race review – Run With Dai

Glossglockner Ultra Trail

Published on August 6, 2025 by runwithdaiLeave a comment

We arrived into Kaprun to be welcomed by the rain. Immediately on the drive in the mountains were spectacular, towering above us in all directions. We managed one dry little hike the day before the race. Other than that, it rained, sometimes torrentially, for the few days we were there before the race. We also took advantage of the physio taping available, each addressing our own little niggles. Mine, some weird heel issue that has come out of nowhere to cause me pain (so much so that I added Codeine to my medical kit incase I needed to ‘block it out’).

Whilst the rest of us enjoyed a lazy morning, Ale did the 37km race, where he ran along the first 30km of our route, only in the opposite direction back to where we would be starting later that night. At the finish, he was soaked, but happy. That afternoon, the safety briefing for our race was released. It was comprehensive and very detailed. As we suspected it might be, the course for the other races was changed. For the 110k there were two changes, both in the second half of the course, we’d lose elevation gain and instead be re-directed through the valleys rather than up and over the mountains. We were ok with this change, the other potential change (that we were aware of) that could have happened was a complete re-route of the first 30km where we’d follow a road around the mountain. We were glad we wouldn’t be doing this diversion. They also changed the cut-offs, reducing the overall cut off by 2 hours. I guess that suggested the course would be ‘easier’. It didn’t affect my plan though – I intended to finish within 28 hours as that was the time required to use the race as a qualification for the Western States (WSER) run which I keep trying to get into.

At the start line it was raining hard. Jon and I kept dry as long as we could. Just before starting the rain eased up and the MC indicated that they didn’t think it would rain anymore. Knowing we would be climbing uphill for pretty much the first few hours (we’d cover just shy of 2,000m elevation gain in the first 20km), I removed my coat to avoid overheating. Naturally, as soon as we started running it began raining again…

The route started in the main town square. Immediately we were walking as they funnelled the runners right after the start line for some reason. Then it was a free for all along the road. I ran with Jon to begin with. After a short while we left the road onto some wider gravel tracks and then about 2km later we hit a climb. The poles came out as we slowed to a walk up the switchback narrow tracks. But it didn’t last long and we flattened out pretty quickly and started running again. I kept moving with the crowd and lost Jon in the masses. After the climb we ran first through muddy fields and past a building site/quarry of some sort before we were back on the wide gravel tracks again. It was an ever so gradual incline as we ran passed the Sigmund Thun Klamm Wasserfall that was spectacularly lit up in different colours in the night.

A picture Jon captured of the waterfall. Far better than the one I attempted to capture!

It proceed to rain and piss down as we made our way uphill, the climb getting steeper and steeper. There was a combination of narrow tracks, switch backs and wide roads. Occasionally, heavy machinery passing us on the roads in the night. We made our way through numerous tunnels, some on the roads, and some on the trails. They added a bit of adventure to the course. So far, so good. The climb was long, but easy going. The terrain was varied and, early on, at its hardest it was because of the water and how muddy the trails were. We weaved around the mountain, crossing many streams through the early hours. I was soaked right through, head to toe, but mostly warm. I told myself I’d re-assess the clothing options at the first checkpoint once we got higher. The decision was almost made for me as we passed through the bigger of the tunnels, running inside a narrow footpath beside the road.

As we emerged back out to the footpath, there was a queue of runners and a marshal. We were going to navigate along the cliff edge. There was no path anymore, just slippery rocks and a sheer drop below us. There were metal rungs occasionally there to aid our step and a metal cable along side for support. It was slow going. The worst part, above us over the mountain, the water was gushing down and we were essentially crossing a waterfall. It was a cold, midnight shower. Suddenly I was drenched and freezing and knew I’d need to put on a warmer layer at the aid station. Thankfully it was just around the corner once we were back on solid ground.

We were 2,000m up now. It was much colder. There was a large gazebo on the side of the road. It was the first aid station, Mooserboden. Like me, other runners were changing tops/putting on jackets as a priority. I put my coat straight on. Whilst I was wet underneath, I knew keeping the cold, windy air off my body would be sufficient to keep me warm. The effort of the climbing would mean my body temperature wouldn’t drop. I quickly had some warm potato soup (amazing!), filled my bottles and set back off.

A picture Jon took somewhere along the first climb. That might be the first aid station shining bright in the distance

Now we had one of the more spectacular sections of the race, alongside the damns and reservoirs above Kaprun. Only it was about 1am, so there was nothing for me to see. The route here was fairly flat and a mixture of pathed roads running across the damns, then rocky trails along side the streams that fed the reservoirs. It was undulating with a few climbs and again very muddy on the trails. I wasn’t expecting this, but it made so much sense. Even in the darkness I could sense the presence of the mountains, they were huge and dominating. They create their own weather system in the area and the vastness of the water-cycle became obvious.

After 4 or 5 km of these trails we started climbing again. It was steeper than before. Again, initially muddy, then progressively steeper and rockier. The rocks became boulders and it was a slow slog. Occasionally a little scrambling was required. Watching videos of the course I was mentally prepared and had put my poles away along time ago. They wouldn’t help on the giant, slippery rocks and the freedom of my hands for scrambling was a definite winner. At the top, a narrow squeeze through the rocks took us over the summit. I took a mount to breathe, looked down and assess the descent.

It started with a slow scramble down, using my hands to lower myself between rocks. The rocky switch backs then dominated the track as we weaved down slowly. As the rocks became smaller, the trail became narrower and wetter once more. I was moving freely though. Behind me another runner stuck with my pace and we started talking. It was a guy called Jakob. Between us we struggled to navigate in the darkness. The mist and clag severely limited our vision and the head torches couldn’t pick up the reflection of the course markings. It was slow but steady progress together. Thankfully I remained upright throughout, despite the odd bog reaching above my shins. For parts the trails reminded me of the boggy trails I’d run in Norway.

After the descent the trails were similar to before – flooded, muddy and narrow. Once more we weaved across many mountain streams as we made our way to the next climb. This one was a little slower going. It felt steeper, the rocks felt bigger and my breathing felt heavier. We were open to the elements up high and the wind was howling. After about 300m or so we emerged at the next aid station Rudolfshutte. Jakob set about tending to his feet and I went and had a few vegetable soups. The warmth and saltiness of the soups were delicious. Best I’ve had on a race for a long time. I didn’t stop long and went straight back out.

In the darkness of the night I ran down the path out of the aid station, a straight, fairly steep downhill that woke the legs up. It wasn’t long, although with the mist I couldn’t tell. At the bottom I found myself running with a few others. It was stop start as we navigated the course with difficulty. After a while we completely lost track of all markings and found ourselves to be off course. We’d followed the more obvious path, but now needed to back track a few hundred meters. Back on course we were climbing again. Just like before, out in the open on the mountain, steep rocks leading us up. There were no switch backs here. Just head down and follow a straight line up to the summit of the climb. It was once again slow going but I kept moving. The higher we climbed the colder it got.

An Image Jon took showing the terrain on some of the climbs. I assume this was the last summit before the long descent giving the darkness had gone and he wasn’t far behind me.

When I reached the summit, I felt on top of the world. Morning was slowly breaking and the darkness of night was becoming more grey in the rain. Visibility was improving as I headed straight back down. I knew now it was all down hill to the half-way mark. It was about 16-18km of downhill though! The initial descent was steep as we clambered over the boulders to lower ground. Then we followed narrow switchbacks on loose scree. The ankles were screaming, but the descent was quick. After descending a few hundred meters the incline decreased and the trails became less rocky.

The morning was clearing up, the rain stopped and I finally had enough light to get a glimpse of the surroundings. Wow! We were in a vast valley. Surrounded by huge mountains. It reminder me of those in the French Alps. All around us were spectacular rock formations and huge waterfalls. I tried to take some pictures, but the lighting didn’t do it justice. Jakob went flying passed me as I continued to plod down. Way off in the distance was a lake where I could see runners heading too. From there who knows where the course would take me…

Looking back on the summit as the darkness gave way to light

It felt like an eternity, trundling with wet, muddy trails and dry gravel tracks to make any progress. Occasional short inclines brought brief moments of rest. I was conscious that I was going to destroy my quads, but this was probably going to be the best trails and terrain I’d get for any consistent running, so kept moving. Partway down there was a water stop at a farm. Well, water and beer. I filled my bottles (with water!) and left, carrying on the consistent pace where possible. There was another runner here, Jan that I started chatting with and we ran pretty much all the way to the aid station together.

At one point on the descent, the trail took us through another tunnel. Jan was way ahead at this point as I entered and tried to film the tunnel. It was however longer than I expected and pitch black inside. As I ran I fumbled around to find my head torch. It was a huge tunnel. As I ran I could here a rumble. It was loud. Like the night before I assumed there were works and heavy machinery somewhere. It grew louder and louder and I couldn’t ascertain where it was coming from. Then I looked behind me and saw a faint glow of headlights. There was something very big coming behind me! I stepped up the pace. I was almost sprinting in the dark. There was no where to step aside in the tunnel. I could see the daylight ahead and ran as fast as my tired legs would take me. Outside Jan was waiting and moments after me a huge tractor and trailer emerged right behind me. I made it just in time! A race within a race.

The last few kms into the aid station were a walk run as we ran through the town and up to the aid station. As I arrived the 50km runners were lining up about to start. The MC called out “one minute to go”. I looked for my friends in the crowd but couldn’t see them. So I started screaming their names. The runners loved it. Many cheered back, many clapped me and there were a few hi-fives too as they set off running passed me in the opposite direction, to begin their own adventures.

Inside, I got my drop bag and did a full kit change, dried and cleaned my feet, reapplied some tape and had a nice warm pasta dish. I spent a little over 30mins preparing myself. I felt good. Very good. It had taken just over 10 hours to get through Kals, which was just shy of 50km. As tough mountain 50kms go, it was alright! For comparison it took over 13 hours to do a similar distance at the Dolomiti Extreme Trail recently and Stranda Fjord 3 years ago took me about 12 hours. I psyched myself up to head back out in the rain, optimistic I’d be finishing far quicker than I planned for.

The long, diverted climb after Kals where my race ended

Only I didn’t realise just how quickly I’d be finishing… After leaving the aid station we were on wide un-pathed roads. Climbing almost immediately. Some parts were fairly steep but overall it was a manageable incline to hike steadily. I passed the turning where the original course would have take and probably got about 2-3km along, climbed maybe 300m before I saw a runner coming down hill. I assumed they were either not in the race or had decided to quit and return to Kals. Then they stopped me and explained the race had been stopped. Cancelled. It was over. Due to weather conditions near the GlocknerHause the organisers had decided to stop the races and runners were to return to the nearest Aid Station (either Kals I’d just left or to GloreHutte for those further along). I was in disbelief. I didn’t want to believe them I stayed there and waited as they headed back down. A few moments later more runners were coming. Acceptance set in. Once of the runners was Jan and he confirmed he’d spoken to his wife who’d said the same. Begrudgingly I turned around and began slowly heading back to Kals too. On the way down more and more runners passed me.

As I descended I got chatting to another, a French chap. We acknowledged it was disappointing but safety is always the right call. He said that the organisers were arranging for buses to transport runners back to Kaprun from the aid stations. At Kals, I looked for Jon and the others but couldn’t find them. Then a lady announced there were two buses. I made sure I was on one. An hour and a half later I was back in Kals where it all began. A whole day ahead of me with no idea how to use it!

As disappointing as it is, it’s always the right decision for an organiser to prioritise safety of runners above everything else. People will moan, but no organiser wants to cancel their race! I was glad to get on the first bus (good timing!) as some of the others waited hours for buses. The only thing I’d criticise is that since the race was cancelled, and still, there has been no communication from the organisers whatsoever to participants directly. An explanation of some sort would be appreciated. That said, I’d definitely go back to this race and finish the job! I was running well and on for a good time! I also feel bad for my friends on the 50km race that only managed a few kms before their race was cancelled less than an hour after they began!

Later that week I emailed the organiser of WSER to see what the situation would be regarding qualifiers. They quickly responded saying they’d still accept the GGUT as a qualifier IF I’d reached GloreHutte before it was cancelled. Sadly I didn’t and was probably still a few hours away from that point. So I immediately went off looking for another qualifier. I looked at several options and begrudgingly signed up to run the North Downs Way 100, again. Logistically it was the easiest and most sensible option. The race is next week… yeah, a 100mile event at a week’s notice can be ‘sensible’ with this addiction!

Giraffe, Frog!

Published on April 16, 2024 by runwithdai1 Comment

Istria100, a 100mile course on the Istrian peninsula in north west Croatia. A race I heard about shortly after I got into trail running and which peaked my curiosity. There are several distances on offer as part of the event, but it was only the 100 mile race that I wanted to do. I’d contemplated the race a few times in previous years but it seemed to never work out with other plans. Thankfully Matt was keen to do a 100 mile event in 2024 and liked the sound of Istria, so we signed up.

Leading up to the race I was starting to feel more confident and optimistic. My persistent leg injury seemed to be under control (probably thanks to the Physio I’d been seeing and being more consistent with some rehab and strengthening!). Running Letecka Stovka a few weeks earlier was a huge confidence boost and the planning for Istria was complete, so all was good. Then, a week before the race I rolled my ankle (on the other leg – the one I broke back in UTMB 2022!) badly at the end of a simple run just as I was approaching home. It hurt like hell at the time and continued to ache for the rest of the day. It wasn’t one of those ‘it hurts but is instantly fine a few moments later’ kind of rolls. So the injury anxiety and worries came back along with the constant ice pack. Trying a run a few days later it was still achy and although I was concerned, I wasn’t going to stop now. I’d do the usual hope for the best and ‘deal with it later’.

I met Matt at Venice airport and we drove over to Umag in Croatia by passing through Slovenia. Thankfully for me Matt is super organised and had sorted all the race logistics. We were staying in a hotel affiliated to the event in Umag not far from the finish line. The hotel also had a regular shuttle bus to the sports hall (where bib collection and drop bags would be) and would also be the venue for the post race meal for runners. We’d planned to be running for over 35 hours so made two separate bookings for just the night before the race and the night after. Trying to be smart and not pay for accommodation for the two nights we’d be running through. Given the time of our flights landing, we didn’t make it to Umag in time to collect the bib the night before the race, so we checked in to the hotel and went for food and then straight to sleep.

The next morning we checked out and used the shuttle service to go collect our bibs before returning to the hotel and getting ready for the race in the hotel grounds near the tennis courts (tennis is big in Umag! They host an ATP tournament don’t you know!). The start of the race is in a town called Labin on the eastern side of the peninsula. There was a transport bus from Umag at 16:00 so we had plenty of time to spare. When we were ready we took the shuttle service back to the sports hall and made our way into the town centre to get some lunch. We forgot the race centre was closed over lunch so couldn’t drop our bags off until we went back for the bus to Labin after we’d eaten.

A few hours later we’d completed the bus journey and arrived at the little medieval town of Labin perched high up on the hill above the city of Rabac. There was an initial mad rush to the toilets as all 7 buses unloaded and then a short time of hanging around waiting for the race to start. Thankfully it went quickly and there was a good atmosphere as the host shared information over the loud speaker, a samba band provided entertainment and the organisers arranged a group photograph of all the female participants. Scott, another runner from Wales who I met on an UltraX event years ago, found me and said hello. Then, Before we knew it, Thunderstruck by AC/DC was pumping out and the countdown began. We were off…

Section 1

For the first section we left Labin on the main road, leaving the old town through the archway and down hill. Naturally people bombed passed us from all directions. We we cautious and knew we couldn’t get caught up with speeding through the first downhill section so ran sensibly, even as we saw runners chasing each other up the initial little climb straight out of town before we turned off for the trails. The first trail was a narrow, single track trail that led down to the coast and towards Rabac. It was scattered with very loose rocks for most of the way. At the bottom we ran along the promenade of a the beautiful coastal city of Rabac (with its humongous resort perched on the side of the hill) and enjoyed the gentle sea breeze. We then turned off the sea front and up a lot of steps as we found the single tracks of the forest and wide, gravel roads that made up the first incline. It was rocky.

The climb was fairly short and didn’t take long to ascend. There was a brief peak with a view point (one of those random man made picture frames you’re supposed to take a photo with?!). But I was more fascinated by the massive chimney from a nearby industrial site in the the valley below. Despite being about 450m high at the view point, this chimney looked like it towered almost all the way to the same height as us.

From the peak we began the descent. It was a very long down hill on loose rock and gravel tracks, following large swooping switch backs down to sea level. The whole way the towering chimney occupied my thoughts. I know now that this is from the Plomin coal-fired power station. At the bottom we crossed a water channel connecting to the sea and made our way into a massive car park and the first aid station – Plomin Luka. Here we did a quick stop, the highlight being paprika flavoured crisps. I love paprika flavoured crisps. We checked out the profile of the next section and Matt set the strategy noting this was an important section to get right. It was the longest section of the race and also had the second largest of the climbs. It was about 7pm so we took out our head torches ready for sunset.

Section 2

We set off from the carpark and began the ascent of the big climb of almost 800m. It started ‘off track’ with lumpy, rocky ‘steps’ as we climbed a short way to the old village of Plomin situated on the hill. Here there were lots of enthusiastic supporters cheering. They were particularly vocal in cheering on the ‘chica’ who was in front of us. It was great to feel the support. The climb then took us onto some very steep, wide gravel tracks. It wasn’t known at the time, but this would be the most prominent of surfaces we’d run the whole race on – wide tracks for vehicle access that weren’t anything more than just loose rock and steep gradients. As we climbed the sun set rapidly. We were treated to a fantastic orange sky with the power station chimney getting smaller and smaller in the valley below us.

The climb eventually levelled out. At the top was a very short but steep downhill on the same terrain then a few kilometres of undulating tracks. Already I was conscious of the terrain and my ankle and verbalising (moaning) to Matt. I’d rolled both my ankles numerous times already. I was a little concerned the impact this might have on my increasingly fragile body over the rest of the race. For the last few kilometres we descended sharply for about 500m back down to sea level again. It was a little quad buster but we tried to descend sensibly. Toward the bottom we ran alongside a river and crossed the water. Here the rock was very slippery and we were glad it wasn’t raining. The course would be infinitely harder in wet conditions like the previous year. The next aid station was in the old town of Mošćenička Draga – a small fishing port of the town of Mošćenice – and we could hear the atmosphere from the pumping music. The vibes and volunteers were excellent here. After more fuelling (paprika crisps!) we studied the next section’s route profile. Up next was the biggest climb of the race. We had about 1300m of elevation to climb in one go, roughly split up into a 900m and then a 400m climb, as we’d make our way towards Poklon.

Section 3

After leaving the town, the first part of the climb was steep gravel tracks (it’s becoming a theme now isn’t it.) with the terrain being very loose underfoot. The gravel tracks were intermittently broken up by steeper, more rocky climbs. We powered through with a nice consistent pace taking it steady. The darkness of the night helped not being able to see the trails and summits ahead. Occasionally I’d try second guessing our direction, pointing out the silhouette outlines of mountains looming around us in the night sky.

We conquered the first 900m without any concerns and had a long, surprising flat and down hill wide trails to enjoy for a a little section before climbing again. Now we climbed steep trails deep in the forest before a rather exposed section to the summit after we left the shelter of the trees. We could see the blurred glow of head torches disappearing into the darkness above us. We followed them into the unknown. With the exposed mountain the icy cold temperatures were initially refreshing after a tough climb but soon we realised how cold it was as the mist and clag of the summit set in. It was so misty that it was difficult to see as we traversed the final section to the summit along a short but very rocky ridge. Without being able to see more than a few metres ahead, we were shocked when a brick building of some sort of building appeared next to us out of nowhere. We were at the top of the trail, it was the Vojak Tower at Vojak – the highest peak on the Istrian peninsula – which then instantly turned to a pathed, stone pathway. It was glorious. A few hundred meters of rest bite from the rocks.

We began descending pretty soon and we kept moving to keep warm. With the moisture of the night we found the (now) rocky descent hard going as it was slippery. We followed the tracks down as the switch backs took us quickly down a few hundred metres to Poklon and the next aid station. This was the 50km mark and the first cut off point. We arrived about 2 hours ahead of our estimate. We were happy but both acknowledged how sore and achy we were. After 50km it felt like we’d run a lot further than what we had. My lower hamstrings were surprisingly tight and our quads ached. This was a significant milestone in the race though as we’d now completed the three biggest climbs, the first cut off and almost half of the total race elevation. Looking back, it’s a challenging 50km!

Section 4

From Poklon to Brgudac the section was fairly straight forward. There was a Little climb on road and trail (yeah it was mostly rocky). Then pretty much all long wide gravel tracks with mostly gentle downs and gentle ups for the undulating terrain. It was pretty slow going though and fatigue was definitely kicking in. Our feet were sore and we were seriously starting to dislike these gravel trails. We left Poklon about 3am and we were tired now and holding on to the thought that it would start to get lighter from around 6am. Whilst I moaned about the rocks, my ankles and feet, Matt started to get very sleepy and was weighing up the thought of a quick trail nap. He fought through the tiredness though and we got to the aid station just before 6am. As we were leaving the sun started to rise and the trails were visible enough without our head torches. We were starting to get excited about the day ahead and seeing some views after the darkness of the night.

Section 5

We left the aid station and followed the gravel tracks for a few kilometres before reaching some forests. It was a refreshing change of scenery. We crossed dried up old streams and passed a man made fountain(?) collecting water from the mountain side. The sunrise fully completed as we went deeper into the forest and the sun shone through the dense woodland. It created beautiful patterns of light and enjoyed the serenity of the moment. The field of runners had spread out and we enjoyed the peace and quiet of the forest. The climbs took us to a summit marked with a big Red Cross on it. We took a moment to enjoy the views which were panoramic. The trails then took us down through the forests with short sharp steep descents on loose soil. We enjoyed it despite the increasing quad fatigue we began to feel. We were 70-80km into the race now and had missed a nights sleep so fatigue was to be expected.

We were trying to keep each other entertained and were playing word games. We took turns naming countries beginning with the letter that the last country finished with. Matt was kicking my ass, badly. He kept hitting me with double ‘A’s and I was useless. So the game didn’t last long and he wasn’t having any of my excuse of “but we have another 25 hours of the race to play” as I attempted to stall. We switched the game to naming animals and I faired equally badly. Actually, worse because I kept replying “frog” to Matt’s play of “giraffe”. He kindly put it down to tiredness and not me being stupid. It did however give birth to the “giraffe, frog! game. A simple game of naming different animals, but any time someone says giraffe, the next person must say frog, if not they lose. Simple. It popped up a few times throughout the rest of the run.

Thankfully I was spared any further embarrassment as a new distraction soon graced us – the 100km runners. We knew the courses joined but weren’t expecting to reach the join before the majority of the 100km runners. We thought we’d maybe get the mid/back of the pack. Out of nowhere Matt heard a noise and turned to find the leading pack of 5 males (and not far behind them the leading lady!) right behind us. We stepped aside and cheered them through. One of the pack was Pau Capel (a big name in trail running) and we had fun cheering him.

The excitement soon subsided though as it made the next few kilometres a little frustrating as we carried on through the forests. For a few climbs and descents we had to constantly step aside to let all the speedy runners passed. It’s not needed, but it always feels the right thing to do (to give way and step aside). But it does mess with your momentum. And momentum is so important on long distance endurance runs. Thankfully most runners acknowledge and thank you for the consideration. Many however don’t. It was amusing how my ‘trail humour’ and attempts at heckling the runners falls so flat. Dad jokes like “don’t let us catch you up” and “you can beat him” just didn’t hit the mark. They never do but I can’t stop myself.

When we reached the next aid station we took a bit of a longer rest to give more of the pack a chance to pass us (as this aid station was about 40km in to their race, many of the 100km runners didn’t hang around for long). We also saw Kaito, who we briefly met at registration the day before. He was flying on his first 100km event. We sat down and enjoyed another course of paprika crisp sandwiches (the best combination) which had been our primary fuel at each aid station. We were loving it.

Section 6

The next section was the final bit that would take us to the 100km mark and our drop bags. We’d pretty much done half the race now and gave ourselves a hi five as we left Trstenik . We had more, long roads/gravel tracks and forest to overcome as more 100km runners passed us. We were aligned with the mid pack of the race now which gives a different vibe. The elites and faster runners are so focused that they fly passed you and from most you get a simple thanks or acknowledgement. Further back in the pack the runners speak to you a bit more as they pass and many go out of their way to acknowledge the 100miles and express a little bit of awe at your achievement. It’s a a real confidence and morale boost. It spurs you on as you converse with these strangers and encourage each other. Something I really like about the sport.

In this section I recall a road crossing that led to a short steep climb as we reached another summit. This was the last climb we’d do at the higher altitudes. For the last 40km or so we’d been fluctuating around the 700-1100 m of altitude. After this summit we would descend and would not climb to more than about 400m again for the rest of the race. After the climb the descent was pretty straight and direct for a few hundred metres of elevation loss as we passed near Brest before a short undulating section through Slum. We then dropped the last 500m or so on rocky forest trails to Buzet. We could see the town from the trails and were second guessing where the aid station might be. We could see little dots of runners crossing roads and roundabouts and then disappearing into the town. Eventually, after passing over the train line, it was our turn to be the guiding dots for the runners behind us.

Here we grabbed our drop bags and put our race strategy into action. We’d spent the last few kilometres adjusting and refining our plan – We’d get our bags and grab some food. Start charging our devices and sorting our kit as we ate. Then get changed into fresh clothes before going for a sleep (there were camp beds and planned sleeping areas at this aid station). After which we’d finish preparing our kit for the next section. This plan was based on our previous experiences. Firstly we thought it best to sleep where there was space to do so rather than waiting until we were more tired / later in the day. So despite it being around 1pm we decided a quick sleep now would be beneficial and hopefully postpone any tiredness deeper into the second night. We’ve also decided that it’s best to not go straight to sleep when we arrive at an aid station. We’ve done this before and we think the downsides outweigh the positives. Firstly you are normally wet with sweat and warm through adrenaline. As soon as you stop your temperature starts to plummet. It can be hard to get to sleep if cold and shivering. So always change clothes before sleeping. Secondly, eating first gives your body a brief rest from trying to process the food whilst on the go. And sometimes after you wake up you actually want to eat again!

So we did just that. We ate pasta with beef stew and sides of fried chicken. Istria100 is known for its great food and aid stations. Whilst I wouldn’t say any of this was great, the beef stew and fried chicken was definitely improvements on the options available at most other races! We then went for 30 mins of sleep. We were 2 hours ahead of our schedule and had plenty of time before the cut off. Plus, we’d planned on finishing early in the morning on Sunday and didn’t have anywhere to go as our hotel booking meant we couldn’t check in until about 2pm. So we didn’t care what time we actually finished. We had all day Sunday to do nothing and if we finished earlier we’d just have to sleep in the sports hall somewhere. We went upstairs to the sleeping area and found camp beds with no one else about. Perfect peace and quiet. We set an alarm and went to sleep. Before we knew it the alarm was waking us. I don’t think I really slept. I dozed but felt I was conscious the whole time. Matt did sleep though which was good as he’d been carrying that tiredness through from the early hours.

We had a few more snacks and decided to take a bit more time before leaving. I think in the end we rested for about 1.5 hours which is loads of time, even by my standards. There was another benefit here which came into our thinking. It was now very, very hot outside. The more time inside at Buzet meant the less time we spent outside in the heat. Not that it helped that much…

Section 7

As soon as we left Buzet we trotted down a road section towards the trail. I was pumped with energy from the rest and we moved quicker than we had for who knows how many hours. As we hit the start of the first climb, a muddy forest trail, the lack of shelter from the heat hit hard. Matt particular felt the heat as we started climbing and we made the decision to slow down. It’s good Matt recognised the impact of the heat as I think I would have pushed on and exhausted myself on the climb. The first climb was maybe a 150m section then a brief flatter bit before a final 100m push. We started to climb in the forests before we encountered some vineyards and wonderful little villages and farms on the hillsides. As we reached the top, a farmer directed us to a tap outside the house we could use. We wet our hats and faces and were so glad of his gesture. We then continued along a short road and more gravel tracks connecting the different vineyards which we followed as they took us back to the forests.

Somewhere around here we crossed a huge cliff with a drop off on the side of the hill before hitting the forest. The down hill took us deep into a forest that was wet and muddy. We were surprised. We’d heard how muddy the course could be but didn’t expect this would be the case with the warm weather. Yet here we were trouncing through mud. We navigated down and followed the sound of water as we joined up to a river and then crossed it numerous times in a short distance. It was fun at first then annoying as it happened so often. The stones crossing the water we slippery from all the runners before us. Further down though the river was fascinating as it carved incredible shapes and formations in the rock.

Once we completed the descent we were greeted with our favourite gravel tracks again. These were steep and we started to climb back up. I think it was about 300m or so. It was dull and we were hating the rocky gravel tracks by now and it was so warm. We were both running low on water and still had a long way to go before the next aid station as it wasn’t until a few kilometres after we descended the other side of this hill. So it was another slow and steady climb of using momentum to keep heading forward. Very few people passed us now but occasionally we’d overtake runners from both races. Everyone was feeling the heat. After a while the gravel track gave way to solid hard stone. It was marginally more enjoyable but the heat seemed to reflect back up at us off the ground. We sought out every inch of shade we could find as it was so exposed.

We were talking about different races and the types of support you get at villages. Commenting that on this race we’d seen very little from locals/the villages in terms of people being outside and cheering/helping runners. We also commented that sometimes races acknowledge the warmer than expected weather and pop up extra water stations. We wished that was the case here. Then, like some sort of mind reading miracle, as we reached the top of the climb in the village of Vrh a local welcomed us to his house to use his outside tap. There was already a collection of runners outside sitting in the shade and drinking. We both drank a 500ml of water and I refilled both bottles and encouraged Matt to do the same. A wise decision as I drank the extra litre before we got to next aid station!! All hail the water king of Vrh!

More rocky trails on the descent before Butoniga

From the town we had another rocky forest decent into muddy trails leading towards a lake. We could see the aid station (Butoniga) way off in the distance on the other side of the lake. First we had to descend, then climb again passing through the small village of Sculci before crossing /round the lake. The muddy trails made the climb a little hard at first as it was slippery. After passing through the village we then headed down a long road to reach the lake. Here we walked the whole length on the flat footpath. We simply refused to run on anymore gravel track. My feet were on fire now and despite being only the first aid station since the big stop at Buzet it felt like it took us an age to reach it and we had been moving for over 4 hours again. I told Matt I was worried about some soreness in my feet so wanted to spend some time trying to patch them up a little. Thankfully I didn’t have blisters but I felt the soreness and redness of hotspots around my heals. I put blister plasters and tape on the affected area and immediately felt better knowing I might have prevented some bigger issues and made my feet more comfortable. I was pleased with my decision making! As we left Butoniga it was 7pm. So we had our head torches at the ready…

Section 8

We left the aid station and had a 2km stretch along a river before re-joining the trails and starting to climb again. Like before the trail was surprisingly muddy and steep. It was slow going as we climbed through the forest and left the sticky mud behind. Before long we emerged on what seemed like a very new tarmac road. It just appeared out of nowhere and kept climbing. It was very steep. A long old slog as we kept plodding along. As we looked up in the darkness we saw a few head torches descending quickly. We tried to figure out the route and where we’d go. It was confusing (looking back I’m wondering if we even saw headtorches!). We seemed to circumnavigate in the opposite direction around the town on the hill and then back into the forest. A short and steep shortcut up to the village at the top. Despite it being dark and cold again the climb meant our temperatures rocketed. We were hot. A small group of runners had formed around us and I could see we weren’t the only ones who felt that climb!

From the village we went along a long straight track that confused me so much. It felt like a bridge sticking out from the side of the hill. My mind couldn’t process how the long path existed where it did. Must have been some sort of ridge or saddle in the hills. We led the pack of runners as the trail started to descend and become increasingly more narrow. Immediately I caused Matt to almost fall into me as I slowed down as the trail became saturated with deep sticky mud and large rocks buried in them. It was so slippery and we carefully had to navigate. Matt tried to get the next runner behind him to go first but he was not having any of it. I joked that we wanted to watch him fall over but the truth was he was right up Matt’s backside and breathing annoyingly loud. So instead we moved a little quicker, well as much as the terrain aloud us too. We were twisting in different directions on the descent and we lost all sense of orientation. I had no idea where we were heading and in which direction Umag was from here.

As the mud gave way to gravel we had resorted to walking again. It’s all we’d been doing pretty much since we left Buzet many hours ago. We walked along a few roads as we tried to figure out where we were going and which of the few villages/towns lit up on the different hills we’d be climbing too. Then the next hill then came again as we started out in more forests. Matt was very tired now and struggling to keep his eyes open and decided he couldn’t wait to the next aid station which was over the other side of the next climb, maybe close to 2 hours away. He wanted a trail nap so laid down on the side of the trail and gave me a strict instruction to give him just 2 minutes. I don’t no how he can get such energy/recovery from just 2 mins of sleep, but it works for him. As he laid there I bent over my poles and confirmed everything was ok to the other runners who passed us and checked that we were all ok.

2 mins later I resisted the urge to kick him and instead gave him a gentle shake from the shoulder. He sprang up on his feet, he was back, he was energised. We made good progress up the rest of the hill as we climbed to Motovun. We caught up and passed some of the runners before the trails turned to road and then to cobblestones. The cobbles hurt as we made our way through the historic old town. There were loads of them and the climb to the town was very steep. At the top we caught the rest of the runners who passed us when Matt slept and we fast walked away from them as we began the descent to Livade. Thankfully this descent was less steep than the ones before. But it didn’t make it any easier. We were just too tired and sore to make use of the gentle terrain. I think it was here that was the last time another runner went passed us running.

Before approaching the town there was a long flat gravel section alongside a major road. The sound of our poles tapping on the stone and stones crunching and rubbing each other was, for the first time, drowned out by another noise. The swooshing of cars passing. It was kind of nice to hear something different. At the end of the track we needed to cross the road. Thankfully nothing was coming because it was wide and we were slow. What faced us now was about 1km of straight road to Livade. It felt like 10km as we slowly walked the road. We’d already agreed that we’d sleep here again. We were both tired and it was 11pm. There was a long night ahead of us and still over a marathon to go. We believed there were more camp beds at this aid station so agreed to sleep for 20 mins if there were.

Once we entered the aid station I couldn’t see anything so I was getting ready for a ‘head on the table’ nap. But Matt being more authoritive just asked the volunteers and there were indeed beds for us, situated in a room next to the tent. We went in and had a slight wait for a bed to be freed up. There was probably less than ten beds cramped into a small room and the medics were treating other runners in the main room. fortunately we both got beds at the same time and asked to be woken in 20 mins. Matt slept through it all and woke naturally just about 20 mins later. He woke me but I think I just dozed and didn’t fall sleep again. I was a bit spaced out now. We went and had some warm soup and spent another ten mins composing ourselves and warming up under a heater. When we left the aid station we were very cold. We expected the second night to be warmer than the first as we were at much lower altitude. But it wasn’t. It wasn’t consistently cold but every now and then we’d get these icy blasts that would shock us.

Section 9

Leaving Livade I was moaning about how we still had so far to go. Matt however was the ever optimistic and sensible one. He verbalised the profile and put it into perspective to keep me focused. We had one climb of maybe 400m then a more gradual descent and gradual shorter climb of about 200m, the final proper climb. Once through this section it was pretty much down hill to the finish.

It was just as he described. We did a long climb in the forest in the cold. I think it passed rather quickly considering we were now over 130km into the race. We began the gentle descent that then felt never ending and the stones irritated our sore feet as we progressed along the long winding switchbacks. There was a short, steep and muddy descent as we then crossed a river before starting the final climb. It had it all. Gravel and stones, steep sections, twisting and turning tracks. Matt was talking away to me but I wasn’t talking back. I was drifting and struggling to keep my eyes open. He was using his experience and asking me questions. Loaded questions to make me talk and describe things. He’s wise like that. But I wasn’t helping. I wasn’t responding in the way that was needed. I wasn’t giving conversation, just grunting. It was having an impact on him too and he was starting to get sleepy also. A troublesome situation to be in and I wasn’t helping with my lack of communication. We managed it through a few micro trail naps. The 2 minute timer was back. It worked and sharpened us up a little. And I certainly slept this time. I had some vivid dream of Matt and his wife managing their laundry with some super fancy and advanced smart washing machine they operated from anywhere in the world. No idea where that came from.

We got to the next aid station Groznjan and it was stereotypical of the sort of aid stations you see towards the end of big races. The buzz and excitement has gone. The music and upbeat vibes are no more. It’s replaced with a sombre dark mood. A few runners spread out, some sleeping, some lost in thought, some just emotionless. Everyone exhausted. We needed sleep. We found a bench, got out our phones and set a timer for 10 mins. We placed our heads down on the table and tried to to get more sleep…

This was the one for me. This one worked and I got some rest. That and knowing it was 3 am and the sun was start bringing new life to us in around 3 hours and, as Matt said, we’d broken the race now. We just had the last 20 or so kms to go so were looking at 6-7 hours left. We’d probably finish about 2 hours later than we first thought. So not bad.

Section 10

From the aid station we found ourselves on a very long straight horrible gravel road. We passed through a number of tunnels. Matt commented that it must have been some old railway perhaps. I looked it up and we were on the ‘Parenzana Trail’ – it was indeed an old narrow-gauge railway that closed in 1935. It stretches for about 130km from Porec in Croatia, through Slovenia to Muggia in Italy. And yes, I’ve already found there is an ultra (various distances including an 88km one) held in February each year. And no, I’ve absolutely no interest in that. We didn’t enjoy this section – It was so straight, frustratingly so. We hated it in fact as it was so boring and the gravel wasn’t enjoyable to run on. Matt made a point of how crappy the 20km race must be if this is the route. After an eternity (yeah I know, it was only about 3 kms) we turned off the Parenzana trail. But what was to come was somehow worse. The trail became rockier with larger loose rocks. I had memories of Trans Gran Canaria (on a smaller scale).

The rocky track after leaving the Parenzana Trail

Sometime later we entered some forest tracks. The path was very twisty and narrow. I was now kicking my own ankles trying to avoid the rocks, but it was a very gradual downhill and I was speeding up though much to Matt’s frustration. I wasn’t trying to get a faster time but I really did want it (all of it, the race!) to end as soon as possible. Thankfully this was the shortest section of the whole course and we were soon breaking through the rocky forest as dawn started to break on our approach to Buje as we found ourselves ascending a road section to the final aid station. We sat under a heater and ate a little, lost in contemplation that we now had one final section left, 13km all of which was down hill apparently. But we knew that wasn’t the case…

Section 11

Of course we climbed in the town as soon as we left the aid station. Yeah not anything to really moan about but it’s just obvious and amusing when the aid station signs show and elevation profile with climbs and also state ‘0m’ of elevation gain. Sack the artist I said. Anyway, we passed through the town to the other side and had a little down hill on roads as we made our way to some fields.

From here we spent some time with some slight climbs in farmland which was again surprisingly very muddy. Eventually we left the farms and found ourselves running a few km along a river. This is where we were lucky as the weather meant the fields were dry and compact with just a thin sticky layer of surface mud. More fields and riversides tracks awaited us as the sunrise gave way to morning and we got progressively hotter again. The fields felt endless as we could see so far ahead and the outskirts of Umag started to become visible way off in the distance. Still so far away, it was a long time before we reached it. We left the fields and found ourselves on a cycle path leading to the centre of town.

Leaving the farmland and removing stones from my shoes

We slowly reached the seafront and small gatherings of people clapped and cheered us over their morning coffees (and beers for some!). I pushed back on Matt’s urge to run the final stretch. I gave in when we were just a few metres away. We walked across the finish line and turned for a big hi-five for the cameras. Relief set in and amusement followed as the MC announced our names followed by “oh you’ve done a lot of these” clearly seeing our UTMB accounts flash up with all our details. A lovely lady then gave us our medals (which are quite significant and weighty!) and took our photos for us. It was over. We were so glad that there were no more gravel tracks to be run!

Post race we walked back to the sports hall, had a shower and used all our free time to relax. We went to the massage area and had a complimentary massage and I sure got the works. A ‘four hands’ full body massage. The two guys worked my legs great, easing out all the tightness that had accumulated over the last two days. I was worried about how tender I was but the massage was great. The shoulders and back too, very relaxing. They even massaged my glutes and stretched me out. I really hit the jackpot!

We then caught the shuttle bus back to the hotel. It was still too early to check in but we took advantage of the post race meal which was a full buffet that we could help ourselves too. So much better than the usual post-race offerings. I filled up on Potatoes, fried chicken, beef stew and vegetables on repeat . After which we headed outside to the seafront and lay on the lounge beds and went to sleep. A timer set to wake us up ready for check in. Before we knew it we’d recovered a little, checked in and went about the next step of our pamper treatment – the spa. Swimming pool, saunas, steam rooms and Jacuzzis. We had a great few hours before it was time to eat again. Post race done well.

On reflection/ looking back…

Something I’ve not mentioned that surprised us was that there was so much rubbish on the route. It was clearly from runners and far too much to be accidental. From early on and more so in the later stages (which would have had all the races/event participants) there was discarded sports food wrappers everywhere. I’ve not seen so much dropped litter on a race before. Not sure why this would be the case. Oddly, we also saw a load of clothes discard on the trails. Not from runners though. But generic waste. It was a constant stream across the whole 100 miles and we noted enough to get fully kitted out at least twice over include rucksacks and hats and all. We thought it was odd as the trails are all quite isolated and don’t really go anywhere unless you cover a fair ol’ distance. Odd.

In terms of the race itself, for me it didn’t live up to my expectations and the hype. It’s clearly a lovely area and place to visit. But the nature of the 100miles meant it was all a bit meh really. Firstly we spent more time in the darkness of night than the day. So I assume we missed out on some probably excellent views, particularly the first night when we would have been at higher elevation. Secondly, there was a a real lack of variation in the trail. As I’ve moaned – the vast majority of trail is just gravel road. It’s far from enjoyable or interesting. The bit we enjoyed the most was the lush forest section after Brgudac. You also hear a lot about the amazing food at the event, but we didn’t think it was anything that special. All the aid stations were the same generic UTMB aid stations setups with bread, crisps, chocolate, pretzels, cheese, meat and sponsored sports stuff from naak. The hot food offering at Buzet was certainly better than most races provide but hardly anything worth raving to your mates about. That said, the volunteers were excellent and the event was exceptionally well organised. There was more than enough food for everyone, the link with the hotel with the shuttle bus service and post race meal was very good. It’s certainly a great exemplar for organisation and would be excellent for a experience for a relative newcomer to such events. The course markings were also some of the best I’ve experienced. No chance of going wrong on this course.

Course markings were obvious and plentiful

Overall though, as it goes for me, if I were to try and rank all the ‘milers’ I’ve done (which I’ve clearly gone and ranked) then it’s probably down as 4th in the list of 5 ‘milers’ I’ve completed (and I broke my ankle on one of the higher ranking ones and another gave about 900 runners the shits afterwards!). I just didn’t think the route and the trails are that enjoyable.

Other than that, I am quite pleased with how we came out on the other side. Neither of us had any problems, and after the massage were both walking fine. My ankles also seem to have held up ok, so my initial worries are no more and although my feet are very raw, I’ve only a few tiny blisters. Taking time to stop and empty stones from my shoes and apply plasters and tape definitely helped! So I’m pleased with my decision making mid run!

Drielandenpunt Trail

Published on February 13, 2024 by runwithdai2 Comments

It has taken far too long, but finally I got around to visiting Matt out in the Netherlands for a run on trails more local to him. Over the weekend Matt and Lara treated us like royalty, putting us up for the night, feeding us, driving us to the race and putting up with our tourist commentary.

The race was the 50km Drielandenpunt Trail in Vaals, in the southern part of the Netherlands, in a park area known as Drielandenpunt, which is the three country point. This is where the three borders of the Netherlands, Belgium and Germany meet. The race is mostly in the Netherlands but the course twists and weaves its way into Belgium at several points and also tracks along the border with Germany.

The night before we stayed nearby and had the shittest risotto known to man. It was a real talking point that someone is capable of making such a bad risotto. Alas, being the non confrontational type we ate it and kept our mouths shut. After all it did serve the purpose of a meal and it’s not like we need high quality food before running an ultra. In the morning we made the short drive up the ‘hill’ to Vaalserbeg which is the highest point in the Netherlands at about 322m, near the three country point. Here is where the race would start and finish. I suppose not many running races will both start and finish at the highest point in a country! We registered and messed around taking pictures on the tri-point where the borders of the three countries meet, crossing between the countries and back in a matter of seconds. We then said goodbye to Natalia who’d start her 30km race an hour later. After the quickest starting line up ever, Matt and I set off.

Within minutes of starting the run I was overheating. It was a wet day with a constant drizzle of rain, but, with just the wind jacket on I was too hot, so opted to continue the run in just the t-shirt and sleeves (I probably gave myself a cold as a result, but it was very stuffy in the forests). It was instantly noticeable how, muddy the trails were, how narrow the forest paths were and how surprisingly hilly it was. With a total elevation of 1400m elevation across the course, it was very much a series of short steep climbs and descents with very few flat bits in between. The course, mud aside, is rather runnable although my fitness levels meant I didn’t run a single one of the hills! The first part of the course was a 14km loop to the south. We had some great views of some very grey, overcast skies (‘m sure on a better day there are views to be enjoyed) and made the first of numerous dips into Belgium. This was my first time visiting Belgium. I think it counts as a visit!

Towards the end of the loop we left the forest and ran (trudged!) through some very muddy fields. I laughed as the person ahead kept falling over whilst my Inov8 X-Talons were excellent for ensuring I stayed on two feet, I was so glad with my choice of shoe! We then had a one of the bigger climbs (at just shy of 100m) back up to Vaalserbeg and the start line which would now serve as our first aid station.

From here it was more of the same with forest trails undulating as we ran alongside Germany. Drielandenpunt is a beautiful area with many, many intersecting trails for hiking and biking. It reminded me of the Surrey Hills area with endless twists, turns, short sharp descents and muddy climbs. Overtime the trails all blurred into one and it wasn’t long before I was completely disorientated and had no idea where we’d come from or which direction we were heading in.

After another 13km or so we arrived at the second check point where we were spoilt with ham and/or cheese sandwiches. These went down a treat and we both stuffed our faces and enjoyed a few moments of rest (although standing around we got very cold very quickly). By now we had been passed by a lot of runners. It felt like nearly the whole field had passed us as well as many of the 3okm runners. We were enjoying the day though, chatting our way round the whole course and catching up (some how it had already had been 8 months since our last run together in Lofoten).

Throughout the day Matt was sharing all his knowledge and facts, particularly at key points on the course like when we ran through the vineyards and he gave me a crash course in the history of Dutch wine production. It was a welcome distraction from the muddy trails! Throughout the run I recall the course being fantastically marked and sign posted, the aid stations being well stocked and the ground being a slushy mud fest – there were several more fields that were really muddy and a few little picturesque towns that we weaved through connecting the trails together. After another 15km or so we’d made our way back to the second aid station location for our final stop. With a quick top up and refuel we set back out.

We were on the home stretch now and had finally stopped being overtaken by runners. We commented that we didn’t think that we overtook a single person in the race. Towards the end of the course that changed with a steep muddy descent causing a few other runners to have trouble descending. We sped and slid our way down and claimed about 4 places in one short movement. From here it was a gentle jog into the finish line where we passed with an American we’d shared a few moments with earlier in the day. The ‘international finish’ as the MC dubbed it as an Aussie, American and Welshman crossed the line together.

We opted to skip the ‘city wash’ showers and just throw on dry clothes to start the long journey back to Amsterdam as quickly as possible. This was hindered a little bit by the inaccessible finance system in the Netherlands where many stores don’t accept Visa or credit cards as a payment method. To buy a portion of chips we needed to call Matt and have him come pay for us!

Overall a thoroughly enjoyable weekend in the Netherlands and a great adventure in the forests. Drielandenpunt is worth a visit! Personally, after a few months of inactivity it was good to finally be back out and running long distances. Now I just need to find the fitness before the bigger events that are fast approaching….

Fuck You

Published on August 12, 2022September 4, 2022 by runwithdai3 Comments

When recapping my last race I mentioned how, during the Eiger Ultra Trail E101, I fell over for the first time in a race. We’ll I think it was a floodgate moment. In my next race I must have fallen about 50 times, no exaggeration, I spent a lot of time on my backside in Norway…

The Stranda Fjord Trail Race in Norway had been on the cards for a long time. Originally I signed up to the race back in 2019 and hoped to do the inaugural 100km run in 2020. But we all know what happened that year and the same cause meant 2021 also wasn’t possible for us. Oscar, the Race Director, was incredibly supportive in deferring entries until we could travel to Norway and race. So in 2022, a slightly smaller than planned group of us headed out to finally run in the fjells of Norway.

In the days leading up to the weekend it became increasingly clear that the weather was going to be less than ideal for the race. Clouds and rain meant a weather warning and amendments to the 100km route were activated for safety. At this point I was kind of ok with it. We can’t control or change the weather, and I was expecting the route to be very difficult. So removing some of the most difficult sections would be in my favour I thought. A small benefit to missing out on the legendary panoramic views from Slogen.

Nick and Natalia woke at 1am to escort me down to the town of Stranda for the start. An unnecessary and kind gesture from them both given they would need to wake up in a few hours to prepare for their 48km race. After collecting my GPS tracker I sat inside the building (where we collected our race numbers) with the other runners, waiting until it was almost 02:00 and time to run. We first lined up under the finishers arch before being led around the corner to the real start line. Here I fell for the first time, stepping in a hole in the concrete pavement, before the race had even begun!

Section 1: Start –Duklidalen

The course starts on the town square in Stranda. From Stranda you will first be running a few km on a asphalt road until you hit the trailhead on Framhus. From Framhus you will be running on a nice trail up to Dregetua (693) and then off trail over to Vardnakken (878masl) and further to Blåhornsvatnet on trail. From Blåhornsvatnet you will be running on a nice trail down to Vasset. From Vasset you will be running a few km on a gravel road until you hit the trailhead for the trail towards Lievarden (799masl) and Duklidalen (820masl). In Duklidalen you will find an aid station.
Excerpt from the Race Manual

Moments later and we were off, running the tarmac road switch backs for the first few kms. I was pleasantly surprised at this point that we stuck together mostly as one big group of runners and that I hadn’t been left behind completely.

The roads soon gave way to the forest and we began running in single file in the darkness. And it was very dark, something about it felt darker than the usual nights I’ve experienced. Though the trails were clearly lit by the dozens of head torches bobbing about.

Mostly it was silent now other than the sloshing sounds as we ran through puddles and muddy trails. I felt that most runners were, like me, trying to avoid getting their feet wet. I accepted that it would be wet but didn’t plan on being waterlogged for the whole race so was happy to skip around the trails when I could. I should have known better that weeks of rain in this area would have meant the ground conditions would be far worse than I imagined! It was soon clear that the trails would consistently be this way at the best of times.

Through the forests two things stood out in my memory. Almost getting lost – the spacing between runners was now increasing and a few of us lost sight of the runners ahead of us and this section was not course marked. A quick stop and check of the GPS and we were back on track before the damage was done! And a point where there was a delightful bunch of supporters with coloured lights and music who cheered us through one small section of the track. It created a good atmosphere and led to a few of us to start talking. Whilst talking to a few climbers who were doing the race it made me realise that most of the runners around me were head to toe in waterproofs (or wearing hiking trousers!) and there were very few like me in shorts and tshirts without a waterproof on. Even though it was drizzling with rain, I knew though that I’d overheat on the early climbs so was waiting until the climbs were exposed before I’d layer up.

After a little section on some wider gravel roads, the forests returned and became a little steeper and very, very muddy. Every now and then a series of wooden walkways assisted in avoiding much of the mud. The forest soon gave way and the mountain opened up into a vast exposed climb. The single tracks we followed, still trying to skip around the mud and bogs. So far so good although it was now very windy and cold (the drizzle of fine rain had become more constant now) so I took a moment to layer up with my waterproof jacket.

We continued climbing before reaching the first of the smaller summits (which must have been Dregetua) marked by a stone trig pillar. We then began descending and running again. I set off and was enjoying seeing the head torches of other runners way off in the distance. Here though it was becoming increasingly difficult to avoid the mud as the narrow tracks left little room to manoeuvre as the ground was so uneven. It wasn’t long before I was soaked to my shins and covered in mud. At one point my left shoe came off, stuck and wedged in the mud completely. I had to bend down and pull with both hands to get out back out. I took the moment to tighten both my laces! We then climbed a little more in similar lumpy conditions which was quite tiring on the terrain and in the cold of night. The heat from the first bit of climbing meant my t shirt was soaked with sweat so I couldn’t really avoid getting cold even with the jacket on!

From the next trig point (Vardnakken) we began descending. Down we went through a long series of lumpy bogs. The undulating terrain meant it was quite difficult to get a good rhythm when running. One foot would descend then next foot would ascend a lump. I felt like I was jarring up and down and running very inefficiently. There were rocks hidden in the darkness too.

Once more my shoe got sucked off (the right one this time) and after retrieving it I tightened my laces even more. They were so tight now that they weren’t particularly comfortable. But thankfully they never came off again!!

The descend was consistent until we reached Blåhornsvatnet. From here the descent became steeper and significantly harder. We we going down muddy and rocky switch backs, sometimes off trail, sometimes through streams and always having to look and see which way was the most obvious. It wasn’t long before I was on my arse and covered in mud. Within a few minutes I had fallen multiple times. The mud was so thick that there was no way to grip it properly. Whilst my Inov8 Trailrocs aren’t ideal for muddy runs, I also couldn’t imagine many trainers being much use here! I wasn’t alone. I could hear the gasps and groans of other runners in the night too and could see runners in front of me falling over.

I was already thinking to myself that this was the least fun I’ve ever had in a descent. It was relentless and torturous and I just had to accept it. Accept that it would be uncomfortable and that I’d keep falling. So I just kept moving, letting gravity pull me down, hoping it would be done quicker that way. There were a few points where I just ploughed straight through bogs above my knees and had to drag myself out with my poles. There would be no warning as the ground just sucked you in. Mostly though it was just about shin high. I remember thinking to myself that this was suppose to be the easiest section of the race! The alarm bells were ringing. I then took an almighty slip, skidding a little bit on my heels before twisting and going down on my left side. I know I swore loudly (not for the first time) and I heard a sound from my pole which I landed on top of. It sounded like a crack but I hoped it was just the sound of it hitting the the ground and my weight on top. Once again I picked myself up and carried on, thankfully the trails finally came to an end and we had a section of gravel track to run on. It felt quite long but soon enough we were climbing again (which I believe meant we were now connected to where the 48km runners would start). The gravel was a welcome change and I took the opportunity to remove my jacket again. I was also surprised how quickly my feet and shoes seemed to dry out. It was around 04:30, the morning was breaking and the sun starting to rise, giving a glimpse of the amazing views of Stranda and the Fjord below us.

Inevitably the gravel road became a forest track and the climb became harder as the wet ground and mud returned. Over the course of a few 100m of climbing the tracks became off/track as the mountain opened up to us. The tracks returned and brought with them incredible views off to our left of the Fjord and over to Liabygda. I stopped for a few minutes to layer up again as the exposed mountain meant more rain and the temperature had dropped as the wind picked up. It did give me an opportunity to absorb the views all around me in the early morning mist.

From the climb we descended again, the tracks weren’t too steep but they were very wet and we ran on waterlogged tracks and bogs from the many streams. Up ahead a tent could be seen alone in the wild. The first aid station at Duklidalen and the first opportunity to eat something!

I checked my watch and timings and I had covered the 20km or so in pretty much the time I estimated I would. Not a bad start considering the state of the trails!

Section 2: Duklidalen – Fjørstad

From Duklidalen you will be running on and off trail up the Mønet. There are sections here that´s up to 45 degrees steep, you will have to use your hands at times on this section. Mønet is a cliff with a several hundreds meter drop on the fjord side, be careful and stay on the trail. Further on you will be on and off trail in scree up to Fremste Blåhornet (1478masl). From Blåhornet you will be running off trail along the ridge high above the fjord over Rjupskartind and towards Åknesnibba (1296masl). This section is very technical as the ridge is narrow with drops on boths sides. We recommend you to be catious here. There are parts where light scrambling is involved on this section. Before Åknesnibba the course will take a hard right turn down into the valley with a steep technical descent down, this is also a good place to be xtra catious. Then along Rjupeskarvatnet, and further out Fjørstaddalen past Heimfjørstadsætra and down to Fjørstad on a nice trail. On Fjørstad you will find an aid station.
Excerpt from the Race Manual

Immediately from the aid station we began making our way to the ‘wall’. I believe it was the cliff called Monet. But to me it was a wall on the edge of the world. I couldn’t see where we were heading. Making my way towards it I was texting Natalia ahead of her race and slipped and fell again. This one was my fault for not paying attention. The ground was soaking wet and cold where I fell.

SFTR official photograph of Monet. There was only one other runner on it when I climbed the cliff

As I reached the ‘wall’ it became clear we were climbing up it. I could see runners scaling it and became apprehensive. It was steep. I held my poles in one hand and used the other to pull myself up with each step. I dared not look down but accepted that it wasn’t as bad as it initially looked and I was at the top maybe 15 minutes later. Up top the grassy cliff turned to rock almost instantly. The climb however continued.

Looming in front of me was a giant of a mountain. Grey in every way. Grey rocks. Grey clouds. Just grey. I assumed this was the first change in the route and this is where we wouldn’t climb. I was wrong though. People ahead of me kept going further up and disappearing into the grey clouds. I put on my gloves as it became colder the higher I went. I then put away my poles and began climbing on all fours. It was quicker that way. I briefly started talking to Kristofer who’d done the 48km last year, who explained this was just the climb to Fremste Blåhornet (I believe he called it ‘Front Bluehorn’) and that the removed part of the course was further up still. He powered on passed me. Eventually I made it to the summit and the timing mat and turned around. Now we were on the diversion route which meant going back the way we came then across and down a valley.. There were a few runners ahead of me but they soon disappeared into the distance as I move so slowly over technical descents like this. I kept watching and making mental notes of where they were and went so I didn’t get lost. I felt alone now, for the first time in the race. I soon couldn’t see runners ahead nor behind me.

After completing the rocky downhill the diversion route took us left and away from the next climb. There was no path though and it was an off track descent from here to the next aid station Fjorstad. I was beginning to see the pattern now and off track terrain meant crossing lots of streams, slipping loads in the mud and bouncing up and down with the lumpy ground. Every now and then I’d get a glimpse of a single runner ahead and another behind me. This was another down hill I did not enjoy. I was initially glad when the route entered a forest area but that happiness soon gave way to frustration as the mud returned with a vengeance. Once again I was constantly on my bum. I started saying “fuck you” loudly. Like a chant. Every time I stubbed my toe on a rock “fuck you”. Slipped on my arse “fuck you”. Stepped in a bog or stream “fuck you”. It became my mantra as I continued tumbling down.

Finally the forest let me free and I ran the small down hill to the aid station, slipping and falling for the supporters and volunteers to enjoy! We all smiled and laughed knowing I wasn’t the first and wouldn’t be the last to provide the entertainment.

The aid station was a good one. Kristofer was there and changing into spare clothes. On this race you could have a drop bag at each station. I’d opted just for one at the 63km point. I regretted it slightly seeing Kristofer change into dry clothes as I was soaked through. It was warm inside the building so I packed the waterproof away again and noshed down on plenty of watermelon, crisps and cinnamon buns.

Section 3: Fjørstad – Habostadsætra

From Fjørstad you will be running the asphalt road down the Strandavalley for 4km and then into Moldskreddalen on a gravel road for 3km to Mesætra. By Mesætra you will hit the trailhead to Storhornet and cross the river on a bridge, and start the climb up to Storhornet (1309masl) on and off trail. Parts of this trail is technical. After summiting Storhornet you will turn around and follow the course back down for 1km, and then turn right and hit the trail down to Habostadsætra. Ths downhill section is very steep but the trail is very nice. On Habostadsætra you will find an aid station.
Excerpt from the Race Manual

Before long I was back out running with Kristofer on a long road section. It felt good to run. I’ve never wanted to run along a main road with cars driving passed me (very safely and courteously I should add!) so much in my life. It felt like it was the first time I could actually run. It was also a strangely therapeutic few kms knowing I could see this road from our incredible mountain accommodation.

From the road we were once more on a gravel track uphill before, yep, you guessed it, we were back in the wet and slippery forest hiking off track up a steep climb. Kristofer started getting further and further away as I huffed my way up. Once out of sight I had to concentrate more looking for the red trail markers painted on trees or rocks. This climb felt like it took so much longer than it probably did. After the forests it was wild and rugged terrain. Up and down lumps whilst still generally getting higher. There was a person out here all alone. It took me a while to realise he was a photographer. It took a while longer for me to get to him, he waited patiently and snapped me as I said hello and made some bad jokes. I asked if it was Ian, and it was. A world reknown adventurer and photographer. I’d read his blog from the 2021 event and we had a brief chat comparing the contrasting weather conditions. He kindly shared some advice on the climb and temperatures awaiting me and wished me well on the journey.

From here things got a little harder. The climb went off for an out and back section to the next summit of Storhornet. It went ‘up’ pretty steeply and the trail was more prominent and clear for a short while as the the mud and wild terrain tagged out and the went rocky tracks tagged back in. There were many runners coming back and I’d let them glide effortlessly passed me. I had no idea how far I had to run to get back to this point. But up I went. There was another photographer filming runners coming down and he had to film me slowly walking up. I made it clear I wouldn’t be running down like they all were!

Like the Blåhornet summit, this one became very rocky very quickly. It was now just like before as I was stumbling from rock to rock heading into the mist in the direction shadows were coming from. Here I had one moment that ‘threw’ my mind a little off. A lady was coming down and started speaking to me, I assumed in Norwegian, and I explained I only spoke English. She then told me that it was very cold further on and asked if I have any more clothes to put on. I was caught off guard. Whilst her intentions were no doubt full of kindness and support of other runners, I didn’t quite understand the comment. There was mandatory kit and I was clearly in the race with a full bag on my back I also had on my waterproof coat and gloves on, so I don’t think I looked under-prepared compared to anyone else. I assume she was concerned because I was just in shorts. But I reassured her I was fine and carried on. Soon Kristofer ran back passed me and sometime later I looped around the summit and too was heading back down. On this section many runners overtook me as I once again descended so slowly.

Eventually I completed the out and back and was then going down a steep hill in another wet and slippery forest section. I was all over the place. Sliding and slipping everywhere going down the switchbacks. A lady behind was asking if I was ok as I was swearing constantly. Then it was her turn as she slipped and did a pencil roll down one bend/turn. I can’t quite describe how fantastically she rolled and ended up down ahead of me and back on her feet laughing at her ‘shortcut’. She then sped off descending rapidly with ease. She called back to check on me a few mins later when I let out a rather loud expletive laden cry. I was ok. I’d fallen again (Fuck you!). This one was worse though. Whilst I was fine, in the process I’d snapped my fucking pole again (I snapped one in the VDA last year). I was really pissed off. It snapped right at the handle where it slides in and the locking button is. It was fucked and useless now and I’d only covered around 40km of the race. In a mood I carried on into the aid station that wasn’t far away.

A few runners looked at my pole and the volunteer was a superstar, running around looking for things to fix it (his plan was to tape a small rod to the handle to strengthen it). I knew it was a lost cause though but I appreciated their efforts. I filled my sorrow with meat soup (which was frikken ace) and Coke. The aid stations were pretty great for variety in my eyes! I checked my timings and, once again, felt I was pretty spot on to plan as it was about 30 mins before the first cut off. And so, having experienced running with one pole before, I knew I could overcome it, I packed it away and carried on with the single pole.

Section 4: Habostadsætra – Myrsætra

From Habostadsætra you will be running on the marked DNT hiking trail trough a lush birch forrest to Nysetvatnet with a great view towards Brekketind and the Brekketind glacier and then further to Patcellhytta where the climb to the iconic mt. Slogen (1564masl) starts. You will be running on the marked DNT hiking trail up to Slogen. The last part up to Slogen is very steep and involves scrambling, be catious on the way up and down. From Slogen you have a majestic view over Hjørundfjorden. The summit is very narrow, so one have to be carefull on the top. Here you will turn around and go back the way you came up for 1,5km. But instead of going back down to Patchellhytta, you will turn left and continue towards Isavatnet and further down Langseterdalen past Storevatnet on a nice trail. At the parking lot at Myrsætra you will find an aid station.
Excerpt from the Race Manual

The next section began with us walking up a stream. Really?! Fuck this trail I thought. I was waiting for the pain of constantly wet feet to kick in. Like the rest of the route, there was nothing to do about it except power through. It was kind of up hill, but very gentle and certainly not runnable (for me) as it was mostly rocky. My power hike was in full flow though and I was enjoying the intimating views of the mountains surrounding us on all sides and thunderous roar of the river besides me. Off in the distance I could see the lady along with another runner. I kept thinking I was gaining on them but I really wasn’t. The section was another that felt like it went on for a while, but I was content knowing we were at least climbing gradually higher. And so my mind wandered a little. I got thinking back to that last aid station and my timings and realised that all wasn’t quite what it seemed. Whilst I was ‘on time’ and within the cut off. We hadn’t done the climb from Blåhornet nor the ridge or its ‘more’ technical descent. That was the very technical section and no doubt a harder descent for me. So I highly doubt it would have completed that longer section of the route in my spare 30 minutes. I realised I would have been timed out at the first cut off (which was 13:00 at the last aid station) if the route hadn’t been changed due to the weather. I clang onto the hope that if the weather was better then the terrain would be less muddy and I might have moved a little quicker!

In the distance there was a little mountain hut of some sort and a guy out sweeping the decking area in the rain. It amused me. As I walked passed a volunteer called to me and waved me up to him. I checked my watch, yes, I was mindlessly following the two in front. I called after them and they walked back to join me on the climb. Each climb in this race seemed to find a way to be more challenging than the one before. This one was just a pain to start with as the terrain fluctuated between single track and off track frequently and we traversed so many streams and flows of water down off the mountain. It was just miserably wet. Like the number of times I fell, I wish I’d counted the number of streams we’d crossed on this course, I’m certain it would be hundreds. The mountains were leaking water everywhere due to the recent weather. It only stopped the higher we got. And it only stopped because the terrain became rocky. Once more we were playing dot-to-dot connecting the red trail marks and traversing the huge boulder fields.

There was a giant sleeping here. To my left I could sense and enormous presence and was admiring the mountain in the clouds. It was Slogen. The original route included an out and back to summit of Slogen for ‘panoramic views’. But we wouldn’t be doing that today. I was glad. This was also one of the hardest parts in the race so I was relieved to be skipping! Instead we carried on straight passed it. Straight into and across the snow fields. These were fairly short but difficult with one pole and not so aggressive soles on me shoes.

After some time we began our descent towards Myrsætra. This is where my drop bag would be. So I was in good spirits anticipating it. But the descent was tough. It was, you guessed it, rocky. So the the three of us moved slowly. I don’t remember much more than passing down alongside some lakes and rivers. I do remember we were in a valley and it reminded me a little of a section the TDS route in how it looked (but harder!).

There was plenty more falling over here too and I was losing track of my orientation and where we were going. The lady reminded me that soon we’d have the out and back to the aid station to the left and then we’d go back to the right to climb out of the valley. It made sense when she explained it.

Oddly, here I also realised my eyesight was a little hazy. I could see ok, but it wasn’t crystal clear. Almost as if I had clingfilm on my eyes. There wasn’t anything I could do and I assumed it was a combination of tiredness, constant concentration, the wind and the rain and perhaps the white glare from the snow. Anyway, I wasn’t worried, but I was conscious of it and to keep an eye on it (Whey hey!)

We reached the out and back section and now, like before, saw runners and familiar faces going in the opposite direction. There were a lot less of them this time though! I didn’t know how long it would be to the aid station but I was aware of how wet and muddy the track was again. I immediately decided that I would not be changing my shoes or socks. My socks would be soaked as soon as I changed them so I thought it wasn’t worth the effort. As I rounded the last corner into the aid station I had one of my best falls yet. I slipped in some mud and both feet went up in the air, above my waist, as my hands and head threw up behind me with the motion. I landed on my bum and back straight into a boggy patch. I was covered in mud. The volunteers laughed as I arrived (they heard the ‘fuck you’ scream) and I apologised as I sat straight in one of their chairs and covered it in the fresh mud. I ordered more soup, ate more cinnamon buns and finally changed into a dry tshirt after 14 hours.

Not long after the three of us reached the aid station, we were shortly followed by a fourth runner a Polish man I’d been near throughout the day. We sat and ate and drank and joked with the volunteers. We had our own little party before cheering ourselves back out knowing we had five hours to cover the 10km to the next (and final) cut off. Easy we thought… Wrong…

Section 5: Myrsætra – Brunstad

At Myrsætra you will run back up the same trail you came down up to Langsætra where you will follow the DNT marked trail up to Gullmordalsvatnet passing by the Gullmorglacier along the trail (you will not be running on the glacier). This section is very technical and you will be running parts of it on scree. After passing Gullmordalsvatnet you will be on the top of the Gullmorbrekka (979masl) pass, from here you will be running technical downhill to Velleseterhytta and further on gravel road down to Brunstad where you will find an aid station. This is also the location for the the cut off time at 21.00.
Excerpt from the Race Manual

The first section was ok. It was a repeat of the out and back. After which we we were constantly looking for the trail. This section wasn’t marked by the race and no red trail markers could be seen anywhere. We followed our GPS and would be on what seemed to be a trail, then all of a sudden the GPS would say the trail is off to our side by 50-100 m. This meant we were zig zagging up the climb. Crossing all sorts of wild terrain to ensure we kept heading in the right direction. Every now and then the Polish guy would appear from nowhere. He was having the same navigation issues. After an ‘age’, the lumpy foliage turned to rock. But that didn’t make it any easier and the same thing would happen as we’d turn at right angles to try and maintain the correct direction. We at least could now occasionally see some red trail markings on rocks though.

At this point we were sticking together as a foursome as we crossed many more snow fields and rocky sections climbing and traversing our way out of the valley. The lady, who was from Argentina, lady kept kindly offering me her poles as I was really struggling on all the snow crossings. So mostly I was behind them all and would time to time shout out when I thought we were ‘off route’ again. To me it felt like it was night time. We were deep in the clouds and the grey-ness of the mountains. The only light was coming from the snowy floor we trudged over. It was surreal and disorientating at the same time, yet it was only about 17:00.

We were trudging across another snow section when I noticed we we starting to get further from the trail, which was going off on a sort of angle above us. We stopped and debated for some time where to go and eventually agreed we shouldn’t continue on the snow. For one thing, we couldn’t see any recent signs of activity on them! The issue however was that the snow was sloping and above it was a wall of rock. It didn’t look feasible that the route could be up there. But that’s what the GPS was saying (and scrolling out we could see that the route would turn further that way after about a km further along). If we carried on the snow instead we’d soon be far off course and could see nothing ahead to make us want to continue (into the unknown).

So we back tracked and headed for the rocks. It took me a long time with one pole to get up to the rock and my troubles didn’t stop there, the climb facing us was a beast. It was essentially bouldering and rock climbing. I was trying to use strength from my arms which I just do not have to haul myself up onto rocks. And it was all loose. Admittedly I was scared. Actually, very scared. A fall here would be bad. A certainty of a serious injury and likely a very long wait to be rescued. I was glad I wasn’t alone and Argentinian Lady was very supportive and looked after me with constant reassurance. I knew we had to keep going though and that we should even get a little higher to be safer and further from the steep drop.

The climb, even just covering a few meters, was very slow. We were barely moving and the loose rock was causing us difficulties. Several times we knocked rocks back on each other, one time I released a sizeable one that went tumbling down. My warnings weren’t enough for the Polish guy to get out of the way in time and all he could do was raise his arm to protect his head as the rock fell straight into him. I felt so bad, but he reassured me that he was ok, just annoyed by the situation. It only added to our frustrations and concerns of safety.

We were at least now tracking in the right direction according to the GPS and the rocky climb eventually gave way to firmer ground, albeit more snow capped fields. I thought it couldn’t get worse than that section, but I was wrong (again). We were now faced with another directional dilemma. The route indicated we needed to leave the snow and descent a very narrow, very steep rock face. I looked over the edge and it felt like an abyss, the end of the world. Meters below us all I could see was a dark grey mist cloud wrapping the mountain. I couldn’t see a trail or path. It is fair to say I was not keen and I didn’t want to go that way. The alternative though was to remain higher up and walk along the snow covered mountain. I’d had enough of them though and we couldn’t see far enough ahead to determine where we would go or how we could re-join the path if we did continue that way. It felt like ‘down’ was actually the better option. Two of us started to descend…

I was still on top of the snow when, in the distance, a lonely figure, in a bright blue coat, emerged through the clouds with his hand in the air waving. I didn’t know what to think. He was clearly gesturing to us so we called back to let the others know someone was coming. We walked on and met him. He explained he was a volunteer from the race and he’d show us the way. He confirmed we could go either way, but the snow might be the easier route for us. So we followed him.

He was moving so effortlessly I struggled to keep up. He pointed down a steep snow slope and said we can go down here. And off he went, sliding, skiing (without skies) down hill. The French guy went next and pretty much made it the whole way standing up too. I followed and immediately landed on my arse. I sped down like I was on some sort of toboggan, bouncing up and down with the lumps. In no time at all my arse was so cold and starting to hurt with the freeze and friction. The whole thing lasted a matter of seconds. Looking back, my Strava indicates we went down a slope of approximately -50 deg and covered around 70m in descent. My apparent pace was 1:32 km per minute. What a ride!

Gullmordalsvatnet – we tracked along the edge to the right of the lake, all the way to the end

One by one we all made it and we were at least treated to an incredible view of the Gullmordalsvatnet lake and valley surrounding it. The downside, I could still see no clear trail or path. We were told that we needed to traverse along to the right of the lake. I couldn’t believe it. What?! It was just the slope/side of the mountain with alternating layers of snow and rock. How? He reassured us that as we got closer we would see some race markings to indicate the way we should go. He told us that we would need to climb and descend on the rock and avoid the snow slopes at all times. I could see why, if you slipped on those, nothing would stop you sliding all the way into the freezing lake. Game over. There was another catch though, first we would need to ascend on the initial snow slope, but not to worry, there is a rope. Fuck sake…

One by one we ascended the rope climb. This was awful for me. I had no energy or strength to pull myself up and no grip in the snow to provide any traction. It was yet another very slow ascent. I relied on a tactic of pulling myself up and looping the rope around one hand with each pull to get more leverage. I thought my shoulders would pop out here. Thankfully I soon reached the sanctuary of the rocks. Ha! Now I was thinking that the rocks were my friends!

The volunteer left us here and went back to look for the remaining runners behind us in the pass somewhere. We thanked him but I never got his name. His final words were “it is 2 hours to the next checkpoint”. I looked at my watch. We had 2 hours and 10 minutes until the cut off. Shit. I thought we wouldn’t make it, that we would be timed out. If he was saying 2 hours, it would probably take us longer. I hung on to the glimmer of hope that there might be some sections we could run and that he was talking about walking time.

We still had to travers the lake first though. Painstakingly, we looped up and down each rock section, maybe up to a 20m climb and descent each way. Looking and following the trail flags which we could finally see. Each loop required a small traverse either along the top of the snow slope or along the bottom, right next to the water. I could feel the chill coming off it. At one point I sent another rock tumbling. Down the snow it rolled and then bounced off the bottom of the slope, launching into the air and over the water onto a floating patch of ice with a ‘boom’. The lake didn’t flinch and I didn’t want to follow the rock!

As we finally reached the end of the lake, the paths did become a little easier. They were far from runnable though. Just easier than what the last few kms entailed. It was still a horrid down hill though. In maybe 3km we descended over 500m. It was very rocky and very slippery as we navigated through tens and tens of waterlogged paths and streams. There was plenty of falling over and slipping here too. We mostly descended in silence. I’m not sure what the others were thinking, but all I could think about was the cut off and whether we would make it or not. I wanted too, but I was also wondering how I’d feel if the decision to continue was taken away from me. I genuinely believed that, after this cut off, we would have plenty of time to finish (there was 13 hours for the last 20km or so). So I wondered if we were close to the cut off if I would be of mind to try and negotiate my continue. It was all theoretical, but it kept me focused. Going further down, fast hiking, moving with purpose. It as all I could do.

We then came upon a forest section which was far less steep than before. The trails became a little drier and other than a few big leaps across streams (with broken planks that were intended to be crossed) the next few hundred meters of descent were a little more forgiving. We still weren’t running, but were able to pick up the pace at least. We were racing the clock though as time was against us and I kept looking at my watch and doing the calculations. 50 minutes to go, 40 minutes to go, 30 minutes to go… With every step I adjusted our progression, but it didn’t really make much difference. It was going to be tight if we couldn’t run. And then luck was finally on our side…

From the forests we came across a house with a lady gardening and a man tending to the path. We ran down, said hello and left through their gate. He wished us well and said he hoped we were enjoying ourselves. I think I just laughed. But, from the gate, there was a gravel road. It was steep, but it was dry and even terrain. Gravity did its ‘thing’ and we ran. We were a little spaced out as we all descended at slightly different speeds. But we were all running. After maybe 1.5km, there were people further along. It was the aid station at Brunstad. I looked at my watch. We had 20 minutes to spare. We’d made it. This 10km section of the race had taken us 4.5 hours to complete!

I ran into the aid station with belief. I believed now I would finish. I believed in me. The decision to continue was in my hands, and I know there is only one answer to that question, pulling out is never a consideration, never an option. I would continue and I would finish. We sat and set about refuelling. Eating more soup, more cinnamon rolls, more chocolate sweets and crisps. At the aid station, the Argentinian lady’s family were waiting. It dawned on me that her and her husband, along with their dog, had been sitting opposite me in the reception at the start line some 18 hours earlier. With the positivity we were feeling, the Polish guy said what I’d been thinking “we all stick together now right, and finish?”. There was no hesitation from me. Absolutely, yes I said. The French guy agreed also. I’m not sure if I missed it somewhere but the lady had decided that this was where her adventure would end. She simply had no more desire to continue. I only realised when she was offering me her poles to continue on with as ‘she didn’t need them anymore’. Even now, after bowing out she was still supporting and looking after me. I felt sad and emotional that she wouldn’t be seeing it through with us. I declined the offer of the poles though. I made it this far and was confident I’d be ok.

As we set back out we were a little deflated that we still had over 20km to go. The amended route GPX had indicated we would be doing around 88km in total, but we were already around 77km at this point. It made sense though, the final two sections were unchanged and we still had to complete them. We left just before 9pm (and then stopped straight away as I had forgotten to get my head torch out ready for the darkness).

Section 6: Brunstad – Svartevatnet

From Brunstad you will run to Brunstadsætra through lush birchforrest and crossing the river right before Brunstadsætra. On Brunstadsætra you will get on the nice and very steep trail up to Storevatnet. From Storevatnet you will be climbing off trail up to 1100m and traverse over to Vassdalen (The course is not going to the peak of Ystevasshornet) where you will be running downhill on technical trail down Svartevatnet. At the parking lot by Svartevatnet you will find a aid station.
Excerpt from the Race Manual

Initially we had a gravel road ascent similar to what we had just descended. This was good for easing back into the task ahead. We took this opportunity to chat and for the first time exchanged names. It felt silly that we’d been through so much together without knowing who we were. This was where I learned that the Polish guy was Kamil and the French man was Matt. From the results table I now know that the lovely Argentina was Margarita. These were my companions, my saviours.

A few kms later the gravel changed to forest. The gradual climb, with no warning then became very steep switch backs as we climbed for another 500m in the slippery dense forest. I had to stop a few times to catch my breathe and refocus. It was tough going, but I was happier with this type of climb than the many we’d done before.

After leaving the forest it was more off-track plodding in the open mountainside as we continue to about 850masl where the ground flattened out. Here we could see up ahead a semi-circle of mountains surrounding us. Once again I had no idea where we were going and how we would ‘escape’ from here and descend back down. We continued walking towards it as the day light diminished and darkness began to set in.

We reached a lake where our head torches started to pick up the feint shimmer of the reflective tape for the race markings. One or two at a time. They gave an indication of where to go, but not too much insight as to where we were actually heading. Slowly it became clear that we were just going ‘straight up’ to get out of the plateau. Seriously? Fuck you. In the darkness we began to climb the rocks again. I was struggling with the climb. Matt and Kamil were getting progressively further away. I set myself a target to rest and breathe at each flag marker, only meters away from one another, but I was stopping multiple times between each one. We climbed for maybe another 200-300 meters, up and across scree slopes, the rocks loose under foot and when I grabbed at them with my hands for support. As I reached the top we were now in complete darkness. Besides the reflective trail markers I could now also navigate by following the head torches of the others in the distance.

We began the descent which wasn’t any easier. Loose and sharp rocks, winding switch backs and wet streams to cross. We stopped at one stream and filled our bottles with ice cold water. It was delightful. I gulped back two bottles straight away. Like many before this one, the streams we needed to cross were often bursting at the seams and the ‘path across’ was submerged under rampant and powerful flowing water. They were difficult to cross and even more so in the night. It was a case of steadying ourselves and hoping for the best, accepting that we would be wet to our shins. The aim was to get to the other side and not to get sucked in or fall over. The roar of water in the night was quite something. It was the only thing we could hear out here in the wild.

After a while the rocks gave way to forests and you already know that these were steep, muddy and slippery. As we progressed, a huge lake started to come into focus below us. Way off ahead, on top of a mountain silhouette in the darkness I could see two head torches way up in the sky. I knew where we were heading now. We would descend to a road crossing (Svartevatnet) before the final climb on the other side. I remember looking at this section when we drove along the road into Stranda when we first arrived.

I was glad to get off the forest track as we bottomed out at the lake. Here there was a slightly flat gravel section towards the road. At this point Kamil, who was in front on the descent was now behind me. Matt was up ahead on the road and I shouted at him when I saw the markers on the other side. We started to cross. Then loads of volunteers came into sight further up the road at a lay-by. They gestured us towards them. It was another aid station that I had complete forgotten about.

Here I was ready to leave quite quickly and just get on with it. I was sick of soup now so ate some crisps and cookies. Matt had some soup and a French man came to say hello to him. He was in the area, saw about the race and heard there was a French person running, so he stayed out to say hello and cheer him on. How lovely that was. Kamil sat in a chair and told us to go on without him, that he was going to have some sleep as he was struggling with fatigue. He wrapped up and tried to get comfortable. I let Matt know. Whilst we were there I had a half cup of coffee to try to fight off my own tiredness before we set back out. For now, we were down to two. I was sure Kamil would catch up with us at some point on the climb in the night.

Section 7: Svartevatnet – Stranda

By Svartevatnet you will cross the road and get on the trail to Langevatnet and further to Roaldshornet (1230masl). From the summit of Roaldshornet you can enjoy the epic view over Storfjorden and down to Stranda. You will continue to Blåfjellet and downhill Trollvaregga with technical running down to Skuravatnet. (The course is not going up to Skurahornet, it goes straight to Stranda from Skuravatnet) .From Skuravatnet you will be running on a nice trail all the way down to the outskirts of Stranda, and then on gravel and asphalt roads down to the finish line at the town square in Stranda.
Excerpt from the Race Manual

And so, at 01:00 in the morning we began our final section. From the aid station we crossed the road and began heading into the darkness of the forests once more. The trees lasted only a short while and the climb began. Initially I had flash backs of the first climb of the race when we left the forest and the mountain opened up. The terrain felt very similar. It was a series of gently inclining winding big paths littered with bogs and waterlogged foliage. Compared to the other climbs of the race I was very happy at that moment in time. This felt very manageable.

As we had previously, we navigated by reflection of the race markings. Each one opening another insight into where we were heading. The large silhouette of the mountain standing tall in front of us and getting closer with each step. As we neared it, the climb took us to the mountain face and the rocky ascent began, but, it was no where near as bad as the ones before. I felt this was the easiest climb of the night and possibly of the whole race. I was thankful.

Before we reached the summit, my watch died. I hate this watch. I accept it is now a good few years old (it is a Suunto 9 Baro) but the battery just does not last what it indicates it will. Barely 24 hours with some of that on the Ultraks mode. Useless. I couldn’t care less about charging it now. I just wanted to finish the race and rest.

The climb wasn’t too bad either and we emerged onto the roof of the mountain. It was, of course, rocky but for the most part we were now traversing the top along to the next point at Roaldshornet. It was very cold and windy on top and we stopped to layer up ready for the final climb to the summit. As we hiked along to the summit, with a gentle undulation, the sun started to rise to the East. It was going to be spectacular. We’d miss the full sunrise and views from the summit, but we had a glimpse of the orange glow breaking up the darkness. We kept moving and covered the final little dip and climb back up to Roaldshornet where we could start to see the landscape ahead of us for our descent back to Stranda. From here it was all ‘downhill’ (of course every trail downhill has some sneaky ‘uphills’ included!).

The descent was going to be long though and it was still very technical. Once again lumbering over a boulder field of rocks. For many parts I had to sit and lower myself down and we were trying to find the best and most accessible route between markers, sometimes straying from the more obvious path due to slippery rocks or muddy sections that we were still slipping and falling on. Eventually, further down, we could see a short ridgeline way below leading to what looked like dry dirt trails. We were heading for it and we’d then loop down into the forests back towards Stranda. We had a visual aim, although it still felt like a very long time until we reached the ridge.

We continued the descent from the ridge which was a lot harder than I expected. It was a complete mess from the rain and the mud and bogs were everywhere. Where possible we avoided the trail, running over the lumpy ground along the sides instead. In some places, wooden structures were there to go over the marsh land, but they weren’t really helpful to us. With so many runners having been through the day before, the land was completely churned up and the walkways covered in mud and equally as slippery and dangerous. I think I fell more along this section than anywhere else on the course! Matt must have been sick of hearing me swearing and groaning. I did one spectacular fall where I slipped and skidded downhill, completing a 180 spin and falling flat on my front, face first, into a bog. The mud muffled my scream. It was slower progress than I expected at this point and it certainly wasn’t the dry dirt trails I’d been imagining from the view at the top. From time to time we looked back, expecting to see Kamil come bounding passed us. At one point I swore I saw a head torch on the summit at Roaldshornet.

Uneven and boggy descents towards Stranda

The mountain side started to give way to forest tracks, which weren’t all that better. They felt steeper and, whilst drier for the most part, still had many wet and muddy sections. The benefit now was that the trees could be used to steady ourselves and break our falls. As we ran down, we were getting hotter and hotter. The layers from the mountain were definitely no longer needed now, but the inclination to stop and delay the finish further was low. We wanted it to be over as soon as possible.

A few kilometres later we left the forest and hit some road. We crossed some fields and were then back on the road in a section we both recognised from visiting the town. It wouldn’t be long now until we were on the main road into Stranda and down to the finish line. We were running. Probably very slowly but we were running for the first time for many, many hours. It was painful and slow but we were inching towards the finish as we ran down the deserted and quiet road. It was some time after 06:00 in the morning.

We rounded the final turn and climbed the steps into and through the hotel before the finish line (it was strange passing straight through a building to get to the finish!) and emerged into the final stretch to a lone clap from a volunteer at the finish line. We walked over the line. The final finishers. We hi fived and smiled. We’d done it.

I thought the volunteer was Oscar (the Race Director) but it was Martin. He told us he was at the last aid station with Kamil when he dropped out. It took us a moment for the realisation to set in, Kamil hadn’t continued on after his attempt to sleep. I felt bad for abandoning him and wondered if he would have been ok if he kept going? Martin gave us our medals, congratulated us and went and fetched us pizza. Then Matt’s wife, Natalia, Nick, Arlene and Gif all arrived and congratulated us, taking us back to the safety of a shower and bed! We had done it.

Final Thoughts

I knew this race was going to be difficult and would include terrain that I’m not always comfortable with. However, it was worse and harder than I imagined. The weather for the race was actually ok, but the terrain had suffered from weeks of rain and that made it far more difficult that it could have been. I reckon I must have fallen 30-50 times. I wouldn’t be surprised if we crossed 100s of rivers and streams throughout the 100km. I’m actually surprised my feet weren’t in a worse state when I finished (they were pretty mangled though!). Oscar acknowledged the conditions in has post race breifing:

SFTR 2022 was just as hard and muddy as it can be! We got a bit of everything with some glimpses of sun, rain, snow, wind. The feedback from the elite field in Golden Trail World Series was that this was the most technical race they ever participated in. So all of you who joined the race should be proud of your effort! The good news is that we ordered sun for SFTR 2023, the bad news is that we ordered sun for 2022 too 😉
Oscar, RD

It is without doubt the toughest 100km I have done (and we didn’t quite get to the 100km mark!) It took around 5-8 hours longer than my typical time for a mountainous 100km. That is quite a significant time difference. Despite the course and the conditions, the local Scandinavians ran incredible times. I’m amazed at how effortlessly they cover this sort of terrain, they are phenomenal athletes.

The state of my bib at the end. I had to keep wiping the mud off to make it visible

Reflecting back on the progress, I actually would have been timed out at the first cut off (around 40km / 11hrs) if the route hadn’t been amended. I see no way I could have completed the original route in the time I had remaining at the cut off. The gods were on my side on this occasion!

I also think we would have been timed out at the second cut off (Brunstad) if it weren’t for (1) the volunteer who found us in the Gullmorbrekka pass at showed us the way (thank you so much!) (2) the short road section down to the aid station at Brunstad which meant we could run! without those, I’m sure we wouldn’t have made it in time.

I came away from this race with my ankles pretty beaten up, loads of cuts and bruises, one broken pole, a ripped pair of gloves and a shoes shredded on all sides. Yet, I saw it through, I persevered and once more can say I’m a finisher and have re-evaluated my own limitations and strengths. I love this sport!

As with every race I met some incredible people. People who show all kinds of determination, strength and will power who go above and beyond to help and support you. Thank you Margarita, Kamil and Matt. And of course, thank you to Oscar and his team and thank you Norway!

For an expert view on the race (all distances) take a read of Ian’s race report – Strand Fjord Trail Race 2022.

Some of the professional race photos:

Ohrid Ultra Trail

Published on May 25, 2022 by runwithdaiLeave a comment

As we left the comfort of the hotel at 23:30 it was buzzing with activity. The packed restaurant was bouncing with loud music and dancing. Paul had hardly slept as his room was above the restaurant. Thankfully I’d grabbed some sleep earlier in the day. As we walked down the strip we realised this was common for a Friday night in Ohrid, North Macedonia. What was clear when we arrived at the Chinar Tree to merge with the small crowd, was that trail running was less common. Gathered at this ancient tree were just 40 runners huddled together near a modest start line preparing for a 100km adventure…

Ohrid Lake. Love the unique design of the Tee by a local artist

Upon arrival we sought out a person with a staff badge around his neck to ask about the route. Earlier in the day, when registering, it was indicated that the route would need to be modified due to the storms forecast for Saturday. We hadn’t heard anything since so asked what the route would be. He very clearly explained the situation, that heavy storms were forecast and so we would not be visiting Margaro or the other peaks on the route. We’d have an unchanged course for the first 50kms or so to Vojtino. Then we’d detour to Prevoj on a different route, skipping the big climb to Magaro by staying lower down and going around the mountain. From Prevoj we’d again detour and skip the peaks and ridges and instead head to Assan Gjura more directly on some access roads. The next section would be unchanged to Letnica but then once more we’d skip the last peak and begin descending more directly to the final aid station of Velestovo. We thanked him and he told us to stay close for the briefing. He introduced himself as Dejan, the race director. A few minutes later he gave the safety briefing, re-explaining the situation and route to the whole field before we then gathered in the starting coral with the modest number of spectators cheering us on as he counted down to midnight.

At the modest startline at the Chinar Tree

The race began and half the field vanished out of sight almost immediately, racing off through the cobbled streets of Old Town Ohrid. We stayed at the back, right at the back, as per our strategy to enjoy a slow first marathon. Natalia was running the 65km route which began at our marathon mark, Sv Naum, just after our cutoff. The intention was to run with her, so rather than bust a gut and then hang around, we planned to arrive between 06:00 – 07:00 and enjoy the night shift.

St John’s church captured by the amazing race photographers

In the darkness we weaved around the Old Town. A series of cobble streets saw us climb up to the castle at 700m. Even here we ran on trails and single tracks as we made it to the lakeside and descended passed St. John’s church and onto the lake front where we ran across a very wobbly boardwalk before hitting the strip back towards the hotel. We ran passed the red flag markers which we’d spotted on our way to the start (we saw a few teenagers walking and waving them which gave us some initial concerns about the markings, which were unfounded). As we approached the hotel we could hear Lisa cheering from the balcony and waving us on. We were in a small group of maybe ten other runners, most of whom were Greeks and were leading the pack as we ran passed the finish line after a few km. We all cheered as one tempted fate and ran through the finishers arch. I hoped the timing mat wasn’t switched on already!

Along the lake front we heard the wild calls of nature with many many birds and insects singing into the night as we left the roads and Ohrid and headed onto the trails. It began with a gentle climb on a wide track road. We passed a place called Paradise Nest which was a series of cabins overlooking the lake and soon turned onto single tracks through the forest. Here we chatted with the Greeks who had all come over on a bus tour together. With some steady climbing on rocky trails we then emerged at the first aid station of Velestovo about 12km in. A quick refill and to Paul’s delight a cup of the ‘proper stuff’ – Coca Cola branded cola. We left knowing we’d be back here many many hours later when we’d descend back to Ohrid.

We left the aid station and continued through some farm land. I followed two runners and Paul held off as we couldn’t see any flags or markings. They couldn’t hear me as I called after them. I followed and found the trail and waited, calling back to Paul in the darkness who soon found me after he located the actual trail and looped around the farmland. The route then took us up off the quad track and onto a narrow single path that was very rocky. We continued on this, climbing higher and higher. Below us to the right was the darkness of a valley between two ridges. The second, higher one looming straight ahead, a silhouette in the night sky. The climb continued, alternating between rocky paths and forest tracks which occasionally opened up under the moon-lit sky. The air around us was cooling and the moisture of the night made us cold as our clothes became wetter with sweat and the mist. As we trod on through the mist we almost missed a turn which, thankfully, the runner behind spotted and called after us. This was the summit of the first climb and, the inevitable down followed. My word it was a beauty…

No picture would do the view justice as we descended the first mountain

The tracks opened up wider. The forests cleared to open spaces. To our left the mountain dropped away to darkness and up ahead the orange moonlight reflect off the calm lake. It was stunning. We ran free, happy, enjoying the moment, hopping from path to path as we descended towards the town of Konjsko. We couldn’t stop commenting to each other about how amazing it was. It all ended too quickly as we rocked up at the next aidstation and commended them on their excellent spread of cheese sandwiches. We briefly chatted with the volunteers who were excited to see some UK runners (there were two other Brits out there somewhere too) and they told us they’d see us again at the marathon mark at SV Naum. So off we went into the night once more with our bellies and hearts full.

From here the night became a little harder. Naturally tiredness now began to creep in as the excitement of the start began to fade and our bodies fought back against the natural desire to be asleep. The terrain became red in the night as we ran through endless mud/clay tracks and our feet became heavier as they collected the dirt in their lugs. It was super sticky. We had a choice of that or the rocky tracks around the mud. I kept to the mud. The smells were a pleasant distraction though as the forests around us were lush, dense and green. After what felt like a long time of trudging along we caught another, local(ish) runner from North Macedonia. We all chatted away as the trails began to descend again, zigzagging down hill we flew and enjoyed the moment once more. We emerged onto a road crossing where we no longer saw the path or flags/markings indicating which way to go. Come to think of it, we’d not seen a flag marker for quite some time. Oh oh.

I quickly loaded the course to my watch knowing that we were still on the unchanged route so would be able to check our location. It was immediately clear we’d gone wrong, very wrong. We’d come off the mountain far sooner than we should have. We should be crossing this road about 5kms further along. We briefly considered the option of following the road to rejoin the course where it crossed. We decided not too. We felt we had time to recover, and that there was a small chance the next aidstation would be before the road crossing and we’d need to ‘check in’. It was also quite a main road, even though it was early in the morning it wouldn’t be the safest option. So we started retracing our steps back up the mountain.

Turns out it was longer than we thought. The switch back tracks deceived the radius shown on the watch. We weren’t getting back to where we went wrong anytime soon. We didn’t know it at the time, but we’d run almost 3km in the wrong direction and also descended 300m which we then needed to climb. It cost us quite a bit of time! We finally made it back to where we went wrong and waited for the other guy to catch up to make sure he also ended up back on track. As we waited we realised the mistake we had made – there was a slight split in the path. After we took one track they merged once more and we remember acknowledging that and saying it wasn’t a problem. What we hadn’t seen though was that there was a sneaky turn on the other track which we therefore missed. We should have realised we were no longer following the markings, but we were clearly enjoying the downhill too much.

Remaining positive when racing the clock

Now we were back on track we ran a little harder. The track was less enjoyable than the descent we previously took and was a little rockier. We kept going and were heating up as the morning light started to replace the darkness and we took off our head torches. It wasn’t too much later that we then descended the mountain where we should have initially and crossed the road once more. Shortly after this we passed through Trejca and after a short road climb we came across the next aid station where three volunteers sat at the side of the road. They acknowledged we were likely the last runners so we let them know there was one more on his way because we’d gotten lost. From here we had almost 9km to go to SV Naum. This section also included a little climb of around 200m and a corresponding descent. It was 05:50, the cut off was at 07:00. After a night of running this was now going to be tight. Tighter than I wanted to admit but thankfully Paul took charge and ran off for the next 9km and I just had to try and keep him in sight.

We followed the road before going back into the forest and soon conquered the climb (which thankfully took us over a saddle in two hills rather than up and over one of the higher lumps!) and were then descending the narrow and rocky single tracks through the forest. We caught up and passed one of the Greek runners and took a moment to enjoy the views near a a village and over the lake as the morning light broke fully into day. I love the end of a night shift on a long run when the morning breaks. It has a real empowering moment for me when your energy levels have dipped and start increasing again with the rays of sunshine. Running through small villages at this point is one of my favourite aspects of trail running as the paths take you in all directions as you explore the unfamiliar land. Here we briefly skirted a village and went back down to the level of the lake where we left the forest and hit upon a shingle beach. Bollocks to that. This wasn’t funny anymore. We were running hard! I was panting hard. I could see Paul looking back checking I was still in sight. My legs were aching and the soft ground didn’t help. Neither did the realisation that we were running on this for as far as I could see in the distance. I wanted to stop so much but calculated we still had 30mins to go to the cut off and possibly as far as 5km still to cover.

We left the beach and then hit upon what felt like an obstacle course. We ran in and out of farmland and had to climb over many fallen trees and duck through narrow overgrown passes. But the topping was the (admittedly small) river crossing that we needed to make. It was clearly quite deep where it met the lake and a rope was set up to help us cross. I ploughed straight in the thigh-high level without giving it a second thought. We just had to keep going. Time was no longer on our side. Running through the endless crop fields we passed a few more runners and for a brief moment between breaths I felt unbeatable. We didn’t stop to acknowledge them but sped on passed. Finally the turn into the monastery was clear and we ran through and into the aid station with 8 minutes to spare before the cut off. The first marathon hadn’t quite gone to plan!

As we arrived, Dejan and the lady from a previous aid station laughed as we explained our cock up and little adventure. We ate and drank as they told us we didn’t need to leave exactly at 07:00 and that they would be lenient with runners. They also told us the lead runner had pulled out after encountering a bear on the course, so to be observant. Great!

The 65km runners arrived and I found Natalia as the rest of them ploughed into the aid station and started raiding it. That frustrated me a little given some 100k runners were still arriving and needed the refreshments! I said goodbye to Natalia (we’d arranged to meet just after the aid station so we were out of the way of their start). After the manic run to the aidstation, Paul decided to stay with us from here also. We were both spent from the mammoth effort we’d just put in. We needed a break and the 30mins until Natalia would start was now going to be our rest and we were looking forward to it. We walked a bit and then sat in the sun a km down the route and cheered the lead runners from the 65km through when they turned up. The first two runners already had a very sizeable lead on the chasing pack. It was very impressive. We then picked up running again when Natalia showed up shortly after them.

From here the route took us through more fields and dense green spaces. We chatted with different groups of runners as they passed us including a few Americans who were living in North Macedonia. There was another river crossing which everyone carefully tiptoed across on some strategically placed rocks. I ploughed through once again to the delight of the Americans. I had wet feet anyway so it made no difference to me and had the benefit of knowing I had spare socks in my drop bag waiting later on.

From here we began ascending. This was now the biggest climb of the run and we’d be climbing 900m to Vojtino. So we climbed. That’s all we’d do. Head down and walk on. We played leapfrog with a few runners and followed the track as it passed through more forests and occasionally opened up onto vast rocks overlooking the lake. The views were beautiful and we took the chance to stop and capture the moments when we could. It really was stunning. Some how, out of nowhere the next aid station then appeared. We’d been so focused on just walking that the section passed by quite quickly. It was fairly small but we welcomed the opportunity to take on more liquids as it was very humid in the early morning heat. Here the volunteers told us it was maybe 4km to Provej, which would be the drop bag aid station. This was where the route was now changed and rather than climbing another 900m or so to the Magaro summit and descending down to Prevoj, we’d climb lower (maybe just a few hundred metres) and circle the mountain instead. It was a shame, but, at the same time we were now glad it wasn’t as far to go. We moved onwards.

The section wasn’t exactly easy though (easier than the off track 900m climb to the summit over 5km I’m sure!). The climb continued and in places it was quite steep and mostly the ground was covered in a deep layer of leaves that covered a multitude of obstacles – rocks, sticks, snow even! It felt longer than 4km by the time we left the climb and emerged into a grass mountain side that wouldn’t look out of place in the Sound of Music! We were delighted to find the aid station waiting for us. I immediately sought out hot food and my drop bag. I set to work freshening myself up and stocking up on the soup and pasta they provided. I was very hungry and empty and knew I needed food before it was too late. Paul and Natalia patiently waited for me and put up with my antics of snorting Tailwind which I’d spilt trying to refill my bottles.

As we left the aid station we were told we’d now follow a road for a few kms before finding a dirt/quad track. Again we were avoiding the climb to the next summit and were not running along the ridge. The road was indeed very long and the tarmac hurt our achy legs. At midday the heat was absorbed by the black surface and it felt like we were being battered from all sides. It was tough going. We weren’t alone though. We’d made a friend. A dog. He ran casually with us. Not a sound from him. Just a tongue hanging out. He seemed happy. We joked that he liked cheating on us with the faster runners as he’d run with us for a fair bit then would run off and chase the runners ahead of us before waiting for us to catch him up. He ran alongside us for many kms. Even when we turned off the road and followed the track again.

Here we could see Lake Prespa (the other lake hidden from Ohrid by the mountain range) on our right. Lake Ohrid was now hidden by the mountain ridge to our left somewhere. The views were stunning and we enjoyed looking back at the mountains behind us, wondering what if… and then it happened. Pretty much bang on midday as forecast the sky started to darken. The thunder started to rumble. The rain started to come. Natalia was having none of it and started running harder and faster. Me and Paul couldn’t keep up. Within minutes she was out of sight. We carried on, walk-running in the rain. We caught and passed a few other runners and eventually caught up with her at Assan Gjura.

Here at the aid station we sat under the shelter of the outbuilding along with many other runners from all the different distances. Some were coming, some were leaving. We took a moment to gather ourselves, re-calibrating our focus and thinking of the storms and what was left to run. As the rain eased off we psyched ourselves up and prepared to leave. Only we couldn’t. The volunteers and park authorities advised we didn’t as there were more storms coming. They made the decision to hold us all at the aid station for safety. We sat back down not knowing how long we’d be here. The minutes ticked by. Food was running low but we were all fed up of the same thing now anyway. They lit a fire burner and we all huddled inside a room that became our sauna. After a long time one lonely runner arrived at the aidstation from the 100k. She was very wet. Eventually, after about an hour and a half, they let us leave. Initially it was a ‘5 people can go’. Without thinking I selfishly grabbed Natalia and pushed to the front, indicating that us three would leave. My mind was on finishing. My mind was on escaping any risk of not finishing if they cancelled the race. I wasn’t primarily thinking of safety at this point. In my mind we could finish in a few hours and we were descending pretty much for the rest of the race, I felt they wouldn’t be saying we could leave if it wasn’t safe.

We set off. We were legging it. This section was flat at about 1400m asl. Trying to get as far as we could whilst it was dry. Within seconds the many layers we’d put on were coming off again. The ground was a waterlogged and there were puddles in all the tracks and the red earth was equal measures sticky and slippery. The skies however were clear and bright. For now… We ran on from side to side skipping the puddles and mud. Up ahead the sky was getting darker and the feint rumbles of thunder could be heard again. There was a lonely cow, mooing loudly in front of us. We prepared to pass it on widely. It was either distressed or it was warning us. From the left, there was a guy descending quickly from the mountain. He was running in jeans with a bottle of water in his hand shouting and waving. I thought he was chasing after his cow, lost in the storm. Of course he wasn’t. He was trying to get our attention. He directed us to go in the direction he had just come from. He explained that we were running straight into the storms which were about 40 mins away. He told us on the top of the climb there is another guy on the road who will give us further instructions. It was maybe a 10 minute climb, a very slow climb. Natalia went quickly. Me and Paul went slowly. I assumed that this was it, that this was where our race would end. I assumed here they’d be telling us to get in the car and we’d be evacuated from the storms.

Different ground conditions after the storm

As Natalia reached the guy we could hear the instructions he was was providing. He was directing us down another way. This wasn’t game over after all. There was still hope. I woke up from my false misery and we sped up for the last few metres of the climb to join them. He gave us his number for safety and topped us up with coke. Our instructions now were that we’d follow the dirt track road for a few kilometres. Eventually we’d find a turn on our lefthand side marked with the flags and that we should take this route towards Velestovo, the final aid station. He emphasised the path on the left and not the one on the right. The correct route would divert us around the storm and we’d skip the next aid station and head straight to the last one.

We ran on slowly as it was tough. My legs hurt so much. Natalia was fresh and strong and focused on getting down and out of the storms as quickly as possible. I was struggling behind with the inevitable painful ankles. Natalia would run off and wait for us to catch up before carrying on down the road. The route was gradual and not too bad but it was a dirt track and pretty painful on the tired feet. The thunder was growing louder and louder around us and the rain had started yet again. After a while I started to think we’d missed the turn. I check the original route and thought we’d run passed a turn on the that route maybe 1-2 km further back. I couldn’t understand it. How?! We didn’t see anything, we were being alert and would have noticed the marked flags and the escape route! We checked the local maps and could see that this path would bend back towards the storm slightly before connecting with another path which would take us towards the aid station we wanted. We made the decision to carry on and trace this route instead.

A few minutes later we found red flags on both the right and left. This was it! In all my confusion we were doing just fine and hadn’t missed the turn. We turned left as instructed. A few other runners passed us. I was still confused though and it didn’t make too much sense in my head but everyone reassured me that it was right. It wasn’t much further before we hit a little village and Natalia dashed off to the aid station. Me and Paul walked the rest of the path and filmed the view of Ohrid further down. It was beautiful and we could almost smell the finish now. It was pissing down, dark and moody, as we arrived into the aid station. Natalia was a little on edge and uncomfortable with the thought of leaving the sanctuary of the aid station and entering the storms for the final 8km. We reassured her and she emerged from the aid station with us to make the final decent to Ohrid. We made a run for it knowing we’d be finished soon. Far, far sooner than we initially thought. With all the diversions and lack of climbing we’d be coming up short on the distance and finishing whilst it was still light, which was a pleasant thought now.

From here we ran a different route back to Ohrid than which we’d climbed the night before. This one took us through the villages and down some grassy tracks towards the lakeside. The whole way I was behind Natalia and Paul. My legs screaming at me as I kept rolling my ankles on the uneven terrain. At one point I heard them both make some noise and saw Paul pull up suddenly. There were some locals re-cementing the road (during a storm!) and Paul had almost ploughed straight into it. They directed us around and cheered us on our way. Shortly after which we then needed to navigate our way through a herd of goats who were off on their own adventure. Further down we reached the main road of Ohrid. It was flooded. We had a short detour to cross the road around a petrol station to join the path to the lake. Paul went off, making a beeline for the finish. Natalia pushed me hard to get passed the last few 100km runners in our sight. She was running so strong.

Moments later we hit the home stretch and crossed the line, hand in hand. It was done. It wasn’t quite the race we’d hoped for, but the outcome was exactly as planned. At the finish line Dejan, the RD, congratulated us and handed us our medals. It was an incredible experience and an adventure we will never forget.

After finishing, two things were immediately clear to me. Firstly, how accommodating the Macedonians were and how well we were looked after by Dejan, his team and all the volunteers. Personally, I felt safe throughout and never had worries. We knew there would be storms. We knew safety measures were always likely to be activated, but it was the manner in how they were done which was impressive. With runners spread-out over so many different parts of the route it must have been a logistical nightmare to manage. But, we were informed, at registration, at the start of the race and during. The course was very well marked (it was our mistake which made us get lost early on) and the volunteers and Park Authorities were helpful and informative. Whilst we were held at Assan Gjura we were told the organisers were out monitoring the situation and confirming when it would be safe to leave. Having mid aid station diversions to avoid the storms was also something that impressed me. I felt so looked after and cared for.

Secondly, Natalia’s mentality impressed me and I’m so proud of her. She made no secret of her concerns and fear of the storms, in particular the lightening strikes. Yet, she ran, she kept going and she made it to the finish line despite her fears. What impresses me is how strong she is. I don’t share such fears so I will never fully understand what it must feel like to be battling yourself at such a instinctive level. I run without fear so can’t comprehend what it must be like to have your mind working against you when you are tired and exhausted. She never gave up despite the many, many opportunities she had to stop during the race, she just kept going. I’m so proud of her and her strength.

Beachy Head Marathon

Published on November 5, 2020 by runwithdai1 Comment

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.

My first time running with Cool Cats and meeting this lot

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.

Seven Sisters, here we go! — Cuckmere River from Exceat

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!