As you can see, the start of the evening is the reports from the secretary collective – I’ll give a general overview, Chris, Fixtures Secretary will report on the championship, Kevin, Membership Secretary will give an update on membership and Brian, Treasurer will present the club accounts.
We will then have the election of officers, the presentations, then something to eat and finally the legendary quiz.
Overall
It was an interesting year for Whaley and for us: we had high temperatures for the Whaley Waltz causing problems, followed by the record rain falls and the dam incident. Several members had to be evacuated, helped out by friends. One member lost her house. A number of members helped out during the incident, either as part of the rescue teams or as volunteers in the feeding stations.
We still managed to get together to run and I know we are all very grateful to be sat here tonight and for the running club to still have a home town!
Committee
I would first of all again like to thank the committee for their commitment and efforts through this year. I’m aware I say this every year and it’s easy to think that this is just part of the proceedings. But I really would like to emphasise what a great bunch of people they are. Without exception everyone pulls their weight in ensuring the club is successful, both in actions and lively debate! Round of applause for the committee.
Tracy – Social Secretary and Eccles Pike Race Manager– thanks to Tracy for organising the important aspects of this meeting tonight – i.e. food, drink and quiz!
Chris Bowen who has done a brilliant job in creating and managing the championship races.
Kevin Day who administers the membership and liaison with the UKA
Brian Holland who manages the finance,
Helen Parry who manages the Kit
Chris Tetley, our comms guru who does a fantastic job in keeping us up to date on races etc., along with Pete Fotheringham who manages The Strider.
Lucas Jones – general committee member and until this year, Whaley Waltz manager.
Mark Rusto,. current Whaley Waltz Manager
Roy Whittle and Jane Adlard.
We do have spaces for club officers and committee members this year which we will sort out when it comes to the election of officers. Even if you don’t sign up, remember you are always welcome to come along to the meetings..
Club Runs
Regular club runs continue to get good numbers as do the Wednesday training sessions – thanks to Mark and those that have continued whilst Mark has not been able to run – I know Mark won’t want a fuss but just to say we’re all looking forward to seeing him back to full strength.
All the away runs were also well attended, thank you to all the away run leaders. We are always pleased to have new volunteers stepping forward to lead an away run. If you are interested we will be asking for leaders next month.
The members races were well attended, the Magic Mile – organised by Kieran and Brian, and won this year by Wilf, Kieran’s son. Terry’s Race organised by Chris Bowen was very muddy and led to interesting variations in time, with a few seconds in between the first 3 places – good job the timekeeping is so precise! Look out for the dates of these in 2020.
Races
Three of the races hosted by GVS achieved an increase in runners this year and an increase in the charity donations. Our thanks go to the race managers. Mary and Lucas and Matilda are handing over the baton this year to Mark and Tracy. Round of applause for the fantastic job they have done over the past few years – it’s a lot of work folks!
Buxworth 5, managed by Kevin Day had 189 runners and raised £895 for The Prostrate Cancer Charity.
Whaley Waltz, managed by Mary, Lucas and Mark had 237 runners and raised £915 for the Thomas Theyer Foundation and £242 for the Carnival Rose Queen Charity. Quite eventful with people suffering from hyperthermia – Louise was called upon yet again to help on route, and I know Helen P was very busy back at base. Louise had a special mention in the FRA magazine for again putting others before herself in a race.
Date change for Whaley Waltz due to dam anniversary celebrations and the movement of the carnival.
Eccles Pike, managed by Matilda Simon and Tracy had 212 runners and raised £850 for Mountain Rescue .
The GVS 10k trail race also managed by Kevin & Rebecca had 153 runners and made £900, with donations to the National Park and the National Park Foundation Charity.
This year Brian and Sue also organised the Dammed if you Don’t race, on the back of the dam incident. This raised £250 each for Buxton Mountain Rescue and the RNLI, and £35 for Taxal Scouts.
Well done everyone involved. Having people sign up quickly as marshals makes a huge difference to the amount of stress. Using Crazy Legs has also been a major factor in stress reduction! Having Helen P on call as medic enabled more profit to be made for the charities, as did Crazy Legs waiving their fee for Eccles Pike.
Communications
Chris has again kept up the great work he does on our website, keeping it up to date, promoting our races and results, and providing a wealth of useful information on our championship and members pages.
Pete has also done a great job with our online newsletter The Strider, Pete himself has written a number of articles in his series “A view from the back” and put up content from Col, Chris T, Chris Bowen, Matt and Mark Whelan. Thanks to all contributors and the usual plea…. Please think about sending Pete a few words from your own experience for inclusion.
Chris has also maintained our Flickr account – which is popular with participants in our races as it is our depository for race photos – again other contributions are welcome.
The closed Facebook page has proved popular. We continue to use the public page to attract new members and promote events We also have the Cluster group which is important for those that do not use Facebook, along with the club emails. We continue with Twitter, and this year, Instagram – although this will take a bit more work.
If you have any thoughts on how we can improve communications please let the committee know.
Team GVS
Team GVS have again been tackling the mud in the Manchester XC, well done James again for getting people organised.
Thanks to Aidan too for his work in getting the FRA Relays team together for this year’s event in the Derwent Valley. It was a great day for running and the teams did themselves proud.
People
Firstly we had some extremely sad news this year as Mick Wren died whilst out running. Mick joined us whilst working on a project for GMPTA and staying in a bed and breakfast on Reservoir Road, travelling home to Hertfordshire at weekends. I was never able to hold a conversation with him while running – but often travelled on the train with him to Manchester when he was always great company, and he quickly became a popular member of the club. He joined the club on away weekends and started to support club members who were taking on challenges like the Bob Graham Round. When his work took him back down South he continued his involvement with the club, travelling to support others and building many close friendships.
He was able to realise his dreams by moving to the Northern Lakes, setting up a bed and breakfast with his wife Rosie, which a number of members visited. His most recent involvement with the club was supporting Col on the first leg of the Bob Graham Round and he was looking forward to running the Lakeland 100 as well as continuing his role as dad and grandad.
To commemorate Mick, we are introducing a new Vet 60 category in the championship and the new Mick Wren Trophy. A small group have also been making plans for a club run in the Lakes this year – more details will be posted soon – but please save the date: Fri 8th – Sun 10th May 2020.
There have been many examples of club members taking on challenges this year. One of the most inspiring is Pete Hardman, on his recovery from a horrible accident. A mixture of determination – and stubbornness – has meant that despite the odds he has been rejoining us on a Saturday morning.
Also inspiring is our Rebecca – who continues to not allow diabetes deter her from entering the big races.
Col, Paul and Amelia, Mark, Linette, Helen, James, team Bullock Smithy, team Four Inns – have impressed us all this year. A special mention to Shaun, who despite some nasty chaffing in a sensitive area on the Four Inns, bravely got on a see saw with his daughter the next day…… and let’s not forget the early arrival of daughter no. 2 whilst travelling to Stepping Hill.
Mr Ambrose held training on Navigation both class room and practical.
Finally a huge thanks to Pete Hill, who has been our Chair. Pete is a founder member of the club and over the years has been a keen racer, organiser of club events, fancy dresser, socialiser, karaoke-er, and a steady presence at the helm at meetings.
We want Pete to stay in contact and we are making him club president this year. Pete, please accept our thanks and this small gift.
Election of officers.
Chair: Lucas Jones Nominated: Seconded Mark Ruston
Secretary: Jane Adlard Nominated: Seconded Tracy Vernon
Social Secretary: Jan Smith Nominated: Seconded Louise Smith
Fixtures Secretary: Chris Bowen Nominated: Seconded Lucas Jones
Treasurer: Brian Holland Nominated: Seconded Chris Tetley
Membership Secretary: Kevin Day Nominated: Seconded Moira Hunt
Communications: Chris Tetley Nominated: Seconded Sue Holland
Kit: Helen Parry Nominated: Seconded: Vickie Heathcote
New committee members: James Hobson, Linette Ruston
Remaining committee members, Mark Ruston, Roy Whittle.
Here are the reports on the Championship, Finances, and Membership which were presented at the AGM. The Secretary’s report will be in a separate post as it is quite long 🙂
Championship Report
by Chris Bowen
Main Championship 2019
I am delighted that the number of members taking part in the Main Championship increased in 2019 compared to recent years. 36 people took part in the Lyme Park Park Run in January and February making an excellent start to the year.
16 people did 8 races or more – your best 8 races count. 18 people did a qualifying set of races – ie one of each terrain (fell, trail and road) and one of each distance (short, medium and long) and earned themselves a T-shirt. All except 2 races has 10 or more members taking part and the two that had fewer were the Kinder Trog which is long and quite hard and Newlands Memorial which is in the Lakes and is also quite hard. The Bullock Smithy (56 miles), however, had 10 people taking part which is fantastic.
We faced some challenges along the way with three races that were due to be in the championship being cancelled due to difficulty of gaining permissions or because of wet parking fields. We found alternatives on the same day or, on one occasion, Sue and Brian organised a replacement event for us.
On a personal note, I would like to thank everyone who took part or helped with registration and results at Fell n’ Back in aid of Buxton Mountain Rescue. They are very grateful for our support.
PRIZE WINNERS 2019
Overall Champion – Nathan Porter
Ladies’ Championship – 1st Ita Kelly, 2nd Helen Gray, 3rd Christine Hill
Mens’ Championship – 1st Nathan Porter, 2nd Aidan Grant, 3rd Lucas Jones
Ladies’ V40 Championship – 1st Julia Carter, 2nd Mary Jones
Mens’ V40 Championship – 1st Aidan Grant, 2nd Lucas Jones , 3rd Wayne Grant
Ladies’ V50 Championship – 1st Christine Hill, 2nd Ita Kelly, 3rd Helen Gray,
Mens’ V50 Championship – 1st Matt Biglin, 2nd John Moore, 3rd Chris Tetley
Summer Fell 2019
This series remained popular with 35 people doing at least one race.
PRIZE WINNERS 2019
Ladies’ Championship – 1st Linette Ruston, 2nd Moira Hunt, 3rd Julia Carter
Mens’ Championship – 1stEddy Webb, 2nd Wayne Grant, 3rd Neil Colquhoun
2020
This year the Main Championship has started very well with 28 members having already done at least one Park Run – this time at Marple. Our first road race the Meltham Tough 10k had 19 GVS running. There are some good races to look forward to in the rest of the year.
If problems arise this year with races being cancelled for any reason we will find alternatives or put on our own events if necessary.
The Summer Fell series will start on 22nd April with Herod Farm, as is traditional!
Treasurer’s Report
by Brian Holland
The accounts are summarised in the attached file. If you have any questions please feel free to contact Brian who will answer them 🙂
Membership for the year is around 130, of which roughly three quarters are affiliated to UK Athletics. The gender mix is roughly 50:50. These figures are broadly similar to last year.
If you ever fancy feeling really sick, do the following in this order:
1. Stay on a sailing boat in Norway in a storm.
2. Drink lots of rum.
3. Listen to tales about running the Bob Graham Round.
My long suffering girlfriend, Alex and I were visiting our friend Kath, who had recently supported someone on the final leg of the Bob Graham Round. She poured us all another rum, and explained the challenge: Running over the mountains of the Lake District, covering 66 miles and nearly the height of Everest in total ascent, all within 24 hours.
“Wow”, I said. “What kind of idiot would do that?”
Kath explained that I was the sort of idiot that might do that.
“No chance!” I protested. “I’m not one of those weird ultrarunners. It sounds awful”.
Alex wasn’t the slightest bit convinced. With a knowing sip of her drink and a sigh, she pointed out that I’d end up doing it one day.
I laughed-out-loud, then swiftly put an end to the nonsense. “Don’t worry” I reassured her. “I will never, ever, ever, ever, ever do a Bob Graham Round – I’m not that daft”.
Leg 1 – Keswick to Threlkeld
–Three is company—
Two years later I was standing there in Keswick with one hand touching the green door of Moot Hall. Some of my support runners were taking photos. What the hell was I doing? I was pretending it was completely normal behaviour. However, the expressions on the faces of some nearby tourists confirmed what I already thought; it wasn’t normal behaviour. Not in the slightest. But this is how you start a Bob Graham Round, and this is where you need to return to finish it.
Strange rituals at Moot Hall (L – R) Col Allott, Mark Whelan, Mick Wren and Ade West-Samuel
I’d given myself a 22hr 30min schedule. A fairly relaxed pace, but with enough extra time to account for any ‘mishaps’. The Bob Graham Round (or BGR) is comprised of 5 legs, and on each of these you need support runners to help out and witness you at each peak. You also need road support at the 4 road crossings: Threlkeld, Dunmail Raise, Wasdale and Honister.
Map of the Bob Graham Round – Probably best not used for navigational purposes.
My team was entirely made up of members of my running club, the Goyt Valley Striders. The majority of them didn’t have any BGR experience, but I was determined to make it a club event. This of course meant throwing a lot of people in at the deep end.
Anyone who says they aren’t nervous before attempting a challenge like this is a massive liar. I’d been planning and training for the BGR for over a year. I’d dragged 20 people to the Lake District to help out, and had intricately planned out the next 24 hours. When the clock struck 6:30pm, I was finally off, and I’d run out of time for worrying.
For leg 1, I had surrounded myself with experience in the form of Mark Whelan, Mick Wren and Ade West-Samuel. Navigation was no worry for me at the start, because this particular mountain range was Mick’s stomping ground. Mick could probably run this leg blindfolded, but we decided against that.
The climb from Keswick to Skiddaw is a beast, but chatting with the chaps the whole way meant I barely noticed. I was also shovelling as much food into my face as possible, including Mr Kipling’s entire back catalogue of cakey treats. Keeping hydrated was equally important, and Mick had an exciting drink called ‘Tailwind’. In summary; Tailwind was pretty rough. Never before had I ever considered rinsing my mouth out with water from a sheep-trough, just to take the taste away. Mick went on to explain it was called Tailwind for two reasons. Nice one Mick.
Everything went smoothly until the final approach to the summit of Skiddaw. Sadly, at this point, my old hip injury decided to make a reappearance. I’d be nursing this little terror for the last 4 weeks, and although it had improved recently, I knew it’d make an unwelcome return at some point. But that was far too early. I wasn’t bothered about the pain so much. But I knew it would ruin my speed. Anyone that’s tried running with dysfunctional hips, knows it’s like driving with the handbrake left on.
Suddenly, I was distracted, because after an hour and a half, Skiddaw was bagged. This left me with only 41 more peaks to go. With that sobering thought, I completely ignored the magnificent views from the summit and immediately darted down the grassy descent.
Summit of Skiddaw – Col and Ade
Descending off Skiddaw, the hip pain vanished, but I wasn’t buying it. I knew on the next ascent up Great Calva I’d be crawling. I quickly improvised a plan where we’d all get to Great Calva on schedule. I’d run the descent quickly, leaving the other guys behind, but grab some extra minutes in the bank. They’d easily catch me on the ascent. As expected, I trudged up Great Calva at a glacial pace. Ade caught me about two-thirds of the way, and Mark and Mick caught me just before the summit. We exchanged a few words and Mark took a photo, but I wasn’t in the mood for dithering. It’s like they say; “a minute spent at each summit is 42 minutes lost on a Bob Graham Round” (no-one actually says that).
Moments later I was alone again, bounding down towards the river. Surely I couldn’t run a whole BGR like this? The downhill pace was unsustainable. It was also completely unsociable! I waded across the river Caldrew wondering what to do. Ade quickly caught me again and we embarked on the marshy slog up the north side of Blencathra. The summit of Blencathra feels like the edge of the world – one of the best spots on the BGR. After Ade had witnessed me at the summit, I took a deep breath and launched myself down the terrifying drop of Halls Fell Ridge. Tackling this section at speed is the fell running equivalent of F1 racing. With perfectly timed steering and braking, you’ll stay on the ideal racing line. Get it wrong and you’ll crash, and it would be messy. As dusk fell, I tried focusing on the tricky descent, but my mind kept drifting into thinking how surreal it was. There were 20 people helping me on this BGR, yet there I was at 10 pm on a Friday night, plummeting down a mountain, very much alone. Before I knew it, I was hitting the roads leading into the village of Threlkeld, and the warm glow of civilisation.
Threlkeld – 10:10 pm
–Out of the frying pan into the fire–
I stumbled towards the van like a drunk. Why did my legs feel like jelly? Why was my head spinning? After all the training and recces, leg 1 should have felt like a warm-up. Instead, I was ruined. I looked amateurish and it was embarrassing. I couldn’t quit after just one leg, so I decided to attempt leg 2. Then I’d quit. After necking some paracetamol, I force-fed myself tomato pasta until I felt sick. I tried to get organised, but by this point my brain had turned to mashed potato and the planned 5 minute stop ended up taking 15 mins.
BGR tip 1 – Plan your road crossings properly. I’d spent a year researching and practising the route, and found the perfect lines between peaks, just to save seconds here or there. That all counts for nothing when you waste 10 minutes at a road crossing. Damn.
Leg 2 – Threlkeld to Dunmail Raise
–A Journey in the Dark–
Running through the mountains at night is a very silly thing to do, but amazingly, I’d managed to convince Lucas Jones, Alistair Fitzgerald, Dave Bowen and Mark Ruston, it was somehow a great idea.
(L – R) Lucas, Alistair, Dave and Rusty ready for Leg 2
Twelve peaks made up the second leg, and like Pokemon, the game was to catch them all. First up, Clough Head was best described as a ‘relentless struggle’. With all the exuberance and speed of a slug on Valium, I inched my way up the steep climb. This gave me a great opportunity to watch my team disappear off ahead. I could tell they were wondering what was wrong. They didn’t have to wonder for long, as I spent the rest of the climb incessantly ranting about my rubbish hips. It was going to be a long night… For everyone.
As we approached Great Dodd, the darkness fell. I was always dreading the night time, mainly because the dark is scary and the monsters might get me. However, a glorious thing lifted my spirits. Behold! The full moon beamed down on us, like a giant Petzl head-torch in the sky. As long as it didn’t cloud over, it would guide us to fairer lands. Within seconds, the clouds rolled in. Very funny. OK then; navigation was going to be a lot more fun. As long as it stayed dry. Before I could even finish that thought, it started to literally rain on my parade. Urggghh! I took off my bag to fetch my waterproof top, except… Where the hell was it?
BGR tip 2 – Bring waterproofs. It occasionally rains in the Lake District. That’s the secret of how the lakes remain topped up. Also, if you forget them, prepare to be laughed at.
Lucas came to the rescue. Unbelievably, he had a spare waterproof top to donate. Gee, thanks!! With visibility down to a few metres, I needed to perform some mad navigation skills. However, when I checked my compass, I instantly knew it was knackered. So maybe I wasn’t an orienteering whizz-kid, but even I knew the red needle thingy was meant to face north. About as useful as an inflatable dartboard… Mmmmm, I needed another miracle. Lucas then amazingly conjured up a spare compass from nowhere. Wow, Great! I was incredibly thankful, but then a bit suspicious. After careful consideration, I decided to use my 3rd wish to grant Lucas freedom from the lamp he’d clearly magically appeared from.
As well as making navigation troublesome; the clag also heavily impacted our downhill speed. With the water droplets hanging in the air, the light from our head torches reflected straight back into our eyes. As we flew down the descents, the rocks and boulders came into view at the last second, making progress sketchy at best.
The peaks between Great Dodd and Hellvelyn all seemed to blend into one, and to be honest, the experience was fairly grim. However, I managed to cheer myself up, by remembering I’d brought a gingerbread man. I took him out of my bag and we had a fabulous time together running down off Helvellyn. But I was getting hungry. After careful consideration, I started eating the head-end first. At the time it was really important to me that the little guy didn’t suffer, like I was. RIP gingerbread man.
Thanks to his periodic threats, Alistair, kept me well hydrated on Leg 2. He also had an interesting home-made drink. It had a distinct ‘briny’ tang with a chemical orange aftertaste. Was this an Irish Sea/Boracca cocktail? I didn’t dare ask. It would either kill me or get me round a BGR. We decided it was worth the risk.
Navigation went surprisingly well until Dollywagon Pike, when we all missed the correct path. Luckily Dave Bowen was still awake. He stopped us dead in our tracks and ordered a 90 degree turn to the left and up the steep slope to the summit. Phew! Thanks, Dave.
This could be literally anywhere on leg 2.
After the next descent, we eventually reached the bottom of Fairfield. Fairfield is a joke – a really bad joke. You’ve nearly reached the end of Leg 2, but instead of heading down to Dunmail Raise, you have to run in the opposite direction, up a 1000ft climb and back down again. Hence, why I’ve officially awarded it ‘Col’s least favourite hill on the BGR’. The climb lasted a lifetime, maybe more. After a couple of ice ages and possibly the rise and fall of several empires, we finally reached the summit. I gave the cairn a kick for good measure. Our reward for this effort was to head back down, retracing our steps, directly west. Except, we didn’t. Not even close. When we found ourselves on steep bouldery terrain, I realised we’d messed up quite badly. Taking evasive action, I skirted across the slope and hunted for the path with my team following me. After a while, I found myself back on the path. Awesome. I turned around to high-five the team, but they weren’t there. This is the moment I could have waited or tried shouting, but that would have been far too sensible. In a moment of sleep-deprived madness, I descended the path to the foot of Fairfield on my own. Then, with a growing feeling of apprehension, I slowly started the climb up Seat Sandal, the last hill on Leg 2.
What the hell have you done? It’s 2:00 am and you’re alone on a mountain in the middle of the Lake District. Engulfed in the thick mist, your eyes strain on the dark void below, searching for a sign of movement, a light, anything… Where are they? They clearly didn’t follow you to the path. They’re either searching for you on the slopes of Fairfield or completely lost themselves. You try whistling as loud as you can. Nothing. You also try shouting. Nothing. You try sheltering behind a rock from the relentless wind and sporadic volleys of rain, but you’re getting colder by the minute. After 10 minutes, the temptation to head down to Dunmail Raise becomes overwhelming. But with no-one to witness you at the summit of Seat Sandal, your BGR would be over. Now is not the time to panic. Suddenly you feel very exposed and very alone. It’s time to accept the reality that you’ve completely screwed up and lost every one. On a Bob Graham Round, that’s a bad thing. A very bad thing.
BGR tip 3 – Don’t lose your support team. This should be really obvious. Unless of course, you plan to sabotage your own BGR attempt. Poor visibility can really help you achieve this.
I have no plan. I just keep pathetically shouting and flashing my head torch. Finally, I hear an answer from the darkness. It’s Rusty. Brilliant! The rest of the cavalry quickly arrive. We don’t talk about recent events, and collectively focus our efforts on getting off the mountain.
Frustratingly, we’re now making a mess of the descent off Seat Sandal. After a few minutes, I see a familiar-looking rock. It’s our sign to turn right. You see kids; that’s what recces are all about – recognising your favourite rock. We hurtle down the path and as we break out of the cloud layer, a view emerges beneath us that can only be described as ‘extraterrestrial’. Below me are UFO’s, projecting beams of light through the eerie mist. My blood goes cold. As the mist clears, it becomes embarrassingly obvious that it’s actually about 10 vans parked at Dunmail Raise. It’s still a weird sight, but sadly not Close Encounters of the Third Kind. To be fair, I am very tired, but I still believe: The truth is out there. 👽
Dunmail Raise – 2:56 am
–An unexpected party–
Chris Bowen has brilliantly positioned her van right next to the stile and I’m quickly sat down. I’m not a happy bunny. I’ve just screwed up the end of leg 2, and I’m still in agony. Forget the 22hr 30min schedule, I’ve now reverted to a 24hr schedule, and I’ve already gone over it! It’s a bad place to be so early into a BGR attempt. Is there any point in carrying on? I doubt I’ll even manage the run to Wasdale, but to keep everyone happy, I’ll give it a go. Amongst the flashes of head torches and noise, I hear offers of more tomato pasta or rice pudding. A memory of force-feeding myself pasta at Threlkeld makes me shudder, so I opt for the rice pudding. Chris apologises that it’s not very warm. Who cares? It tastes magnificent. I love rice pudding. Time to get moving – right after I’ve had some more paracetamol…
Leg 3 – Dunmail Raise to Wasdale
—The Breaking of the Fellowship—
On leg 3 I’m lucky to have Mark Richards, Pete Woodhead, James Hobson and Rusty (again!). The one thing these guys have in common is that I suspect they all have the same bit of their brain missing… Why else would they agree to start a 6-hour mountain run starting at 3 am? Respect!
What wondrous delights does this leg have in store for me? I don’t know, and I would rather not guess. But first on the menu: Steel Fell. Bollocks!
It’s still pitch black, I’m immensely tired and my hips are screaming at me to stop. I turn to the team’s shaman for sage advice. Pete Woodhead is carrying a plethora of pain-relieving potions, many of which cannot be pronounced in the common tongue. I opt for the ‘Elixir of Ibuprofen’. After reciting the incantation (and rubbing the Ibuprofen gel into my hip) it works like a charm. I am born anew.
After Steel Fell summit, we’re picking up the pace through the marshes and abysmal clag. The next 30 minutes goes something like this: “We’ve lost the path!”… “Go left”… “We’ve found the path!”… “We’ve lost it again”… “head right!”… “Where’s the path gone?”… “found it again!”… (repeat). Utterly exhausting. It feels like we’re on a galleon ship adrift in a stormy sea. Luckily for me, Captain Mark Richards is doing a great job of navigating the course to Calf Crag, and calmer seas.
Some pretty impressive twinning – Myself and Pete Woodhead
An alarming shout pierces the air as Pete falls and twists his ankle. After some worrying moments, he insists he can limp on and slowly starts moving. Although I feel desperately sorry for him, I’m bloody delighted it wasn’t me. I wisely decide not to share this revelation with him. He might not appreciate it.
I do not believe this darkness will endure. I’m looking forward to the warmth and spectacle of a glorious sunrise, for dawn is ever the hope of men…. Hang on. It slowly dawns on me that it had actually already dawned on me, it’s just that at the time it didn’t dawn on me (feel free to re-read that). Before me is a wall of impenetrable greyness, where there was once a wall of impenetrable blackness. At least I get to turn off my head torch. Hurray!
Pete Woodhead, Mark Richards and myself imaging what sunrise might look like.
High Raise is probably my least favourite hill on the round. I’m struggling, so on the ascent, Mark Richards offers me his walking poles. Big mistake, Mark! On each subsequent climb, I give Mark a pathetic look and claim them as my own. After each summit, I throw them back to him like a spoilt brat. Terrible behaviour. Sorry, Mark.
After a navigational cock-up on the ascent of Bowfell, we eventually reach Esk Pike and the tricky rocky section from Great End to Scafell Pike. I hear a familiar yelp. That’ll be Pete twisting his ankle again. I’m starting to suspect that Pete is keeping count of the peaks by twisting his ankle between each one. Truely, the method of a sadist.
But that’s one of the challenges of the Bob Graham. Imagine you’ve just done 12 hours of mountain running through the night, with no sleep. Suddenly, on the Scafell Massif, you’re expected to dance around over ankle-breaking rocks like some sort of mountain ballerina. It’s just asking for trouble.
There are no souvenir photo opportunities in the claggy mists of Scafell Pike, so we hit the descent. Since Great End, we’ve been running alongside a fellow BGR team from Keswick, and they lead the way down through the fog.
After a few yards, a faint trod heading to the left quickly emerges from the mist. My spidey senses start tingling. I call out “I think it’s that way” in the most feeble way imaginable, but no-one heard me. The team from Keswick are pulling away and we’re going with them. I’m probably wrong. Forget it.
After a couple of minutes of fast descent, I hear a shout from the front. I look up, and a silhouette of a hill is momentarily revealed in a break in the clouds. It’s Lingmell. For the last 5 minutes, we’ve been heading in completely the wrong direction. Gutted.
BGR tip 4 – Following the runner in front is a classic mistake and can often lead to trouble. Don’t do it! In fact, never follow someone from Keswick.
We stop dead. Everyone looks confused. I should have trusted my instincts a few minutes back. I’m furious with myself. I can hear everyone debating what to do. The guys from Keswick sensibly want to head back uphill to the turn-off we missed. I know I can’t do that. I’m already over my schedule. If we head back uphill, I’ll lose too much time and my BGR will be over.
With no time to think, I more or less demand Rusty’s phone and check the GPS. I can see a possible route from our position directly across to Mickledore. It avoids any climbing, but there’s no path to speak of and it skirts very close to the edge of Pike Crags and a 300ft vertical drop. With no time to discuss or debate this, I’ve made my decision. I leave the path and run into the mist following the GPS. Someone from the Keswick team shouts “What’s your compass bearing?!”. “Not a bloody clue, but you can follow me if you want!” I yell back. To my disbelief, they decide to follow me. My poor team, on the other hand, have no choice…
The idea of pacing myself is now a distant memory. I’m now sprinting through tussocks and leaping over boulders. I take another look at the GPS, but Rusty’s phone has locked. Replacing the OS map is now a screensaver of Rusty’s son Magnus smiling at me. “Dammit Magnus, you can’t help me now!”. I maintain my bearing and after a couple of minutes, I join the path to Mickledore. When in doubt, follow your nose. I wait at Mickledore until Mark Richards gets within shouting range. I explain my plan of sprinting down to the start of Lords Rake because everyone will easily catch me when I struggle on the next climb. Mark gives me the nod. I didn’t know it at the time, but this was the last time I would see Mark Richards. In fact, I wouldn’t see Rusty again either.
I’m clambering up Lords Rake using my arms as much as my legs. I’ve underestimated myself. This is classic Col territory and I suspect I’m pulling further away from my team.
Scampering up Lords Rake, for some reason trying to overtake another BGR team. Mark Richards in the foreground.
At the top, I take the short walk to the summit of Sca Fell. I turn around, gaze into the mist, and start manically chuckling to myself. Yet again, I’m all alone. What an idiot. A quick check of the watch confirms my fear. I’m still over-schedule. I sit down, give up on my Bob Graham attempt, and decide to enjoy the rest.
BGR tip 5 – *See BGR tip 3
My body temperature is dropping fast. It’s no surprise; the wind has picked up and I’m stood on top of the second-highest mountain in England at 9 am. I yell to see if anyone is nearby, but my pathetic shouts are lost and engulfed in the sea of fog, like a rubber duck adrift in the smothering foam of a bubble bath. The rocks of Sca Fell cairn provide no warmth, but I’m hugging them anyway. I need to get moving. After a few chilly minutes, a figure emerges from the grey blanket. It’s James. Bloody brilliant! I stop hugging Sca Fell and dart down to him. Very shortly Pete joins us. How Pete has managed to get this far with his foot, pathetically dangling off the end of his leg, I’ll never know. Pete surely can’t keep up on the descent to Wasdale. I hate to do it, but we leave him behind like a wounded animal. The ravens begin circling overhead. It’s what he would have wanted.
James and I start the plummet to Wasdale. After a couple of minutes we’re beneath the cloud layer and I can see the Keswick team in the far distance. By the time we reach the scree slope, we’ve caught them and they sensibly dive out of the way. We’re clattering down the scree at speeds that could melt your face off. I love scree slopes. They’re relaxing on the legs. Similar to lowering yourself into a lovely warm bath, but filled with rocks. James is now performing an impressive (but probably-not-choreographed) display of acrobatic moves, including a full pirouette – just to remain upright. Skills!
Thanks to a rapid descent, I’ve gone from 5 minutes over, to 5 minutes under a 24-hour schedule. That section took us 28 mins, which was somehow faster than Nicky Spinks on her record-breaking round. A small and pathetic victory for me in the ‘rivalry’ that she doesn’t know about.
Appropriate facial expressions for when you’re waiting for someone who was meant to arrive at Wasdale nearly 2 hours ago. (L – R) Dave Bowen, Chris Bowen, Amelia Hunt, Mark Whelan, a friend I haven’t met yet, and Rik Griffin
Wasdale 9:56 am.
-A wizard is never late, nor is he early, he arrives precisely when he means to-
There’s a strange atmosphere at Wasdale. It feels peaceful and serene, yet you could cut the tension with a knife. My support runners know that the fate of my BGR hangs in the balance, and I can see concern etched on their faces. In contrast, I’m feeling relaxed because I’m under no pressure. Now I’m only interested in finishing, and I don’t care how long it takes.
On road support at Wasdale, I’m incredibly lucky to have Moira Hunt. She asks if I’d like my feet washing. I was warned this would happen. She’s lovingly prepared a tub of warm water for me. I place one foot into the water and… instant regret. I snatch my foot from the boiling cauldron. What happened to the elbow test, Moira? I can only imagine bath-time used to be the stuff of nightmares in the Hunt household. After a dash of cold water is added, it feels like heaven, and Moira is once again my favourite. She’s also the first person to wash my feet for me since the ’80s.
Steve Hennessey is also on road support. Like a guardian angel, he seems to float in from nowhere, and bids me “take a bite of this veggie-sausage bap”. It tastes divine; every last mouthful of it. Bless you, Steve (and sorry for stealing your entire sandwich).
Leg 4 – Wasdale to Honister
–The turn of the tide–
I could stay at Wasdale forever, but my Leg 4 team look impatient. On leg 4 I have Paul & Amelia Hunt and Clare Griffin. Paul keeps looking at his watch. Amelia is pacing back and forth. Clare has assumed a not-very-subtle stationary running position. I get the hint, but Amelia is now shouting at us to get the hell moving. “Fine!” – I obediently and painfully rise from my chair. Now is the hour!
Leaving Wasdale is tough. Last night’s sleep was replaced with 15 hours of mountain running, covering 40 miles and 18,000ft of ascent. I could do with a little sleepy. Instead, I’m greeted with the sight of Yewbarrow and the sobering thought of another 9 hours of mountains. Wasdale is nicknamed ‘the graveyard of the Bob Graham’, and now I know why. But far from being dead and buried, I’ve just set off. I might look like a re-animated corpse, but I’m moving, and I’ll take that as a win.
I finally gain the nerve to look up at Yewbarrow. Crap. I know what I must do. It’s just… I’m afraid to do it. Yewbarrow is actually one of my favourite mountains, but on the BGR? No. It’s my least favourite. The route from the Wasdale carpark to the summit is an insane wall of grass. I’m trying my best, but the hip pain quickly returns. I’m frequently stopping, but each time, Paul stops right behind me and refuses to overtake. He’s not saying anything. Just silently making me feel guilty. I know exactly what you’re doing, Paul. It isn’t going to work…
Paul Hunt beasting me up Yewbarrow!
…It works. Astonishingly, we reach the summit in 43 mins, clawing back 10 mins on the schedule. The realisation then sinks in that these guys are probably going to kill me.
Despite being overshadowed by the more glamorous mountains surrounding it, the next peak, Red Pike, is surprisingly the 4th biggest ascent on the whole round. On the brutal climb, I somehow gain another 6 minutes, but it hurts badly. It’s an experience I’d rather forget, and unquestionably my least favourite hill on the round.
I’d been warned how I’d almost certainly hit a bad patch at some point on the BGR. To be fair, the last 15 hours had felt like a bad patch, but the bag of ready salted crisps I’ve just found in my rucksack is the final straw. Like a bad patch on top of a bad patch. I really feel like having a tantrum, but Paul averts this by calmly explaining that I shouldn’t have put “a boring flavour” of crisps in his car if I didn’t like them. I need to grow up. I also need inspiration.
BGR tip 6 – Get Clare Griffin to support you late into a BGR attempt. As self-appointed morale officer, she will do an amazing job of relentlessly brainwashing you into believing you’re actually doing ace. A word of warning though: she will sing to you…
Clare’s first performance is a bold choice. Apparently it’s a swing-jazz cover version of the nu-metal classic ‘Down with the Sickness’. Unfortunately, it’s impossible to tell which version it is, since Clare forgot to bring a backing band with her. I don’t have the heart to tell her, but she eventually works for out herself that it could be a better choice of song, considering I was “looking a bit pukey”. Still a cracking effort though – a solid 8/10.
Paul, on navigation, is skipping around off in the distance coaxing us on our way like the pied piper of fell running. Although I guess from way over there he can’t hear my moaning (or Clare’s singing). Smart move.
We’re now climbing Pillar and the heavens open. The rain quickly turns into hail. What is this new devilry? Maybe I’m hallucinating, but I can hear Clare and Amelia discussing how Paul looks like a ninja-turtle now he’s pulled his waterproof over his backpack. I look up and chuckle in agreement. Apparently his name is ‘Paulo’, the less-famous fifth ninja turtle. With his special talent of BGR leg 4 navigation, he was never really required on the kid’s TV show. But look at him go now! I’m pleased I’ve given Paulo his navigational task. He is, after all, my hero turtle.
Descending off Pillar
My brain’s gone all fuzzy. I keep forgetting where I am and where I’m going. In fact, why am I doing this? Then I remember that Alex promised that if I completed the BGR (and behaved myself) she would take me to see the Alpaca’s tomorrow at Lingmell Estate on Derwent water. I have to keep moving. At any cost…
I’ve now reached the stage that apparently ultra-runners often find themselves in. It’s called the “I want what you’ve got” stage. Clare’s got chocolate Kendal mint cake. I want it. Clare happily hands it over the delicious minty treat with a smile (but her eyes look sad).
Totally fake smile at the summit of Kirk Fell
The rollercoaster of Leg 4 reaches a crescendo with the double whammy of Kirk Fell, followed by Great Gable. Normally I love Great Gable. But not today. Today it can do one. Today it’s my least favourite hill on the BGR. Let that be known. I’m already struggling with the initial climb. I’m like a wounded animal and quite frankly, need putting out of my misery. My hips have given up. I want to give up. It is in this moment, when all hope had faded, that I receive some unexpected help. Without warning, Amelia pops open a bag of BBQ Hula Hoops with one hand, downs the lot, and appears to gain super-human strength. Very much like Popeye, but with fewer sailor tattoos and a much worse diet. Now, roided-out on magical BBQ flavourings, she’s carrying both my bag and hers. Well, blow me down! I wasn’t expecting that, and I’m certainly not arguing. It feels like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders (which I suppose is no surprise). Feeling as light as a feather, I attack Great Gable with everything I’ve got. It turns out; that’s not much. But at least it’s now less painful for everyone else to witness.
I’m now stood on the summit of Great Gable. By rights, we shouldn’t even be here. At the end of leg 1, I’d written myself off, but kept pointlessly trudging along. I look back to Sca Fell and remember the moment that I completely gave up. The only thing that kept me going was the amazing support from my team, and not wanting to not let them down. Now I’m 20 mins under schedule, and for the very first time, it feels possible. I can now see blue skies. Is my mood controlling the weather?? I can’t wait for the sun, for when the sun shines it will shine out the clearer.
Posing for Clare’s 500th photo in the last 4 hours. More grimacing, this time on Green Gable.
I look north and foolishly convince myself it’s all downhill from here. I skip off the summit looking forward to the gentle slope all the way to Moot Hall. Before I know it I’m at the foot of Green Gable. On the short ascent, I can hear myself whimpering again. Amelia has clearly had enough by this point and invents some elaborate plan about having to run off ahead to get the bag change done in advance at Honister. Smart move.
Trying to follow and keep up with Paul Hunt on the descent to Honister. Blue van visible in the carpark.
Honister – 2:50 pm
–A Short Rest–
Stumbling into the car park, I head towards the van. Alex looks concerned. I’m concerned that Alex looks concerned. Do I look that bad? I need to eat something. I’d pre-ordered a huge range of options for Honister, and Alex has prepared an amazing buffet for me. Fish and chips, coffee, cake, chocolate bars, everything you could wish for. However, I feel sick and nothing looks appetising. I start thinking of a YouTube video where Nicky Spinks leaves Honister and pukes up what she’s just eaten. I’m not sure how that’s going to help me at this stage. For some reason, I just hopelessly sit there. Clearly frustrated by this pathetic spectacle, Amelia suddenly starts spoon-feeding me rice pudding like you might feed a toddler. I guess that’s what I’ve become – a toddler trying to do a Bob Graham Round. Despite being a little scared, I try and salvage what little dignity I’ve got left by triumphantly seizing control of the spoon and independently feed myself like an actual grown-up might. It’s like the old saying goes; you can lead a horse to water, but you’ll have to force-feed it rice pudding. I manage most of the can. I bloody love rice pudding. I’d scheduled a 15 minute stop, but thanks to the advanced bag change we only take 5 minutes. I’m starting the fifth and final leg of the BGR and incredibly, I’m now 30 minutes under schedule. And… another small victory: Unlike Spinks, I’m not puking.
This Bob Graham Round was unofficially sponsored by Ambrosia, BBQ Hula Hoops and Mr Kipling himself.
Leg 5 – Honister to Keswick
–The Return of the King?–
Dale Head is a right bastard. On the Borrowdale Fell Race, I’ve only ever crawled up this hill but vowed that one day I’d run it properly. But it is not this day! Today I’m crawling again. Dale Head isn’t my least favourite hill on the round though – On reflection, that was probably Bowfell.
The good news is the sun is finally out, and my leg 5 team; Paul Oakley, Roy Whittle, and Brian Holland are brimming with confidence. Even Brian looks excited! On this leg, Roy is heroically carrying my bag and water.
BGR tip 7 – Take water in handheld bottles (rather than flasks with tubes). Every time I need a drink on leg 5, I summon Roy, stand uncomfortably close to him, and suck water from the tubes. I look like a hopeless lamb suckling from its mother. Quite embarrassing, really.
The whole team are doing an amazing job of looking after me. At any given moment, all 3 of them seem to be glued to my side.
All that ‘suckling’ seems to have paid off though because now I’m delighted to report I’m peeing quite frequently! For the record, my team do leave my side at these moments (as is customary).
After Dale Head, we skirt round to Hindscarth, and I start to have a ‘colly-wobble’. My hips are completely ruined and it feels like they could implode at any moment. My 30-minute buffer suddenly feels a bit flimsy. It’s now mine to throw away. Why do I lay these troubles on an already troubled mind? Luckily I’ve got Paul Oakley with me. Like an athletic Yoda, he somehow re-orders my words and says them back to me in a way that sounds like everything is absolutely brilliant – How does he do that? I quickly regain my self-confidence. It’s like they say: self-confidence starts with ‘self’ and ends with ‘confidence’…
After a long climb, we eventually reach Robinson. Final count: 42, the last peak on the BGR.
Summit 42. Robinson
It feels like the end, but that’s dangerous thinking. There’s still a quad-busting 1600ft drop into the valley. Following that, I’ve got to follow the roads back to Keswick for ‘only’ 6 miles (or 10km for people that use proper measurements). Better get on with it.
We’re on the descent off Robinson and my sleep-deprived brain has decided the worst route possible is definitely the best option. We’re now clambering down rocky drops and missing all the best routes identified on the recces. I figure the only parts of my body left working are my legs and about 3 brain cells. One’s controlling the right leg, one controlling the left and the final one is trying to navigate. Eventually, we hit the valley floor and pick up the pace on the gentle downhill to Littletown.
I’ve been monosyllabic for hours, but now I’ve reached ‘conversation saturation’, and I’m struggling to even listen to anyone. Brian’s chatting away to me, but I haven’t got a bloody clue what he’s on about. My head is just bobbing away in agreement like one of those nodding dog ornaments that people put in their cars for god knows what reason. I just pray he can keep up this one-way conversation. Otherwise, I’m just left with the voice in my head. And that, quite frankly, is a terrifying thought.
Being pampered at Littletown. (L – R) Alex Sturrock, Roy Whittle, myself and Paul Oakley
We jog into Littletown where Alex is waiting with the van. She hands me the greatest gift I could possibly imagine – a pint of slightly-warm cordial. It’s amazing. Roy swaps my fell running shoes for road shoes. He also becomes the first person to tie my shoe laces for me since the ’80s. I’d normally be embarrassed by this degree of pampering. But right now? Well, it’s my special day, isn’t it? We quickly get back on the road and the novelty of comfortable road shoes lasts approximately 2 minutes.
I check my watch for maybe the 100th time in the last 3 minutes. My brain can’t do the maths, but I reckon I could now walk to Keswick and finish within 24 hours. It’s going to happen! Then, as if by magic, I suddenly see a small herd of Llamas in a nearby field. So, OK, they aren’t alpacas, but they are my second favourite South-American cameloid. I stumble over and take a selfie in celebration with the woolly gang. Leg 5 team look confused.
There’s no place like Llama-land
Yes, the Llamas were brilliant, but all of a sudden the realisation of knowing I could walk to the finish completely saps my determination to keep running. There’s also no point pushing myself since I’m not going to finish with a great time. I’ve only got one reason to tell my legs to shut up and keep running; the faster I do this, the sooner the pain will end. My brain and legs finally reach a trade agreement and I begin a tedious pattern of swapping between jogging and walking. It’s complete torture, but probably worse for my support runners. At least I’m clinging on to my 30-minute buffer. After an eternity of tarmac, we eventually cross the bridge before Keswick. Strangers out for a walk start congratulating me.
Keswick
–One does not simply walk into Keswick–
Like a child rushing downstairs on Christmas morning. (L-R) Roy Whittle, Myself, Clare Griffin and Paul Oakley.
The tiresome jog/walk pattern continues into the outskirts of Keswick. Finally, poking out above the houses, I can see the tower of Moot Hall. I feel numb with disbelief. I shouldn’t be here. In fact, I wouldn’t be here without the support from the Goyt Valley Striders. I’m now almost sprinting towards Moot Hall with renewed energy in my legs. It quickly dawns on me that I’m not stopping now until I’ve hit that green door. I can see Clare Griffin and Dave Bowen ahead of me in the distance. Before I know it, I’m on the home straight and there’s a crowd of people running with me. People are cheering. I look up and see Alex stood at the top of the Moot Hall steps. I sprint the last few yards and fly up the steps. Suddenly I’m holding her in my arms and time stops.
I’ve just spent nearly 24 hours on an amazing adventure in the mountains with my mind bent on trying to get back here. Now I don’t want it to end. Challenges don’t come much more epic than this. It could well be the hardest challenge I’ll ever do. So I decide to savour the moment.
My support team are shouting at me to touch the door. I know I’ve got to touch the green door of Moot Hall to officially finish, but by doing so I’ll put an end to this sweet moment. I take my time.
Alex helping with some Leg 5 navigation
Thanks to all these wonderful people (in order of appearance):
Alex Sturrock, Mark Whelan, Mick Wren, Adrian West-Samuel, Steve Hennessey, Chris Bowen, Dave Bowen, Lucas Jones, Alistair Fitzgerald, Mark Ruston, Pete Woodhead, Mark Richards, James Hobson, Moira Hunt, Paul Hunt, Amelia Hunt, Clare Griffin, Rik Griffin, Roy Whittle, Brian Holland, Paul Oakley.
Mick Wren
Only five weeks after the Bob Graham Round, we heard the tragic news that Mick Wren had passed away. He was on the fells, not far from Skiddaw, out to meet and support another Bob Graham Round team. This was a huge shock, and no-one could quite believe it.
I’d only met Mick twice before organising this BGR attempt, but that was more than enough to know he had to be involved. It was really important to me that Mick was on leg 1. With all his experience, he had a wonderful calming presence. He also never hesitated to crack a joke and have a laugh. This is exactly the sort of person you need around when you’re a bag of nerves.
I feel lucky to have met Mick. I instantly clicked with him on the few mountain runs we did together. I loved listening to his stories of his 100 mile races, namely the Ultra-Tour Du Mont-Blanc and the Lakeland 100. He was clearly a really tough chap. But even that quality was overshadowed by his other attributes. He was cheerful, supportive, and always up for a challenge. A true inspiration and definitely someone to look up to. He will be missed.
In Memory of Mick Wren.
Mick Wren and Mark Whelan at Great Calva on the BGR leg 1 recce.
Friday 14th June 2019 I
arrived in Keswick having travelled up with Steve Hennessey who had
offered to drive. We’d got a couple of hours to kill, so we had a
potter around the many outdoor shops to bag a bargain…there were
none!
We’d parked the car at the back of
Fitz Park and at 6:00pm I found myself changed in to my running gear
and ready to go. At this point I spotted Mick Wren, who along with
Ade and me would be supporting Col on his Leg 1 BGR. For those newer
GVS members who don’t know Mick, he used to live in Tring,
Hertfordshire, but found GVS over 10 years ago when he was bed and
breakfasting in Whaley Bridge, whilst commuting into Manchester for
work. He now lives in The Lakes and offers self-catering
accommodation from his former 17th Century Farmstead at
Caldbeck (check out http://highgreenrigghouse.co.uk/
).
On the way from Fitz Park to the
start I needed to call off at the loo. Mick did too, so off we went
to the public toilets behind the main street. I begrudged paying but
Mick insisted, so I coughed up my 50p. Both of us needed cubicles;
he took the left and I took the right. I won’t go in to too much
detail, but I can honestly say I’ve never heard a noise like it, so
much so that I said to Mick, “if that’s what being vegan does to
you, then I’ll remain a carnivore!” Mick said something about
pulses and then made the comment “there are a few downsides!”
Col has been planning his Bob Graham
for the past year and his preparation had been meticulous. His
target for the round was 22 hrs and he had worked out the timings for
each leg and each section within each leg to achieve this. The leg 1
time was very generous and was based on 24 hrs; the intention to ease
into the day and not get carried away too early. The start time was
6:30pm and along with Ade, Mick and me, there were a number of others
who’d gathered at Moot Hall to wish Col well and cheer him on his
way. At 6:27pm there was no sign of Col and I was getting a little
worried that he wasn’t going to turn up! Fortunately 2 minutes
later he appeared. With a sigh of relief, best wishes exchanged and
a nod to that meticulous planning we set off.
The Bob Graham Round (or the BGR) traverses 42 Lakeland Peaks, amassing 27,000ft of climb and, depending on the choice of route, covers a distance of approximately 74 miles. It was with some surprise that after less than a mile Colin informed us that he had been struggling over the past week with a bad hip and wasn’t sure he could get around. Mick told him that “not getting round was not an option”; the rest of us ignored Col and onwards we went.
Col and Ade out in front on Skiddaw
The round was actually scheduled for the week before, but the inclement weather led to a cancellation. The decision to do that proved a good choice as the forecast for the next 24 hours was perfect, with pleasant temperatures and light winds forecast. The ascent up Skiddaw was steady. Col was out in front with Ade, whilst Mick and I were several metres behind; this was to become the theme for the rest of the leg. Mick had recce’d a trod on the approach to the top of Skiddaw which cut the corner and took a more direct route to the trig; he picked it up without fault. These small deviations don’t actually save much time, but mentally they are very uplifting and provide a boost. As we approached the trig I informed the others that I would record the time as this was my designated role for the leg (Target Time: 1:18 Actual Time 1:22). I then informed them that I would take a photograph. Mick said “good idea”. This was to prove a mistake. I took my pack off and bent down to get my phone out of a pocket. When I stood back up, all three had run off the summit and were already halfway down Blake Hill having crossed the stile heading for Great Calva!
The next 20 minutes was a game of
chase for me. The terrain over Candleaves Bog, as the name suggests,
is a tricky one. It’s like wading through treacle and is strength
sapping at the best of times. I was finding it particular hard going
chasing them, Col was already 250 metres ahead and skipping over the
terrain with ease.
…and on Great Calva
I eventually regained contact with
Mick and then just about caught Ade and Col who had slowed to let us
catch them as they approached the top of Great Calva (Target Time:
0:51 Actual Time 0:52). There was no hanging about and no time for
chit chat. Straight over the fence, across the stones and on the
path that descended into Mungrisdale Common. I was feeling the pace
and within minutes I was off the back with Mick. Col and Ade once
again soon became figures in the distance. We tried to make ground,
but is just wasn’t happening. We reached Blackhazel Beck and
crossed (up to our thighs) ready to make the long climb to the top of
Blencathra. At this point Mick posed the question of whether we
should try to catch Col and Ade or continue at our own pace. It
didn’t take long to decide on the latter! It’s a monotonous
climb, it just keeping going at a gradient that you should be able to
run, but just can’t.
For the next 40 minutes we trudged
along and chatted about all things running and more. Mick
pointed out where his house and cottages were, and how he ventured
out this way on his long runs in preparation for the Lakeland 100
that he was taking part in later the following month. He
recounted a story of a family who had recently stayed in one of his
cottages and had attempted a long walk to Skiddaw House. They
weren’t very well equipped, had no sense of direction and soon got
lost. They called Mick and described where they were, he then
used his local knowledge to talk them off the hill and get them back
on track; all ended well and in Mick’s own words it was “just
part of the service!”
We
chatted about Steve Hennessey’s successful Joss Naylor last year
and his subsequent illness, which he had now thankfully overcome.
Mick went in to the detail of his own medical issues and how he coped
with them on a day to day basis. I won’t go into detail here, but I
cringed, he said “you get used to it!” I talked about how I
would like to do a Lakeland 100, a Joss or a BGR one day. Mick
told me “I should”, I know I won’t!
This
is the thing with running in groups, especially long runs and long
challenges like the Joss or the BGR. It’s a shared experience
and you spend a lot of time together, meaning you get to learn more
about each other. The result is amazing friendships, amazing
experiences and memories that last for ever. If you’ve not
experienced this, you really ought to.
As we approached the Scree below
Blencathra, Mick took a more direct route that contoured below Blue
Screes and onto Atkinson Pike. It’s not one that he’d previously
recced, but he had an inkling, that it might save some time. I
followed him, but couldn’t keep pace. I think the route choice was
good as Mick made ground on Ade and Col and got to the top of
Blencathra soon after them. I was 3 or 4 minutes behind and by the
time I got there Colin had already started his descent off Hall’s
Fell (Target Time: 1:10 Actual Time 1:11).
It was getting late and there was a chilling wind on the top, so I took 5 minutes to put on a windproof and have something to eat (real food, a sausage roll). Both Ade and Mick waited and we set off down Hall’s Fell together. Several weeks earlier I had recce’d this decent with Col and Mick. On that day Col took us a more direct route before deciding it was too dangerous and traversed around Blencathra ridge back onto Hall’s Fell. Mick didn’t fancy that and nor did I so we continued down the scree on what we thought would be the lesser of two evils; how wrong we were! About a third of the way down we split up; Mick fancied a line on the right, and I fancied a line to the left. The next 45 minutes are a bit of a blur, other than falling on my backside a lot, slipping down the scree and blaspheming Col (who by now was probably having a pint in the pub), I’d blocked out most memories. Overall the descent took us both well over an hour and is one we vowed we’d never do again.
The descent was much kinder to us
this time and we maintained a steady pace down Hall’s Fell. As we
reached the bottom in the dark we were met by Steve Hennessey and
then Chris and Dave Bowen who sorted us out with refreshments. It
was about 10:00pm by the time we arrived at the end and Col was long
gone on his Leg 2 journey.
The rest of the day went well for
Col as he managed to complete his BGR within 24hrs. It was around
23½ hrs, so a little down on his target, but with the hip injury,
warm weather, bad visibility on leg 2 & 3 and the challenge
itself, it’s a fantastic achievement as far as I’m concerned.
Well done Col.
The sad news
that followed…
By the time you are reading this you will have heard that Mick Wren sadly passed away whilst out running on the 20th July. This was just 6 weeks after the Bob Graham and came as a complete shock to everyone. I understand he was on his way to support another Bob Graham attempt on Skiddaw when he died, something that makes me feel very emotional given my last 2 runs with Mick were over the same route.
Mick was such a giant when it came
to running. It’s easy to forget some of his achievements, such as
the successful completion of the Ultra-Trail du Mont-Blanc, Lakeland
100, Joss Naylor round and many more. When you step back and think
about these, they are truly amazing.
Those shorts…
I’ll remember Mick for lots of reasons; here are few. The day he turned up for a GVS run in a pair of 3inch green racing shorts that left nothing to the imagination; he took some stick from us all that night, but he just laughed it off and turned up regular thereafter wearing them.
Gandalf
That iconic picture of Mick at the Lakeland 100 where he was using a branch as a make shift walking stick…a dead ringer for Gandalf. Refuelling on the climb up Great Gable with a Peperami before successfully finishing his Joss Naylor round, where he went on the meet the man himself; a great day for Mick.
Of course the main memories will be
those long days out running and the shared experiences we’ve had.
I’m reading the book – The Americas: by Levison Wood at the moment
and read this extract the other night.
“You can be in hell, but as
long as you’re with someone you trust and you enjoy their company,
then it’s bearable, and sometimes even fun. Likewise, you can be in
the most beautiful place on earth, but if you don’t have anyone to
share it with, then it loses its magic. Luckily, I was here in this
extraordinary place with a good companion”.
That just about sums up the
experiences I had with Mick. Some magical moments and great memories
Wincle Fete cropped up in conversation, late one Friday night last year. Specifically, it was the Wincle Fete sausage catching competition, which seemed pretty exciting. We were 2 bottles in by then but hey!
Sausages launched, sausages caught. Knock-out progression. To be clear, it’s only for dogs, not for humans.
Also, from the story there was even a whiff of jury nobbling, so possibly, a Mafiosi or Singapore syndicate connection. (Note from GVS fictional legal team: there is absolutely no evidence for this)
Also, in the evening there was a band, in a tent, and a late bar. A bit of research later and we had a bed and breakfast all booked.
Oh, yes. Also when we looked it up there is the Trout Run, which sounded fun. And you get a trout.
I found out later, just about everyone in the club has done this run before (not everyone and his dog, obviously, because they were doing the Sausage Catching)
A competitor in the main event
Lets just hope the dog competitions weren’t during the run; clashing with the main Schnauzer on Schnitzel event. They wouldnt do that, surely.
I saw Roy Whittle before the start, but apart from Ita, I think that was it for GVS representation. This year’s run started near the trout farm (!!). It was straight up the road, up some fields, then up and immediately down a knobbly hill, the runners looking like some wheezy conga as the 300 squeezed through the first stile into the woods 10 minutes in. I believe the middle part of the course remains the same each year, though the start rotates from different farmers’ fields (checks website for statistics). It’s about 7k long with 900ft of climbing.
The author leads the way
Are you sure it goes this way?
Ropes? Not me, I’m a plane…
The GVS contingent
Zigzag down from the woods to the river; deep enough to make it advisory to hang onto the rope on crossing. The route soon dropped into the tight rock chasm where I felt the air temp drop for a minute or so as I passed through.
Back up the hill and at the top it was somewhere around Hanging Rock, about a mile from the village finish, that I realised that I had acquired a small rock down the end of my shoe. Presumably picked up in the river. I tried to shift it around, but where the path went downhill it just jammed the rock painfully into my big toe feeling like a jabbing pin. I’ve heard it said, sort out your shoe quickly, or it’ll just cause you problems later, which is wise advice but no-one wants to stop in a race if they can help it. I’d just about decided to stop and deal with it when I heard crowds applauding and shouts through some trees. I decided to tough it out to the end and managed a sort of brisk hobbly hop.
The route spilled out into the road along the finishing bridge, where I could see the fete arena and the ring where apparently athletic dogs were taking turns to jump in the air for some kind of pork based projectile, in the finals of the competition.
Hitting the finish, grateful for the opportunity I finally sat down, shoe off and emptied the half brick from my shoe.
The trouts were collected afterwards from a stall, vacuum packed. I baked mine and it was delicious.
Running has taken a bit of a back seat over the last month or so, due to the move to Whaley Bridge. Writing about running, or anything else, has been even further back. But now we’re in the new house, most of the boxes have been unpacked, and I’ve run out of excuses.
Tuesday night’s social run was the traditional pre-race recce of the Whaley Waltz route, so that marshals and participants have some idea of where they will be going on Saturday. With everyone running in a single group, the faster runners have lots of opportunities for looping back, and for planning the optimum line, while those nearer the back have plenty of opportunities to watch and wonder.
I’ve never done the Waltz, and I seem to have missed out on the recce in previous years, so it was all new to me. Well, except for the bit through the park to Macc Road, and across the fields past the Bowen’s residence to Taxal Church of course, which often features in club runs in one direction or the other. I don’t often do the stretch up the fields to Taxal Moor Road, because it’s much more fun going down, but I appreciated the discussion about whether their correct name is ‘Rectory Fields’ (because the house at the bottom is the old Rectory) or ‘Bastard Fields’ (for a reason which completly escapes me). After that there’s the slog up past Terry’s Tree to Taxal Edge, then along the edge and down and up through the woods to Windgather, and that’s the hard bit done.
A refreshing way to end a Tuesday run
After that, the rest of the run is joyful, fast downhill, finishing with the river crossing in the park – optional on the recce, but obligatory in the race. I decided to keep my powder – and my shoes and shorts, and several other people’s car keys – dry for the race on Saturday. The route is just over 6 miles, lots of the uphill is quite runnable, and the downhill is fantastic. There are still a few places available for Saturday’s race if you haven’t got your entry in yet. Or if you’re feeling lazy, then Lucas can always use a few more marshals. Full details on the GVS website. Thanks to Mary for organising the recce.
See that lump between the posts? That’s where we’re going!
Wednesday was the Hope Wakes Fell Race, which is in this year’s GVS Summer Fell Series for which I want to do at least the five races necessary to qualify, so that meant a second night running of 6-plus miles and quite a bit of up. How hard could that be? 🙂 Wednesday was a beautiful day in Whaley, but the drive to Hope was into cloudier and chillier weather. Lots of people and cars milling around at Hope Sports Club, and I arrived to see the end of one of the junior races. There was a good turnout of Striders – surely not only because the race is a counter for the Summer Fell Series 🙂
Not many people running up Hope Brink
The race route skirts clockwise around Win Hill to the Ladybower side, before heading straight up to the summit and steeply down back to Hope. The ‘skirting’ involves a rising traverse of Hope Brink, which may well be runnable, though from my customary position in the field I didn’t see anybody doing anything other than walking. After reaching the ridge, there’s some downhill – quite muddy and rocky, so no flying down here for the likes of me. Then the route undulates as it parallels the banks of Ladybower reservoir. More mud but fewer rocks, so it doesn’t hurt when you trip and narrowly avoid a full face plant. Then it’s a seemingly very long ascent – directly up, out of the woods, to the summit of Win Hill. It gets steeper as you get nearer the top, and the last few feet involve hands as well as feet. Sadly the views from the top weren’t very impressive as the summit was very definitely in the cloud.
A smiley, friendly marshal
Stunning views…
…mostly
Finally, nothing but downhill. Steep enough that you have to concentrate, but not so steep that you can’t enjoy the effects of gravity. Nearer the bottom, the group of runners in front of me, who I thought had left me way behind, came into view and I was able to close the gap as we descended the fields and the road under the railway, back towards the finish. Sadly, it levelled out before I could actually pass anyone, but the runner just in front of me was close enough as we got towards the sports club that I thought I might catch him, so I tried to find what passes for my sprint finish. Unfortunately it wasn’t quite enough and he finished a little way in front of me, but at least I was suitably knackered and out of breath when I crossed the line.
Several Striders had stayed behind to see me finish and cheer me over the line , and there was plenty of flapjack and squash left at the refreshment tent, so the evening ended on a high note. To cap it all, as I drove home over Rushup Edge, there was a fantastic sunset. It would have made a lovely picture, but I was driving, and the battery on my camera had run out, so you’ll have to take my word for it.
So, this week I learned that if I run 10k / 6 miles, with over 1,000 feet of ascent, on two consecutive days, on the third day I will be quite tired, it will hurt when I try to move, and I definitely won’t feel like joining Helen and friends on a 10 mile walk around Gradbach and the Roaches. On the plus side, I will have the opportunity to sit in the sun, and catch up on my writing.
Now I’m looking forward to the Whaley Waltz, and the rest of the Whaley Bridge Carnival on Saturday tomorrow. I hope I’ll see you there.
Herod Farm is the first race in this year’s GVS Summer Fell series. No-one I’ve spoken to seems to like the race, and just about everyone refers to it as “Horrid Farm”. This is probably because, whereas most shortish fell races go up a hill, along a bit then down the hill again, Herod Farm does that twice. Up the same hill. So I’m not exactly bursting with the thrill of anticipation as I make my way to registration at the Reliance Garage on Turnlee Road in Glossop, on a pleasant Wednesday evening. It’s lucky the weather is warm and dry, as Race HQ is in the open air, and there isn’t a pub within sensible walking distance.
I think the start is somewhere around here
I bump into a few Striders, though I thought there would be a few more: maybe the others are saving themselves for the races that only go up a hill once.
I’m quite relaxed because I’ve been pretty organised (for me). Not only have I completed the registration form in advance, and brought my own safety pins for my race number, I’ve also done a recce. Actually, I’ve done two, but the first one was a minor disaster involving getting a bit lost and a bit cold, and beating a hasty retreat back to the car. The second was OK though – a pleasant morning walk with Helen, taken at a relaxed pace, in very pleasant weather – and I’m quite happy that I know what’s coming and where I’m going. I even have a plan!
I’ve mentioned before that I have a running mantra which goes: “You’re doing this to enjoy yourself, no need to rush, it’s not a race!”. This works quite well for me, even when it actually is a race. I’m not that interested in racing, I know I’m not going to win, and there’s no-one I’m desperate to beat, so I can focus on running purely for the joy of it. So my plan, for pretty much every run I do is:
Remember you’re here to enjoy yourself
Don’t go off too fast
Run when you can, if it doesn’t hurt too much
Walk when you need to
Walk even when you don’t need to, if you know there are some tough bits coming
This doesn’t mean I don’t push myself: there’s a lot of enjoyment to be had from getting out of my comfort zone, and from pushing myself and running hard when I can. And there’s enjoyment from the improvement that happens when I do push myself.
One view from the back…
Anyway, point 5 pretty much covers the first part of the route, the track up to Herod Farm, and point 4 takes me me up to the crest of the hill – the end of the first trip up Whiteley Nab. Then it’s a fun lollop across the moor towards Monks Road, before turning at Herod Edge Farm – Thank you marshal! – where the serious downhill to Simmondley begins. (Lollop is a good word: there are a number of different definitions: please choose whichever definition best suits the mental picture you may or may not have in your head just now.)
…and another
The good thing – one of the good things – about being at or near the back of a race, is that the field is quite spread out – actually I’m not sure I can see any other runners at all just now – and you can go at whatever pace takes your fancy without having to dodge or show consideration for other runners. So now I can fly (slight exaggeration perhaps) downhill through heather and across fields until I reach the path before the houses at Simmondley – Hello and thank you another marshal!
More lolloping, some crossing of muddy streams, past Whiteley Nab Farm, and then I’m outside the Pennine Care Home, where some serious point 5 kicks in again, up a track past some posh-looking houses. When I reach the field, there’s a very long bit of point 4: real runners might be able to run the first bit, but I’d pay good money to see anyone actually run the last couple of hundred yards to the top of the Nab. Even walking, I’ve pushed myself quite hard by the time I get to the top, so a quick sip of water, some incoherent words to a marshal, and it’s back to pleasant running around the top of the Nab, before the lovely long downhill across fields and – carefully this time, let’s not have a fall here – through heather, down to the track and let gravity take me to the finish.
I’ve finished, and it wasn’t actually that horrid, but mostly because there was lots of points 4 and 5, so the race as a whole for me was a mixture of a fairly pleasant run, and a good, stiff walk. Which is OK, but I’d prefer something where I can actually run a bit more and walk a bit less. Something like the Rainow 5 maybe, which happens to be in a couple of weeks 🙂
These llamas are not at Herod Farm, they’re somewhere else entirely…
…but I didn’t take enough pictures at Herod Farm
Thirteen Striders made the long trip to Glossop, with James Rees first GVS gent, in 28:43, and Linette Ruston first GVS lady in 38:48. Thanks to Glossopdale Harriers for organising the race. See you next year.
Sometimes being wrong is OK – misreading a map, ignorance, and not doing a recce can sometimes be blessings in disguise. But more of that later…
The Whitehall Wiggle is my first real race in this year’s club championship: Lyme Parkrun and the Pavilion Gardens 5k are timed runs rather than races (and being a road event, the latter has no place in any civilised club championship 🙂 At least it’s the only one I have to do this year). It’s the first time this year that my running mantra – “You’re doing this to enjoy yourself, no need to rush, it’s not a race!” – doesn’t quite work. Still, it’s only a mantra – I don’t think there’s any legal requirement for running mantras to be strictly correct, so we’ll let it go.
An athlete prepares…
There’s a good turnout of Striders, and fifty-odd other runners, milling about in the centre, pinning on numbers, chatting about race tactics and split times, and eyeing up the impressive display of cakes waiting to be consumed after the race. As the clock nears 11:00, we head away from the cakes, outside for the start. The race starts at the back of the Whitehall Centre, runs along Old Road for a while until it heads off-road for an anti-clockwise lap of Ladder Hill, taking in the track of Long Lane and a bit more of Old Road, then a lovely long down hill into Combs village, before heading back up to the finish at Whitehall (and the cakes).
Not long till the cakes…
Soon after the start, I’m in my customary position, getting on first name terms with the tail runner – hello Nigel – and plodding along happily. There’s a friendly Strider face in sight though, and Melanie Watts and I swap places a few times, with me slightly faster on the downhills, but Mel faster on the flat and the uphills. The running is grand on the tour of Ladder Hill, with not too much walking on the uphills. And the downhill into Combs is great, except for the big dark cloud on the horizon (a metaphorical one, the actual weather is lovely).
A view from the back, of Ladder Hill
As most Striders will know, looking across to Combs and Chapel from Ladder Hill, the view is dominated by the sight of Combs Edge, looming intimidatingly from Castle Naze all the way round to somewhere above the Whitehall Centre. I didn’t do a recce for the Wiggle, because I know the area quite well, from running, and from staying with friends who lived just down the road from Whitehall when we moved up from London many years ago. I did spend some time studying the route map though, working out where the race went as it lapped Ladder Hill, and noting the long descent into Combs. I didn’t look too closely at the rest of the route – obviously it’s going to be uphill, because we’ve got to get back to Whitehall, but I don’t want to know the details. I’ll probably be walking, and with luck the marshals won’t have given up and gone home by the time I get there. Mostly though, I didn’t want to think about it because – for no good reason that I can think of looking back on it – I’ve convinced myself that the route must go up onto Combs Edge, and that does look like a horribly long climb, and I hope all the cake won’t have gone by the time I finish.
So as I’m flying (poetic licence) down the road into Combs, I’m trying – and failing – to stop myself looking over at the Alpine Himalayan-scale climb to Combs Edge, thinking (and swearing to myself) about how hard and unpleasant it’s going to be, wondering how long it’s going to take to get all the way up there, and whether there will be any cakes left if I do.
I’m not looking forward to going up there…
Luckily, I don’t have to
Imagine my surprise and delight when a friendly marshal (is there any other kind?) smilingly directs me up a track that leads away from Combs Edge, and climbs at a pleasantly runnable – even for me – gradient, through a couple of farms to a flattish stretch, and possibly even some downhill, before the final steep – not runnable – pull up the hill back to the centre. It’s a long enough uphill for Mel to overtake me again, and build a lead too big for me to pull back on the last short downhill to the finish (and the cakes), but nowhere near as tough as the climb to Combs Edge would have been. Sometimes being wrong is OK…
The cakes were worth the effort too, especially that flapjack which contained just enough oats to hold the huge amounts of syrup and sugar into a vaguely solid cuboid: my best sugar buzz of the year so far!
There were some great performances by the participating Striders, with Nathan Porter in 11th place, beating Aidan Grant in 12th by just 2 seconds. That would have been fun to watch, but I was a little too far back to have a good view. Special mentions for Rebecca Sullivan – 1st Lady Of A Certain Age – and Mike Hudson – 1st Gent Significantly Older Than The Ladies Of A Certain Age. I hope they both enjoyed the bottles of wine they won (although as Mike had to leave before prize giving and Helen Parry offered to take Mike’s bottle for him, he may not have seen it). Due to an oversight, there was again no prize for 1st Gent With A Coronary Stent And A Couple Of Screws In His Leg, so I went away happy, but empty-handed (apart from another piece of that flapjack).
Thanks to the Thomas Theyer Foundation and the Whitehall Centre for putting on a great race. Thanks too to all the volunteers and marshals who made the event run so smoothly. And special thanks to whoever made that flapjack. Whether or not the race is in next year’s championship (I’m sure it will be), I’d recommend everyone to turn up. If you don’t fancy running, I’m sure they’d welcome some help marshalling. Or just turn up to support and cheer the runners on. Did I mention that the cakes are very good? See you there next year.
Late in 2018 an idea was formed to have a run for 40 miles or so, to celebrate Sarah’s 40th Birthday. And so the idea became a reality.
The Four Inns is a 40 mile race organised by Derbyshire Scouts and has been running each year since 1957. The route starts at Holmbridge and takes in the high moors of the Dark Peak, passing Black Hill, Crowden, Bleaklow, Kinder, Edale, Rushup, Chapel, Stakeside and Buxton.
So who were Team 5? Chris Bowen was the team leader, with myself, Shaun Hall and Matt Walker; our team name was the Extra Stooges. In Sarah Fanthorpe-Smith’s team were Roy Whittle, James Hobson and Neilio Colquhoun; team name was Mrs P and the Stooges. Arriving at the start venue on the Friday evening we were soon erecting our tents in the field next to the church hall. As it was fairly mild, we decided that camping might be the best option. We thought it would be quieter than on the floor of the hall. Once our tents were up we booked ourselves in and collected our tally cards for the next day. As we had opted for an early start we were allocated our breakfast time slot which was at 4:15am. At this point were were beginning to question the merits of the early start, but it was OK – an early night and good night’s sleep and we would be fine. So, tent up and what to do next? Oh yes, pub! There was a quite nice one over the road which brews its own beer. We were really good and only had one drink so we could get to bed in good time and so have an early start.
Soon after getting into bed we sort of realised that the night might not go according to plan … “ding dong” ! At this point the penny dropped as to why there might be only a few tents outside. The church hall was next to the church, which had a clock tower. Yes, every 15 minutes it chimed, and no, it didnt stop at 12, or any other hour, it chimed every 15 mins all night long. Fantastic! I can do a 40 mile race with no sleep – honest!
Early morning breakfast approx 4:30am
At 4am my alarm goes off, time to get up. Well I was awake already! So, get dressed and into the hall for breakfast. People were by now beginning to get ready and the breakfast room was busy. Suitably nourished, it was off to the kit checking tables at 5am. There was a big sigh of relief that the man was happy with our kit, then off to pull our tents down. Once all packed away it was back into the hall to wait for the start, which for us was 6:04am. Sarah and her team (No. 4) set off two minutes before us, but as agreed we soon caught each other up and as it was just about daylight, timing was perfect to make the most of the light.
Out of Holmbridge is a longish slog up a fairly steep hill, so it was worth saving our energy at this point. However, it soon flattened out and we began to make good progress. The weather was fine but quite cold as we climbed, but higher up to we noticed the clag was beginning to get thicker. Once we had handed in our tally at the Isle of Skye checkpoint it was off once again, this time along the Pennine Way up to Black Hill Trig. The route so far was fairly easy going as much of it was paved with the usual slabs. These continued along the Pennine way past Black Hill but we weren’t going that way, instead a glance to the left revealed the boggy path we were going to take. The path from here is, shall we say, at best, intermittent! We were dodging the worst of the boggy sections as we passed over Tooleyshaw Moss. I think we spent nearly as much time going sideways as forwards. After a while things began to improve and the path became more defined and progress improved. From Tooleyshaw Moor we dropped down and then up White Low. The path here is very wet and crosses over some small groughs. It was while crossing these that Shaun won the prize for sinking into the deepest bog, basically up to the top of his thigh. However only one leg bizarrely: he soon managed to extricate himself and, luckily, didn’t lose a shoe. Apparently it was a close thing! So after a bit of amusement we pressed on heading towards the second checkpoint at Hey Edge. There is an unused trig pillar here but not much else. We handed in our tally cards and headed off again. At this point Sarah and her team, as expected, had got a minute or two ahead of us – no surprises though as they are all faster runners than we are.
Team 5 Beginning the descent down to Crowden
As we descended steeply down towards Crowden, we were greeted by the friendly face of Pete Ambrose. He was supposed to be a member of Sarah’s team but sadly had to pull out due to injury. It’s really nice to see friendly faces along the route and it’s always nice to have the support of fellow club members on these events. Soon the third checkpoint at Crowden was reached. Here was an opportunity to fill our water bottles and take in some of the food that was on offer. After a short while we were under way again. The weather by now was beginning to warm up nicely and the sun was coming out. The next section is along the valley bottom, then across the road and on to Torside Dam. Over the dam and up to the fourth checkpoint. Here it was a case of hand in our tallies and have a slice of Jam Roly-Poly to give us a burst of energy to get us up the long climb up to Bleaklow. This is a hard climb, rocky in places, but as we have now re-joined the Pennine Way the path is well defined. We did make a slight error veering off slightly, but soon corrected this though and we weren’t making life easy for ourselves. Onwards and upwards, the path soon begins to level out, but as it’s along an edge with a fairly steep drop to the left I was taking things easy. Chris, Matt and Shaun were making better time along here but soon I caught up. We then had a choice of routes: either go over the moors of Bleaklow, or go off to the left and follow the Pennine Way. A team passed us and went over the top. We decided to follow the Pennine Way, the logic being that the path would be easier going than the boggy and rougher terrain over the top of Bleaklow. As we passed Bleaklow Head we began to follow a grough on the way down. This became easier going and we started to run faster on this stretch as we approach the Doctor’s Gate Path turn off. Appearing on the right was the team who passed us earlier on, so they hadn’t gained much by going the shorter route. At the end of Doctor’s Gate, we reached checkpoint number five. Here there was more food and water to replace what’s needed. Meat and veggie hot dogs available but for some reason I decided not to have one which was probably a mistake. Pete had joined us again and informed us that Sarah’s team was by now about 40 minutes ahead of us. We knew they were going to gain more ground over us. Next was a short section of road down to the Snake Inn and the sixth checkpoint.
On leaving the Snake we headed over the road and begin the climb up Kinder. When we did a reccy, we realised there was an easier way up: determined to find it we kept climbing and missed it again. So, best get on hands and knees again and drag ourselves up to the top by the Seal Stones. Once up there we saw the better path again below, too late now! The weather was now beginning to get quite warm, even on the top of Kinder, in fact probably too warm for yours truly who was still well wrapped from the cold morning. I think around this time I was beginning to get way too warm, but continued on and over the short crossing before descending steeply into Grindsbrook Clough. Passing the Nags Head, Edale checkpoint seven was soon upon us, so tally card handed in, and water and food obtained – a cheese butty for me. After a bit of a pause, we were off again towards Barber Booth and the next ascent, that of Chapel Gate Path. By now, here in Edale, it was really hot and I was beginning to suffer. Chris, Shaun and Matt were doing better than me in the heat. At the top of Chapel Gate I had to adjust my layers as I was beginning to overheat and this was making my progress very slow. Yes I was going through a bad patch. It happens, but you know when you are part of a team you will not get left behind. Pete was with us again at the end of Chapel Gate as was Shaun’s family. After a few hellos we were soon heading down towards Chapel again. Helen Parry was waiting for us on the track here along the way.
Heading Downhill towards Chapel-en-le Frith
As we ran down the road, Nathan & Charlotte passed us in the car, though they caught us walking a bit as they drove past. Not long and we were entering the township of Chapel. After a quick hello from Lesley and Mike Hudson, we were soon at the eighth checkpoint in Chapel. Tally handed in and food eaten, a cup of tea for me, and a longer pause while Shaun said hello to his family. Sarah’s team were by now just over an hour ahead of us. The organisers put the times on boards as each team passes through. Off again along the track to Combs. It was now a gorgeous afternoon and people were sat outside the Beehive pub – I remember thinking how a pint would go down well at that point, but we had a few more miles still to do. The climb up to the White Hall centre was no easy feat this far into the challenge. Passing a few others we made it to the centre which is the penultimate checkpoint. Here the rice pudding went down a treat. It was busy with people coming in and out. Having got here, we were beginning to feel that perhaps we were now nearer to the end of the challenge, but we had one more punishing climb to do. After descending down to Errwood, we had Stakeside next – a long drag when you have already done 30-plus hilly miles. Slow, but once at the top a bit of a trot on to the final checkpoint at the Cat ‘n’ Fiddle. Final tally handed in, and it was seemingly a quicker in and out, as we headed down to Derbyshire Bridge before the final and much shorter hill over the top towards Burbage. Final visit from Helen and Pete, complete with cow bells, as we descended Macclesfield Old Road. From the lights at Burbage, it was up Green Lane to the community school, and we were finished.
Always good to see a friendly face…with cowbells!
At the end we were greeted by Sarah with cake and prosecco, not sure my stomach was happy about that, but it was really nice to see some of the members of Team 4 again. Total time for us was 13 hrs and 11 minutes. My original plan was just about 12 something or other. We were a bit outside that but were not necessarily in a rush to break any records. I had my bad patch but picked up towards the end and Shaun too had to keep stopping due to chafing issues – I’m not saying where! It’s now a few days after, would I do it again? Probably, but I might do it differently by picking better lines over the moors and better nutrition along the way. Team 5 finished 27th .Sarah’s Team were 22nd (out of 79 finishers) – Job done!
It’s the second Tuesday of the month, around 7pm, the clocks have gone forward, so it must be time for an away run. Twenty-odd Striders are hanging around in the car park of the Robin Hood in Rainow, wondering whether to put on that extra layer, because there is a bit of a nip in that wind.
Yoga Paul might have something to say about this
On the dot of 7:15, we set off. A bit of downhill to start with, through the village, and down the fields to the brook below Kerridge Hill. The haul uphill to the ridge was steep enough to walk wth a clear conscience, unless you are going to be challenging for the club championships, in which case it was an opportunity for hill sprints. The ridge itself was very runnable, up to the trig point for the obligatory nearly-yoga photo, then some lovely downhill back to the Macc road at Kerridge End.
Are we there yet Mum?
The next 3k of fairly gentle uphill on minor roads, tracks and paths across fields, afforded some great views of a fantastic sunset, which was much more impressive that it looks in the pictures. At the high point near Windyway House, the light was beginning to go, and views of lights going on in Macc, over the Cheshire Plain, and north to Manchester and beyond.
The sunset was more impressive than this…… but you had to be there!
Headtorches on, as we dropped down over fields, across the Cat and Fiddle road, and into the valley of the young River Dane. Another walk uphill in the dark, an impromptu extra lap of a field for the championship contenders, and back onto the Macc road and a final gentle jog to the pub. All twenty or so starters made it back, which is good for the club’s mortality statistics, and most made it into the bar for beverages – alcoholic and otherwise – and cheesy, salty snacks.
The spectators were impressed!
All in all, a grand run: not a lot of road, not a lot of walking, some great, fast fields, and plenty of gates and stiles for catching up, getting your breath back, chatting about the wind and the views. Thanks Sal for organising and leading. If you’ve not tried a GVS away run, look out for the next one, probably on Tuesday May 14th, at a venue to be decided. Or if you fancy leading an away way run, please contact Sal. See you there!
