Hardmoors 55, one of a number of events in the Hardmoors race series. These races are set in and around the North York Moors, a place I’d never previously visited, never mind run around. Jon was the architect of this adventure as he looked for an event way back in 2020 to help with his preparations for the CCC. Yep, it’s one of those events on my list of deferrals that, third time lucky, I was now able to tick off.
For the past few years we’d planned for a small group (6 of us) to make this trip. Besides Jon and myself there was also Jess (who we’d not seen in ages), Gif and Reka. Sadly with all the date changes Yvette was no longer able to join us. Jon had arranged a house for us to stay in near the finish in Helmsley (the same place he’d booked two years earlier) and we all met up on the Friday evening arriving full of anticipation for what the adventure would bring. Of course there was messing around and you should always, always, check your wardrobes before you settle in to go to sleep!
It was soon ‘sleepy time’ as we had a rather early wake up call the next day – The organisers had arranged for buses to ferry participants from the finish line to the start in Guisborough. As painful as the early starts and long bus rides can be, I do prefer this set up of point to point races with transport to the start line. This way when you finish there is minimal effort in getting to your bed!
As we arrived into Guisborough, the morning was breaking and it was shaping up to be quite some day. Stepping off the bus we started immediately began stripping off our layers and re-packing our bags. At registration we were formed into queues for drop bags and had to go through the kit check before registration could be completed. In all the races I’d done, I’d never experienced the drop bag being done before registration. I must say how much I approve of this approach. It certainly helps minimise the chances of runners going through registration and mandatory kit checks and then removing kit into their drop bags. It also helped me as I hadn’t prepared any drop bags, so I had one less queue to go through!
Before long we were (trying to) listen to the race director provide the race briefing before jostling for position along the narrow footpath that was the start line. Other than a few flags there was no real marking of the start, certainly no starting arch anyway. I liked it. Minimalist with no unnecessary fath. At 8am we were beginning our 55 mile adventure that would take us all the way back to Helmsley.
As soon as we started, with no reasoning or thought, I started heckling Jon. It amused me. It annoyed him. That amused me more. “Go on Jon”. “You can do it Jon”. “Good luck Jon”. “Keep going Jon”. “Turn right here Jon”. There was nowhere for him to go, squished in with all the other runners on the narrow trails there was no escape for him. I couldn’t help myself. No one else was amused though, just me. And I was immensely amused by it. I’ll do it again and again to whoever I’m running with!
As the footpath came to an end, the first of many, many climbs began as we ascended up alongside Spa Wood. We gently began hiking and made our way up to the beautiful woodland area where it alternated between some flatter single track paths and some small runnable hills. Here the views were breath taking as we traversed towards Guisborough wood and looked back on Guisborough and beyond. Here we’d run for several km as we made our way to Rosebury Topping
The peak of Rosebury Topping came into view and conveniently hid the ‘dip’ that we’d first descend before having to make the climb back up to the summit for a small out and back section. As we began, approaching runners were speeding passed us in the other direction and there were plenty of pleasantries exchanged as we all congratulated each other whilst gasping for air as we powered up the short switch back climb. Over the first few kms our group of runners had kind of separated a little with Reka, Jon and myself ahead of Gif and Jess. At the trig point though we all conveniently met back up and posed for a photo.
From here we repeated the down the back up and cheered on the other runners behind us as those ahead of us had to us. It was then a short run along some easy trails before an enjoyable downhill section into to Kildale, which was the first checkpoint.
The checkpoint set up for the Hardmoors races are quite a unique set up. Whilst they are checkpoints, ultimately the event is more synonymous with a self supported type race. It’s not marked course/route and you have to carry a physical map of the route at all times. In this event there are two drop bags available on the course too. But, these are non returnable and must be ‘small’. They are intended for food only and not kit. So in effect you are stashing your own supplies along the route rather than relying on the checkpoints for fuel. As a result, besides water and squash, the offerings at the checkpoints are quite basic and minimal. I decided not to use drop bags and carried all the food I wanted with me rather than having to plan/think about when I might want access to them. The others all utilised the drop bags and were looking forward to accessing their stash now the first 10 miles or so was completed.
At Kildale we took a few moments as Jon and Reka collected their bags. Then we headed back out and onwards to a large climb back up onto the Moors. Jon and I were in a group chatting to various other runners and we were all commenting on the weather (and food!) as it was now nearing midday and the day was indeed very warm. We were happy and these conditions, despite how though the heat would become, was certainly favourable compared to the usual expected rain, snow and wind experienced on a Hardmoors race in March.
As we chatted Jon and I could see Gif and Reka further up in the distance waving back at us. It wasn’t much further later and we caught them up and carried on again together again and before long we were running passed what I believe was the Captain Cook monument. There were plenty of school kids doing their Duke of Edinburgh awards who were hiking around here and I laughed with one as they played their rock music and cheered us on.
We started to spread out a little after this as Gif dropped back and Jon and Reka raced on ahead of me in the middle. I was struggling to keep Jon and Reka in my sights. event though it was so open and bare on top (with little shade from the midday heat that was picking up). As we followed a sharp turn, looking back we saw incredible views as far back as Roseberry Topping and around the the u shape of the horse shoe which we’d run. It was a beautiful sight. This was a welcome distraction as it was very dusty on the ground and my leg was now hurting quite a bit.
The second aid station was soon upon us (after another fantastic descent) and the marshals had split it so there was water just before the climb started. Those not stopping could refill and go rather than stop at the aid station a little further up the climb. We opted to have a few moments and ate some food whilst chatting with the volunteers who once again were spoiling us. In a box of sweets I found a Wham bar. Result. I’d not had one for years and it was an absolute delight. Another 10 miles or so had been completed.
From here we climbed and then we’re treated to a series of ‘sisters’ or small(ish) ascents and descents in the rolling Moor tops as we navigated along the edge of the hills. Up ahead above us were tens and tens of gliders effortlessly flowing through the sky above. It was mesmerising to watch them glide, gently bobbing up and down above our heads.
Somehow, after may 25 miles or so of rather uncomfortable and painful running, I slowly started feeling better. I knew it meant the pain in my leg was just numb and I was now used to it. Either that or Wham bars having magical healing properties that haven’t been documented! Either way it was a good thing, for now. It meant I could enjoy the downhills a little bit so whilst Jon and I carried on Reka would speed off down the descents and wait for us at the bottom to catch up.
Shortly after this Jon started to feel ill. Almost out of nowhere he stopped to be sick. Something wasn’t right and he seemed to know straight away it was his nutrition (Tailwind). Somehow he picked himself up and found that reserve and toughness to crack on and was able to keep moving, although he was a little quieter than he had been before.
Possibly close to the 30 mile mark, a little over half way through the race, he broke his silence. To mine and Reka’s surprise he muttered the forbidden words “I’m thinking of dropping out”. He said he was 99.9% certain he wouldn’t carry on. Me and Reka were having none of it. We offered some encouragement, slowed and walked with him when he tried to make us go on ahead and told him to rest at the aid station and think it through. We wouldn’t be far from the next checkpoint now.
As we got closer we had a short little section which we shared with another, local, runner. I chatted with him whilst Reka stayed with Jon. I was enjoying the local knowledge he was sharing and he told me he thought the next section, where we’d be heading south after the aid station, was his favourite part of the course. This excited me as it was quite some course so far!
We ran into the village Osmotherley together. This was the second (and final) checkpoint with a drop bag. There was some food on offer and I started filling my face with pizza, rice pudding and plenty of coke. Jon sat and took his time, gathering his thoughts but not eating or drinking just yet. Not long after we arrived, so too did Gif and then Jess. They whole team was together again and we sat, ate and laughed together. Jess was bringing the energy with her infectious smile and laugh. She was in her element and having a great time.
There there was a table of food left behind due to the bag drops which other runners decided not to take with them. I kept going back and helping myself to the best of the leftovers. I was in heaven. It was like an old school tuck shop. I had hula hoops. Tangy Toms. A Freddo and more. I was enjoying the stop and must have clocked up a few extra hundred meters just walking around and back and forth.
Gradually Jon started coming around and eating himself. He’d decided to no longer use the Tailwind and started drinking water. Gif, who like me was covered in salt from the heat of the day, started to panic at the mention of cut offs and made to leave with Jess. There was a complete misunderstand as we were well within the cut off. She thought that we were now up against the final cut off at the next aid station and was worried about making it in time. Either way we sent them on their way and Reka and I stayed with Jon despite his protests. We weren’t leaving him now, I guess we thought there was still a chance he’d convince himself to quit as he had intended too.
After about 45 minutes he was ready to give it a go. So out we went, the three of us together. From here, for the remaining 20 miles or so, we knew it would be a run walk strategy. This suited me too as, whilst I wasn’t in direct pain anymore, I was very conscious of the leg and making it worse than I already had.
Although it was still super hot, Jon seemed a lot better. He was moving a little more freely now and he ran when he could. That suited me to a tee. Reka would bound off at speed whilst we plodded on and then wait for us to catch her up. After a big climb we caught up with Gif again and the four of us jostled and interchanged with various other runners for a few kms. As they had been all day, the views were amazing and we started to see the Moors in a different light (literally) as we started to run into the evening and the Sun’s rays diminished.
It wasn’t long until we were stopping to layer up. The wind proofs and gloves were coming out as without the Sun the temperature started to plummet. It was a good reminder of how fortunate had been that we’d managed to get as far as the evening without needing to layer up!
We ran through many woodlands and more open space moorland before reaching the Yorkshire Gliding Club Airfield where the course would deviate for a slight out and back loop where the final aid station would be. Like many hours earlier we cheered on the runners ahead and they encouraged us too as they ran back towards us. Here we saw some runners who sat near us at the aid station in Osmotherley. They were pleased to see Jon made it back out and cheered him loudly.
The route then took us sharply down hill and through a forest section at Hood Grange Wood. Here there was a runner running in shoes (road shoes) that had broken under the uneven terrain. He said he’d been running for about 30 miles with his heel sticking out the back of the collapsed arch. We were amazed. I certainly don’t think I could have run in a broken pair of trainers like that. Tough going!!
We could then hear the music from the aid station and see the lights set up in the evening darkness. The aid station was a welcome sight. The Marshalls instructed us to take out our head torches (also checking we had them) and helped us refill our water and refuel on snacks. Head torches on we left and climbed back out the steep steps alongside the white horse, which of course we couldn’t see in the darkness .
From here it was a final 9 miles to the finish. It was a slow slog of a section! Throughout, in the darkness we almost took a few wrong turns missing the trail signs which were now slightly more difficult to navigate as our minds wandered off. There was also a long stretch of trail alongside a river (I think) that was littered with toads. There were so many sitting in the darkness that it was very difficult under the torch light to avoid stepping on them. We slowed to a walk here to be sure they weren’t harmed. As we hit some pathed roads Reka ran on ahead and scared runners in front of us with the brightness of her head torch – they thought she was a car coming out of nowhere !)
With a few places gained we powered on for the final few miles. There was one last climb and then it was mostly flat and down hill before we eventually came to the end of the Cleveland way. The day before we’d walked this road and stopped at the ice cream shop which was sadly ,but unsurprisingly, closed (it was around 9pm after all!). A few twists through the village and we were on the last section, a climb to the finish line.
It was a bastard uphill for a few more hundred meters. Not long. Not steep. But we were tired and hungry. For the first time Reka seemed to drain of energy and we laughed that she couldn’t flag so close to the finish. Finally, after what felt like a very long time, we crossed the finish line, well, we walked through the door into the building! A no frills finish line for sure.
We were given our times and our medals, treated to warm drinks and some vegan chilli and sat down with Jess as we waited for Gif to join. Not long afterwards she appeared through the doorway and, for the last time we were altogether at a checkpoint again. This time we only had to leave to walk the few mins back home to our warm beds.
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 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.
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)
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.
Another weekend, another Maverick adventure… This time we were off down to the South west Coast to run the Exmoor X Series ultra. Some usual suspects for this one with Nick driving us down, Ale hopping in for his first ultra (that he didn’t want to do) and Carl also being roped in to tag along too for what would be his first Maverick event (not counting two weeks in Borneo!). Whatever lay ahead, there was sure to be lots of smiling and laughter with this group.
We knew it would be tough. Maverick don’t shy away from advertising this event as a difficult one. The nickname of ‘The Beast’ alone should be an indication of its difficulty. If not, the elevation profile with somewhere over 2,000m should give you all you need to know – there are some fruity climbs along the SWCP to be tackled in this event. We didn’t have any goals as, whatever time we’d finish, we had nowhere to be or go. We’d booked dinner in the hotel so had little to worry about. We estimated probably about 8 hours or so though.
As we sauntered down the start line, some time after the main pack of runners had already set off, Race Director Ben gave us some insight and that they’d clocked closer to 60km when marking up the course. Always good to know and to set the brain to a target distance! Bell ringing, we pranced off, down into and around the field as we began our journey along the coastal path.
Theme of the day was ‘Shit Slinging‘ a rather naughty, unhygienic but unapologetically funny game we’ve started playing on some runs. Without all the detail, you get points for kicking shit at each other. As simple as that. Into that first field there were legs flying everywhere. To anyone who saw us they must have been wondering what on earth we were up too. I think Carl stormed to an early lead.
After the first climb along an open hillside we hit onto some lovely trail paths that wound back down to the coast and to the Valley of Rocks. We’d stopped by here the night before for a post meal walk. It had incredible views and the sunset the night before was mesmerising. We turned right and ran along the coast path as I continued stopping at every opportunity to kick goat shit in the direction of the others. It even earned a little laugh from a lovely old couple who stepped aside to let us pass. We were enjoying ourselves! Rounding a blind corner I stopped to wait for Nick and pretend to ‘sling some shit’ at him, as I faked the manoeuvre, to my horror it wasn’t Nick but another runner he’d let passed. Oops. I don’t think he appreciated the fright!
Further ahead was Jake and Faye capturing the magic with the incredible back drop of the Valley of Rocks behind us. Fist bumps all round and a big cheer for Carl who they hadn’t seen since we left Borneo 16 months ago!
More magical footpaths saw us wind back down and around Lynmouth Harbour before we began the next climb. All along this section were familiar faces, first off Giffy climbing ahead of us along the woodland paths. Next up we found Rosie who was marshalling along a road section and making sure we’d not miss the turning. It was two years since we all met at the LoveTrails festival and camped together! It really feels like just yesterday that we met. Then. as the climb steepened along another open hillside, ‘Gaddy’ came up behind us. We’d met briefly for the first time queuing up at the toilets many hours earlier, but this was now a chance to properly say hello and have a chat before he powered on ahead.
As the climb came to an end at Countisbury, we began the decent along one of the more technical parts of the course, with loose scree and a sheer drop to the ocean. It was Phil who was lurking nearby to capture the incredible view for the runners at this spot. It was slow going here as a bottleneck began to form on the single track path. Shortly after reaching the bottom, we arrived at the first aid station and spent quite some time joking and chatting with Justin, the other RD and Maverick Founder.
From here we enjoyed several miles of undulating coastal path, with sections winding through beautiful lush green forests. It was so peaceful and tranquil that it was easy to loose yourself and enjoy the run, even though at times the bottlenecks would form again on the tight and narrow paths. We were fortunate that we didn’t encounter too many walkers and hikers as there were a lot of runners now bunched together.
There was another steep climb to navigate as we first climbed through the forest tracks before tackling the bulk of the climb through open fields in the heat of the midday sun. Up top, several runners broke for a rest as we plodded along after the course split. More undulating miles before we dropped down into the seaside town or Porlock Weir. Here we could smell the cooking of fresh seafood and smoky BBQs on the go. Thankfully though our next aid station was here and our bellies didn’t mis out.
I didn’t know at the time, but this aid station was supported by Justin’s parents. It was by far the best one and possibly the best aid station I’ve ever had the pleasure of stopping at during a maverick event. Pineapple. my favourite fruit and so refreshing. Mrs B was chopping away and could barely keep up as I kept taking chunks of fresh pineapple. Washed down with salted potatoes, crisps, sweats, biscuits and Milka cake bars (another new discovery for me, these were delicious). We had a good 10 minutes here and continued chatting with Justin as he arrived to check up on everything. It was a good stop and much needed. Nick was experiencing an early bonk and was struggling for some energy it was a good opportunity for him to eat and the cooked potatoes were another great addition to the aid station spread!
Refuelled, we headed back out. We knew the next section was going to be tough as it was the largest climb of the course. a straight up 400m climb. Not something to be scoffed at. No way to tackle it other than steady, relentless plodding forward. One thing at the back of my mind that was empowering here was knowing that, as we climbed, we were gradually turning back on the loop at West Porlock. Once we’d reach the top, we’d be around halfway through and from here on in running back in the direction of the finish. Always a good feeling. Part way up we met Gaddy again and soon after the summit he joined us and we all ran along together for a little while.
This part of the route was more of the same with a few little climbs and descents separated with undulating trails through open hilltops and dense forest footpaths. It really was a beautiful course and such a variety of terrains and footpaths. We’d been leapfrogging a number of other runners at this point and occasionally split into smaller groups chatting away with each other. After narrowly missing a headshot at Nick, an opportunity presented itself with some fresh (goat?) shit lining up in my path directly behind Carl. Like a pro I swung my leg and struck the sweetest of shit slings with a direct hit on Carl’s arm. He was not happy, understandably so. Me, I was in hysterics. I thought I was so funny. I told you it isn’t glamourous!
The fun soon came to an end though when a few of the group were running back towards us. Somehow we’d gone wrong. I remember seeing a sign that was pointing one way and I’d clearly misinterpreted its direction. The course marking was good, we’d fucked up. Running back on ourselves we were now behind most of the groups of runners we’d passed sometime ago, including ‘Hop-a-long’ and ‘Bagel-man’. Other runners always have endearing nicknames to us. All was not lost though as we embarked on a really enjoyable downhill section with incredible views over the town of Oare. It really was beautiful and an enjoyable downhill. We stopped briefly to chat with Chris and another who were doing some course clearing / marking and gave them the heads up that there was a sign that was easily misinterpreted. We carried on our way before arriving at the next aid station.
Here Justin was yet again. Doing an incredible job on the organising. Stuffing our faces yet again, we were chatting away when I noticed a few things. Firstly the runners at the aid station were looking a little worse for wear. It was a very challenging course and understandable to be feeling that way. We probably had about 10 miles (and a good few hours) still ahead of us. Secondly, I noticed Nick was coming out of his slump. The food was going in and his energy levels were higher than they were previously. I saw the opportunity and hurried us all along and back onto the course before he started peaking and hitting a sugar rush. I wanted us to be on the move when that happened.
Restarting began with an enjoyable downhill section before we hit the beautiful and pristine area of Brendon. Somewhere here we were greeted by an emu too! A volunteer directed us along the course with a cheerful “please be respectful” and we soon found out why. the section was delightful and we passed through a country house were the owner came out to confirm we were too pass through their property. he wished us well and cheered us on.
From here we picked up the riverside path that ran along side the East Lyn River. Justin had told us that the second half of the route was delightful and he wasn’t lying. After the pleasure of the SWCP earlier in the day, winding along the river bed with more undulating footpaths was glorious. The dense woodlands offered us plenty of shade and Carl and Ale powered us along at a steady pace. this section flew by in no time at all and before we knew it we were back out on a road and nearing the next aid station.
We were doing a bit of math now. I thought we’d have less than 9km to go, Ale and Carl were estimating closer to the 9km. At the aid station they told us it was 12km to go. Gaaah. We weren’t’ convinced though. Surely it was slightly off otherwise our GPS really couldn’t be trusted! With a big cheer and sadistic laugh we were sent off on our next climb which was probably the steepest of the last four facing us. Ale was holding up and was well beyond the Ultra territory now. Not bad for someone a few days earlier had been told by a physio to not run more than 5km! I’m sure he was enjoying it in his own way, but he was vocal about how boring it was. He’s lucky there was no shit around at this point to kick at him.
In-between the next climb was an incredible section of downhill switch backs. the paths were so fun to run and it really did remind me of some of the overseas locations. Steep climbs, rocky technical footpaths, dense green forests and winding footpaths rather than the typical rolling hill climbs of other national parks. I was beaming and really enjoying the area. Shame it really is so far to drive to from London!
We soon passed by Lynton and the Gulf petrol station at Barbrook which we’d driven passed several times already this weekend. from here we knew it wasn’t far to go. We’d now just be circling around the main road (which wouldn’t be safe to run along) before crossing directly opposite from the campsite/finish line. First up one last climb that I agree was quite dull, wide long gravel roads. The beautiful day was going grey and it was starting to try to rain. Into the deep end now, nothing left but to grin and bare it. head down, keep moving. With a few km to go we passed Brit and some other maverick Volunteers who cheered us across. Just the last road section to the campsite and down hill into the finish line.
All four of us, side by side we crossed that line like we had 9 hours earlier. We took our medals and the never ending amount of freebies from Maverick and joined the many familiar faces sitting down. Reka who’d finished many hours earlier (a machine she is!) was asking us if we’d seen Gif. It really had been a long time since we saw her waaaaay back before that first aid station. I went back to the car to get some warmer clothes and we soon saw Gaddy cross the line too. As we hopped in the car to head back for Dinner, Gif was coming down the final straight.
That night we were all very tired and exhausted. Thankfully we didn’t have to hobble far for dinner which was absolutely brilliant too. The next morning we began the next ultra – the long drive back to London…
‘Bitchin’. Nope, not great or wicked. Just two middle age men actually bitchin for 13 hours. Nothing cool to see here. Nothing cool at all…
Bitchin is pretty much all me and Ged did whilst we ran the Ultra X Spring Series 100km. It led to a lot of laughter, passed a lot of time, and confirmed how similar we are. Nothing was safe from the sting of our words. None of it was really justified either, nonetheless that is how we rolled in our latest ultra marathon adventure.
I was probably already in a sub conscious bitchin mode leading up to the race where, due to my own lack of research and preparation, I realised I couldn’t get to the start line in time for the 06:00 start. The Race Directors were accommodating though and Ged and his mum stepped in to save my embarrassments with a lift down. Mini crisis adverted.
The start line was a very subdued place at 06:00 in the morning. With a small field of 100km runners we were split into the two allocated starting groups, given a count down and sent off in groups of about 30 people. Nattering away as we ran out of the recreational ground towards the road, our bitchin began. We couldn’t understand why everyone was running so fast already. Amateurs we thought, they’ll all bonk soon enough. We were pumping out a 10 hour 100 km pace for no reason at all. Many, many hours later we apologetically retracted this statement when we had passed maybe 2 or 3 people from that group only. They clearly had their plans and strategies like we had ours!
Running on, we were very much aware that the 3 biggest hills and climbs of the race were in this first 13 miles (which we’d complete again as the last 13 miles as we’d loop back in the opposite direction for the second half of the race), yet being full of energy and excitement, we didn’t notice these hills and barely felt them as we ran down (and up) steadily with fresh morning legs.
We did then get lost after a few miles, but we were not alone. Coming down off a trail descent we joined a country lane where the course markings vanished. Left, right or straight down were the choices. Some runners were coming back from the right and more joined us from behind (the second group of 100km runners who set off after us). With confused looks we all headed left and a few moments later across a cattle grid and straight down, then we all stopped as differing opinions on whether this was correct or if we should have followed the road rather than cross the cattle grid became clear. One runner (who I later realised was Scott Jenkins) was adamant we were right and Ged and I soon stuck with him. A few hundred meters later we then found some course markings once more. What had happened here we do not know! Yep, we bitched about the markings.
Back on track, it wasn’t long before we hit the first indication of the bogs and mud we’d encounter this day. It was nothing major but soon we were splashing through waterlogged fields and fully submerging our feet in the cooling water. At this point one of my shoes came off in the sticky mud. I managed to recover it before loosing it completely, but needed to stop to get it back on. As I sat on a log to readjust, my whole core started cramping and I couldn’t reach my feet, much to Ged’s delight. What a state to be in so soon!
We carried on as the surface became progressively more muddy and we were sliding all over the place as we approached the first aid station. We pretty much ran straight through as it was only 11 km in and didn’t need anything so early on. Ged’s mum was here, as she was throughout the day at each aid station to cheer us on.
The next section was full of the epic views of the Serpent Trail, exactly as I recalled it from when I ran the Serpent Trail 100km event way back in 2018! A beautiful landscape of thousands of trees with roaming views of the South Downs peaking through in between. Every now and again the forest would drop away to reveal the bareness of the hilly summits and reveal the scenic views in all their glory. Before long we were up running along some mountain bike tracks (which I vividly recalled from 2018) and into the second aid station. Here we stopped briefly and chatted to the volunteers including updating them on the sections were markings were missing/sparse and we’d gone wrong.
From here to the third aid station was all a blur to me. I did slowly recall bits of it later in the day when we were back tracking along it. But, at the time, I must have switched off and been too engrossed in the bitchin to really notice it and take it in. Closing in on that third aid station we noted we were roughly a 1/3 of the way into the race. Which was good, because the legs started to feel like they’d done some running by now!
The volunteers at this next aid station were full of energy and we exchanged a few jokes and laughs with them. They lifted our spirits as we set back out for the last section back to the start/halfway/finish line point. This next section was an adventure for sure. The longest and trickiest part of the route I thought. There were a few sections that were very muddy. One short down hill section followed by two muddy climbs. Zigzagging down that first section we started to wonder at which point we’d be passed by the lead 100km runners coming back towards us or the 50km runners coming from behind and over taking us. Both seemed a real possibility as we started the 10km countdown to half way.
The up hill mud sections demanded a bit more effort from the legs as the mud started to sap our energy and we looked for the best line to climb along. Halfway up that second climb the first few runners leading the 100km started picking us off. Great effort, probably about 10km and over an hour ahead of us. The first runner was flying along and had a substantial lead on 2nd and 3rd at this point. As we started levelling out into some of the fields and road sections for the final approach to the 50km mark we started passing a number of the half marathon runners. We weren’t sure where they came from nor what point the courses joined up. Either way it gave us a buzz as we powered on.
Half way was upon us. I took a strategic stop here whilst Ged was reunited with his family. Quite possibly one of my fastest mid-race turnarounds where I was in and out in just over ten minutes with some fresh clothes and refuelled ready to go again. Unprecedented for me as I do love a good sit down and chin wag at half way, usually needing to be coaxed back out on to the course…
The energy for the second half was high. As we ran we were now passing loads of runners from the 50km race and the rest of the pack in the 100km one too. As always, the vast majority of runners responded positively to a hello and offered up encouragement to us also. You can’t beat that buzz. Ged and I talked about this for quite sometime. It can make or break a race for some people. A smile can change your emotions, a “well done” or “Great effort” can pull you out of a dark place. BUT, you have to do it for yourself. So often you see people completely absorbed in the moment and struggling. If you can’t muster a smile or a grunt, you won’t find a way out and will continue to suffer. You need to make the corners of your own mouth move. If you’re reading this, try it! Smile, you’ll instantly feel better about everything.
We decided to play a little game and started repeating to the next runners what previous runners had said to us. My personal favourites were “You look fabulous”, “Brilliant, Brilliant” and “top work chaps” which was unfortunately repeated to some females. Hey ho, that was the game. Quite possibly thought, what made me laugh most was how I kept mishearing what Ged was saying. Every time he said “Well done” to someone, I heard “yeah whatever”. It was a perfect response for our bitchin mood and I really wish he was saying that. I’d love to know what reaction that would create if someone said it to you mid race!
It was time for the muddy sections once more and we couldn’t have been in a better place for them. High with energy, certain of what lay ahead, running down hill, seeing the pain and torture on the faces of those climbing it for the first time and sticking to the best line like we did earlier… we just went for it. We didn’t hold back and splashed on straight through, straight down. Practically hurdling our way downhill as the mud reached our knees in places. We were absolutely loving it. We couldn’t give a shit if we fell (it would have been soft!) or who we splashed with mud along the way. There was no better way to get through it. Wet and muddy was inevitable, we knew that, those climbing hadn’t yet come to accept the same fate. It was all too brief though as we completed each section so quickly. How neither of us face planted into the floor we’ll never know.
Along the way we passed many familiar faces like Ellis and Charlie doing the 50km. Each one lifting us up and giving us a buzz. We felt like heroes as we continued playing our game as, surprisingly, we kept meeting more and more runners all the way back to the third (now fifth) aid station. A huge cheer from the volunteers welcomed us back in as we all picked up where we left them many hours earlier with the jokes. I had to take a minute here, sitting on a tree stump next to a speaker pumping out classics hits, to empty my shoes of all the junk I’d be collecting along the way.
From here I couldn’t remember for the life of me what lay ahead on those trails I’d previously blocked out. We were both struggling to remember each section and the pace began to drop off as we walked pretty much every hill from this point back. The legs, specifically my ankles, were beginning to let their feelings known to me. Rightly so, the aches and pains were settling in.
We couldn’t have been far from the next aid station when the ‘heavens opened’. What started as a soft trickle of rain soon turned into an almighty downpour of hail. It was a little refreshing as we discussed whether we were going to stop and layer up. We opted not too. All around us were clear skies. It looked like a passing storm and neither of us fancied ‘boiling like a chicken’ in a waterproof jacket. We stuck it out and a short while later the summer sun briefly repaid our faith. It was a glorious evening now.
Into the second aid station we did a quick stop and refuel, acknowledging from here it was a mere 25km to go. We knew this was the point of the ultra where it would be come a slog. Time to dig deep for what was left. We set back out, running once more through the mountain bike tracks and the now very muddy and sloppy trails. They had been churned up by hundreds of runners and were now far less appealing to run than they were earlier in the day.
We briefly passed some photographers gathering some drone footage on a hill through the forest tracks before we came slip sliding into the final aid station where the volunteers outnumbered us 5 to 1. Grabbing some cheese and onion crisps I received some odd looks from the volunteers when I excitedly asked if the lumps of cheese were lumps of butter. Disappointed, I stuffed cheese and Haribo into my gob. A strange combo I probably wouldn’t repeat again. I really wanted butter now!!
The last 11 km back to the event village was slow and arduous. I was in pain. My dodgy ankle was screaming with every step. Nothing to do except keep moving and make steady progress. From here we knew the course was basically 3 descents and 3 climbs. Lots of hiking ahead with gravity powering the running in between. We ploughed on, gradually making up some ground on a guy in front of us whilst simultaneously holding off two more who were gaining on us. Grin and bare it.
Ged kept me going. He kept me distracted from the pains. Kept the bitchin’ coming even now many hours later. Occasionally we’d break rank to retract and excuse a bitch that escaped our mouths and which wasn’t justified. Mostly he kept the energy level there, despite it all we were having fun. And that was one of the moments of realisation of the day – we were having fun. You create your own fun and despite it all, we fucking love this. This is exactly the type of challenge we revel in… Earlier on, as is inevitable, we’d been discussing ultra running. Our experiences both shared and individual, what drove us and what dragged us through. It is here we talked about an effect that we came to call ‘BDE’ – Big Dick Energy.
BDE, we decided, was a mental state we work ourselves into during ultra marathons. A point of sheer confidence and arrogance. An unwavering sense of belief in ourselves and our abilities. A selfish expectation of deserving something, being better than everything and when nothing gets in your way of getting what you want. BDE was that invisible force that propels you onwards in the adventure whilst keeping you away from the darkness the mind can so easily slip into. You make that BDE, whatever it is that can shift you into this unreasoning state of focus, you take it. Right now I was seeping BDE from all my pores, radiating it like a jacket potato ready to explode in a microwave. To anyone I passed I was peacocking the smile and laughter that inevitably draws comments like “you don’t look like you’ve just run an ultra marathon”. I’d take those comments, absorb them and convert them into more BDE, a self sustaining aura fuelling the determination to get to the end. No one would know the pain and suffering inside.
We joked and referenced BDE endlessly through the second 50km. This was the experience of having ‘been there, got the tee shirt’. We knew what we were doing and that only comes with trying, failing, succeeding and repeating. I’ve said it many times before, running is hard. No run is ever “easy”. It’s the perception you create to get the run done that changes. BDE.
We hit that last climb. Out on the road now we were powering up. Me fast hiking, Ged shuffling part run part walk. We were laughing all the way to the end. We crossed that finish line surround by Ged’s family who themselves completed another ultra of their own chasing us around the course for 14 hours. Another 100km done. Another medal for the box of pain.
I’ll remember this day for three main things. Firstly, the vocalisation of BDE. Secondly, the amount of mud (it was far muddier than I expected). I don’t think I’ve emptied my shoes as frequently in a race as I did in this one. Three times I stopped to empty the shoes, once I had to stop because a mound of mud had formed under the ball of my foot. It was completely distorting the fit of my shoes, almost like I had a hard insert between my sole and sock. It was so bad I had to scrape all the mud out with my fingers and drag my sock on the grass like I’d stepped in shit. A new experience for sure. The third thing I’ll remember the run for was the bitching. We bitched about everything you can imagine. It was like we had this faux anger at every and anything we could think of. It passed the time so well and was equally therapeutic as it was pathetic if you’d heard us moaning. At one point we even bitched about colours and why something red wasn’t blue because we happened to think blue was a better colour choice. Anything we could moan about we did, and it made me smile so much.
As always though, none of these memories would exist without the excellent company. It truly does make these adventures. Cheers to Ged, he’s a top ‘chap’ and it had been far, far too long since we last ran a race like this together back in 2018!!
It was somehow already the beginning of May and I found myself heading back down to the ever too familiar trails of the North Downs Way for the Freedom Racing North Downs Ridge 50k. This race was one of the ones that was cancelled earlier in the year and one that, in some ways, contradicted my Modus Operandi for races – which is to only do events that I really want to do (despite how obvious that may sound!). It’s the route you see. I’ve run It so many times (and you’ve read me type it so many times…) and this particular section of the North Downs Way which includes my least favourite part of the trail (purely because it’s so damn runnable!). It is because of the organiser though that I signed up. This was to be my third Freedom Racing event after the Serpent Trail and the Hurtwood and I’ve enjoyed each one immensely. FR are a small, family centred events company which I’m happy to support. So, off I went.
Tom, the Race Director, had adopted the now very familiar flexible start line approach for this event. I opted for the ‘faster’ time slot and arrived for 8am with a rough 5.5 hr finish in my mind (justifying starting in this group rather than the later group).
The start was easy. I walked from Dorking station to the event HQ at Denbies Vineyard. When I arrived it was straight into a short queue for registration. Bib and dabber collected, I went to the toilet and changed quickly in the field, dropped my bag off and then walked into the starting pen. I was the only one. No queuing. I dib-dabbed in and off I trotted.
The route starts with a short stretch and climb out of the Vineyard as you join the tarmac path of the first climb to the church at Ranmore. I wouldn’t normally run this but I was fresh and eager so I plodded on upwards. Passing the few walkers as I reached the top, I continued in the gentle pace I’d settled into with my heart full of joy of another adventure underway.
I mentioned a rough 5.5 hr finish time I had in mind, but really I had no real aims for the day and a sub 6 hour finish would, as always, be a good day out for a 50k for me. As a fairly hilly route with an out and back set up I’d be happy with that. Immediately after starting out though, I devised a game to keep the brain occupied – I’d keep a count of the people I passed and the people who passed me. I’d try and remain with a positive count by the end of the race. A small challenge but one with great potential for distracting the mind throughout the run. As I’d started behind the ‘slower’ group but at the start of the ‘faster’ group, I assumed it would be a comparable count each way. I added the rule that being ‘passed’ involved people overtaking me, people running in the opposite direction as me before I turned around (at about mile 12.5) and again people I saw coming the other way on the final loop. So potentially some runners could hit my count 3 times.
It started good. The numbers were positive despite a few speedsters soaring passed (all in carbon road shoes I noted, the trails were very dry…) and it was steady progress. None of the hills here and until the sandy climb to St. Martha’s were steep enough to consider walking so I just kept plodding along. I skipped through the first aid station as it was only about 5 miles in. I had enough food and water to last a while and knew it would help avoid it becoming too busy as the first ones always do.
Those first 12 miles then wizzed by and and a few familiar smiling faces helped add a little atmosphere and buzz to the day. I was heading down the descent from at St. Martha’s to the next aid station, where we’d turn around, and my number count was going haywire. I was around 50 and suddenly struggled to keep count as I passed runners and runners came towards and passed me. I was suddenly around 20 by now.
I then almost stepped on some Goodr sunglasses and stopped to pick them up, checking with each runner coming passed if they’d dropped them. I had better luck as I announced my arrival at the aid station with a loud “anyone drop their glasses?” to which thankfully someone realised they had indeed dropped them. Chatting to the lady I completely lost count of who came and went in the aid station. So I stopped my game and pigged out on sausage rolls, flapjacks and frazzles. Delightful. Fully stocked I headed back out, jogging the climb to St Martha’s once more.
On the return leg, more familiar faces were there with big hi fives from Meg and Daisy and a fleeting hello to Frank at the top of the hill. Back down the sandy path I went. Beaming in the sunny, warm mid morning sunshine.
Running back to the next aid station and onto Denbies again was all very unmemorable. I just kept steady, holding the pace and realising that I was actually holding pace for a solid effort at a sub 5hr 50k. I don’t think I’d ever gone sub 5 before. Other than a marathon distance and 100 miles, I’ve no idea what any of my PBs actually are. But now I had a new game to play, a new way to occupy my mind for the last ten or so miles. I just needed to keep on steady and hold the pace…
I briefly stopped to refill some water at Denbies and carried on for the final loop. This section, as we’d head towards the village of Westhumble, was new to me. Straight away we were met with a long ol’ road incline which warranted a walk. No point busting a gut here. It was much longer than I expected and glancing at the watch I noted that the elevation gain ticked over 700m. I wasn’t expecting that much elevation for the day either, but it made me feel strong, given how little walking I’d done and how comfortable I felt.
Soon I was back on trails and it was delightful to experience a few miles of new trails to explore. The whole loop was deceivingly uphill which I tried to hold my pace on. By the time I’d completed the loop and was heading back down the road section I saw that I’d done another 100m of elevation gain. Not bad. Not bad at all.
Crossing back over the NDW it was now down into Denbies for the final straight through some of the vineyard and across the finish line. Dib dab done. I stopped the watch and I was a few mins under 5 hours. Tidy. I’ll have some of that.
I dropped the timing chip off. Collected my bag and checked the train times. With one in 20 mins I knew I had time for a quick change of clothes and a fast hike to the station. I stopped to get a picture next to the Freedom Racing trailer and a rapid chat with Tom the RD, thanking him for another excellent adventure before I trundled off.
Another day, another race. Another sense of achievement. Job done.
It is the 24th October 2020. I’m running the Beachy Head Marathon along England’s South East coast starting and finishing in Eastbourne. As I am running, I’m also reflecting on my trail-running journey as, back on the 30th December 2017, this is the route I ran when I tagged along for my first social/group run. In some ways, this is where my journey began.
It was after the Never Stop London Christmas party when Jana told me that her and some friends would be going for a group run after Christmas and that I should join. So I did. I joined them on the way down to Eastbourne and, little did I know back then, we ran the Beachy Head Marathon route. The intention was to do the whole thing, all 26 miles of it. But, as we reached Exceat, after 20 miles, with it then becoming very dark, we decided to skip the last few miles along the Seven Sisters and jumped on a bus back to Eastbourne and then home.
That day was a baptism for me on the trails. Whilst I had completed 3 trail runs in 2017, all were at events. This was my first social run, the first time being unsupported without checkpoints and it ended up being the beginning of something special (I didn’t realise this at the time). I remember it was tough. I had the essential kit but I was probably not quite prepared for the day and the elements ahead. I remember early on I slid in the mud and landed side-on in a muddy puddle. I recall the open hillside tracks with the rain and the wind battering our faces – we couldn’t hear each other talking and ran a lot of it in apparent silence. It was the first time I’d met many of those I ran with that day and it was the first of many, many, runs with them and the mighty Gwyn (Susana’s dog). On the bus back to Eastbourne Susana gave us all a medal she’d made. I’m fortunate to call many of them friends now. I loved it all. Now, almost 3 years later, I was back on the Beachy Head route, for the Beachy Head Marathon in its 40th year. My trail running journey continues!
I knew a few people running the route that day. I didn’t expect to see any of them with the social distancing restrictions put in place. To my surprise though, just a few minutes in I ran into Megan who I travelled Borneo with. We caught up as we ran probably about half of the route together. It was great to see here again and especially nice after seeing some of the others from Borneo a few weeks earlier.
Rather than the usual ramblings of how the run went, instead I’ve summarised what the Beachy Head Marathon is and what you can expect if you decide to take on this fantastic event (which you should!)….
What is the Beachy Head Marathon?
It is a trail marathon which means it follows a mostly off road route. It has been taking place every year since 1981 and is a very popular event attracting runners from all over the UK.
The marathon is a strange sort of loop shape (kinda looks like an animal of some sort), starting and finishing on the edge of Eastbourne. Mostly it follows the South Downs Way as you first run towards the village of Jevington, and then continue on through and past Alfriston. When you reach the lookout point at Bo Beep Carpark, you begin to track back towards Eastbourne passing through Litlington and down to the coast via Westdean and Exceat. Once you leave Exceat you follow the undulating coastal trails of the Seven Sisters all the way to the Birling Gap and finally up to ‘Beachy Head’ and back to where it all began.
What to expect.
Firstly the start. It is uphill. If you’ve ever been to Eastbourne and the end of the South Downs Way, you’ll know. The cliffs drop off and the Downs very quickly become the seafront. This is where Beachy Head starts. Immediately after crossing the line you begin the first of many, many climbs. There is no shame in walking the start!
There are plenty of long and open hillside trails with endless views from the South Downs. With plenty of climbs along the route you’ll reach some spectacular view points of the rolling hills. These are mostly unobstructed and you see the hills fall away and rise again in the distance.
Wind and rain. With little shelter from the elements and an October event date, expect plenty of rain leading up to and during the event. Running along the open hill tops and next to the coast means it is very likely you’ll encounter some high winds. This year we had a slight deviation on the route due to the forecast gale force winds.
The rain inevitably leads to mud. Plenty of mud. The trails will become caked in mud. If getting your trainers dirty isn’t your thing, then don’t sign up. Trail shoes are a wise choice if you want to stand some chance of remaining on your feet throughout.
With a number of road crossings, big participant numbers and the multiple aid stations along the route, you can expect to encounter a lot of volunteers and marshals who are all fantastic and encouraging. It isn’t supported in the way road events are, but you won’t be missing the whoops and cheers as there is plenty of encouragement and support available along the way.
Speaking of aid stations, besides the usual water, sweets and chocolates, the Beachy Head Marathon provides an extra delight along the route with sausage rolls available approximately halfway round. By Lord is it a good one! Vegan options are available if that is your thing.
Steps. Whilst most of the climbing is done along trail paths, at two points you will climb a hill by using the large steps built into the hillside. In particular, the last climb before you reach Exceat, where the steps will torment your tired legs. As you descend back down into Exceat you are rewarded for your efforts with wonderful views of the meandering Cuckmere River as it meets the English Channel.
With legs still aching from the fast downhills and the steps to Exceat, it’s not over quite yet as you reach the Seven Sisters for the last 6 miles of the course. Here you run along the undulating cliff top trails as you make your way to the Birling Gap. If your legs weren’t hurting by now, then the last climb out of the Birling Gap back to Eastbourne might just be runnable!
Remember that big climb the race started with? That is your final challenge as you must now attempt to run down it without falling under the steepness of the path and the momentum you build as you descend. Try not to fall because there will be photographers waiting to capture your stumble in all its glory,
Throughout the course there are photographers doing a wonderful job of capturing the highs and lows of the event. With your head down concentrating on the trails, it’s likely the photographers will see you before you see them!
Once you finish, besides the standard medal and water for all finishers, you also get another local delight with a pasty (meat or vegan) for all the finishers. You won’t be needing a pub meal after this one!
If you can manage it, and your legs still work, you can enjoy a leisurely hobble along the seafront and into Eastbourne. A perfect way to finish the adventure!
In short, it is a good one. Whether you’re a first time marathoner, first time trail runner or seasoned addict, get the Beachy Head Marathon on your to do list and have some fun!
I don’t know if I was having one of those moments, a small midlife crisis or something, but I found my mind wandering. I was semi-committed to going to New Zealand for the Tarawera Ultra Marathon when I came across an advert for the Maverick Camp Endeavour in Borneo. I’ve always wanted to see the Orangutans and love the work the Maverick team do, so I got thinking… Besides, the two week adventure was just a few weeks after Tarawera so I convinced myself that it made sense to give life the middle finger and swan off to the other side of the world for 6 weeks. So I signed up.
Leading up to the trip everything was easy. Ben, Justin and the Maverick team do a great job at organising all their events and this was no different. I had everything I needed and plenty of assurances all would be looked after. They weren’t wrong. Even with the Covid-19 outbreak and mass hysteria that swallowed the world, everything was exactly as promised. Better even!
The basis of the trip was an 10 day adventure with an option to stay on two additional days for the Borneo Ultra Trail Marathon race. Each day was part of a packed itinerary full of running, yoga, adventures, culture, snorkelling and seeing the land. We were fully catered for in terms of accommodation, food, transport and activities. Essentially I just needed to turn up and follow instructions – something I was ready to do after a month of travelling and making decisions for myself! It was one of the best experiences of my life and went a little something like this…
I stopped by Bali on my way to Borneo (from New Zealand) and arrived late on the Friday night. As I exited the quiet arrivals hall a driver walked in with the ‘Maverick – Camp Endeavour’ sign and I was soon whisked to the Downbelow Lodge in Kota Kinabalu downtown. The Downbelow Lodge being the mainland base of ‘Adventures in Borneo’, Maverick’s Collaboration partner in Borneo run by Joanne and Richard. As the first arrival, I had the room to myself for the night.
The next morning I woke easily, refreshed and headed out in search of food. I’d identified a few local landmarks to go and visit including the Atkinson clock tower, Signal Hill Observatory, and the local food and Handicraft markets. On my journey I’d take in a breakfast stop in the highly recommended Nook cafe (a breakfast of Waffles with fruit and the biggest yogurt bowl with more fruit and muesli!). Heading back to the Lodge for midday I stopped by several shopping malls, mainly just to cool down in the air conditioning! It was scorching out there!
Atkinson Clock Tower
View from Signal Hill
A number of others had arrived. And I first met Carl who I’d be sharing a triple room with for the trip. It wasn’t long before we found out we live just a few minutes away from each other in Crystal Palace! After another trip to the mall for lunch, a few of us met up and went out for a short run along coast. We covered approximately 5km as we began to get to know each other, speculate on the week ahead and swear at the blistering heat and humidity. I laughed to myself that only runners would turn up to a running trip and add more runs to the itinerary! This wouldn’t be the last either…
That evening we went for a ‘welcome’ meal in a nearby restaurant and got to meet Joanne and Richard and some more of the team who’d look after us for the week, including Jess who was our guide and local trail running hero. Later that night a few more of the group arrived including Jake, who was also the Photographer for the trip, and the last addition to our trip room – Spenny. Our Maverick rep and all round legend of the running community (I first met Spenny in the UTMB after party in 2018 after I’d completed the CCC and he the TDS. There was this giant of a man, drunk from a day of celebrating his achievements and slurring every word that came out of his mouth). After chatting for a while we hit the sack as it was an early start the next day as the adventures would begin!
The next morning we were up early for breakfast in the lodge and a boat transfer to Gaya island. Here we’d enjoy a run on Gaya island and the opportunity for snorkelling and diving before staying overnight on Manukan island. Upon arrival we met the final two members of the group (Alex and Tiff) who’d arrived earlier and headed to Gaya ready. As we walked the Long Island pier to the beach, Richard gave us all a thoughtful welcome and quick speech to set the scene for the week. The key message he delivered (besides the essential health and safety advice) was to enjoy. Enjoy ourselves as we were here to experience Borneo and find our own way to take it all in. They’d flex to our needs and desires for the duration and look after us. All we had to do was focus on doing what works best for us. I liked this message. He also warned us against the risk of wasp nests and the two venomous snakes we might encounter. We all laughed nervously.
Running along the beach of Gaya Island
The full Maverick group
First ‘jungle’ run
Jess led us off on the run, flanked by our other guides Mira, Roger and Stanley. The trails of Gaya were well marked and it was clear where to run (although comically we all missed a turn and finished the run slightly short!). The run was tough. Just 7 km covered in total but by 2km I was drenched. I Don’t think I’ve ever sweat so much in my life. I looked like I’d just emerged from the sea with my shorts and t-shirt sticking to my skin like clingfilm. The humidity was a whole new experience for me (and I’ve run in quite a few humid places!). For the first time I realised how tough a 100km will be in these conditions. Oh yes, as part of the trip we had the option to sign up to race at the BUTM (Borneo Ultra Trail Marathon) and I’d opted for the 100km race. I immediately started questioning if I could consistently run 10km in 3 hours out here and make it back to the finish in time to fly home (the cut off was 4pm and my flight was at 7pm)! Besides the humidity, the terrain was quite technical with tree roots throughout the trails and leaves covering the trip hazards. Masses of huge and crispy leaves crunching under our feet. The incline to the highest point on the island was tough, Despite it only being about 300m. The downs were surprisingly slow due to the challenging terrain. As we arrived back at the dive site we sat in the warmth of the sea, basking in paradise whilst our hosts prepared lunch. Above us Joanne pointed out the various species of bird including the White Hornbill birds gliding through the blue sky.
Cooling down post run
Love a sign. At the highest point of the island
The first of many perilous bridges we’d encounter
Glad to have finished running!
Just before lunch the team welcomed us more formally and gave a full briefing of the week ahead including the many options we can tailor as a group or individuals. They explained where we’d run, where we’d stay, rough timings and schedules for the week and whom to ask for help. Every base was covered and it was clear this was going to be a smoothly run adventure! Before we tucked into a huge lunch of curried dishes and rice, another surprise and gift from Joanne – beautifully handmade brass bracelets from our guide Jess – “Perfectly Imperfect”. Engraved with the words “Trust your Kolumpa” (Kolumpa translating to “shoes” in her Tribe’s language). A special gift with words of wisdom that are unique to us all on the trip to cherish.
‘Perfectly Imperfect’ by Jess
After lunch we transferred to the nearby Manukan island for our overnight stay in resort. After checking in we were whisked straight back to Gaya island for a snorkelling session. There was word of whale sharks in the area and we went in search for them. Sadly we didn’t see them, but the Joanne and some of the team did as they left us after snorkelling to head home for the night. We did however see a variety of fish and sea turtles!
Later that evening we enjoyed yoga on the beach, as the sunset, led by the delightful Lily. This was my first yoga experience and what a way to sample it!! She released our senses with a variety of essential oils and calmly talked us through the poses with the biggest and friendliest of smiles you can imagine. It was then time for dinner and we were all relaxed and exhausted in equal measures. This was only day 1 of 10!
The next morning, a few of us woke up early to catch the sunrise. The benefit of having a professional photographer with us in Maverick’s very own master of the lens – Jake. Sadly it was overcast but were able to enjoy an additional short run along the length of the island and back. An enjoyable and sweaty way to start the day. The outward trail to the ‘sunset’ point was mostly slabs and stones with the return through the forest being a short climb and then descending back to hotel on some forest trails. I joined Carl and Spencer in cooling off in the sea and getting plenty of stings from the jelly fish! We were wide awake now!
Into the jungle paths
We followed up with a breakfast of champions and I ate everything I could find. Cereal, toast, fruit, pancakes, yoghurt and lots and lots of coffee. After breakfast we snorkelled again, this time off the neighbouring Sulung Island. Here the coral was more vibrant and colourful. Baby reef sharks could be seen in the shallow waters as well as few rather large jellyfish. Knackered, I spent most of the time clinging to the floaty ring! After Lunch at the resort we then headed back to mainland and checked back into to Downbelow Lodge. That evening we ventured out for a run to Tanjung Aru beach to see the sunset.
Having fun underwater
Might have bitten down too hard…
For the run we were joined by Jess’ sister Narna along with an additional film crew in tow (filming a documentary on the sisters). We ran the along the busy main roads and cycle path to the beach. From there we turned and ran back along the beach where we had plenty of photos and stopped at the beachside market to enjoy a fresh coconut as the sunset. That evening we headed out for dinner and drinks to a Mexican restaurant where the food was fantastic. The next day we’d begin our journey into the mainland of Borneo…
More posing for the camera
Running to the beach
I’m not playing this game
We woke to breakfast in the lodge once more before we Loaded into the buses and drove to Kiulu for the next adventure. We arrived at the Kiulu Farmstay – Where we’d spend the night camping in a facility built by the local community and volunteers. We were greeted with what I thought was the best food from the trip so far – A combination of banana hearts, chicken, potato, papaya and local greens with chilli along with rice wrapped in banana leaf. All grown/produced on the Farmstay which was a cooperation from 13 nearby villages. We took the opportunity to capture a few photos with the drone whilst we digested lunch before heading out on the next run – A 10km with 400m of elevation that would take us to a waterfall deep in the jungle.
A snippet of the amazing foods
Adventures in Borneo!
As we left the farmstay we ran up through a village to the beginning of the trail. We crossed over the first of many basic bridges built of wire and wood. Very, very wobbly. We climbed and ran some dirt tracks before running along the river and some wild and rocky trails. The smells were vivid, we weren’t sure what it was but it smelt like coriander to us.
Off for a run
Many more bridges
Dirt paths and gravel roads aplentyy
We then ran a short out and back with a ‘fruity’ climb to the waterfall. We took the local advice to dip in the water to cool off in the cold (but not icy) water. It was incredible. Instantly our temperatures were regulated and we were just as wet in the water as we were before we entered!
Chilling with the boys
Post run dip in the river
We ran back to the farm stay and jumped straight into the river there too so we could cool off again before we enjoyed another sunset evening yoga session with Lily alongside the river. This session involving more essential oils and massage techniques. All very relaxing but we were subjected to lots of bites from insects as the sun sent down!
Yoga by the river
Dinner that evening was another wild spread with fresh river fish, chicken and lots of veg added to the feast. Of course more rice was included. The Farmstay manager introduced his son to us and also brought out the infamous rice wine we’d heard so much about. It’s is a wine produced from local fermented rice. Whilst we waited then for the wine to be prepared (after the rice produced, which involves harvesting the rice that is then washed, supplemented with a local yeast (specific to the village), and left to ferment, water is added and 10 minutes or so later the alcohol seaps into the water to produce the wine) he told folklore stories. Stories of forbidden love, of tragedy and stories about the Head Hunter tribes (yep – exactly as it sounds!). We then sang a traditional song and drank the rice wine as we each introduced ourselves to him. We ended the night sitting by the campfire and chatting away under the blanket of stars in the clear nightsky.
Today was the early wake up as we’d head for the longest and most challenging run of the trip – a 30km-ish point-to-point run. We’d negotiated a slightly later start and a 5:30 breakfast that consisted of donuts, cake and noodles. With the run starting later at 9am, our bags would be transported to the village of Lobong Lobong where we’d be based for the next two days. Given the difficulty of this run, Richard and Joanne had arranged for a number of water stops along the way. We were still advised to carry 2 ltrs or water and it was estimated that the run could take between 6 and 9 hours to complete. Briefed up by Richard we set off and said our goodbyes to the Farmstay whilst some of the group opted out of the run and instead went on a rafting adventure and would meet us at the end of the run.
Setting off on the ‘long run’
Amazing backdrops all day long
We started out from the Farmstay and ran along road with a slight incline. I was conscious of the challenge ahead so started out conservatively with a slow plod slightly behind the group. We crossed many wobbly suspension bridges and wound down by the river. The route followed this approach and terrain as we passed through a number of small villages and paddy fields. At one point, as we ran, a few buffalos ran ahead and it looked as if the front runners were chasing them. After about 10km we approached the team and the first water stop that was prepared for us. Here we guzzled back the fresh goodness and reloaded ready to continue the adventure.
Running through fields
Stopping to enjoy the views
Next up was a short 3km section to the second water stop but this was a gravel path climb. Up and up for 3km in the blistering heat of the morning we climbed about 600m. Brutal. We were thankful for the next water stop so soon along with the unobstructed view of mount Kinabalu to enjoy whilst we tried to regain our composure.
Steep jungle descents
Even steeper climbs
Sent back on our journey, from here we next headed into the jungle and along a ridge line. It was a narrow single track, both rocky and on a camber. Not the easiest to run along, but the views from the ridge were spectacular. It soon transitioned into a very steep downhill. Very slidey with banana leaves and bamboo leaves covering the floor and making it particularly slippy on top of the loose dirt. We were falling all over the place. At the bottom we rested in a river stream and cooled off in the fresh jungle water the way the locals do – fully submerged.
The only way to cool down
The water was so cool and clean
Found a jelly baby
The climb back out was very steep, steeper than the downhill even as we climbed about 450m in just a mile. It went on and on and we made slow but steady progress as we climbed through the humid jungle before descending once more. Eventually, after about 23km (cumulative), we emerged from the jungle and had another water stop with the team to rest and refill our water. From here the ‘gradual climb’ to Pekan Nabalu would take us the final 10km to our finish point in the village. Only it wasn’t ‘gradual’ it was a consistently steep 400m climb with some additional descents thrown in for fun.
A few hours later, in the blistering afternoon sun we finished in the town with beer and food. 32km covered with 2500m of elevation completed. It took almost 8 hours and was without doubt one of the hardest 30km runs I’d ever done. Once more my mind wandered to the 100km BUTM as I wondered what on Earth I’d signed up too. My rational thoughts kept reminding me that whilst it was over triple the distance, it was only double the elevation…
That evening we made the short journey to the Tanak Nabalu homestay in the near by village of Lobong Lobong. The villagers were so welcoming and we had a huge dinner of rice, vegetables and curried meats prepared for us along with piles of fresh fruit. Afterwards Jess had us all getting arty and hand carving soft wood boards (which she uses to print t-shirts), all while drinking copious amounts of rice wine.
After a long run the day before we slept well (also probably helped by not camping again!). We woke to breakfast on our respective home stays and ours was an absolute feast. There were mounds of noodles and rice and eggs as well as banana bread and fruit. It was then straight off to the village hall for some morning yoga with Lily which was a somewhat painful but great stretch out.
Following the yoga we set out on our next run – a 14km run along three ‘Pineapple Ridge’. So called because pineapples grow along the ridgeway. Obvious! Setting off just before midday it was incredibly hot and sweaty. Dry earth terrain with big steep climbs from the beginning saw us lunging upwards as we began the 750m climb. We stopped briefly along the way for photos as mount Kinabalu popped up with no clouds as we ran along the ridgeline. Naturally we put Jake to good use here! Further up we stopped at some villager huts for a break from the sun and a quick regroup. We ran the last 2km into the village to receive great views into the valley and back across to Pekan Nabalu on the distance ridge opposite.
Words can’t describe this one
‘Big Mike’ our host for lunch treated us to plenty of fresh juicy pineapples, Rose milk and another delicious spread of local food before it was then time to run back to the homestay and complete the loop by running along the village roads back down the valley. These were roads that initially were very steep down hills on sealed roads before the road disappeared and became gravel tracks and eventually un-pathed trails. Pineapples continued to line the side of the track with the mountains completing the idyllic background for our run. We crossed the rickety suspension bridge and made our way back into the home stay village.
Upon our arrival all the homestay hosts were waiting for us and we were treated to rice wine and banana frittas. Soon word crept out that in the house I was staying there was also banana bread. Turns out our host was a cook which explains us being constantly spoilt with food. She was so so generous. This particular rice wine was strong. The strongest yet that we’d tried. Two bamboo cups of the stuff and I was feeling pissed. I wasn’t alone. Some of the others went and found some beer and we met a few local characters whilst we enjoyed them – Like local ‘shop’ keepers and the very, very old lady walking up the street with a bamboo walking stick who went out of her way to come into the garden (not easy for her to open the gate!) and shake all our hands and say hello, despite her lack of English.
That evening we joined another group for a ‘cultural display’ by some of the villagers in the town hall after we were treated to yet another feast of amazing foods (spotting the theme of the trip yet?). The rice wine was coming thick and fast now. Debbie bought beer for us all and then we watched and listened as the locals played the gongs and danced a traditional village dance. We had the opportunity to try the gongs and dancing ourselves. Much to everyone’s amusement.
Dong Dong, Dong Dong, Dong Dong…
Might have been spotted being less stiff than usual
I left early that night when it was all over. The wine had gone to my head and I left the others chatting away and doing more arts and crafts (bracelet weaving) led by Jess. Tomorrow we’d wake to yoga before beginning the long journey (5hr) to Sepilok on the East coast of Borneo.
We rose to another morning yoga session with Lily in the village playing fields with the cows surrounding us with their curiosity whilst the sunrise behind Mount Kinabalu theatrically took place. The tough stretches worked our achy bodies and plenty of groans accompanied the morning (not just from me this time!).
Can’t even straighten the arms
The yoga spots were insane!
We dashed back to the homestay for brekkie and to pack before we loaded into the vans. It was a five hour journey (with a lunch stop at a market) which followed and we drove along some roads that were very windy and very bumpy. It was a tough journey. We eventually arrived at the Sepilok Jungle Resort after 5pm and were all so glad to escape the mini bus.
We headed straight into the pool with beers and chilled. Today was the first of two non-running days and we were ready to relax. It was lush. That evening, for dinner I had chicken nuggets. They weren’t so lush!
Today was a day I’d been particularly looking forward too. In the morning we’d visit the orangutan rehabilitation centre where orangutans are reared, cared for and released back into the wild. I fucking love monkeys and orangutans. We started with a little video on the centre and I was welling up watching and learning about the work the volunteers do. We then headed out to the observation platform to watch the morning ‘feeding time’. The gibbons knew what to expect and started gathering on mass and crowding out the young orangutans. As the basket of food was delivered, carnage followed. Orangutans and gibbons descending like the rain, gathering up the bananas, melons, leaves and bamboo sticks. Fighting and hoarding was inevitable. There was even a little breakfast sexy time amongst the gibbons
After feeding time we went over to the outside nursery where we could watch the younger, and newer, orangutans play. There were plenty of comedy moments as they played together, swinging around the nursery and wrestling each other. After we said goodbye to the Oranutangs we popped next door to visit the Sunbears. Whilst there we also saw a viper hiding out in one of the trees along the walkway!
Following some lunch the afternoon couldn’t have been any more different. Whilst some of the group were whisked off for an additional river cruise excursion, we took a trip to the city of Sandakan where we visited the Sandakan war memorial which charts the Japanese torture of British and Australian pows during the Second World War as well as the death marches (260km) where prisoners were led on foot Ranau. This was a chapter of history I never knew about. All very sad and thought provoking.
After that we visited a Buddhist peace temple (Puu Jih Shih). It had some great views over the town of Sandakan and the sea. Finally we went to a local food market. It was your typical Asian food market. Nothing special from a tourist perspective. I bought a couple of ice creams including a uni-cornetto which was fucking ace!
Upon returning to Sepilok a few of us went for yet another off-itinerary run to stretch our achy legs. Over dinner we laughed and joked over the memories we’d made from the trip so far. It was clear we were having an incredible time!
Back on the road today as we made the very bumpy journey back west to Sinurambi. As it was two days prior, the ride was painful and slow. Slightly more tolerable though as four of the group had departed on the additional day trip and another 4 had opted to fly west instead. So at least the bus wasn’t as crowded or as stuffy this time round!!
We arrived at the property just after 4pm. Wow. By far the best place we’d stayed. Rose and Terry’s B&B was high up in the mountains with stunning views over the surrounding mountains, Kota Kinabalu and the cluster of islands we’d visited at the start of the trip. The house was spectacular. We didn’t get long to start enjoying though as we headed straight out for a quick run before yoga by the pool watching the sunset from high up in the mountains.
The run was short (less than 5km) but immediately steep. Quite possibly the steepest road I’d ever run on (it hit >40% gradient in some parts!). We then left the road and headed into the jungle. Up and down we bobbed before reaching the waterfall that didn’t exist. The lack of rain meant it was completely dried up. So we bounced back up through the lively forest to complete a loop. The Forest was alive with the sound of wildlife. Noisy crickets screeching and making sounds that seemed to lie about their size. As we found our way back to the road we had to run back down the steep road and within seconds the soles of my feet were on fire! I dived straight. Into the pool as we returned to the B&B.
Did I mention we did Yoga?
Now we were all reunited with the day trippers arriving back, Lily then took as through a yoga session over looking the city as the sunset in front of us. This session was hilarious as we performed ‘couples’ movements in pairs. As the sunset we all relaxed with smiles on our faces listening to the dulcet tones and jokes that Lily made as she taught.
Rose then treated us to the best meal of the trip. No rice or noodles in sight. We enjoyed crispy pork, potatoes, fresh veg and salad as well as stuffed pumpkins and amazing soup with sweet corn and vegan banana cake and vegan ice-cream for desert. Dinner was also a celebration as today was Jess’ birthday. What a good end to the day.
An early-ish wake up call with brekkie at 7am as, before 9am, we were out and heading up to the salt trails. A trail so called as villagers and tribes used to travel the paths to trade items for salt. We were back in head hunter territory now. It was a fairly short but difficult run with 15km and 1300m covered. The climbs we were now getting used too – steep and rooty. There were a few sections that were good for brief spells of running but overall it was a another run were the sweat was instantaneous and we were soaked through. Sadly no rivers or streams to cool off in this time. Just 3 huts along the way that provided an opportunity to rest from the sun.
Back for a quick dip in the pool followed by another marvellous lunch from Rose and Terry. The rest of the afternoon was relaxing before one final yoga session with Lily overlooking Sabah once more before dinner and beers by the pool.
For the final time
Good bye sun
The final day and sadly all that remained was a final meal with Rose and Terry before a midday transfer back to the Downbelow Lodge and sleep before the Borneo Ultra Trail Marathon (BUTM) where we all ran races from 30km to 100km. I ran the 100km starting at 6am on the Saturday and finishing at 6am on the Sunday. After the race it was back home for some sleep and a shower before 12 hours later I was heading home…
The trip really was a fantastic way to acclimatise to the heat and humidity of Sabah. I sincerely doubt I would have completed the BUTM race if I did my usual approach of turning up a day or two before the run and having a short trip. Getting familiar with the trails and climate in advance was a huge benefit.
In hindsight, we were incredibly fortunate, for many reasons. Firstly, as the first edition of the Camp Endeavour with Adventures in Borneo, I think we were spoilt rotten. The trip represented insane value for money and we were treated like royalty the whole time. Whilst some of the group opted to ‘upgrade’ various hotels and transport options, this was in no way a reflection on the offering of the tour. As a group of runners on a running adventure, the basic package was pure luxury for expectations and what we paid.
Secondly, the day after the last of the group flew home, the Sabah was locked down amid the Covid-19 pandemic. We were incredibly fortunate to have this wonderful trip and opportunity with no issues. We were able to complete the full itinerary including the races at BUTM which has probably been one of the last international running events that has taken place this year. For all of us to make it safely to Borneo, enjoy ourselves and return home safely in these difficult times is surely a reason to be thankful!
The friendliness of the people of Borneo was special. Everywhere we went, everyone we met were so welcoming and intrigued to meet and interact with us. We were always greeted with smiles and laughter, and of course rice wine!
With the ongoing uncertainty for the coming months, spare a thought for the small businesses who will be impacted by the economic climate and whose livelihoods are thrown into doubt as cities around the globe lock down. There are many, but to me right now writing this both Maverick Race and Adventures in Borneo are dear to me. They rely on social gatherings and events. So support them where you can – buy a race entry/ trip with them, use their shops and commerce sites, buy vouchers to be redeemed in the future when all becomes stable and help them be here still when that day comes.
Maverick Race. Ben, Justin and the team have done a great job with all their events and this was my first experience of an overseas adventure with them. I’m grateful for this opportunity and thankful for their organisation and making it all so easy for me!
Adventures in Borneo. Joanne and Richard are fantastic. They are the operation behind Camp Endeavour: Adventures in Borneo and without them it wouldn’t have been feasible never mind possible. The incredible amount of work they sunk into making this happen showed. As I mentioned before, we were spoilt, this wan’t your run of the mill running trip. I don’t think it would have been possible to be in better hands. Their team in the office, the guides, drivers and all those who supported us, thank you too! We made many new friends on this adventure.
Lulu – Our ever present tour rep for Adventures in Borneo. You probably did more running than we did as you tracked after us all and ensured everything ran smoothly. The first one up, the last one to bed. The first one to the table, the last to eat. Your generosity was unheralded!
Jess, Mira, Roger, Stanley – our trusty trail guides. Keeping us on track, on time and smiling throughout the runs. Your advice was welcomed and laughter and zest for the trails infectious!
Lily – Our beautiful Yoga instructor. It was so challenging for me (to even sit on my knees!) but your patience and instruction was a virtue, your smile brighter than the sunrise and your jokes and sense of humour made everything so much easier!
To all our hosts from the Farmstay, Homestays, hotels and Rose & Terry. Thank you for welcoming us into your homes and spoiling us with your hospitality!
To all the others on the trip – thanks for the laughter, the stories, the beers, the piss taking, the memories. I don’t think a better bunch of strangers could be found. Thanks for the friendship. Until we meet again…
Jake. Thanks for the pictures. They are alright they are! 😉 One talented man right there! Go check him out. Taking pictures is an art, running kms everyday chasing runners around the jungle to take pictures is next level! (and if you didn’t clock it, all but a few of the pictures here are his work! All credit to that man for his eagle eye and skills behind the camera)
After a less than fruitful sleep, we were all crammed into the minibus for our transport to the start of the Borneo Ultra Marathon. I had two strategies for this race (1) keep hydrated (2) try and regulate my temperature as much as possible. I wasn’t sure how this race would pan out but I knew to have any chance of surviving the heat of Borneo I’d have to get this right!
Surviving the heat wasn’t the only concern amongst participants of the BUTM. Despite the carnage and ongoing concerns of the Covid19 virus that was sweeping the world, BUTM 2020 was going ahead. I felt bad for the race director. He was in a difficult position. 3 weeks prior they’d advised they were proceeding. Then the global situation intensified. The Sabah region had stayed pretty much virus free until pretty much the day before the race when. So, despite last minute updates to government’s advice the race was still going ahead. This did cause some stir and there was some noise as other races in the following weeks were cancelled. But what can you do, how do you cancel and international event at a few hours notice? It’s a lose lose situation for the RD. Some last minute provisions were made and as we queued up to enter the registration hall, all runners had their temperature scanned and our hands were sanitised. There was advice provided to for social distancing where possible (but let’s remember in the grand scheme of things this is a low key event and it doesn’t draw a crowd of spectators!).
After registering we made our way to the start line which was just a short walk away. This is also where the race would finish as we cross the final wooden suspension bridge across the water. We did the usual pre-race photo rituals and those of us doing the 100km or 50km made our way to the front of the start pen (the 30km has a later start). With little fanfare we were off and started running back through the small town and passed the hall where we registered.
We soon began the first of many long climbs and I settled in near Meghan and Carl as Spencer and Jake ran off in the distance. It wouldn’t be long before I’d turn off and begin a different route for the 100km. First though we began the steep road climb. The pace immediately slowed to a bimble in the darkness of the early morning. The sun was starting to shine and I was hoping to experience this sunrise again in 24 hours time.
A few km in and the 100km runners broke away, turning left away from the 50km runners who’d continue the climb a little further. I had this to look forward to later on where the later half of the 100km follows the same 50km route. For now though, a small quad buster of a trail descent. The ground was lumpy and hard, but my attention was drawn to the views of the surrounding area as the day broke. I briefly chatted to a Canadian woman doing her first 100 mile race and an Irish man from Wexford also doing the 100km (who’d go on to finish 2nd!). I stopped to capture a few pictures and ran on when the roads flattened and became gravel trails. Already the field was thinly spread and I found myself running alone. At the end of the descent I saw a 100 mile runner running back towards me. I assumed we’d gone wrong but he explained the river crossing was ahead and he didn’t want to get his feet wet so was going to cross the suspension bridge. I agreed with him, in the week before my feet took a beating from running in wet shoes and socks as I cooled in the rivers. I promised myself that if I stopped at a river to immerse myself I’d removed them first. It was too early to need to cool in the river though so I followed him across the scariest bridge I’d ever been on. The suspension bridges in Sabah are essentially rusty old wire fencing (think chicken coop wire) with wooden planks along them, not always attached! This one however was missing one side of the wire ‘rail’ as it was broken and hung loose and flaccid along the bridge. The planks in many places didn’t exist and the wire was full of holes. We shimmied across with two hands on the existing rail and sidestepped it. The bridge swinging and bouncing with the movement of runners. I was sure we’d fall in the river!
Shortly after the bridge fiasco, We crossed a concrete road section breaking up the river and even before 8am I was realising just how hot it was and how hot it would get. It was scorching and I was dripping with sweat already. After climbing some more gravel roads we ran into a field where we were scanned before crossing the field and running a trail path along the river. We then began the first of the ‘bigger’ ascents which was a mix of gravel roads and more hard and dry packed trails. Here the heat of the morning really struck and I noticed a number of the local runners would stop whenever there was a bit of shade from the trees. I decided to adopt this technique and grab a few seconds breather also. This would help my goal for regulating the body temperature. It was relentless. I soon realised I’d be stopping a lot on these climbs and taking it slowly so I made my peace with that. As we climbed I also started to think about my liquids. I was getting through my 1.5ltrs (I had an additional 500ml bottle to add to the hydration for later in the day) and I was wondering where and when I’d come across the first water stop. I changed my watch screen to check the distance and somehow I was on 15km already. I was confused as I’d not seen the water station. I thought it must have been in the field where I was scanned (I remember reading about that field in the race notes), but I didn’t see anything. It was a good thing though, it meant that I wasn’t far from the second water stop and had made good early progress.
The second water stop came just before the next big climb and I was glad. I was ready for some food and water. As I arrived I was more confused than ever though. I couldn’t see any water and the only food options (fruit) and fizzy drinks had prices on them and a woman telling me it was RM3 (less than a pound) for a coke, 100Plus or bottled water. What?! I wasn’t going to buy liquids in a race in the high 30degrees out of pure stubbornness. Thankfully I was eventually directed to massive water butts on high platforms with hoses coming from them for drinking water. This made more sense and no wonder I missed it at the last stop. As I refilled my bottles I realised I’d made a kit packing error – in my haste packing the night before I’d put all my caffeinated Tailwind in my race pack rather than the drop bag for the second section at night. Great. I’d be buzzing with caffeine throughout the day now. I decided to try and ration it and water it down a bit to save some for when I’d need it most when I’m tired at night.
As I left the water station we began the first jungle/trail section which was quite technical but also short before the wider trail climbs. Just like the climbs before, this was completely exposed and I was seeking out the shadows to cool down. It was a slow slog to the top but I was able to run a bit as we descended into the next water station. All along the climb and descent there were locals at the side of the road, in cars, outside their houses selling fruit and drink. I didn’t like it. It didn’t seem right to have to buy essentials (yes I class coke and isotonic drinks as essentials in ultras!) during a race.
During this section I recognised several trails from our runs the week before. I ran a familiar ridge and passed a house where we saw a monkey and a pig before passing a place which had amazing views of Mount Kinabalu. Some trails looked so familiar but I wasn’t sure if I’d been on them too! I then arrived at the third water stop and things became a little bit clearer. A volunteer asked me if I wanted fruit and when I asked if I needed to pay he replied saying “no, fruit is free for runners”. I ate so much pineapple my tongue went funny from the acidic goodness. It was ace. I filled all 4 bottles of water and set back out.
And so onto the biggest climb of the race. I was aware this one would be tough and the 14km section (straight up and back down the other side) would take about 4 hours. It was so exhausting. As the sun rose higher in the sky, with it the temperature began to sore. I was looking for the shadows. They were pure temptation. Like a voice calling you over. Come to me. Rest a while. Sit down and take the weight off your feet. Maybe stay a while, stay here all day if you like. I had to challenge myself not to succumb to the relief but to keep moving. I made a pact. I’d stop every time an opportunity presented itself, but not the first shadow, always the second or last one. Make some progress up the climbs and break it up. Each time I’d stop I’d count to ten with deep breathes, resting my hands on my knees and my head lowered to the ground. In and out. I’d watch my heart rate decrease in those ten breathes. Sometimes dropping 30+ BPM. I was working hard in the heat despite moving slower than I’ve ever climbed before.
Eventually I began to reach the top and there was a woman selling drinks. I knew there was a false summit but the trail descended quickly so I asked here if this was the top and she replied ‘yes, all downhill to the next water stop’. I packed away the poles, composed myself and cracked on. She was wrong. It was the false summit and we still had 300m of climbing to cover. I was annoyed! As we began the descent I saw a runner turn right but I saw the markings go to a trail to the left. I stopped and was about to call after him when I saw markings that went the other way too. Another runner also stopped and we debated which was right. We followed the first runner and saw more markings further on, we hoped it was right!!
When we weren’t far from the end of the descent we reached the 4th water stop. We were now 40km in. I filled my bottles and went and sat in the shade in the hut. It was quiet here with only one other runner doing the 100 miler. I sat with my head between my legs and necked a lot of water. A woman asked if I was ok. I felt fine, just too hot. She told me I was 11th. Just outside the top ten and the 10th runner just ahead. I laughed at her. That’s crazy I said and I told her I need to slow down then. I sat back and chilled out. That might have spurred people on, but not me. I went the other way. Top ten?! That’s not me. So I decided to stay here for at least ten mins and recover from the exhaustion of the climb. I eventually got up and went to another hut full of fruit and gorged on more pineapple and watermelon. I tried chatting to the women who prepared it all but they just kept laughing at me. Some sweaty white guy stuffing his chops and not stopping to chew.
I carried on. It was only 4km to the next water station and I now felt recharged and fuelled after the lack of food earlier in the morning. I was able to run a little and the ground was quite forgiving. The next water station was a confusing one as it was also one I’d revisit later in the race. I sat down for another 10 mins and applied more suncream and had some more fruit and water. The exit to this station was a massive suspension bridge and we were then running on some undulating trails heading back towards town. About halfway along the trails the runner I was following stopped. He said he didn’t see any trail markings any more. He was right, I’d stopped paying attention and now also didn’t see any. I ran on a bit but still didn’t find any. I loaded the GPX on the watch and it seemed like we were ok to continue. It wasn’t on the track but it looked to run parallel. We both sat on the floor and composed ourselves. Even thinking in the heat was draining!! The trails did indeed meet once more and we crossed several more suspect bridges. We then ran passed a junction in the race I recognised from the morning (which I’d also visit once more later in the race) and along some road. I was plodding along and before I realised it I was back at the start. Halfway. Time for my drop bag, food and a good sit down and rest.
I was about two and a half hours ahead of my predicted time so I messaged the group. They’d all finished their races now and were still in the area so they came to see me. I was a beautiful sight for them. Half baked with a wet towel draped over me, feet up and chewing on potatoes and other veg (I wasn’t fancying my chances of keeping the chicken curry down!). I was sweating so much. It just wouldn’t stop. I tried to relax and cool down but to no avail. As we talked I found out they’d all smashed their races. We had first female in the 30km, second female in the 50km and several winners in their age categories. Incredible. They went off to collect their podium prizes before leaving back to Kota Kinabalu. Spencer was staying with Jess to crew her sister on the 100 miler and she was flying, she’d arrived and left the aid station. I was getting comfortable. I was content with how the race was going so decided I’d stay for at least an hour. I ate more, bandaged my feet and kept trying to stop sweating. Eventually Jess and Spencer started packing my stuff up and kicked me out, back on my way. Cheers guys.
The next 50km would be broken up. Two big climbs and descents. A bit of flat/undulating trail. A tough trail climb and descent then two small hills and a fairly flat but slightly inclined 8km to the finish line. I was focused.
I started the first climb at a steady paced hike. The temperature had now dropped and the suns heat was diminishing. The climb was immediately easier than those in the morning/midday heat and I no longer needed to stop as I hiked. I felt good. The descent was quite runnable and I plodded on consistently.
I reached the next water stop and took another ten mins to relax. The next climb was tougher than I expected as it was through trail and jungle forest. There were some very steep sections. As I started to climb, it began to rain. Thankfully in the forest I was quite week sheltered so I let the rain cool me. I was also not worried about getting wet because the temperature was still high twenties and I was already soaked through with sweat still.
I summitted as the sun was setting and I took a moment to enjoy the views of surrounding mountains In the twilight. Quite surreal. As I continued along the ridge it soon became dark and I had to put my head torch on. The next descent was a little harder than I expected as the darkness settled quickly and the ground was very muddy and slippery from the rain. I almost stacked it a few times!
At the end of the descent I arrived back at the water station (with the big suspension bridge) from earlier in the day. I cracked into some noodles and rested again. Too my surprise, four 100km runners then showed up (one woman running in some flimsy rubber sandals!) and I was a little shocked. I’d seen only a handful of runners since I started the second loop and most of those were doing the 100 miler. I thought I’d been making better progress now. Clearly not though! I followed them out and we retraced the undulating trails from a few hours earlier. This time I walked behind them. Then, I lost sight of them. I noticed some head torches lights just above me and realised this was were I had to look at the GPX route earlier. I quickly ran back and found the actual root this time and soon caught them up again. We next arrived back at the intersection of all the routes for my third time and I started to veer right. The other runners carried on straight. Aaah. I hadn’t been caught up after all, they were still on their first loop. I was at least 20km ahead of them. That made me feel better.
I was happily walking the next section when I once more realised I’d done this route earlier in the day. I crossed the concrete road through the river again (disoriented and thinking I was going the opposite direction this time – I wasn’t). Despite looking at the route and the elevation I hadn’t quite noticed how many paths I’d duplicate. I knew what lay ahead though. Gravel and pathed roads, climbs and a small descent. Then I’d be at the water station I missed on my first pass (the very first one!). I was getting sleepy now though. I thought about sleeping for ten minutes when I arrived but I settled for coffee instead.
It was back out through the field and along the river before somewhere I turned off on to new trails I’d not yet experienced. Next it would be the biggest and most technical section of the last 50km. Spencer had warned me about how technical this but would be in the dark so I felt prepared.
I don’t really remember the climb. But I do remember the descent. It was brutal. It was very steep and very rocky and rooty. The ground was covered in wet leaves and slippery earth. I was going slowly. I was also feeling it in my feet and the they were hot and raw. I couldn’t wait for this to end.
It was quite surreal being in the jungle at night. The noises were very relaxing and the floor was moving, crawling with insects. I saw so many armies of giant ants, big ugly spiders (eyes glistening in the torch light!) frogs and bats. A few times I stopped and turned off my light to enjoy the darkness and look up at the clear night sky. It was peaceful out here on the mountain with the stars shinning through the gaps In the trees. As the trail flattened out I realised how tired I was actually becoming. I was definitely beginning to fall asleep as I ran and wobbled from side to side. At one point I saw Spencer laying on the ground next to me. I jumped awake as I almost stepped on him. He looked up and said “you alright mate?”. I was beginning to hallucinate and needed more coffee!
I stocked up on caffeine and more noodles at the aid station and carried on for the final two lumps of the race. It was working. The warm food and caffeine enabled me to run the down hill sections which were gravel tracks and road. We crossed many more suspension bridges (quite a few in dire need of repairs!) and I even passed a few runners. Before I knew it I’d covered the 10km of trail and was at the final water stop. I felt good. It felt like a long time since I’d finished a race actually running a bit. Normally I’m resigned to just walking by now! I promised a quick final stop. More coffee and I ate a whole pack of PowerUp sweets I’d had for over a year. A resealable pack, I chewed them all down. This would give me that final kick of energy. And it did. After a quick turn around I was running. I was now churning out some sub 7 minute kilometres as the watch ticked passed the 100km mark. I even ran some of the small inclines and kept the moment going. Partly I didn’t want the people I overtook catching me up. I did now wonder how far off I might be from the top ten all these hours later.
The final section felt quite disorienting and I felt like I was running around in circles. Constantly crossing bridges and looping around. As the kms ticked down I could sense the end. One volunteer I passed (checking bib numbers in) congratulated me. I smiled. He was right. I’d done this. The few km ahead were a formality. I was feeling it. Smiling. Running with confidence again.
Up ahead I saw the bright lights on the other side of the river. All very quiet, but this must have been it. The final bridge crossing. I’d read about it. You finish this side of the bridge and walk across to collect your medal. It wasn’t exactly as climatic as that for me though. There was no one there. I crossed the bridge and ran under the finish arch to total silence. At the finish line two volunteers. One checking all the mandatory kit. The other handing out the tshirts and medals. Very subdued at 05:00 in the morning! Which is always to be expected. I’d come in under 24 hours, I was very happy with that.
I walked back to the registration hall, collected my drop bag, found the driver Joanne had arranged for me and headed back to the lodge to get some sleep. In 12 hours time I’d be on a flight back to the UK and in 24 hours time I’d be heading to work, and my adventure would have sadly come to an end! What an adventure it has been though!
Joanne and Richard from Adventures in Borneo had prepared an incredible two weeks of running and adventure for us. The Planning and organisation and support from them and their team was incredible. They’d supported us through the race too. Not only with the logistics and organisation but through their advice, experiences and getting us exposed to the trails and climate beforehand. The group, now friends, who’d done the adventure all performed incredibly. When I found out the results at the half way point I was amazed. So strong and everyone had such a great time. I too had a great run and did squeeze into tenth place in the end. Unreal.
The race itself was enjoyable. I started off mentioning the difficult circumstances surround the event and I am so glad I was able to run the BUTM. The trails and route was pretty epic and the volunteers and organisation were great and helpful. The pre-race information was, if anything, too informative (detailed route instructions that you’d struggle to visualise) and as far as I could tell the whole event ran smoothly. The trail markings and directions were great and any fears I had of running through the jungle at night were not valid. I also mentioned about having to buy drinks. This was the biggest negative for me. I believe it’s intended to support the local communities but I think this can be achieved via the entrance and registration fees. It’s great that people are out providing extra support to runners, but I don’t think this should be at the expense of the provisions at the actual aid stations. This was the first ‘supported’ race I’ve done where I’ve eaten most of my own nutrition stash. There just wasn’t much at the aid stations to have (pineapple and noodles aside!). I’d definitely recommend this event and do now have my eye on their sister race ‘TMBT’ (Interpreted as either ‘The Most Beautiful Thing’ or ‘The Most Brutal Thing’ depending who you speak to!) held in August each year…
As I sit by a pool overlooking a lake, reflecting on my recent achievements and completion of my first 100 mile run, one thought that has come to mind is routine.
… it exists everywhere. Throughout our lives we get into habits and make routines. Running is full of routines. The regularity of runs and training, plans and coaching instructions. Morning and afternoon commutes or that favourite time of day that works best for us. Sometimes they even have silly little names like the ‘Sunday long run’. We each find a routine that works for us.
I’ve got my own routines for running. These have been fundamental to the achievements and successes I’ve had over the past 12 months. One of which is not something I could foresee when I started running – daily supplements. Nutrition is a big part of the routines associated to running. Besides the obvious elements of our diets, an example might be the post run ‘recovery shake’ after a particularly strenuous run, I subscribe to this one. For the past year though I’ve also been taking a number of supplements. I’m very fortunate to be supported by Xendurance as part of their TeamXND of runners. Getting to try out numerous of their products has been great, But three have made it into my daily habits – Xendurance, Immune Boost and the Omega+D3. Let me tell you why…
Immune Boost – This is a daily multivitamin full of vitamins, minerals and antioxidants. designed to build a healthy immune system. If I can help maintain a health body, supporting my bones, tissues and organs, then I think my body will stand a better chance to cope with the rigours of endurance running.
Omega +D3 – Fish oil is well known as a great supplement and the Xendurance Omega+D3 is exactly that in a form that promotes improved absorption of the fatty acids, along with some additional vitamin D to support the retention of key minerals like calcium. Great for keeping those joints and organs healthy.
Xendurance – A ‘performance product’ that is designed to help repair and rebuild the muscle tissue and reduce soreness. Fighting stresses encountered during exercise ad reducing the amount of lactic acid built up, it helps the body to recover quickly. With the amount of running and stress I put my body under, this product is ideal to help me cope and maintain a healthy balance.
This routine, whilst desired and believed in by me, is also dictated by the dosage. I take 3 of the Xendurance tablets and 3 of the immune boost each morning and night as well as an omega 3 each morning and night. 14 pills a day. 420 or so each month. That’s a lot. Normally it’s manageable. Some before bed and some with breakfast in the morning. It did take a while to get into the habit of taking them. Now though it is all part of my daily routine for life. Get up, have breakfast, take my supplements and go to work… That becomes a little more complicated when I’m doing longer ultras, and even more difficult over the past few weeks as I’ve travelled around.
For the last 4 weeks I’ve been living out of a bag (it’s not all bad, I’ve been in some amazing places after all and it’s a big ol’ bag!) and keeping the process going while on the road has required a little more thought and attention. Although, mostly it is the same – I just need to remember to take them as the rest of my routine and living pattern is completely disrupted. I also believe in the benefits they give me so that makes it a little easier not to forget. So no special techniques or pill boxes here, just leaving the packets somewhere accessible as a reminder seems to work just fine.
What is a little more difficult is managing the dose around the really long runs/events. Firstly I don’t increase the dosage leading up to a big event. You can do, but for me those would be marginal benefits that probably won’t make a difference to my overall objectives, performance or recovery. What I do make sure I do though is continue to take the dose throughout the run. For those ultras I’ve been out there for longer than 20 hours or so, this means taking pills with me!
Depending on when the run starts I’ll usually take a dose before I start (usually they are very early or very late in the day and this aligns nicely). I’m conscious that I’ll then need at least two doses carried with me for roughly 12 and 24 hours later. Initially I left some in a drop bag in a race I did early last year. I was so preoccupied with my drop bag ‘routine’ though that I completely forgot to take them. So now I carry them. Somewhere obvious so that when I do stop, I’m aware that they should be taken. A little chest pocket on my running vest is the ideal size and location. I do often wonder if it raises an eye brow at the aid station when I empty a little plastic bag and all these pills spill into my palm!!
Likewise I did the same when I took a 26hr flight to New Zealand and I used the flight meals as the reminder to take my supplements. My seat neighbours didn’t seem to notice me ‘popping’.
So why have I made these supplements part of my routine? Pretty much as I mentioned above. I believe in the benefits. Whether you do or don’t, even if you have a pseudo effect it’s still a benefit in my mind. The Immune Boost ensures my body gets the key vitamins I need as a base. The ones that my diet and other habits might be lacking in. Keeping the insides strong and healthy will, if nothing else, maintain my ability to run and help fight any illness I might be subjected too. The Xendurance though is the main one. I said it in the little ‘Forest Sessions’ filming video I did with TeamXND last year – I find my legs are less heavy after the big ultras than they were before I started taking them. My body’s ability to get up and go again seems stronger. And with my desire to do more and more, longer and longer runs, this is a huge help!
Writing this got me thinking a little about my year with TeamXND. What initially started with a trial led to this routine. And there’s a lot in between to be thankful for. I’m thankful to Kieran for getting me involved and making the introductions. To the team at Xendurance who’ve supported and encouraged me over the year. And to the other athletes I’ve met through the team, who’ve shared the experience and inspirations with me.
The highlight of course was the little get together we did in the New Forest in the summer. This was an opportunity for a few of us to meet face to face. To talk about our passions and motivations for running. To share our stories and also our experiences with the Xendurance products. We were a varied bunch. All with different purposes and goals, and that’s what was so inspiring. Xendurance and their products have supported us all in unique and different ways to help us achieve those goals and live our passions to the fullest.
I can’t deny the nerves and awkwardness I had being in front of the camera, something that isn’t a natural thing for me but chatting away with the others made it easier. As did the little run myself and Jakob managed to squeeze in whilst the others filmed in the forest. Chatting away more with Jakob was inspiring, whilst we do similar events, again our motivations and drivers are quite different. His outlook and philosophy is was quite poetic to listen to as we wound away through the forest oaths, past some of the healthiest looking cattle I’ve ever seen in my life. Hopefully we’ll be crossing trails and some events this year!
And there are some of the hidden benefits of this routine, who would have thought that taking supplements would also bring inspiration and friendship into my life?!
If you’d like to know more about the Xendurance product range, get in touch. I’d be happy to share more thoughts and insights into what I use. Also keep any eye on their Instagram page (@Xendurance_EU) right now as they present more videos of TeamXND runners sharing their experiences!
When I planned a little visit to Bali, there were a few things that really interested me. Climbing and running around Mt Rinjani, Mt Agung and Mt Batur. Sadly my research suggested that Agung and Rinjani weren’t possible without longer, organised treks with guides and my short time in Bali just wouldn’t accommodate it. Mt Batur however seemed very reasonable. Rather than do a day trip with a 4 hour round trip in a car, I planned to stay nearby and go solo, if I could…
I say if ‘I could’, because my research also suggested this wasn’t really possible. The only reviews you’ll find are for tour guides and organised treks. I did find a few limited reviews suggesting it was possible to do without a guide, but that it would be difficult. You see, there seems to be a bit of a racket going on. You’ll read about access being ‘mafia’ controlled and that the Association of Mount Batur Trekking Guides are all supposedly a part of it. I took it with a pinch of salt. This wouldn’t exactly be like the Godfather! Before I continue, don’t get me wrong – I wasn’t trying to avoid paying, supporting the local community or being disrespectful to the authority. It just doesn’t seem legit. Spending a few days in the area, every single person seemed to be a guide, a taxi driver, a tourist information point and an excursion brooker. Even kids in the street were offering to be my guide if I paid them.
The day before I planned to do the hike and see the sunrise, I went for a little recce to check it out. I’d plotted a few routes on the Suunto App and went to see if the paths were exactly that, paths, and what sort of checkpoints I might encounter the next day.
I first entered the tourist car park where the tours began. This was also next to the office for the Association of Mount Batur Trekking guides. I say office, it was more a hole in the wall. As I followed my route through the carpark, a lady outside her house stopped me. “Where are you going?”, “Need guide?!”. Little did I realise at this point that it would be the soundtrack to my adventure. I chatted with her politely. She told me her son would take me up for 500,000idr (about £25). Meet her tomorrow at 3am at her house she said. Yeah sure!
I carried on for a little while, passed some temples and disused buildings. No checks. All good. I didn’t walk for that long and reckon I was over a third of the way to the top already. It was mostly dirt paths. I didn’t plan on doing the actual climb or steeper parts though. I did pass two Russians on my way. They were hiking up in flip flops and ponchos. It then started pissing down. Torrential. I turned around. I’d seen what I needed too and was confident. I was also soaked through instantly so I found some shelter and waited. A while later the Russians returned. They’d given up in the rain.
That night I read more reviews about the guides and the so-called ‘mafia’. Some were quite intimidating. I vowed to continue with my plan though – stubborn bastard and all that. I thought maybe I can just spend a few 100,000idr to bribe my way up if I got stopped. Some reviews referred to people getting asked for ‘tickets’, so I thought to myself I’d pay for that if I had too. I decided I’d go earlier than I’d planned. Originally I thought 04:30 to 05:00. Now I planned to go earlier and beat the guides and tourists and just wait at the top for the sunrise.
03:00, I got up. 03:20 I was out the door. I had my route. I took the short cut I’d seen the day before and which was indicated on the maps. I put the low level red light on from my head torch. Stealth mode. I got to the end of the track and had successfully bypassed the trekking office and car park. I was feeling smug. Then some hikers appeared from the adjoining path. Shit. I thought I’d be ahead of the game at this time. I cracked on.
Soon I was rounding the temple I’d passed the day before. Maybe just shy of a third of the way and then, Bam! I was stopped. Two 4x4s parked across the route and two guys blocked my path. “Where are you going?!” came the all too familiar sound as they directed me to a guy in official looking clothing (sure he wasn’t anything official) sitting at a desk. He questioned me further and insisted I had to have a guide. It’s a conservation area he told me. Both bullshit but I wasn’t getting out of this one. I was annoyed. This desk wasn’t here yesterday. I thought I was early enough to avoid this crap. He wanted 500,000idr. I said 300,000. We met half way at 400,000idr. Again, if this really was an official operation then I don’t think they would be negotiating with a tourist at 04:00. He was ok thought really. We made some small talk. I hated it. But we were pleasant to each other. He called a guide on the phone. He let me continue with one of the men and said that the guide would catch up. I appreciated that much at least.
Soon the guide arrived on a motorbike. Wayan was his name. Hilarious as that was the fake name I’d prepared if I was approached and asked where my guide was. He didn’t speak much English. He asked the same old questions. “What’s my name?”, “Where am I from?”, “How much did I pay?”… More bullshit. I tolerated it. I tried to be nice. I knew it would wear off and I’d soon be a grumpy fuck with him.
As we walked on he kept telling me to slow down. I wasn’t going that fast, just walking. After he had to ask me a few times, he then explained he was tired and wanted a cigarette. Brilliant. I let him. I’m nice like that. We caught some more people. A big bunch of maybe ten or so Russians. I powered past. I couldn’t be doing with their noise – they were playing music. We climbed on and on and another thing struck me. Something that had been lingering for a while. The smell of petrol. So many motorbikes kept speeding up the man made tracks. No care for the hikers. Honking their horns and revving their engines as they struggled up the inclines. Conservation area my arse. A Beautiful volcano, one of nature’s wonders. One polluted with smoke and fumes. I moaned to Wayan, said they should stop the motorbikes going up. He said nothing.
As we pushed on we began to speak less and less. The questions he asked were repetitive. Over and over, “What’s my name?”, “How much did I pay?”. I could see where this was going. He wanted money. I eventually told him I paid 600,000idr. That I’d paid to go round the crater. He was shocked. “Long walk” he said (it isn’t a long walk!). “Yep” I said. That’s why I paid so much. He was hesitant.
A few more essential cigarette stops later we reached the sunrise viewpoint. He pointed to a bench and said to sit and watch the sunrise from there. I checked my watch, I had about an hour a half to wait. I sat for a few minutes. I could see streams of head torches climbing. I was getting fidgety. I went to the hut where he was and told him I’d sit just the next level up. He said ok. When I got there I was amazed by the volume of benches. Clearly set up for a tourist trap. Constantly I was nagged and pressured to buy bracelets and Bintang (beer, yep at 05:00 in the morning on a volcano crater!) and soft drinks. All for 5x the price you could buy just an hours walk earlier. Don’t be fooled by people saying they walk that stuff up everyday. Nope. The motorbikes are bringing them.
I sat a bit longer. More and more people started arriving. I was noticing that very few had any kit like warm jackets or waterproofs or even water with them. Some were even wearing plimsols. It was quickly becoming unbearable. The noise. The inane bullshit chat and music again. I overheard some crap that made me wince. In a short space of time I noted the following being said from one group of Australians:
“We are so inspo”
“I’m going to open my insta fitness page now. “
“That climb was so shocking”
“I probably look so disgusting, I’m all sweaty”
“Where does the sun rise, in the west?”
“Do you know why I was a fat child? because my daddy used to make me put the butter inside the jacket potato”
Thankfully Wayan came and found me. He said to sit and wait here. I said no. “Let’s go walk the crater now” I said. He was hesitant. Again asked how much I paid. I told him the same story. He asked if I didn’t want to see the sunrise. I told him that it’s cloudy. That we won’t be seeing any sunrise today, that we should walk the rim whilst everyone else waited. That way we’ll be back around before the sun rises and might get lucky then we can go straight back down. He said ok.
The walk round the crater was quick, it’s not far. It’s mostly loose sand like dirt. Hard and sharp lava stone in some places but nothing too technical. We were almost back to where I sat before by 06:00. We’d briefly stopped at the Mount Batur summit point at 1,717m. Other than that we only stopped once all the way around for him to show off. To show me the steam from the rocks. It was pointless really, the steam was venting all around us, you couldn’t not see it, in fact it made navigating by torch light a little difficult! This was were they cooked eggs and bananas for the tourists though. Clearly it was also where they liked to smoke. The ground was covered in cigarette butts. For some reason he then started smoking, yet again, and blowing the smoke into the vents. “Look”, “look” he explained like an excited child. He was blowing smoke into a rock that was already venting natural steam. Wow, I was so impressed.
Back near where I sat we stayed at another ‘viewpoint’ to see if the sunrise would show. I knew we wouldn’t see any sunrise today. It was still so cloudy. We stayed there maybe 20-30 mins. We had a brief chat where he told me we’d done a long walk, big effort. Then the moment we’d both been waiting for, that ‘people tip the guides’. I told him I had no more money (lie). That the checkpoint guard took all my money to make him come with me. He repeated, “no money?”. I repeated “no money!” We were in a dance now. And so the conversation continued for a few mins. “No money!”. He also asked if I had money at hotel. Cheeky fucker. I told him no – all paid on card. I almost left him there and then. We sat in silence the rest of the time we spent at the point. We were joined by more Russians who’d ‘lost’ their guide. I suspected they’d ditched him too.
As the clouds thickened and became gradually lighter, The main noise of the morning consisted of people screaming and yelling into the volcano’s crater. I think it was mostly the guides. Wayan did it once as we walked round. Why they did this I do not know. There was no echo. It’s far too big.
We then started to walk back down. I started walking faster this time. Almost running. He kept telling me to slow. I’m sure only because he wanted more cigarettes again (I’d been in his company for maybe 2 hours and I’d counted he’d lit up 9 times. I despise smoking). It didn’t take us long to get down. We’d jumped the rush that would no doubt start as the masses began to descend. We arrived back to where I got stopped a few hours earlier – the desk now deserted like it was the day before. I’m adamant that you could climb all the way during the day unobstructed. Clearly they target the tourist times. We said our goodbyes at the bottom. Me given directions to the fake hotel I’d repeatedly said I was staying at. Wayan jumping back on his bike and speeding away. Probably equally pleased to get away from me as I was from him.
Wayan, with Cigarette number 9 on the go
The Desk where I was stopped a few hours earlier
As I continued alone, the morning was bright back down in the village. I stopped off at the two temples along the way and caught some good views of the morning sun over the lake. I was also barked at by some stray dogs in a pack, I thought to myself, these are the real mafia of the mountain. I was back at the hotel by 07:00, too early for breakfast so I got straight to washing the smelly kit – it was a very humid climb. All in all it wasn’t that bad. I climbed the volcano as I wanted too and got to see the day break (no sunrise). I covered about 10km and 700m elevation. Maybe 3 / 4km and 300m less that I’d planned and hoped for but I had no desire to carry on any further. That was beaten out of me.
Another Temple View
Would I recommend it? Naaa, I wouldn’t. I Guess that’s why I’m writing this. There’s a few honest blogs and reviews out there but one more to add to the pile of reality won’t be a bad thing for anyone who might stumble across it.
If you’re into the touristy thing of paying for something you don’t have too, being crowded in, not having your personal interests or safety looked after and like to be pestered and nagged to buy overpriced items whilst listen to other people’s music and motorbike engines and breathing in cigarette smoke and motorbike fumes, sure, do it. On a summer’s day when it’s not cloudy I’m sure the view and sunrise is actually magnificent, but then it is in so many, many places. This won’t be a lasting memory I’ll treasure.
The dirt path terrain, fresh with motorbike tracks