobbling through cramp. He reassured me he was fine and then we both laughed as I cramped up as soon as I passed him. I made a note to take on some salts at the next aid station! Approaching Wiggington there was a very long straight section through forests that led us into the final aid station. I took time to keep fuelled and stuffed plenty of salty crisps into my gob, rearranged my back pack and set off on the last 10km to the finish.
There was a nice long, gentle downhill section before we steadily climbed up hill for about 2km. I walked this and tried to hold back some energy for the rest of the route which would mostly be downhill to the finish line back at Bekhamsted Cricket Club. We had some undulating trails alongside fields and through more forests. My mind started to question where the finish was as we’d run down the hill we climbed at the very start. I couldn’t figure it out, I was wondering where in the distance that hill would be, before suddenly realising I was already on it, half way down! I picked up the pace and ran the last few corners a little harder, into the cricket club and across the finish line.
I went inside, grabbed my bad and saw Jay and the other runner I’d shared some miles with. I darted straight inside for a shower and to warm up. It was the coldest shower of my life! I was shaking trying to get my clothes on afterwards. But I felt so much better for it. I went of to get some Pizza, but frustratingly they’d already run out, so instead headed straight for the train and began the journey home.
Just like my last experience on the Eden Valley ultra, this was a great event organised by Runaway Racing. Really high quality organisation!
Shere Marathon
The Shere Marathon is organised by the Surrey Trek and Run shop. A few friends had mentioned it and so I signed up with short notice with Carl and Natalia as a team. It would be a good chance to run together before out next event. We arrived early into Shere for an easy start with a small field of runners and a modest start line which we joined right at the back after saying hello to some other friends at the registration area.
The start saw us run a lap of the playing field, following someone with a smoke/flare, before joining the trail and beginning the first climb out of Shere up to the North Downs Way (NDW). A lot of the route would be along the NDW and the Greensand Way trails. Both are trails I know pretty well and I was certain I’d run all of the route before at different times previously. On this occasion we’d be running a loop clockwise, Initially along the North Downs then dropping off and passing through Wotton towards the Greensand Way.
From Wotton the route is very similar to that of the Freedom Racing Hurtwood 50 as we tackle the three hills of Leith hill, Holmbury hill and pitch hill. Unlike Hurtwood though we carried on to Chilworth and back towards the North Downs Way. The final climb on this course takes you up the ‘drain pipe’ path to St Martha’s and then we run along the NDW to Newlands Corner (which was very busy!) and back to Shere.
Over all the day was great with perfect weather, if maybe a little on the warm side. It had been a while since I’d run many of these trails but the memories soon came back. The three ‘peaks’ of Surrey we navigated fairly quickly and easily. Then the more rocky terrain started to slow us a little as we made our way through Paature wood and Hurtwood. We made one small navigation area but otherwise made it round without any issues. Personally I don’t like the section of the NDW after St Martha’s as it’s flat and runable, getting back to this section reminded me its my least favourite part of the route. So it was a bit of a slog back to the finish and then subsequently going down the narrow hill back to the recreation ground was hard going on the tired legs.
Overall we had a great day and it was a lovely little day out ahead of the next race in Bulgaria…
Those Bastard People
In my search to fill a gap I came across the ‘Mendip Marauder’ which is a 50 mile event along the Mendip Way from Frome to ‘Weston’ (Weston-Super-Mare) organised by the excellent Albion Running. I signed up and planned a weekend getaway to Weston… The organisers arranged for transport from the finish to the start which made the logistics very easy. I’d stay overnight on Friday, get the bus to the start and run back to Weston.
At 6am on the Saturday I was sitting comfortably at the front of the bus with a modest number of other runners. We had about an hours journey and the time passed by quite quickly as I tried to sleep a bit more whilst occasionally chatting with the runners around me as we talked about the races and events we’d done and, joked with the driver, who was getting frustrated at the sensor on the bus that was telling him he was ‘over the white line’ on the country roads (no way he wouldn’t be over the line in a bus!). One of the runners was a chap called Dan whom, unbeknown to us both at the time, I’d spend the whole day with.
When we arrived, we alighted the bus on quiet side street in Frome where Dave, the race director, was waiting for us. From the bonnet of his Corsa (I think) he preceded to register the runners and hand out race numbers. It made me chuckle as it couldn’t get more lowkey than that. It was super efficient though (who needs a table when a car bonnet will do the job) and he greeted each one of us with humour, telling runners their number was their finishing position (unfortunately for the number 49 runner!). After this we hung around for about an hour until the race briefing. Here Dave continued to entertain and had the 49 runners and few spectators in stitches as he told jokes of the calibre you’d find in a wedding speech. As he said, there wasn’t much to say about the race, and he just kept on cracking jokes for ten minutes (do you know the one about what ‘Love’ in tennis means?) before concluding with “I’ll leave you in silence now until we start”. About a minute later he’d counted us down and set us off on our adventure along the Mendip Way.
We began with a jog up a slight hill and along some fields as made our way onto the East Mendip Way and out of Frome. After the fields the pack of runners started separating as we ran in single file alongside a river which felt enchanted. Really dark, atmospheric woodlands weaved along an old river with stone formations. I loved it, I love that initial feeling of freedom in a race when I run somewhere new to me.
Somewhere along here in the first few kms I caught up with Dan (remember him from the bus…) and we started chatting again. Dan is a local to Weston and this was his second time running the race. Besides being excellent company throughout, he doubled up and played the dutiful tour guide for me for 11 hours. Throughout the day Dan would tell me where we were, where we were going, what we could see, pointed out landmarks in the distance and gave me insights and history for the many points of interest we passed along the Mendip Way. It was brilliant! It was amazing to find out and hear all this information as I otherwise would have had my head down looking at the trails and not really absorbed where I was and the scenery around me! Thanks Dan.
For the first 20 miles or so of the race we followed the follow the East Mendip Way. The trails took us through fields (including a huge corn field) and forests, ascended up onto the Mendip hills and gave us spectacular views of the surrounding area. Like that first few kms, it all felt very old and ancient. It was also super peaceful with hardly anyone about other than the occasional dog walker. The trails where ours for the day! After what felt like no time at all we’d passed through the first aid station (outside the Poacher’s Pocket pub in Shepton Mallet) where we were supported by fabulous volunteers and made our way around the market town. The race markings started to get a bit ‘iffy’ here and we followed one off in the wrong direction. the direction we were heading did not align with the GPX route so we back tracked to the marking we’d followed. Through a hedge I could see another marking in the other direction. I went and adjusted the rogue marking and it had clearly been moved, it was loosely tied on a tree branch and you could see that the tape had previously been tied in a knot (probably on something else). Back on track we followed the route towards Wells.
Wells, despite being small, is a city. As Dan pointed out to me, historically settlements needed to have a Cathedral to gain city status (although this is no longer a requirement). And Wells has a cathedral. We ran down into the city, alongside and around the Bishops Palace and Gardens into the city centre. Here there was a market on and the streets were bustling with activity as we passed through the city walls to the Cathedral. It was, as most Cathedrals are, spectacular with Morris Dancers outside doing their thing. I made a mental note to come back here one day and explore the city. Outside the Cathedral we stopped for a quick photo and then carried on to the next aid station where we had the full service from the volunteers as we were the only runners there. We stuffed our faces before making the short climb back to the trails.
A few kms later we were running by the Wookey Hole which is a series of caves and adventure activities. Dan told me all about them and the legend of the Witch of the Wookey Hole, whom as legend goes was blamed for any and everything that went wrong in the area. The whole area was full of interesting places and next up we ran through Ebbor Gorge and woods with fascinating rock features as we began to climb back up to the Mendip hills and the West Mendip Way. The West Mendip Way is more ‘lumpy’ than the East Mendip Way and the route now had us running up and down along the hills.
After a nice long descent we passed a few runners and made our way to Draycott, Cheddar, the 3rd of the 5 Aid stations along the route. Like the two before this was expertly staffed and incredibly well stocked with a huge range of sweet and savoury options. The volunteers were all fantastic, full of energy and enthusiasm and even tolerated my terrible jokes and humour. We rested a little longer here to make sure we’d eaten plenty and I spent a few minutes taping up some patches on my feet that were feeling a little sore. After I gorged myself on many jam sandwiches and prawn cocktail crisps I set back out and could see Dan ahead of me on one of the biggest climbs of the day.
From here the route took as along the hills just outside of Cheddar and we passed through Cheddar Gorge and near the famous rock formations. Naturally here it started to get a but busier as we encountered more tourists and walkers out on the trails as we made our way up and down on the Mendip hills. Now the weather was cooler and the sky a little grey and overcast, but up on top of the hills the breeze was very welcomed as it cooled us down in the muggy temperatures. The trails here were beautiful and there were plenty of view points that Dan pointed out to me including Glastonbury Tor way off in the distance and Cheddar Reservoir below us. We were still chatting the whole way about our lives and all things. We had a good ol’ grump about life, challenges and people. We aligned on many things especially people’s inconsiderate and entitled nature. Those ‘bastard people’ we kept saying and chuckling to ourselves. Throughout I was amazed at how calm and happy Dan was. He has such a cool head on his shoulders and positive outlook to dealing with challenges that life throws at you.
We dropped off the hills at Shipham and were greeted with the penultimate aid station, where I had the special service of having jam sandwiches tailor made for my liking! The next section was the shortest of the route as we made our way to Webbington. Like much of the course before it though it was very scenic and had plenty of ‘ye olde style’ boundary walls and stiles to climb over. I swear as we progressed these became higher and higher and increasingly more difficult to clamber over (nothing to do with my agility I’m sure!) At the last aid station we were greeted with photographs and the most systematic and organised aid station you could find. Leaving the aid station we made our way across the M5 motorway and started the climb up to Badger Hill, the last of the big climbs on the route. Up top Dan made sure I took a moment to admire the view of Weston and the sea (finish line!) in the distance, but to also turn back and look and appreciate the ‘ridge’ of the Mendip hills we’d run along. He was right, it was great to take a moment and let it all sink in. Even in the cloudy evening, it was a beautiful view back over Somerset.
We continued our journey over the last few km of the Mendip hills from Badger Hill the route was mostly downhill as the track slowly became gravel paths which became tarmac road and eventually the sand as we arrived at Uphill beach and the very modest finish ‘line’ (sign). A small crowd clapped us in and Dave handed us our medals and congratulated us. He offered us both a lift back to the car park where we’d taken the bus from in the morning. We declined though as, with my expert tour guide, I now knew it was quicker to walk the few kms back along the beach to the hotel.
The Mendip Way is absolutely beautiful with incredible views, varied terrain and lovely villages and towns along the way (and many excellent pubs according to Dan!). I really, really enjoyed this run and thought that Dave and Albion Running were bloody fantastic and put on an incredibly well supported event. I’ve got my eye on some of their other events in Somerset now!
Run With Dai 