Written by Richard Lendon - http://richrunnings.blogspot.fr
The Spine 2015 - Race Report Part 1
Not entirely sure where to start this one. Does it start in December 2011 when I first heard about this mad new event called The Spine? Or last November when I finally decided to enter this year’s event? Or on the start line itself?
After a dismal DNF in last year’s event, I swore that I would never take part in the full Spine again. However, coming into November, I was in great shape, feeling really strong and the Spine was calling me again. A few emails later, and helped by some subtle persuasive tactics by Damian Hall, I was in again. This would be my 4th start and it absolutely had to be my 2nd finish; failure was not an option.
In the 8 weeks leading up to The Spine, I trained harder than I ever have previously, spending as much time as possible in the hills (primarily the Peak District). For the first time I recce’d parts of the course – Marsden through to Hawes, and Dufton to Bellingham. I averaged 75 miles/week with around 2300m of ascent. I was fit and uninjured. I was feeling incredibly positive and in just the right place mentally. I had no excuses.
Jenny and I arrived in Edale on Friday afternoon in time to dump our stuff at the B&B before heading off to the briefing. It was great to see so many old friends again. The Spine really is an extended family. I felt relaxed and amongst friends but there were many anxious looking faces nervously glancing around.
After the obligatory kit check, it was off for dinner at The Ramblers with Damian and Gary (Morrison). With his unrivalled 3/3 Spine finishes, Gary had decided to enter the Challenger this year. Pavel joined us but wasn’t eating until he got back to the youth hostel. He was on his third beer; perhaps he knows something we don’t!
Following a reasonable night’s sleep and a hearty breakfast, we headed for the start line, only to find out that the start had been delayed for 2 hours until 11.30. The wind had been picking up through the night and was by now as strong as I had ever encountered in Edale. Goodness knows what the tops would be like.
This was my first mental test. I didn’t stress. I didn’t dwell upon all the new variables associated with starting 2 hours later. I didn’t hang around and discuss the delay to death. Jenny & I went back to the B&B and watched TV for 2 hours – I have never watched an entire cookery show before!
Back to the start for a second time, the wind had eased slightly. Standing on the start-line I considered the task ahead but tried to only think of today’s section to Hebden Hey. Considering the whole is too mind-bogglingly massive. One step at a time, one section at a time.
I had a plan and this year I was going to stick to it:
- Move quicker than previously but….
- Ensure enough rest and better sleep
- Keep myself adequately fueled at all times
- Layer up and down more efficiently
Section 1: Edale to Hebden Hey CP1- “Leading the way”
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| All set..... |
First important task was to negotiate my traditional sprint start without pulling a hamstring or falling flat on my face. Hitting the road, I had a sizeable lead. Now I just had to hang on for the last 267.5 miles!
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| And they're off..... |
Pavel and Eugeni surged ahead and promptly took a wrong turning up to where the race briefing had been held. Damian & I led up to the official start point of the Pennine Way. Heading towards Jacobs Ladder, Pavel, Eugeni & Eoin Keith were 100m ahead of Damian and myself. I didn’t feel that I was going too fast but there was no one else within 400m. The wind was howling down Jacobs Ladder and once on top, the wind was savage; stronger than I have ever experienced on Kinder.
Approaching Kinder Downfall, we were met by an amazing spectacle. Kinder Downfall was in fact Kinder Upfall – the wind was blowing the water back up again. Simply a staggering sight.
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| Kinder Upfall |
We were now running straight into the wind which made progress really tough. Damian took great pleasure in announcing that a certain part of his anatomy was cold. I declined to offer assistance.
Approaching Snake Pass Damian & I had lost sight of the leading 3 runners. Turning around we saw them a couple of minutes back. They had got confused in all the excitement at Kinder Downfall and headed off in the wrong direction. Damian & I gloriously led the Spine race over Snake Pass.
This then set the scene for the next few hours, with the 5 of us essentially running together. As I have now become used to, I was losing time on the downs but gaining it back on the ups. Up and over Bleaklow, then down to Torside. The wind still ferocious, Damian’s bits still cold.
I enjoyed running with Eugeni carrying on our own version of Spanglish from last year! Just before Waseenden Head, Eugeni had a nasty fall, badly hurting his knee. He was to carry on manfully but was forced to retire at Hawes with a ligamental injury.
Damian had ceased to mention his icy extremity. I assumed it had either warmed up or fallen off!
At Wassenden Head, there was the welcome sight of Jenny with cup of tea and doughnut in hand. Heading down towards the reservoirs it was time to don headtorches as the 5 of us headed into the night.
Coming along Standedge, the other 4 led by Damian missed the turning and started to head towards Oldham on the imaginatively named Oldham Way. I called them back and suggested that Damian should get himself a decent guidebook!
Approaching White House Pub, I was aware of playing ‘keep up’ with the other 4 runners and decided to back off a bit. The Spine can’t be won on the first day, but it can certainly be lost. Jenny was here and it would be the last time I would see her until Kirk Yetholm, so I took 10 minutes to refuel and have a love.
I made good time to CP1 at Hebden Hey, meeting Pavel coming up the road from the CP, then Damian and Eugeni just leaving the CP.
It had taken me 11 hours from Edale – my previous best was 12.5 hours, but I felt really strong. However, I was feeling a bit sleepy and made a tactical decision to have a quick sleep. Unfortunately, the CP was really noisy and I forgot that I had packed some earplugs – 2 hours lying down translated into only 45 minutes sleep.
Section 2: Hebden Hey CP1- Hawes CP2 “Solitude, Reunion, Fear”
The next 26 miles to Gargrave was possibly the lowest section of the race for me. I didn’t see another competitor at all. I invariably train on my own and love the solitude of the open hills but for whatever reason I found this section really tough mentally. I didn’t want to be here and I didn’t need to be here – I began plotting my escape route along with some solid excuses. Jenny texted me to let me know that my parents were coming up to Gargrave and/or Malham to see me – even better a lift home!
I called Jenny:
R: I’m fed up and I’m not having any fun
J: You are going to finish, aren’t you?
R: I’ll do my best
J: No, you ARE going to finish, aren’t you? Because I’m not picking you up until next Friday in Kirk Yetholm!
R: Yes, I’m going to finish
Sunrise made life seem a little rosier but I really wasn’t having much fun. Approaching Gargrave, I was looking forward to a couple of pastries from the Co-op, but decided to pop into the Dalesman café and see if anyone was there. By some incredible chance, who was there but Gary, just preparing to leave.
Crossing the road to the Co-op I was nearly run over by some doddery pensioners who then had the nerve to hoot me! Hi Mum & Dad! Mum gave me some pocket money for my lunch and I then got told off for spending it all!
Leaving Gargrave with Gary, I was fueled up, my enthusiasm was back and I was on my way again. Even some heavy rain on the way to Malham failed to dampen my spirits.
Entering Malham, Gary & I made our annual pilgrimage to the Malham cake shop, where my parents had taken up residence. In a departure from previous years, I declined the carrot cake and had a plate of chips, followed by a Bakewell slice. And very good it was too. Simon Beasley then joined us – a fellow cake aficionado. Mum was trying to force feed me, with moral support from my Dad. It was great to see them, and they seemed to enjoy the Spine experience!
Gary, Simon & I headed out with full bellies. Stopping briefly at Malham Tarn CP1.5 we learnt that we were being diverted down to Horton just short of Pen-y-Ghent due to severe wind conditions.
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| It's raining and I don't care! |
We made short shrift of Fountain Fell. Doing this in the light during a recce made it far easier to visualize the route even in the dark. We were soon on our way down towards Horton. Fortunately I knew the detour well, having often ascended in that direction from Horton. We were fed well at Pen-y-Ghent café with beef stew and dumplings. I discovered HP sauce – the Spiner’s condiment of choice. It was also good to see Mark Caldwell, this year guesting on the Mountain Safety Team.
Now it was the long 15 mile drag to Hawes. This section always seems to last forever during the Spine but is surprisingly easy on a recce in the light. With what was essentially a tailwind we made good time. With the temperature beginning to drop noticeable, we turned northwards towards Hawes and were immediately met by a savage crosswind.
I’ve spent many long days in the hills of Great Britain but I have never encountered wind like this. Poles had to planted into the hill for each step. Often we had to face into the hill with both poles planted whilst a particularly ferocious gust passed. One mile must have taken the best part of an hour. There was no conversation; it was each man for himself. I was as scared as I’ve ever been on the hills, and probably the first time that I have felt genuinely scared during the Spine.
Eventually we descended sufficiently to be out of the worst of the wind. We had missed a right turn and had come down too low; hardly surprising as survival had been the priority. We navigated our way back on track and eventually down to Hawes and CP2 arriving at 03:30. We heard that many were being held at Malham Tarn due to the wind, and that those at Hawes were being held until 08:00.
Simon and I had already decided to continue together as we seemed to be travelling at the same speed and have the same view on cake stops and adequate rest. We decided to try and get 3-4 hours sleep and leave by 10:00.
I’ve always considered Hawes as a critical point in the Spine. The event really starts here. Reach Hawes in decent shape and you’re really in the mix.
The few hours rest at Hebden Hey had definitely made a difference in keeping the sleep demons at bay through this long section.
Section 3: Hawes CP2 - Middleton CP3 “Consolidation”
Having remembered my earplugs this time, I had a solid few hours sleep and woke feeling relatively refreshed.
We left on schedule in about 12th place. I had reached Hebden Hey in 5th place and had not been overtaken by anyone on course – I had ‘lost’ places either in checkpoints or cake shops. I was running my own race, and not wanting to short change myself on sleep or fuel. See food, eat it.
I have to admit that I very nearly left my headtorch at Hawes. Fortunately a last minute visit to the powder room gave me a chance to mentally run through all my kit, and remember that I’d left my headtorch charging.
Coming out of Hawes, the road was completely flooded. Fortunately a friendly local had told us to divert round the sports field which avoided an early morning swim. As we climbed Great Shunner Fell we were again met by exceptionally strong winds making progress tricky at times. Running through Thwaite, we were met by a couple of friendly support team faces. Apparently we were the only people that they’d seen smiling. We were just enjoying the journey.
After a couple of navigational embarrassments requiring some off-piste work, we were soon passing Keld and on our way to the haven that is Tan Hill. The stretch up to the pub always seems to take longer than expected; perhaps it is the promise of a hearty meal and warmth that awaits.
We reached Tan Hill in the last remnants of daylight. Not one to miss a chance, I ordered soup, chips, a bacon butty, and the obligatory hot chocolate. I am sad to report that I couldn’t manage it all and half the chips were donated to worthy causes. I spotted a delicious looking chocolate slice as we were about to leave and added it to my emergency rucksack supplies.
Feeling energized, we left Tan Hill and made good time across the dreaded bogs which weren’t actually that bad this year. Chatting away and in good spirits we were soon passing under the A66 and on our way to Middleton. This section requires careful navigation to avoid unnecessary grief and I’m happy to relate that we were pretty much spot on. We spent a few moments with headtorches off gazing at the stars on a cloudless night – with minimal light pollution the night sky was spectacular.
We passed one of my major psychological landmarks, the green-doored barn where I’d been forced to pull out in Spine v1 2012, and pushed on to Middleton, arriving at the checkpoint at 01:00. We were happy with our day’s progress, having pushed fairly hard without any major issues and kept ourselves fuelled well.
After a very therapeutic hot shower, we were well fed (as we were throughout the race). My Mum texted me to say well done and that they could go to sleep know that I was in. I replied back that I was 49 and they didn’t need to wait up for me.
Again the leaders had been held due to weather. Apparently the area leading to and around Cauldron Snout was extremely icy, and a detour was being recce’d and marked. Our plan was to have around 4 hours sleep and leave between 8-9am. There was no rush, and mental rest is just as important as physical rest. I think it’s important to have mental debrief and relax on arrival at checkpoints before attempting sleep, and similarly take a little time re-order one’s thoughts before leaving again.
Never neglect a few creature comforts during the Spine – a few minutes spent relaxing can save hours later.
Section 4: Middleton CP3 – Alston CP4 “Smashing it, Search & Rescue”
Again, we left the CP pretty much on schedule. This section, especially up and over Cross Fell, demands respect and I was suitably apprehensive especially given the wind conditions so far. The route had been detoured to avoid the ice around Cauldron Snout.
We made good time up the valley and had our first encounter with ‘Carlisle Man’ aka Paul Wilson. After a navigational detour through a sheep dip, we successfully found our way onto the detour.
As we climbed the road up to Cow Green Reservoir, the wind was increasing and the temperature decreasing rapidly. I definitely needed to layer up at the top and tried to find some shelter behind a rock. Fortunately we spotted a camper van which turned out to be inhabited by one of the MST teams. Happy days! Taking refuge from the cold, we could layer up in luxury conditions whilst being treated to Dundee cake. After some friendly banter with Mark Caldwell and others we were off again, spirits refreshed.
Brief moments in the Spine make a world of difference. The 10 minutes spent in the van stopped us getting cold and bolstered Simon’s and my spirit and energy. Reinvigorated we made great time towards High Cup Nick and on to Dufton. There was snow on the ground and the sun was out; it was a truly memorable Spine afternoon.
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| Happy days! |
As we dropped down towards Dufton the skies suddenly darkened and we were engulfed in a blizzard. No sooner had we considered head torches than the snow stopped and the sun came out again. A really bizarre microclimate and we got down to Dufton in the last remnants of daylight.
Due to incoming weather, John Bamber & Paul Shorrock had been forced to move their noodle bar from Greg’s Hut to Dufton Village Hall. We were treated to some very super noodles and various other goodies all with silver service of course. The piece de resistance was a fine glass of wine which had a peculiar aftertaste (and taste in general!) After some consideration on the pallet we were able to determine that it was coke mixed with hot water. A definite taste experience.
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| Check out the waitress! |
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| Can I recommend a bottle of the '69 Chateau....... |
The 40 minutes in Dufton was well spent as we left on our journey over Cross Fell in good spirits and ready to tackle what is probably the most testing part of the Spine.
We climbed steadily re-overtaking Paul Wilson who had paused only briefly in Dufton. Onto the plateau, snow was obscuring the path making navigation less straightforward. The temperature had dropped quite rapidly but the wind was really quite benign for Cross Fell. We layered up at the foot of Great Dun Fell.
We made great time over to Cross Fell and were soon descending towards Greg’s Hut. We briefly popped in to pay our respects. Both our water supplies had frozen – this was despite my tubing being insulted. Ellie and Matt of Summit Fever Media were a couple of kilometres down the trail armed with chocolate and some water. After a quick interview mainly relating to the Ribblesdale Land Rover, we were off again. We were in great spirits, chatting away. We had absolutely smashed this stage and had made tremendous time from Dufton. We were expecting to be to the checkpoint by around 01:00 which would enable us to leave at daybreak again.
The best laid plans of mice and men often go awry…..
My phone rang. It was probably my Mum asking me how I was so I ignored it – it was too cold to take gloves off to answer it. However, something told me to just check – it had been Stu Westfield. I rang back. Apparently a fellow competitor had lost their glasses, strayed off trail just beyond Greg’s Hut and was now in their bivvy. Stu asked Simon and I to go back up trail, pick up Paul Wilson who was a couple of kilometres further up. The three of us were to locate and guide the runner back onto the trail, and then escort down.
After 5 seconds of doom and gloom, I went into leadership/medical mode. I told Simon the happy news and we started back up towards Cross Fell. Reconvening with Matt and Ellie, they were able to drive us up trail a little in the Ribblesdale Land Rover where we met Paul. The three of us headed up on foot and located the runner about 400m off trail. On assessment, physical condition seemed OK and we quickly made our way back on to the Pennine Way and back down to Matt and Ellie and the Ribblesdale Land Rover.
I called Stu who informed me that as the runner had initiated an emergency call, he/she was out of the race and that Matt & Ellie would drive him/her down. There was a further discussion between Stu, then Scott and the runner. I told Paul to continue down as he was obviously getting cold. Simon and I waited with the Land Rover for 30 minutes whilst the situation was resolved.
Whilst, we had absolutely no hesitation in going to help a fellow competitor, as we assumed others would for us, this 30 minutes was frustrating as we felt obliged to wait but were now getting tired and cold ourselves.
Eventually we were on our way. It felt like an eternity before we got back to where we had been. We trudged down to Garrigill, both beginning to feel very tired. Eating regularly but with no water, we re-overtook Paul who was looking very tired. We then met the South Korean runner, Sukhee Park, who was going very slowly.
After what now seemed a very long day, we reached the checkpoint at 03:30. Instead of feeling great and in good spirits, we were both very tired, very cold and somewhat downcast. Initially, I wasn’t in the mood for conversation but there is only so long one can ignore Nici Griffin for! Abuse was soon flowing.
Food made the situation much better and banter was quickly restored. We were informed that the whole race was being halted due to Storm Rachel and forecast winds up to 110mph on the tops – no one would be leaving in the morning. Many of the runners behind us had been diverted around High Cup Nick, Dufton and Cross Fell.
With the promise of some decent sleep, I clambered into my sleeping bag at just after 05:00
The next day was one of the most memorable ever in the Spine and we didn’t even go outside!
To be continued….
The Spine 2015 - Race Report Part 2
Section 4a: Alston Checkpoint - "Eating mainly"
With the promise of some decent sleep, I clambered into my sleeping bag at just after 05:00 and proceeded to wake up at 07:30. I’ve never been a heavy sleeper but that was ridiculous. I decided to get up assuming that I’d soon crash and be able to have a nap. First stop was breakfast followed by chatting to……well, basically everybody! It seemed as though Simon, Paul & I were being seen as heroes due to our ‘search & rescue’ the previous night. I didn’t, and still don’t, see it that way; we were simply helping a fellow competitor as I hope others would do for me. Do unto others as they would do unto you; that is the spirit of ultrarunning.
It soon became clear that we wouldn’t be going anywhere that day. Although it was still relatively calm outside, Storm Rachel was incoming and everyone’s safety was the first priority. This was soon officially confirmed; at the earliest, the race would re-start at 06:00 the following morning.
Logistically this was going to be a nightmare – mainly for the support team. There were around 40 runners at Alston, 1 at Greenhead, and 7-8 at Bellingham. There was just about enough space for everyone at Alston but feeding us was going to be tough. Lunch & dinner were to be served at a fixed time. At this point I’d like to thank all the support team at Alston for making our stay as comfortable as possible. In particular, Leila and Laura in the kitchen worked wonders and just about managed to remain cheerful and calm under the onslaught of 40 endlessly hungry Spiners.
I mainly sat around and chatted. It was great to have a chance to get to know so fellow runners, many of whom I wouldn’t have had a chance to meet otherwise. It was good to put faces to Facebook names, although it never ceases to surprise me how many people seem to know my name.
When I wasn’t chatting, I was eating. At one stage I got involved in a doughnut eating competition with Allan Rumbles, Colin Fitzjohn and a couple of others. I was way out of my depth and DNF’ed. Need to put in some serious training.
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| Just a wafer-thin doughnut... |
I was still waiting to crash and burn but felt surprising awake and alert all day. Allan & Colin found a Scalectrix set and managed to get it working.
Other blogs have mentioned that people were getting stir crazy but this wasn’t my experience. Most seemed fairly relaxed about the situation which was completely out of our control anyway. Personally, I was taking the day as a chance to recover, more mentally than physically. A chance to relax the mind after 4 days tough going. It was all part of the journey and yet another unique experience during the Spine.
I took the chance to catch up on emails and was happy to discover that I’d got a place in the UTMB. I decided not to relate the happy news back home – “Hi darling, I’m just away for the week doing the Spine making you worry every waking moment of the day…..oh and I got a place in the UTMB!” Maybe not……
Eventually I ran out of steam and went to bed at 21:30 – so much for having an afternoon nap. The whole day had been truly memorable; real Spine camaraderie.
Section 5: Alston to Bellingham - "On our way again"
I woke at 05:15 and had a panic that we were starting at six. Missing the start of something is one of my perpetual bad dreams but fortunately the re-start was confirmed at 7.
I was quietly apprehensive about the upcoming 20 miles to Greenhead. This was the section during which my 2013 race had very nearly come to an abrupt finish. Also, having recce’d it a few weeks earlier had confirmed it as one of my least favorite parts of the Pennine Way – a 20 mile flattish bog trog. I fortified myself a quiet prayer for strength.
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| Looking serious |
We were soon on our way, a ‘mass start’ for the 40 of us at Alston. Simon and I were keen to continue running our own race but it soon became apparent that the rest had benefitted all. The pace was more akin to the opening day and it was strange to be this far into The Spine and still be a group of 15 or so. Annoyingly, I allowed myself to become aggravated by this – the Spine was meant to be about relative solitude not group running!
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| The train to Greenhead |
Apart from face-planting in a bog, the section passed fairly uneventfully. Funnily enough whilst my face was planted in the aforementioned bog, my phone accidentally managed to call my Mum. She rang back and told me that she hadn’t been able to hear what I was saying (good think as it was probably “damn, shit, bollocks……”) but that I’d sounded like I was in a bog. Funny that……
Simon was finding it tough to get going again and at one stage told me to go ahead. As we approached Greenhead, the pack had finally broken up and a few of us approached the CP together.
I decided to stop at the café next door. See food, eat it. As I stood making my way through a hefty slab of cake, Simon popped in and we sat and watched nearly everyone go straight past as we feasted on cake and sandwiches. It was here we decided on a new Spine rule for 2016 – “There will be a 2 hour time penalty for anyone deliberately passing a cake shop without stopping to eat”. I don’t eat cake much so on The Spine I’m going to make the most of it!
Reunited, and refueled, Simon and I left Greenhead and made our way towards Hadrians Wall. We were soon joined by Paul Orton and Johnny Watson, with whom we were to spend the rest of the section.
Making up for the previous 20 miles of drudgery, the 10 miles along the wall are beautiful and steeped in history. It is hard not to be inspired and think of the history as one passes along the ancient remains of forts.
The weather so far had been overcast but otherwise fairly benign given the onslaught of the previous few days. However, it was obvious that rain was coming as dark clouds chased us along the wall.
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| Heads down as it starts to rain |
Dropping off the wall, the heavens opened and we were hit with squally, driving rain which we could see driving up the valley. Spirits and bodies were soon dampened and cold, and we took shelter as we entered Kielder Forest to add layers.
The next 11 miles to Bellingham were thoroughly miserable. The impenetrable bogs through the forests are not much fun at the best of times but in this weather they were infinitely worse. The 4 of us tried to keep spirits up, but my spirits weren’t amenable to being raised. “Are we all having fun?” No, I was not.
I really started to question my reasoning for being out on a cold, wet night in January. Where was the fun in that? I called Jenny for a natter and as usual she gave me motivation.
At once stage we had to ford a stream. After a few minutes searching for a shallow part we gave up and were up over our knees. I was nearly pushed over by the force of the water. This was a day that just kept on giving! On my recce a few weeks earlier, I had crossed this raging torrent without getting even my feet wet.
Eventually, we came towards the Bellingham checkpoint. At least there would be comfortable beds here. Except that, on arrival, we discovered that the previous years comfortable beds had been exchanged for floor space in a communal hall. Any port in a storm!
After changing into dry clothes, we wandered across for food. I still wasn’t feeling very happy but I was soon cheered after hugs from Ali, Amanda and Anna. Having eaten whatever anyone put in front of me, it was time for bed – well time for floor anyway. I found myself a spot under a table which seemed to be relatively quiet and away from the traffic of incoming runners. It was 22:30 and Simon & I were planning to be away by 03:00. I went to sleep knowing there was just 1 section to go. It was there for the taking.
Section 6: Bellingham to Kirk Yetholm – "The perfect finish"
After a reasonable sleep, we were up and raring to go. After a light breakfast of porridge (2 bowls), toast (2 slices), rice pudding (1 tin) and a muffin to go, we were back out into the dark. The rain and stopped and we ascertained that conditions were set fair for the day with no further rain expected until after midnight, and we expected to be long finished by then.
It’s a long, slow, boggy march to Byrness from Bellingham, made even worse in the dark, but we put our heads down and slogged out the miles. The section alongside the forest before Byrness was particularly unpleasant; a boggy grind uphill, then a particularly marshy section to meet the forestry track. Some choice language was exchanged. However, once on the forestry track we made excellent time towards Byrness. We overtook Allan Rumbles, Colin Fitzjohn and Colin Searle all looking very tired having gone straight through Bellingham with no sleep.
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| A beautiful dawn |
At Byrness we stopped at the checkpoint at Forest View Guesthouse and were treated to delicious home made soup, bangers and mash. A second breakfast given that it was just after 09:00! Great service from Colin & Joyce, all completely from the goodness of their hearts.
Soon we were off, steeling ourselves for the climb up into the Cheviots and the final haul across the Cheviots to Kirk Yetholm and the finish. The sun was out, there was only a light breeze and ground conditions were good; it really couldn’t have been any better.
Gradually crossing the imaginatively named hills - Ravens Knowe, Ogre Hill, Brownhart Law – we made great time to the first mountain rescue point. At various times we met Paul Orton, Ian Bowles and Paul Wilson. Simon and I stopped at the hut for a few moments – Simon to pay homage to his overnight accommodation of the previous year and me to eat a peanut butter and jam sandwich.
As we got higher there were some icy patches. We donned spikes for a while but soon decided to pack them away. Well Simon did; one of mine had fallen off so I didn’t have much choice.
On we marched, re-catching the 2 Pauls and Ian. Just before Windy Gyle, Paul Orton moved ahead slightly, cut a corner and proceeded to go southwards down ‘The Street”. I tried to alert him but to no avail as he was out of earshot. I hoped he would realize his mistake before arriving back in Byrness.
At one stage, the remaining 4 of us briefly missed a turning but soon realized, avoiding major mishaps. In groups, in general, either everyone navigates which take longer, or no one navigates which potentially takes even longer!
Simon and I pushed on ahead with me leading. I realized my legs were feeling great and I had loads in the tank. I wanted that finish line badly. On the last big climb before diverting away from The Cheviot, I asked Simon if I was going to hard. He replied that he was “bordering on anaerobic”. Good!
As we made our down towards the second mountain refuge hut, in the last of the day’s light, we marveled over the day. The weather had been virtually perfect. The Cheviots in January could not have treated us any better. It had been another Spine day to remember.
We were feeling great and had no plans to stop at the huts. Poking our heads inside the hut, we were greeted by Tom Jones and a couple of medics. Tom asked me if I wanted a brew or something hot to eat.
“No thanks, Tom. I just want to see my Jenny”
I did, however, ceremonially eat the slice of chocolate biscuit cake that I had carried since Tan Hill. And it was good.
Head torches on, we powered up and over The Schill with minimal fuss. It was all downhill from here.
The remaining few miles seemed to take an age. We chatted about the adventure we’d shared for the last few days. We’d had very few down moments and had helped each other through those. The companionship had been invaluable.
Passing Burnhead farm we were having a ball. We thought it would be a good idea to run around in circles or charge 200m off track just to entertain the tracker watchers.
The final stretch of road was very icy and we both had spectacular falls. I had visions of crawling across the line with fracture femur.
As we entered Kirk Yetholm, I saw Jenny who was shouting encouragement. Simon started a comedy sprint finish. We must have looked crazy as we sprinted across the green after 267.9 miles, but we didn’t care. We touched the wall of the Border Hotel, and it was over. We had finished.
There was no sense of relief, no sense of great emotional release. No tears. Just tremendous happiness.
Jenny and I had a prolonged hug, and I then proceeded to hug anyone nearby. Scott presented us with our medals – the second finishers medal for us both.
After a few moments outside with Jenny and doing photos, I went into pub. I heard someone say “Here he is” and there was a big cheer as I entered the warmth. I love the Spine family. Someone topped up my free half for finishing into a pint. It tasted great.
After soaking up the atmosphere for a bit, I was dispatched to our room for a bath. I took my beer with me!
Fish and chips have never tasted better. Even better was my bonus portion of sticky toffee pudding and ice cream. Needs must! It was great to see several others finish through the evening, each getting a winner’s reception.
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And that was the Spine 2015. Another unique race; another great race. I can honestly say that, with the exception of a couple of short spells, I thoroughly enjoyed this year’s race. I was physically and mentally strong
Thanks again to Jenny who goes beyond the call of duty in supporting me in all my escapades. I think she spent most of the week glued to the trackers, concerned for my well being.
Thanks to all concerned with The Spine 2015, there are far too many to mention. Thanks to everyone whose path I crossed; you all helped in your own way.
The Spine is a unique race. It takes you on a rollercoaster of a ride; your physical and mental well-being are stretched in every imaginable direction. One moment you feel as if you can’t take another step; you don’t want to take another step. You question your reasoning, your sanity. The next you may be filled with energy, feeling as though nothing can stop you. You look around, breath in the fresh air and realize you are incredibly lucky to have such experiences. I find some of these moments truly spiritual. It is one big adventure and that is why I keep coming back
Paul Orton summed it up perfectly in his blog.
“For the last two days of the race, I could not imagine doing this race again. In fact I was slightly bemused by the people who had come back 2, 3 and 4 times. Now, a few weeks later, I know that come January 2016 I will feel a great sense of missing-out, if I am not on the start line. The Spine Race is a great adventure. The organisers, racers and volunteers form a community that is unique to this type of event.”
The Spine has a large gravity field; once you are pulled in, it’s hard to escape!
Written by Andy Cole - http://www.ajc-runninglate.blogspot.co.uk
As I was driving home from Italy I thought a bit about how I could record my experience in the Tor des Geants race last week. It took over five days to complete and there was a danger of both writer and reader losing the will to continue long before the end, so I decided to deal with different aspects of the affair in separate posts; this one is all about the journey and its emotions; if you're interested in the technical stuff of how I think I made it work for me then you'll have to wait for part two!
It's an event that not many Brits have entered; maybe four or five over the first two runnings, and there were now seven of us in this, the third year of the race. George, Anthony and Julie were the class acts while Richard, Alison, Jacky (a French guy resident in Nant Peris) and I had maybe lesser ambitions (although the others all had plenty of UTMB's, PTL's, and GRP's between them, so I was in pretty competent company). We met up at the briefing on Saturday evening and then again all found each other at the start line in Courmayeur's church square at 10am on a beautiful sunny Sunday morning.
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| At the start |
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| Alison, George, Anthony, Julie |
The atmosphere felt very relaxed in comparison with the UTMB races, no stirring music or long speeches, just a short final briefing which I didn't hear, then as we chatted away to each other we heard the ten second count-down begin and the six hundred plus field was off.
It's quite difficult to understand just how long and steep the course is, but the statistics say 330km and 24,000m of positive height change. The bare numbers don't mean much of course, but think of say three consecutive Bob Graham rounds, or of travelling from Manchester to London taking in three Everests on the way. You have 150 hours to complete the course. It starts and finishes in Courmayeur and is divided into seven sections, each one ending at a "life base" where you are re-united with your drop bag and can get some sleep if you wish, have a shower, get a meal and so on before tackling the next stage. They tend to be quite noisy places so unless you're pretty well out on your feet, sleeping is not easy. Alternative places to sleep are out on the trail (if it's warm enough!) or in the many mountain refuges you pass through, though sleep time in these is limited to two hours so you don't "block" a space required by a later runner.
Stage 1 Courmayeur to Valgrisenche 49km 3996m D+
I didn't see any real running at the start, just a bit of desultory jogging down the hill and over the river, but then I was by design right at the back of the field. We then settled straight away into the first climb from Courmayeur at 1244m to the Col d'Arp at 2571m. Speed was governed by crowding on the narrow track at first but it soon thinned out so that everyone could find his chosen pace after maybe half an hour. The narrowness of the track is another feature of the course, which follows the footpaths Alta Via ("high road") 2 from Courmayeur to Donnas, then Alta Via 1 back to Courmayeur, the whole thing describing a big circle around the Aosta valley. These are used but not well used tracks so unless you are on a rare bit of jeep track or road, the track is around two feet wide pretty well all the way. The first climb followed the track through the woods then up across the alp. It was a warm day and I took it very easily, reaching the top feeling comfortable then jogging most of the way down the other side over grassy hillside then jeep track and narrow road down to La Thuille at 1458m. The first hill done, I guess we all felt we were now starting to get into the event - we had just been up and down Ben Nevis.
The next climb went up a rocky track through the woods then over the mountainside to the Deffeyes hut. As we went up we were passed by scores of people coming down, up to the hut for a day's walk I guess, who were enthusiastically supporting all the runners with cries of "Bravo", "Bravissimo" and "Complimenti". Almost everyone we met around the course did the same. I was slightly embarassed by all the attention at this point less than half way through the first day, but I think by the time we had done a few days we felt we were starting to earn it. Leaving the hut I caught up with a girl who seemed to be going at just the right pace, so I followed her to the next col, the Passo Alto (2857m). When she reached the top she let out a yell that could only be North American, so we introduced ourselves, took photos, and chatted as we carried on down the other side. Claire was from Calgary in Canada and had been a top class swimmer until a bad horse riding accident and was now into all sorts of adventure racing. Her aim, like mine, was just to get round the course in reasonably good shape and enjoy it.
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| At the Passo Alto |
It was only (!) about 800m down to the tiny Promoud Hut, before the final climb of the stage up to the Col Crosatie (2829m), which was up a steep hillside but on a very easy zig-zagging track and I found that on this sort of ground Claire was much quicker than me so she pulled away. It would be a feature of the early part of the race for me, I would often catch her on descents or more technical ground, only for her to pull away again on the straightforward climbs. By the time I got to the col it was pretty well dark and the temperature was dropping rapidly. Luckily there was a small bivouac box just over the other side providing a sheltered place to "suit up" for the night. I found that during the race it got dark between 8 and 8.30pm and was not light again until between 6.30 and 7am, so a lot of ground was covered in the dark. It was a long but fairly straightforward descent down to the valley at Planaval (1517m), but the sting in the tail was that this was not the end of the stage, there were still about 5km of tracks along the valley, gradually rising to the base at Valgrisenche (1662m) which I reached at 11.45pm, just about what I had hoped for the first day.
Stage 2 Valgrisenche to Cogne 56km 4141m D+
I had decided not to sleep for the first 24hours - we're used to that in other races and I thought I would still be too caught up in the excitement of the start to sleep anyway - so I had a meal and set off again into the night.
Now enthusiasm gets you through day 1 no problem, but on day 2 the Tor des Geants starts to let you know what you're really in for; almost as if the course is saying to you "So you think you're a contender then? Well, let's see how you suck this up!" It starts with the Col Fenetre (2854m), a long climb in the dark via the Epee Hut and then rocky zig-zags to the top. As I looked over the top I saw the sight mentioned on every TDG blog I've found so far - the lights of runners ahead of you appear to be going down almost vertically below you for miles. The first few hundred feet down are VERY steep, good zig-zags but still unnerving on the turns. I'm a mountaineer and I usually put my poles in the sack at the top of a col and jog down; not this time, I was very glad to have them for security until the angle eased. Once down this bit the track was easy enough down to the Notre Dame checkpoint at 1738m. Alison was in the hall there, I hadn't seen her since the start. She said she was struggling a bit but pushed on while I had something to eat; I was keen to maintain a state where I felt that I was out for a walk in the hills, not feeling stressed and I wanted to go slowly enough so that the food stops were a pleasure to be anticipated and enjoyed.
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| Checkpoint on the Col Entrelor; Col Loson in centre of far skyline |
The next climb up to the Col Entrelor at 3002m was easy but very steep all the way; this was the first climb where I needed to stop a few times so that I didn't get too tired, perhaps I was subconsciously concerned about what was still to come. I was passed by Claire again here so she must have stopped longer in Valgrisenche. It was also the first big climb with no hut on the way up but we were promised a water supply at the top. When I got there, there was a checkpoint just over the col, a small bivouac box that had been flown in for the event, but they had run out of water. It had been hot and sunny since daybreak on the descent to Notre Dame so this was a disappointment. Nothing for it, I carried on down without, the descent was quite easy and fast, with a lovely runnable track in the shade of the woods at the end where I passed Claire again, then down to Eaux Rousses at 1654m, where I also caught up with Alison again. I felt I needed a rest here, maybe the lack of sleep was starting to tell, so after eating and drinking I just lay down in the sunshine for half an hour to soak up some energy; during this time both Alison and Claire set out for the next col. I also took the opportunity to call Jan back at home to let her know I was going OK. She was following the race on the site's live tracker and had a much better idea of where I was in the field than I did. She said I had been in the five hundreds the first day but had now got up into the four hundreds.
The next col was a 1650m climb up to the Col Loson, at 3299m the highest point on the course. On the other hand the the path turned out to be very well engineered and at a very easy angle for nearly all the way up. There were no huts en route but a standpipe or two and some good streams so topping up water wasn't a problem. I just took it very steadily and made good progress until the last 300m or so. Here the path became rocky and steep and I started to slow down with overall tiredness and altitude; I struggled to the top counting steps for the last bit - 100 steps, pause for rest, 100 steps, and so on.
After a day and a half of perfect weather, we were now going to get a change. Just as I reached to col it started to rain, which turned rapidly into hail. The first bit of descent was steep zig-zags which in the conditions had become very slippery so had to be taken very carefully but things improved after a while and I got down to the Sella hut for a breather and a cup of tea. As I left the hut, the light started to fade which was OK at first but then I came to what was probably the worst section of track on the whole trip. Think Scafell Pike, Broad Crag, Ill crag area and you get the idea. I couldn't see what was rock, holes, tree roots or whatever. It was a really frustrating couple of miles and I was feeling very tired, I just wanted to get down. The Col Loson had proved a really low point in my Tor. Eventually the track gave out onto the valley floor but there then was the almost inevitable few kilometers of tracks along the valley to finally get to Cogne (1531m). I checked in to the base, found a bed and fell asleep instantly.
Stage 3 Cogne to Donnas 44km 3348m D+
After two hours sleep I was woken by my alarm and felt a different person, refreshed and ready to go. I went through to the dining section of the base and collected some bread and a big plate of pasta. At that point I saw Alison again who had also just slept, so a little while later we set out together, somewhere around 4am (I didn't record the exact times when things happened and it will take a while for all the intermediate splits to be published, so for now I'll just have to go with my memory). The section started with a long climb up through woods where the track wandered around up and down as well as contouring round bits of hillside, it was difficult to see just what was happening in the dark. After nearly three hours we came out onto the open alp and it got light though it was a very cold morning. We then soon reached the Sogno hut (2534m). The alp area was a bit disappointing in the cold light, with several industrial looking farm buildings and a line of huge electricity pylons, a contrast to the stunning views we had had for the previous two days. We found Jacky inside the hut.
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| Jacky and Alison at the Fenetre du Champorchet |
I hadn't seen him since the start, but then the three of us carried on to the top of the Fenetre du Champorcher (2877m) together up a steep but straightforward path. Of the others, I just assumed that George, Anthony and Julie were well ahead of me by now; I hadn't seen Richard but Alison said she had seen him towards the end of day two suffering from a really heavy cold so he had probably dropped out (which was in fact the case) From the col it was a long descent to the next base at Donnas at 330m (yes, that's over 8,300ft of continuous descent!). I stayed with Alison and we descended first across the hillsides then followed a path on the side of a long wooded valley with a beautiful river tumbling along the bottom through a series of waterfalls and rock pools. The track wound in and out of villages and eventually became flatter in a wide valley just before Donnas. Here we came across Jacky again; he had stopped to buy an ice cream in one of the villages, walked off eating it and twenty minutes later realised that he had left his poles in the ice cream shop and had to go back for them! The final mile or two were along a road; the three of us seemed to be in good condition with no aches or pains in spite of approaching the 150km mark; the same couldn't be said of a runner that we caught up approaching the base - he was leaning heavily to one side and staggering quite badly. Alison said she had seen this condition before, it was probably just extreme tiredness. We tried to get him to walk with us but it was too difficult so we covered the last few hundred yards to the Donnas base and let the marshals there know so they could send someone back for him.
It was only early afternoon and Alison and I had agreed not to try to sleep at Donnas but to push on through after an hour or so. I had a shower, changed my socks, ate a good meal and was ready to start going uphill once more. While we were here Claire showed up again, making the same overall progress as us along the course by slightly different tactics.
Stage 4 Donnas to Gressoney 53km 4107m D+
We had been warned that this was the toughest stage. Not only did it have one of the biggest distances and height gains overall but the track was more consistently technical over this section that anywhere else. We also checked on the forecast at Donnas and although it was a hot, almost close, afternoon as we left we were told to expect some poorer weather over the next couple of days, rain, a drop in temperature and some wind. I made sure I had plenty of warm clothing in the bag and one of the things I left out to compensate was the camera - probably no great loss as I don't normally take many photos anyway.
Out of Donnas we climbed up through vineyards for a few hundred feet, then back down again to a little checkpoint at virtually the same height we started from. This could have been a bit frustrating but I had decided early on not to be worried by any seemingly pointless wandering, either vertical or horizontal, in an event this length. You can't do anything about it so why worry? "The route goes where the route goes" had become the mantra for this aspect of the race.
Then we started climbing more seriously, steeply up through woods. It started to rain but was still warm so you didn't know whether to put on a waterproof or not, We persisted without until our shirts were getting quite soaked, then gave in. The rain persisted until it got dark and we reached a checkpoint in a little village called Perloz. I really would have liked to see the next section in daylight because after a bit of descent we followed a track along gangways fixed to the rock wall of a gorge and over long bridges with the sound of rushing water far below, The track then led out of the trees and into alpine pasture country, passing through several villages and hamlets with very steep steps cut into the fields between them. After some time we reached a little auberge checkpoint at the Etoile du Berger where we were glad to take a bit of a break for some food and drink. From here it was about a last 700m of climb to the Coda hut (2224m) where we planned to sleep for a bit.
Alison had been climbing very strongly and led most of the way from Donnas to the Etoile du Berger, but as soon as we set out from there she seemed to slow down; she said she was struggling with tiredness but would be OK if we went slower. We now moved from rural to mountain landscape, the track becoming very tortuous weaving its way around and over boulders, climbing all the time, and we had no sense of where it or we were heading next. As we got higher a strong cold wind sprang up and we needed all our clothes on to keep warm because we were going slowly. The hut didn't seem to want to show up, then at last we saw its light still a way above us across the other side of what seemed like a blind valley and the path slowly wiggled its way round towards it. A few hundred yards from the hut we saw a stationary headlight by the side of the track. It turned out to be Jacky who said he was really tired and had needed to rest for a while. He joined us for the last pull up to the hut, it was good to get inside out of the wind. We had climbed fairly continuously upwards for around 6500ft since Donnas and it was now 2am. We immediately asked for somewhere to sleep and crashed out for two hours.
I felt great again after sleeping and we had a good breakfast and were on our way by 4.30am. The track went down now, still twisty but less bouldery, though not good enough to establish any sort of rhythm. It was ground that Alison found hard, and it took us nearly three hours to descend to the checkpoint at the lake of Lago Vargno at around 1750m, barely 6km from the hut. By Donnas I had built up a nice cushion of 6 hours or so ahead of the cut-offs without ever trying to go quickly, but our pace now was eating into this. We would reach the next base at Gressoney but not have much time before we would be forced to go on. I discussed this with Alison who said I should go on, she would try to make the cut-offs at the pace she was going and hoped to improve later. I felt a bit bad about this as we had travelled together for over 24 hours but you have to pace your own race and there was now quite a lot of daylight left to get to the next base - if you stay with someone else you inevitably have your low points at different times which slows both of you down overall - so we said goodbye for now.
I pushed on at a better pace. I was enjoying the territory, it was rather like a path in the Lake District, up and down, round corners, quite bouldery underfoot, you never quite knew where it would lead you next. It went up over a number of small cols - the Col Marmontana, the Crena du Ley and the Col della Vecchia - all at around 2300m with drops between them of around 300m, which hardly showed as more than undulations on our roadbook topo. The day was overcast and we still had a chill wind so it was good to keep moving. Since my low point on day two over the Col Loson I seemed to be going consistently well. I jogged down a longer descent to Niel (1573m), then took on the final climb of the stage over the Col Lasoney (2364m). From here it was a lovely long run down on grass then on an easy track to Gressoney (1329m) which I reached just about 22 hours after setting out from Donnas. Never mind, the big stage was now done and I had moved up into the 300's, the top half of the field for the first time. I was comfortable to be here because on the previous two runnings of the race around 300 people had finished so I felt I was on the pace for completion again.
There were still a few hours of daylight so I had decided to carry on after a brief stop into the next stage. I now had evolved a system for transiting the life bases which I would stick with until the end - check in, quick cup of tea, clean and regrease feet, new socks, big meal and out. Was I was eating Jacky came up to me and we exchanged tales of what had happened since the hut last night, and decided to set out together as soon as I finished eating.
Stage 5 Gressoney to Valtournenche 39km 2602m D+
This is the easiest stage on the Tor, just two big climbs on good tracks and nothing much else, but there was already a stiff wind blowing in the valley as Jacky and I left Gressoney. We covered a few km along the flat valley floor before climbing to the Alpenzu hut at 1788m by which time it was dark. The path to the hut was straightforward but again very steep. As we stopped for a drink at the hut, a French lady runner, I guess in her 40's, was just putting on warm clothes before setting out, we wished her well. The hut guardian told us that it was 1000 metres up and 800 metres down to the next hut, but that the descent was long, an overall distance of just over 9km. We left the hut and the first few hundred feet were surprisingly easy, a good track on steepish grass. We gradually caught up the French lady, who then asked if she could tag along until we were over the col, which of course was no problem. The grass turned to rocky zig-zags, it became very cold and the wind was fierce. I had on a thermal vest, light fleece, mountain jacket, waterproof trousers over my running tights, a good woolly hat and light ski gloves, and I was glad of it all. The water in Jacky's external bottle froze. But if you turned your light off and looked up is was a clear wild night with stars everywhere, still a privilege to be there in spite of the less than perfect conditions. We eventually made it up to the top, the Col Pinter (2776m) and as we poked our heads over the top the wind grew to howling. The best thing we could do was to lose height as fast as possible so we descended as rapidly as our lights would allow, and a few hundred metres lower the wind died back to more manageable levels. We then covered a long gently descending section to the Crest hut, stopping for tea and biscuits at an unofficial pit stop in a small auberge just before the hut (there were a number of these along the course, seemingly provided by the enthusiasm of the owners, who refused to accept payment for anything). We arrived at the Crest at 2am and went straight to bed, asking to be woken in two hours.
I was conscious of drifting back into wakefulness and looked at my watch, which read 5.30am! I roused Jacky, come on we've cocked this up, then went up to the dining room. Relax said the guardienne, you're going nowhere for a while. Apparently the race had been stopped because of excessive wind, cold and snow a bit further down the course, and the organisation had decided to collect all the competitors in safe warm places until things improved. We went back to bed, a real bonus, and were allowed to set out again after breakfast when the race was restarted at 9am. The event had been "paused" for 5 hours, but all the subsequent cutoffs had been extended by 5 hours to compensate. We had rested for all of this pause period but some people had had to keep going until they reached a refuge and one effect of this was that Claire caught us up again. She had seen Alison back in Gressoney, and at that point Alison was still going just inside the cut-offs.
We set off down to the valley checkpoint at St Jacques (1700m) which looked like a war zone - people slumped in corridors, rucksacks everywhere, you had to squeeze by everything to check in. The small place had obviously had to hold far more people during the pause than was comfortable. We were straight in and out, and off up the second hill of the stage to the Col di Nana (2770m).
I enjoyed the great majority of the whole event, but on this ascent I just hit one of those magical periods. It was a still chilly but stunningly clear and beautiful morning, I was moving and breathing easily, and it occurred to me that I was now really in tune with the environment. This was no longer a race, or endurance event, just a journey through a little known but wonderful area of the Alps which as far as I was concerned could now go on for as long as it liked, I couldn't think of anywhere I would rather be at that moment. When we reached the top of the pass we could see the "Geants" all around us - Mont Blanc, the Matterhorn, Monte Rosa, the Grand Paradiso and all the others. A special moment.
The descent was easy and I outpaced Jacky to arrive at Valtournenche (1526m) for a sock change and a late lunch. I also checked the rankings to find that I was now in the low 300's, still moving gradually through the field. Jacky soon arrived and as I always seemed to spend longer eating, we were ready together to set out on Stage 6.
Stage 6 Valtournenche to Ollomont 44km 2702m D+
This was another stage where the statistics and the topo couldn't give a true impression of the work involved. Although on paper only marginally longer than the previous section, on the ground was an altogether different story and it took far longer. Jacky and I set out from Valtournenche at mid afternoon and for once the initial climb was "just a baby one" as Jacky put it, up to the Barmasse hut at 2175m. From here, the route wove in and out of a chain of peaks for the next few hours, sometimes finding its way over cols, sometimes on broad ridges, sometimes traversing steep hillsides, with the ascents and descents rarely more than 300m but with plenty of them. This section was also well supplied with a series of small refuges, all about 2 hours apart. From the Barmasse we went steeply down, then up and over the Fenetre d'Ersaz (2293m) to the Vareton refuge, where it was time for headlights to go back on again. It was turning out to be another cold and windy night. The next section took us over the Fenetre du Tsan (2738m) which took a while to turn up, then on to the Reboulaz hut at 2585m. This was a lovely welcoming little place and we spent 20 minutes or so by the stove with tea and noodle soup. We asked the guardienne about the next bit of the route, and she said it was not wise to carry on to the Cuney hut if we were tired because the path was very exposed and a fall would be serious. It was just coming up to midnight and I felt I had at least another two hours before I wanted to sleep so I said I would carry on. Jacky said he would probably do the same, but would set out a bit after me. I didn't see him again.
The trip to the Cuney hut went over the Col Terray (2775m) then seemed to cling to the side of a steep rocky hillside for many kilometres. It was impossible to see what the drop below the path was like but I was fairly sure I didn't want to go there. The concentration required made the time flash by though and I could soon see the lights of the Cuney hut in the distance. By now the field was really spread out and you were unlikely to see other runners unless you sought them out; it was a weird but somehow satisfying sensation, wandering along through the mountains in the pitch dark, completely alone. I would occasionally pause for a drink or a handful of sweets, then turn my light off and just gaze at the stars for a few minutes. By the time the Cuney hut turned up I was ready for some sleep, so I asked to be woken in two hours. It was not a paticularly quiet place so I awoke in an hour and a half and decided to carry on. I got some food and drink and then checked out with the marshal. It was very reassuring how they managed your passage along the course, particularly at night. The whole network of huts and checkpoints was connected by radio, and as I was leaving somewhere I would often hear " Numero 496 parta da.........).
But just as I was leaving the Cuney at around 4am I got some more news. The race was not going on to the finish, the organisation had decided that deep snow and ice over the final col made it too potentially dangerous, so the race would finish at St Rhemy at 303km instead doing the full 330km to Courmayeur. I was initially really disappointed to hear this. I was going well, I had plenty of time, I was on schedule to finish in Courmayeur with 10-15 hours to spare, but if there's only one game in town that's the one you have to play, so I pushed on to the last of the series of small huts, the Clairmont at 2705m. The Guardian at the Clairmont said that the track went up a short way to the Col Vessona at 2788m, then descended to the valley at Close, but beware, it was a long way, more than 9km.
Up to the col was easy, then the first part of the descent was down slippery sandy zig-zags on a steep hillside so I took it carefully. Then the ground got easier and the dawn slowly started to appear, by the time I got down to the alpine meadows it was a grey half light, but easily enough to see and feel the crunchy frost underfoot. At this point I had my only navigational concern in the whole race. Most of the way had been on fairly easy to follow paths, augmented by little "TDG" flags with a reflective strip on at every key turn and every hundred yards or so otherwise. Here there were two or three possible ways and no flags. I suspect that as we were now getting into Friday a combination of wandering cows (of which there were many herds along the course) and the persistent wind had gradually done the damage. Still, all the tracks led more or less down the same valley so I picked the most obvious one and was relieved when I came across an "Alta Via 1" marker a few hundred yards further on. In another quarter of a mile or so the flags re-established themselves and I was happy that I was securely on track. After the alp the path went down for miles through the trees but I was able to jog most of it down to the valley low point.. As so often in this race though, from the low point it was necessary to climb back up a couple of hundred metres to the next checkpoint at Close (1463m).
I was ready for breakfast but the Close checkpoint was the only one that was disappointing along the whole course. The marshals were a bit offhand and there was hardly any food. I made do with a cappucino, a couple of mugs of Coke and a few TUC crackers and set off again. The only good point here was that I noticed as I checked in that I was now in 290th place. The final obstacle on the stage was the climb over the Col Brison (2508m) but it was pleasant up through the woods and over the alp, then steep down for a bit followed by the long descent over hillside and through woods to the base at Ollomont (1396m), arriving again at around lunchtime. What made this bit nice was that it looked like we were getting into a bit of fine weather again, it was warm and sunny and the wind had almost completely died away.
Stage 7 Ollomont to St Rhemy 21km 1400m D+
After my normal hour for sock change and food, I set off up what was to be this year the final major climb. It was hot but not unpleasant as I wound my way gently up to the Letey hut at 2433m then the summit of the Col Champillon at 2707m. What was pleasing was that the very first 1300m climb out of Courmayeur on Sunday had taken me 2hrs 45min, and here I was on the last 1300m climb, over 5 days later - and it took just 2hrs 45min. The descent was easy zig-zags then a good path down the meadows, followed by a wonderful path that traversed the hillside for miles, gently descending all the way, easy jogging, followed by a last little descent to the final checkpoint before the end at Ponteille. I wasn't going to stop but was persuaded by the runners already there, now in party mood just before the finish, and of course the ham and salami did look good. The track on the the topo appeared to go gently down all the way to the finish at St Rhemy from here and I asked the marshal if there were any uphills in it. No, downhill all the way, it's like a road, he assured me, just 10km to go. On that basis I had a glass (or rather a paper cup) full of red wine to celebrate the end of the hills. It probably wasn't a good move because the track actually turned out to be quite undulating with many uphill sections. I guess in the Val d'Aosta unless it's at least 1000m and in your face, it isn't considered an uphill! Still I managed to run the downs and power walk the ups all the way to the finish.
The finishing arch, commentary and general celebratory scene had been fairly well moved from Courmayeur to St Rhemy, and I heard my name as I checked my wrist chip for the last time and learned that I had crossed the line in 270th place. I would have bitten your hand off for that before the start, I had not only completed the biggest event of my ultra career so far, but in good shape and reasonable style. It was somehow hard to believe that it was all over, but within twenty minutes I was back on a bus to Courmayeur, a proper long shower, and sleep.
Reflections
The following morning I gradually found out what had happened to the others. George and Anthony were as good as expected, coming in 64th equal, though what gave me some encouragement is that they were still beaten by the first Vet 60 - maybe there's hope for we more elderly pedestrians yet! Julie was inside the first 100, which won her the Lady's Vet 50 prize. Although I was not aware of it, Jacky had stalked me a few hours behind until the end, finishing in 309th place, and Claire had continued her steady way round to finish 328th. There were 392 finishers in total. Alison had unfortunately had to pull out at St Jaques after completing 222km of the course. The winner was the young Spaniard Oscar Perez, who got back to Courmayeur (before the final pass was closed) in 75 hours - just half the total time allowance.
I was still a little disappointed that the conditions prevented us from completing the whole course. But we had missed only 27km and 1400m of climb. My official finishing time was 125hrs 13 minutes 32 seconds. As the time allowance for the whole course is 150 hours and I was still in really good shape when I finished, I somehow think I would have made it OK if it had been available. The whole thing was still a wonderful experience.
I really couldn't get my head around the enormity of it before the start, I just knew that if other ordinary people had got round then I probably could. In the end I was not only surprised by how doable it was, but how much I enjoyed the whole thing. I had 13 hours sleep in five and a half days and it was enough. I kept going steadily, looked after my feet, ate lots and never got distressed , although I got pretty tired on the Col Loson early on. I never set myself intermediate targets, I knew that just keeping comfortably ahead of the cut-offs would be OK.
Would I go again? Probably not in the near future. I had such a good trip that any comparison would probably be unfavourable. Maybe in a few years, if I'm still going well enough.
This is a brilliant, well-organised, demanding challenge in a stunning area that is not overrun with people. What makes it is the scenery of the Aosta Valley and the hospitality of its inhabitants. How such a big, serious event can at the same time be so relaxed and so much fun can only be in the end because it truly is "driven by Italians".
Written by Robert Crussell
The day finally arrived, and after a sleepless night I was sitting on the train to Oxford station. I saw some other passengers on the train who were obviously heading to the same race as I was, but I chose to sit alone and listen to some music - you know, for the nerves. Alt-J's latest album ("This Is All Yours") did the trick and the journey over didn't drag on too long, but allowed just enough time to get myself into a good headspace. 2015 had been a great year so far - I'd smashed a new 10km PB (35:16) in Jan and placed second at the Martello Marathon in gale force winds - and it was still the first week of February. I was in the best shape of my (hitherto) short running career and I'd logged enough miles in training to feel like I wasn't going to suffer too much. The only things I worried about were; [a] I'd had a cold the week before which I'd only just recovered from, and [b] I'd run the first 30 miles of the course 2 weeks prior and it was a mud fest. Anyway, more of that to come.
The train pulled in on time and a group of us (maybe 10 in all) piled into the coach that GoBeyond had arranged. We arrived at the Hawkwell House hotel will 15 minutes to spare so I registered, hit the loos, and went for a 2 minute test -jog. My legs had been cramping pretty badly on the coach over so I'd double-dosed on some S!Caps which had evidently done the job. I arrived back at the hotel with just enough time to shuffle to the front as Steve delivered the race briefing. A quick warning about some ice, and then the words: "We have the opportunity today to set off on time and I mean to take it: 10..9...8...". GO!
It's always difficult to start a race sensibly, when that colossal adrenaline surge hits that threatens to make your heart explode. Never-the-less, I didn't do anything stupid and I fell in behind Craig Holgate. I may not have had a clear idea about what to expect from the day but one thing was certain; I had no business being ahead of Craig. Five of us reached Iffley Lock at around the same time, and continued on together once we'd hit the Thames Path proper. There was myself, Craig, Scott Forbes (who I recognised as having won Race to the Stones last year), Paul Raistrick, and Peter Abraham. As it turned out, we ended up staying together until check point 2 when Craig decided to switch gears, but more on that to come.
The first leg until CP1 was pretty uneventful, and we kept at a pretty even 7 min/mile pace all the way. I was pleasantly surprised that the ground had frozen over, making for some pretty fast running. It became slightly technical in parts as the solidified mud had frozen into a chaotic tribute to the imprints of yesterday's footsteps, yet nobody fell and the going was fairly effortless. By the time we reached the CP at mile 9.6 we'd opened up a ~4 minute lead on the next runner.
Since my bottle was still half full and I had enough High5 gels to last a while I ran straight through Culham Lock, crossed the road, and made my way onto the beautiful piece of trail that connects Culham with Clifton Hampden. I was technically in the lead at this stage but I had no particular designs on the position so I was glad to be caught up again by the others. The next few miles to Clifton Lock passed pleasantly with a few words exchanged between myself and Peter, and some pretty great stretches of track that feel pretty isolated.
Following Clifton Hampden bridge there's a looong leg that gradually curves all the way down to Little Wittenham. It's a beautiful section, but it's quite psychologically draining since there's little to mark the progress other than the Wittenham Clumps which enter your field of vision from the right. Once these hills are dead ahead, you only have half a km to go until the weir, and Day's Lock. As I passed under Little Wittenham bridge, I realised that I unintentionally opened up a 100m lead so I eased back and allowed Scott to catch up. A good job too, since Scott had a few navigational queries which I was glad to help with. Just before CP2 I had to 'lose some water', so I hit Benson Marina CP a few seconds behind the rest. Our pace had slowed to 7:15min/miles mainly due to the frozen mud which had started to thaw out.
I refilled my hand-held, grabbed some "Espresso Love" GU (gag) and jumped back into the middle of the pack as we headed out of Benson and onto the first route diversion. The diversion essentially takes a few back roads to brings you into Wallingford from the East, thereby adding an extra half km or so. It was here that Craig and Paul made their move, and Craig's road racing pedigree really shone through. By the time we rejoined the TP south of Wallingford Craig and Paul were 200m ahead, and only just visible as we rounded corners. The mud had become clinging and thick by this stage, and I knew from a few weeks prior just how much the next few miles were going to suck. Scott and I stuck together and exchanged a few words; mainly about the blood from his ear that had crusted over his face and neck (it had stopped and Scott didn't look in any immediate danger, but I still told him how bad it looked - which was very). After an exhausting 5 miles of Satan mud we reached Goring, a contender for my favourite village in the UK. The Ridgeway and TP intersect here, and the Compton Downs are not far off to the west, making it a trail-running heaven.
I took a bit longer at the checkpoint that I would have liked, but Scott waited for me which I was secretly relieved about. I tried not to show it but the mud was taking its toll and I was suffering. We headed out and had a nice chat as we crossed the bridge. Scott was telling me about the new addition to his family and his lack of training as a result. I told him about my family plans and was given some advice. It was a welcome distraction and we made it a mile or so up the towpath before I had to relieve myself and let him go on ahead. This is where a number of factors all hit me at once and I can honestly say I've never suffered as much as I did over the next 10 miles. My cold from the week before had been a greater detriment to my endurance than I had suspected, I was burning off water like a car engine, and the GUs weren't sitting right in my stomach. This was all compounded by the clay-mud which made it impossible to move with any speed. A long-story short, I hit rock bottom..and stayed there.
I slipped & slid my way through the Goring Gap at what felt like a snail's pace, passing under the railway bridge and eventually turning left away from the river. Hartslock wood is one of the most attractive lengths of trail on the TP but I was in no state to enjoy it as I power-hiked up the climbs in a blind stupor, and attempted to run anything at a lower gradient. There's a great downhill after the first climb which I think anyone would recognise who's run the path. The small hill is crested by two trees which almost look like an archway and have a distinct ethereal beauty. As you step through the trees the path falls away beneath you and you either bomb down it or pick your way down in an uncomfortable shuffle. I bombed down it and used the momentum to start the next climb, in what was the equivalent of trying to kick-start a moped, but for now "the engine was fried".
It was a relief when I joined the wide path that passes Coombe Park - and Avoca - Farm, and eventually merges onto Whitchurch High Street. The road was runnable and I managed to put out a few 8 minutes miles before joining the Thames on the other side of Whitchurch bridge. Dehydrated and disheartened, I started the most difficult stretch of the race; the muddy fields along the river from Whitchurch to Mapledurham. It took all I had to reach the next gate...and the next.. and the next. I was sure that the stretch had to end soon but after each gate the path stretched unapologetically on ahead. Passing Mapledurham Lock and then turning right up Mapledurham Drive (and moving away from those damn fields) was a great relief. To quantify the state I was in over that leg, consider this; the 7 miles to CP 4 had taken me 1 hr 7 minutes. That's 9:30min/mi!
I chugged half a litre of electrolytes, refilled my hand-held and took a second bottle for the road. I'd lost 10 minutes on Scott, but that was the last thing on my mind. Cheerful words from the lovely aid station volunteer made me determined that no one was going to witness my pain, or stop me from getting my head back into a good place one way or the other. I hiked up the hill, hands-on-knees, into Purley, ran to the railway bridge near Tilehurst station that links to the river, and joined the path approaching Reading. This is a section I know well and I was able to get back into rhythm and get some 8 minute miles under my belt. I kept it up all the way to the Boathouse (which also marks the turn-around point for spur 4 of the Autumn 100) until we joined the mud/clay again.
Begrudgingly, I kept up the slog at an albeit slower pace, determined to keep building on the work I'd done so far and by the time I reached Sonning bridge I felt like I was flying. Despite some mud, I averaged 8:30 minute miles to Sonning, and then averaged 8 minute miles all the way to the finish. The worst of the mud was from Sonning to Shiplake, but the slow pace there is compensated by the fast roads through Shiplake and the tree-lined way which leads past the miniature railway. I'd say this is easily the best part of the race; the finish is in touching distance, you can let it rip on the fast, flat roads, and as a bonus you can stop eating GUs since you're pretty much there anyway.
As I crossed the last field before Marsh Lock, I thought I heard a voice behind me in the treeline (although it turns out I had 16 minutes over Peter) so I went full throttle for the last km, determined not to lose my position this late in the game. I crossed the finish line looking like a sack of sh*t in 4th place, in a time of 6:27:46.
Still, this is the first ultra I've "raced" and I feel like there were some positives, and that I learnt a lot.
Written by Paul Orton - http://mrpaulorton.blogspot.co.uk
An Epic
These are just a few photos and thoughts about the Spine Race 2015 which I completed between 10th and 16th January 2015. The Spine Race is a continuous foot-race up the 268-mile Pennine Way. It's not really an ultra-run; most of the course is not runnable for mortals over extended periods. It challenges navigation, self-reliance and mountaincraft as much as running endurance.
The competitors are for the most part not elite athletes but fit and obdurate. They are some of the best people you'd wish to meet as well (and me)
I spent a huge amount of time on my own over the race but the time shared with fellow competitors and race volunteers on the hill, in the checkpoints and in bleak huts on god-forsaken moorland was golden.
How do you eat an elephant?
The Spine started to dominate my waking thoughts almost as soon as I'd entered in February 2014 and it was pretty much an obsession for the last 3 months. Strategy, training, kit and familiarity with the route went round and round as topics of conversation with anyone who'd listen. Fortunately, fellow Spiner, Phil Sturgeon was even more obsessed and happy to indulge me.
The strategy I fixed on was this. Try and go light and fast on the first day in the knowledge that I would reach the checkpoint at Hebdon 46 miles away on that day. Eat at the checkpoint and change into dry kit including walking boots in readiness for more steady progress over the next 24-30 hours hoping to get to CP2 at Hawes at a time when sleeping would be sensible. I had planned on 12-14 hour to Hebden, 26 - 30 hours to Hawes and 2 hours at the Checkpoint. This gave a range of 40 - 48 hours for the first two legs. With a 9.30 start time, this implied arriving at Hawes between 1.30 am and 9.30 am. The first of these would be an ideal time, allowing 5 hours to sleep, eat and faff without losing any precious daylight. Arriving at 9.30 would be less than ideal, implying either no sleep or sleeping in daylight. Sleeping in daylight is a criminal waste in this event with only 8 - 9 hours of good light per day. So, modifying the strategy to take account of progress would be key. We had scoped out barns and shelters in the miles leading up to Hawes in preparation for falling short.
This strategy was soon reduced to ashes. Before the race even started, the plans were thrown up in the air and blown on the wind.
Kit and the difference between packing and faffing
This is Phil and I at kit check where the organisers made sure that we were carrying all the compulsory kit; bivvy bag, sleeping bag, mat, stove, food, spare clothes, GPS, map, compass, first aid, etc. Essentially, we should be self-sufficient for up to 48 hours.
We were also issued with our numbers, red hats and beards.
You can get an awful lot of kit in a 20 kilo drop bag. And you can spend a lot of time deciding what to put in and what to leave out. This is the chaos at Edale village hall on the morning of the race.
Phil and I had spent the night in his campervan and we woke at 7.30 in readiness for our 9.30 start. We were immediately told that the start had been postponed and we would now be setting of at 11.30.
This was very frustrating, particularly as the weather in the valley at Edale at this point was bright and breezy. I'm told conditions on the tops were much more challenging!
This gave us two more hours to fret over choice of shoes, coats, food and where we might get to that day given the delayed start time. Once the faffing was over there was nothing to do but drink tea and wait.
Phil gave himself a chance of 10 minutes more snoozing. But don't be fooled We were both as excited as kittens.
Various revised start times were announced from 10,30 - 11.30 making eating difficult to schedule. Inevitably, we set off at 11.30 as first announced and I was hungry.
Ready, Steady, Go!
What pace do you set off at for a 268-mile race? Maybe tuck in behind Pavel Paloncy and use the shelter of his 6' 5" frame? We had 5 hours of daylight and I wanted to make best use of them and there was some runnable terrain over Kinder. I settled for a steady jog on the flat and downhill sections and a brisk walk on the rest.
The opening miles across to Jacob's ladder were full of chat and nervous banter. Phil's excitement was getting the better of him and he stretched out ahead of me. He stopped after 5 minutes to faff with his kit some more and that would be the last I saw of him for 4 days and 190 miles.
As we climbed on to the Kinder plateau the wind started to gather and along Kinder edge the cross wind really started to unbalance me and slow me down. A competitor in front had his foam mat tied on the outside of rucksack bouncing around in a way that would have really annoyed me. Along Kinder edge a strong gust caught the mat and ripped in from his bag. Someone alerted him to what had happened and he started to go after his mat. I saved him the bother and told him that it had probably stopped somewhere around Hathersage.
Kinder Upfall
Kinder Downfall has a reputation as being a waterfall that falls upwards and this day we saw it at its spectacular best. The overnight rain meant there was a strong flow over the lip of the waterfall and the 40 mph westerly was catching the water and hurling it 400 metres back onto the Kinder plateau.
I find high winds can have an energising effect on me. The power of the weather excites me. The sight of the downfall at its best as well left me buzzing with excitement at the race I was in. This was what I'd come for.
As we swung over Mill Hill the wind came straight on our backs and so I took advantage of this and jogged on to Snake Summit. I probably pushed a little too hard here and suffered a bit in the crossing of Bleaklow and descent of Wildboar Clough. I was eating regularly and had been since the start; a consequence of being hungry on the start line. I was already starting to run low on bars. I had plenty of other grub but the bars were going down well.
I found a good steady pace going up Black Hill and started to settle in to the mind games. We were losing the light and I knew I had something like 8 hours of moving in the dark to cope with before I reached the first checkpoint at Hebden Bridge. I made my first mistake shortly after this, following Pennine Bridleway signs not the Pennine way one, along Standedge. A mistake that probably cost me 20 minutes or so but no great extra effort. It was a sharp reminder of the need to concentrate on the navigation when the sun goes down.
Once back on route, I continued along the high ground towards Blackstone edge. The continued high cross winds were punishing but I had stayed dry and the "big" coat I had chosen for the day was doing its job of keeping the wind from chilling me. I was feeling warm and moving well but the effect of the wind was to make progress slower than hoped. I fell in with a chap from the West Country (Matt - I think) and we chatted happily along Blackstone edge and past the reservoirs. As we headed towards Stoodley Pike the wind grew even stronger and the sleet began to fall.
I say the sleet began to fall. It wasn't really falling. It was screaming left to right across my field of view at 40 mph. I was wearing plain plastic cycling glasses to protect my eyes from the sleet and wind - a decision that may have saved my race. At least 2 people I heard of withdrew from the race at Hebden with eye damage caused by not having any protection against the sleet.
The effect of the sleet on visibility was dramatic. The view through the safety specs looked like the starry sky when Han Solo makes the jump to light speed in Star Wars. From three miles away we had picked out the outline of the Stoodley Pike monument, a 100 ft stone tower. Now, from 20 metres away, it was invisible. We didn't know it was there until we fell into the wind shadow. We took a moment to take a breather and Matt put on a layer before setting off again into the maelstrom.
The test at this point is not to believe you've reached the first checkpoint because there's 3 miles beyond Hebden to deal with including a pretty stiff climb. We trudged into the checkpoint at Hebden at around 2.30am, 15 hours after leaving Edale, and exhausted. Plans of pushing through were out my thoughts. I needed food and some rest. If I could get going again before first light then I would be happy. It had been a truly punishing day and I knew that I needed to recognise that.
46 Miles in 15 hours in that weather? Good. Do it again!
The checkpoint at Hebden was better than I was expecting. The food was great. It was warm and there were beds and it was quiet enough for me to sleep. Quiet enough for me to sleep is much the same as not actually on the runway at Heathrow.
If I can digress for a moment here. There are a number of abilities that are useful in a multi-day event like this.
Durability. You don't want an underlying knee complaint that you know will get worse and worse over a number of days.
Indefatigability. You need that personality that says "put your head down and push on" when things turn tough.
Positivity. I'm not sure anyone can remain positive after 15 hours of wading through ankle deep mud but we all have our different cracking points.
Fitness. Positive thinking can't make you fly.
Dealing with sleep. I am brilliant at sleeping. I can fall asleep quickly. I can wake up quickly. I seem to get good value out of the sleep I have. Over the course of this event I would have conversations with racers who had spent the same amount of time as me at places but had half the amount of sleep. (this would be 90 minutes instead of 3 hours...but this really matters). At Hebden I found a bed above a room where someone was playing loud dance music. (Really, they were! Why? Can't help you.) Thankfully, I was able to grab around 3 hours of good sleep.
I think I woke about 5.30. I set off at 7.05. The time in between just disappeared like sand between your fingers. Eat some porridge. Pack enough food to last until Hawes. Sort your feet out. Get dressed. Go! Where did the other hour go?
I trogged up the muddy slope out of the checkpoint behind a couple of racers and immediately felt that I should be moving quicker than them. Feeling the push of competition I tried to stretch out. Over the next 10 hours as Julie and Chris shouted me back when I went wrong and supported me through a long bad patch, I came to realise my hubris.
There are no photos of this day. It was grey and showery and extremely wet underfoot. There were long miles of muddy pasture that sapped the energy. I felt sluggish and tired for so much of the day. I felt thirsty from the outset and couldn't seem to drink enough. There are few hills on these miles between Hebden and Malham but the sodden, sticky pasture sucked the energy from my legs. I did no running on this day. I tried to hang on to other racers, Jesse Palmer and his support crew and Julie Gardner and Chris Armour were brilliant in stopping my pace drop below the plod level.
In my mind, I was hoping to be in Gargrave by mid-afternoon. In the end it was 5 pm and nearly dark by the time I arrived. I'd been helped into town by a spine challenger called Rob who had convinced me that a meal at the Masons Arms was what I needed. It had never tipped it down for long all day but I was starting to feel damp down into the core. It was good to take the coat off and allow the fresh air to circulate. The braised steak and mash was one of the best meals I've ever eaten.
I left the pub feeling fresher and well fed. The thoughts going through my mind were where would I get to that night. How long could I go on before I needed to stop and rest. The minimum in my mind was to get to Malham Tarn a further 10 miles on where I knew a halfway checkpoint would offer some facilities. I'd been in boots today and up until now my feet had felt fairly dry through a combination of waterproof leather boots and waterproof sealskinz socks. Sloshing through the inundated fields between Gargrave and Malham soaked my feet through.
Arrival in Malham at around 8 pm signalled a change in the countryside from pasture to a more rugged Yorkshire Dales countryside. The sharp rise up Malham cove followed by the complex ground over the limestone pavement was marvellously atmospheric. The mists swirled around the crags playing tricks on my tired mind but I was starting to enjoy myself again after what had been a really tough second day. We (Rob and I had stuck together through the night) reached checkpoint 1.5, as it is styled, at Malham Tarn at about 10.30 pm. I'd been moving for 35 hours at this point with only 3 hour sleep but it felt like I'd had two full days out already. In the plan, I'd thought of pushing on at this point. The sleeping barns and bivvy points that we had reccied were all beyond Horton in Ribblesdale another 10 miles on.
A storm was gathering. I took advantage of the facilities at Malham Tarn Outdoor centre. I ate some dried apple and custard and drank some tea and a hot chocolate. I sat indoors chatting and eating and drinking for over an hour. There was nowhere indoors to sleep at the Outdoor Centre but there were places to camp. I knew there was a bird hide by the lake about half a mile beyond the centre and thought this could offer good shelter. So, just before midnight, I left checkpoint 1.5 and headed down the road. The bird hide already had two occupants but there was plenty of room for me. As quietly as I could I got my head down. It was just a wind-tight wooden hut but the bird hide was a perfect bivvy site. Through the night at least 7 of us slept there.
Wet, wet, wet.
Five hours sleep in the world of Spine Racers is considered to be an early night followed by a long lie in. I woke at 5.15 to the sound of rain drilling on the tin roof and the wind howling under the hut. The bird hide is on stilts above the tarn and the wind was driving the water into white horses that we sloshing under the hut. But we were still dry. I dressed and packed and was under way by 5.30. It's much quicker when you have no choice of kit to make.
The night time crossing of Fountains fell was an epic traverse. The rain was being driven into us by 30 - 40 mph winds once more but this section runs more east to west and so the wind was much more into the face. I was wearing glasses again to stop the rain from stinging my eyes. I was expecting to start to see the dawn appearing at about 6 - 6.30 as the silhouettes of the hills emerge and gradually the details start to be filled in. By 7.30 there was still little evidence that the sun had risen at all. Thick mist and dark clouds blocked out most of the light. I was heavily reliant on my GPS to reassure me on this section particularly as I was on my own.
Curiously, I was enjoying myself again. The weather conditions were as foul as they could be but I felt strong and warm and was moving at what seemed like a good pace. It maybe that not having people to follow meant I naturally fell into the pace best suited to me. But I was having a good day.
I was me at the road by some of the Mountain Safety Team who advised me that the route was no longer going over the summit of Pen-y-gent but missing out the top 200 metres of climb and heading directly to Horton in Ribblesdale. The diversion was marked at a gate with glow sticks. This gate faced the wind directly and required both hands on and legs at 45 degree angle to push it open. Downhill into the wind had me leaning forward at a crazy angle and nearly pitched me head under heels every time the wind briefly dropped. I caught a few other spiners on the decent and we reached the intermediate checkpoint at Horton around 8.30 am. The cafe was open and it felt like we'd earned breakfast. I had bacon and beans on toast with a pint of tea. I could have stopped all day but I managed to get myself back on the trail again about 9.15.
The Cam High Road is an old drovers track leading to Hawes. It's broad and well made and generally offers fast going.
When its not under water anyway.
There were a number of sections like this (left) where the track was knee-deep in water. I was still trying to preserve the dryness of my feet as much as possible and so ended up taking 5 minute diversions to get around some of these obstacles
To the right is a section of the Cam road that runs alongside the river. (The river is the river on the left and the track is the river on the right)
The wind did not let up along this section but at last it seemed to be pushing us along.
I passed a good many Spine Challengers along this section who had their finish line at Hawes in sight. And around here I met up with Keri and Rob who I would see lots more of over the next few days.
Around the summit of Dodd Fell the wind was as high as we'd seen through the previous 48 hours. It was cross wind again and made walking in a straight line impossible. I stretched out as Rob and Keri stopped to attend to a blister and made it to Hawes at around 2 pm. I wanted to eat, change my wet kit, restock my food and get off as quickly as possible to not waste any daylight. This took a clumsy ponderous hour and a half. A number of Spine Challengers competed during this time and it's a mark of how fit I was feeling that I felt I was the lucky one because I still had several days of adventure left to go.
part 2, Hawes to Alston
Push
The Spine Challenger is the Spine Race's little brother. Teasingly called "The Fun Run" by some, it's 106 miles and finishes at checkpoint 2, Hawes. Catching the tail-end of the Challenger race had given me great encouragement through the morning from Horton to Hawes. I left Hawes at 3.30 pm and knew that there was probably no-one catchable in front of me and no-one I could see ready and about to leave. I was looking forward to a night alone on the fells. The temperature was dropping but the afternoon was clear and the visibility looked like it should last.
One of the glories of walking the fells at night is to watch the sun go down; to see the light fade and change slowly; to watch the colours come and go.
Climbing Great Shunner Fell this night was a treat. A red sky at night that hinted at a spell of more stable weather, a fantastic sunset over the Yorkshire Dales and steel blue sky out to sea kept me rapt.
As darkness fell, the temperature dropped and ice started to form on the slabs that marked the path. Picking out the dry from the wet from the icy was a test of eyesight and concentration.
Once or twice I thought I saw a head-torch beaming behind me but it was always quickly lost in the undulations of the hill.
The questions facing me at this point were how long could I go on this evening, when and where could I eat, where was I going to sleep when I eventually did stop?
I was still feeling good despite having been on the move since 5.15 am - over 12 hours ago. I told myself that the reason for this was the good meal and good night's sleep I'd had in Gargrave and Malham the night before. These thoughts gave me sudden impression of how far I'd come and how well I was progressing. I'd been telling myself that I'd been going for three days (and should be further along) when in fact due to the late start on day 1, I still had most of my third day left to go.
I stopped trying to work out where I was against my original plans. Was I ahead? Was I a day behind? I started to focus on the practicalities of the night ahead. Could I get to Tan Hill Inn while they were still serving food? I knew another evening of pub grub by the fire would be a fantastic boost to body and spirits. Passing through Thwaite on the way to Keld, I tried to remember how long this section had taken on the recce. When would I arrive at the pub? What time will they serve food until?
Leaving Keld around 7.30 pm, I reckoned on getting to Tan Hill at about 9.30 - 10 pm. Too much of a gamble to arrive there tired and hungry and likely to find the kitchen closed. I knew there was a cosy barn just about with a hayloft for sleeping. I took 30 minutes out to cook tea. Chicken soup followed by pasta bolognese. Yum. The right choice to stop, I think.
Back on the trail, I was caught up by Neil Rutherford, a Scot from south of Edinburgh. The company was appreciated and Neil was great company. More of a talker than a listener, Neil told me of his training runs starting from Kirk Yetholm and working down the Pennine Way as he got more confident in his strength and navigation. Following Neil was tough. He had a head of steam up and was stopping for nothing. As I walked along I was trying to pick the easy lines and avoid the worst of the bogs and puddles. Neil relentlessly ploughed on, stopping for nothing with seeming no regard for the ground he was crossing. He set a cracking pace which took us to Tan Hill Inn for 10.45.
There were a number of comedy moment through the week and this was one of them. Neil met up with his partner who was supporting him - providing food, drink, clothes, emotional support and a car to escape from the weather. I went into the pub to grab a warm drink and have a sit down.
After getting a coffee, I sat down with Neil who'd come into the pub and started chatting about this and that. After a few minutes Neil says, "I'm sorry I didn't get your name"
I say, "It's Paul, I've been walking with you for the last 2 hours!"
"Oh Christ! I didn't recognise you with the lights on!"
So much for my distinctive northern accent.
I forgave him and we made a pact to cross Sleighthome moor to the A66 together. The first 5 miles of this crossed blank, indistinct, boggy moorland following the shallow contours of Frummington beck. We didn't quite pick the fastest lines through this but we were never far from the route.
Despite the pace Neil was setting, I was starting to feel the cold. It was past midnight and I was starting to fade. I knew it was time to get some rest and food. Neil tempted me with the prospect of a cup of coffee when we reached the A66 and I agreed imagining a his partner producing a hot flask as we arrived. In fact we woke her as we got to the A66 and she started to sleepily assemble her camping stove and look around for water. Already shivering, Neil kindly suggested I might be better moving on and I was quick to agree.
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| Keri and Rob arrive to disturb my night's sleep |
Now on my own I was looking for shelter; somewhere where I could get out of the weather for a while. It had steadily been deteriorating for the past 2 hours and now there was snow filling the air and the wind was gathering again. I knew about a shelter in a shooting hut about a mile or so north of the A66 but I had never been to it. Neil had assured me that I couldn't miss it. In the descending mist and swirling snow, I wasn't so sure. On top of that my head torch batteries were fading. I pressed on hoping I would find the shelter where I could sort out my kit in relative comfort.
The downside was that I was scared of missing the hut. I was moving slower and slower as I neared the river where the hut was marked on the map and consequently getting colder. Good sense eventually got the better of me and I changed the batteries. With a strong beam to re-assure me that I wasn't marching past the shelter, I upped pace a little and just as I was starting to feel a little desperate, I saw the hut.
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| My feet steaming when I took off my Sealskinz socks |
I was cold and hungry but I had time to sort myself out before morning. I cooked up some dried apple and custard. This was the best food I ate all week. I followed it with some hot chocolate and got some sleep. The hut was cold. The floor was concrete and sucked the heat out. I couldn't get comfortable and my sleep was fitful. I started to wonder if I had another 3 days of this in me. An encouraging thought appeared that I was probably about the halfway point and I'd been going less than three days. I'd probably managed an hour or two of sleep when the hut door opened and Rob and Keri, the Kiwi couple I'd seen a few times already, appeared. My kit was everywhere . I tried to organise my stuff while not waking up or moving my arms out of the sleeping bag; I was none too helpful. A need to go to the toilet got the better of me and I reluctantly got up.
It was about 5.30 am. I decided to eat some more and get on my way before light, to push on the 10 miles or to Middleton and arrive in time for a second breakfast. I had some porridge. I had a hot chocolate. I fiddled with my feet. I had a couple of minor blisters but the blister plasters were in place and doing their job. I decided on another hot chocolate. During this time Keri and Rob had got into their sleeping bags, shivered for a while and decided to get up. I offered the shivering Keri a sup of my hot chocolate. A minute of so later, it was clear that I wasn't going to get any of it back as she and Rob drank the half-cupful. Good karma is better than calories, I hoped.
Reluctance to put wet socks back on was slowing me down but at last I got myself sorted and under way. It had been a cold, tough night and I was feeling footsore.
Fortunately, it was a morning to lift the spirits. There was a light dusting of snow, blue skies and a crisp, light breeze.
Progress was a slow plod. My feet were sore. Blisters weren't a problem, they just ached from being wet and battered for (nearly) 3 days.
I was still enjoying myself though. Watching the sun come up over the reservoirs and having the whole hillside to myself felt like a treat.
Around 2 hours after leaving the shelter, I passed the next barn that I'd scoped out for an overnight shelter. I felt glad that I hadn't had to push onto here the night before.
The miles seemed to pass slowly but my progress was clarifying in my mind. I was over halfway in under 3 days. All was good. This was fine. I could do this.
The checkpoint in Middleton-in-Teesdale was a mile up the hill through town off the route of the Pennine Way. It was probably a mark of how tired I was becoming just how much I resented this diversion.
But this was Checkpoint three, 140 miles done in under 72 hours. I could take an hour off so to let my sore feet recover, eat lots and get some drier socks on.
The news on reaching Middleton was that the weather was closing in again. A storm was forecast to hit in the next 24 hours. A diversion avoiding the scramble up to Cauldron Spout was being enforced and a cut-off at Cow Green car park of 10 pm was being imposed. Anyone arriving after this time would have to take a short-cut to Alston avoiding the highest summits of the Pennines across Cross Fell. 10 pm was a generous allowance but I didn't want to risk being close to the cut-off, so I got myself moving as quickly as I could.
The miles along the upper Tees past Low Force and High Force waterfalls is gently rising and picturesque trek on a good path. Trying to push the pace along here with throbbing feet was a dull and painful task, lightened by fabulous view. As I gained height, I could feel the weather getting colder and the skies greyer. On the diversion route to Cow Green an outrider of the storm hit. The head wind made any progress difficult and the snow was thick in the air and settling fast on the ground. I reached the car park at dusk, around 5 pm. I was taken into the Mountain Safety team bus and offered a coffee and piece of Dundee cake. Hearing that Dave Dixon was only 5 minutes ahead of me and knowing how useful his footprints in the snow would be, and also how soon they would disappear in the snow and wind, I scoffed the cake and pushed on. Later I was to learn how lucky I was. Keri and Rob arrived at Cow Green less than an hour after me but were diverted onto the road to Alston.
After a bleak 15 minutes or so, the weather settled and I was treated to a glorious night-time traverse to High Cup Nick and down to Dufton. The stars were stunning and the snow-lit fells were spectacular. Frustratingly, I lost Dave's footprints in the middle of the crossing. The GPS told me I was close to the line of the Pennine Way but I knew I wasn't on the best line. Care was needed as I reached High Cup Nick, a point with some treacherous cliffs and a number of alternative paths.
As I dropped down towards Dufton, visibility returned and the lights of Cumbria came into sight; another beautiful view. I was unaware that there was an intermediate checkpoint in Dufton. My plan at this point was to push on over Cross Fell and sleep when I reached Greg's Hut after Cross Fell. On entering Dufton, however, I was signed down the road to an unannounced checkpoint in the village hall. It was 9.30 pm. I took the decision to get my tea at this point and made up a sachet of goulash and a mug of chicken soup whilst I had a supply of hot water and a warm place to sit. I took off my boots to allow my battered feet some respite. There were a couple of chaps asleep on the village hall floor and I decided that I would join them and have "just a couple of hours" sleep before pushing on.
I woke around 12.30 and made some "breakfast", porridge and hot chocolate (same mug / same time). As I was getting my kit together Dave Bamber, who was running the checkpoint, awoke and came over to tell me that I wasn't allowed to leave on my own. I must wait for the other chaps asleep in the hall and we could only travel across Cross Fell as a threesome. I was disappointed by this and frustrated knowing that if I had pushed on as planned after tea that I would not have been held. There was nothing to be done but go back to sleep.
Just after 1.30 am, I was woken by Dave Bamber and told that Dave Dixon was wanting to leave now and we would be allowed to proceed as a pair. So, up again, I took on some coffee and got on with sorting out my kit. Putting on my boots, I noticed that the insoles were missing. The cogs whirred round slowly. The last I remembered was taking them out of my boots to dry at Middleton. Had I walked the last 20 miles with no insoles? I checked the radiators in the hall but it seemed that I had. My feet had swollen so much that I hadn't even noticed when I put my boots back on without them at Middleton. "Oh well!", I thought, "I guess that means I can do another 20 miles without them too."
Dave and I set off to traverse Cross Fell at about 3 am.
Dave had set a cracking pace along the Tees that afternoon and had proved impossible to stay with over High Cup Nick but now was suffering with a sore leg and I found the pace we fell into together felt fairly steady. This was not something I was unhappy about.
We stayed on the road over Great Dunn Fell to avoid the possibly deep and drifting snow. We stopped briefly on Little Dunn Fell for photos.
I think the i-phone won the battle of the cameras. Or maybe Dave was just cleverer with the lighting.
We got dawn just before we reached Greg's Hut. We poked out heads round the door to find a couple of spiners asleep and pressed on.
Dave's Spine story of the previous year, where he stopped just three miles short of the finish, is now the stuff legend. It was a privilege to spend this time on the hill and be part of his successful attempt.
The wind was biting by now. I was wearing all my clothes and was none too warm but we were treated to another delightful sunrise.
Dave pulled ahead of me as I paused for a toilet break. I caught him up 10 minutes later and chatted on to him for ages about nothing of any consequence. Thinking he was a bit quiet, I looked around to discover that I'd been talking to my shadow for the last 5 minutes.
It was round about now that I kept thinking that I was being overtaken by cyclists. Maybe, I was getting a bit tired.
We were off the high ground and in good light and visibility, so there was no need to stay together. I stretched my legs as much as I could and hit out for Alston. It would be good to get beyond there and maybe get to Greenhead in the Tyne valley today, I thought.
I reached Alston shortly before 11 am to be told that we were being held until the next storm passed. The mixture of relief and disappointment is difficult to remember accurately. I remember thinking that the rest and food would be welcome but was frustrated to be held. The non-stop nature of the race was what made this event unique. I wasn't complaining. I had no doubt that the decision was right and was prepared to make the best of it and drink coffee and eat doughnuts until I exploded. It was also a great opportunity to get to the other competitors, staff and volunteers a bit better. No hardship, certainly.
Spine Race Part 3 - to the end.
The waiting game
The weather forecasts were for 100+ mph winds across the summits. I like to think that if I'd read that weather forecast for myself that I would have independently decided to stay put and sit out the storm in warmth and comfort. I was happy to have the decision taken out my hands, though.
So, I hung my socks up to dry. I ate, slept, drank tea, ate doughnuts, chatted to racers and organisers, flirted hopelessly with Jacqui and, all in all, the time disappeared very pleasantly. I caught up with Phil for the first time since we set off. We had chance to reset our strategies. We were going to be setting off early on Thursday which gave 36-38 hours to reach the finish and be in time for a pub meal, maybe even finish in daylight. That was my aim now. The break had given a complete confidence that I would finish. It was only 80 miles after all and I had three days. I would go as hard as I could tomorrow, get a couple of hours sleep and push for the finish. Oh, such overconfidence again. When would I ever learn.
We were told to be ready to go for 6.30 but it was likely to be a 7 am start. That implied a 6.15 am start to me but the companions in my dormitory thought that 5.15 am was when they needed to start clattering around. Even I couldn't sleep through it.
Off Again
In my mind this was a short day; under 40 miles. So, I felt I would be able to keep a reasonably high pace, particularly as I was fed and rested. It was a mass start and I was happy to follow the head torches in front for the first few miles so as not to have to think about map-reading. But what with my stupid competitiveness and few of the advance party wandering off track, I found myself at the head of a bunch and feeling like I was doing all the hard work. Only Johnnie Watson seemed to have his map out and be sharing the load. Maybe everyone else knew where they were going and they would shout us back if we went off. Maybe I should just lighten up and enjoy the day and stop worrying about other people.
On this stretch I started to get stomach ache that would stay with me for the next two days. It was a persistent, bloated feeling of discomfort that put me off eating. I would go through a cycle of eating a small amount, being knotted with stomach cramps, trying to unsuccessfully bring up trapped wind, before feeling hungry again and repeating the process. The stomach cramps only went away when they were replaced by hunger pangs. This section along the Tyne valley was quite attractive but I didn't appreciate it. The group started to break up just before the intermediate checkpoint at Greenhead. They were serving fresh coffee and I stayed to enjoy a couple of cups while I faffed with my socks.
Leaving on my own I was resigned and almost looking forward to a section on my own when I ran into Richard Lendon and Simon Beasley who were just leaving the village cafe. We fell in together for a few miles until they started to stretch out in the section along Hadrian's Wall. This is a high and exposed section and once again the winds started to batter us. The freshness of the morning now seemed a long way away and I was back in plod mode. I could see Richard and Simon ahead, just a few hundred metres but the idea of catching them seemed absurd. The dragon's back hills along here that form the natural barrier that the Wall follows, are spectacular but I struggled to appreciate them.
It was a long and wearying section along the wall being bullied by the wind and dusk was falling when I turned north towards Bellingham. I could see Richard and Simon down the hill and off-route. The path took a diagonal route across a field and they had mistakenly followed the wall. The extra yards they had taken in were almost enough to help me catch them up and with the advantage of following, as they had a few more navigation decisions to make, meant that I caught up with them and Johnnie Watson as darkness fell.
The next 4 hours to Bellingham were the most miserable of the week. My feet were still sore. My stomach was stopping me eating almost anything and I was surviving on Shot Bloks (basically glorified fruit gums). The rain was lashing down again now. We were walking through managed forestry and the underfoot conditions varied from swamp to marsh with all the varieties of mud in between. Feet became soaked and started to feel cold. I had enough in my legs to stay with my new buddies but I was sat in and following. So much for my grumpiness of earlier that others were following me, I was more than happy to switch off and internalise my efforts into just keeping going for a few more hours and let others do the navigating.
Occasionally, I would get out my GPS and try and show willing. I don't know how much help I was. Johnnie was excellent through this time in staying close to the map which gives a much wider perspective than the GPS screen particularly when the paths were re-routed through the forest swamps. The last road miles were agony on the bruised feet. I squelched into the checkpoint just before 9 pm, another 14 hour day, to be told that we couldn't eat in our wet clothes, couldn't go into the hall, couldn't go in the drying room, arghh. We basically had to strip off on the spot and get changed before we could eat. I very nearly had a complete hissy fit. I was very hungry and needed to sit and eat. I just held it together long enough to get changed and get to the dining room.
I uploaded a slightly downbeat Facebook post as I settled into my sleeping bag and was truly gratified to see the stream of encouraging posts come back to me. The previous few hours had been a low point but I was through it and there was just one more day to go.
My place in the sun
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| Sun on the Cheviots |
Short of four hours sleep later I stirred. I rose quietly and tiptoed past Phil as he slept at my feet. I plugged in my phone for half an hour of juice before I set off. I was at my most useless in getting my kit together. I couldn't remember where my head torch was or find the gloves I'd taken off the night before. I had loads of dry clothes left but couldn't decide what to wear. Before I could get going Phil came past me on his way to breakfast. This was the impetus I needed to get moving and I left the checkpoint at about 3.30 am, leaving my phone plugged in behind me.
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| Blue skies on the Cheviots as a last day treat |
I left at the same time as Ian Bowles and it was quickly clear that we were moving at a similar pace and so we fell in together through the dark hours until dawn. There were some blank areas of moorland to cross and the extra eyes on the map helped keep the navigation errors to a minimum.
This last leg was 36 miles. If I could maintain 3 miles an hour I could finish in daylight. This was the aim I set off with. Sore feet and perpetual stomach cramps were not making it easy going though.
As dawn broke we caught up with Joao Colaco wearing high viz waterproof trousers that gave him the look of a fireman in search of a cat up a tree. The fire road in Redesdale Forest would normally have been regarded as runnable but the surface was too hard to contemplate beating my feet on, even if the legs had been willing. The sun was shining and the light through the woods was lovely. Ian and I caught up with Rob and Kerry and we passed a couple of miles in chatter.
Pleasant walking eventually brought us to Byrness and the last intermediate checkpoint before the end. Here the B&B owner heroically treated us to leek and potato soup followed by sausage and mash. A crowd of nearly a dozen spiners was squashed in but we were all fed in quick time. Despite feeling bloated, I stuffed down what I could knowing that it was easier to eat whilst seated than it would be whilst I was on the move. It didn't occur to me that it was odd to be eating sausage and mash at 10.30 in the morning.
Out of Byrness it was a stiff climb up onto the Cheviots. Not having walked any of the route for the last two days had been tough. Lack of familiarity had made it harder work and demanded higher concentration. This remained the case for the rest of the day and would cost me time later but, for now, being out on the high ridges of the Cheviots for the first time was a glorious cold, sharp, sunny, winter's day treat.
The ground was bone hard and ice was forming on the slabs. I decided to make use of my Yaktrax (other brands of lightweight ice grips are available). Putting on the rubbery contraptions took me 5 minutes but the extra grip meant that I soon caught up with and overtook the posse in front.
Once again I was feeling good. The sun was high, the path was clear, the going was fast and my pace felt strong and felt like I could keep it up all day. Home straight. Glory miles.
But careless mapwork cost me all this. Cutting a corner, I took the wrong path down the street rather than along Windy Gyle. On such a clear day, you don't need to check bearings! As long as you read the land right and the path is clear. A kilometre after I went off route the path started to descend unexpectedly. Getting out the compass, I realised my mistake. The detour cost me probably 20-30 minutes but more than that was slap to my morale. The zip went out of my pace. Instead of striding out and trying to stay ahead of my buddies, I fell into a plod. I wasn't going to finish in daylight. It was time to steady down, make no more mistakes and finish. Just finish.
Fatigue was making the feet hurt more and I had nearly eaten all the food that I could contemplate putting in my mouth. The wind was gathering too and the cold was starting to penetrate. I was wearing pretty much everything I was carrying.
I had on a thermal base layer, a stretch fleece, a windproof and my waterproof shell. Even with all this, I was struggling to keep enough of a pace to stay warm.
As dusk fell, I descended down from The Cheviot, the high point of the mountain range, to the second mountain refuge hut. I had a pair of dry socks in my bag and decided it was time to use them. I stopped in the hut where Spine volunteers were making a party atmosphere. I took 10 minutes off my feet, ate well and put on some fresh socks feeling that the extra spring would protect my feet and help me on the downhill to the finish.
One last push to the top of the Schil and I had 5 miles of downhill left. One of my Yaktrax was now in shreds but I was able to get a jog going and enjoy the benefits of gravity. Moving nicely, I saw a couple of head torch beams coming towards me. I was delighted to realise that it was Ian Haigh and Amanda Porter who come up to meet me and Phil and drive us back to Southwell.
I was less delighted that they shone their 200 lumen torches in my face and blinded me. I courteously let them know that they should be more considerate with how they use their lamps. I was expecting some company down to the finish but Ian and Amanda said that they were going on to the hut to wait for Phil, "who isn't far behind". I didn't need any encouragement but the thought that Phil might be catching me pushed me on again.
More downhill on good ground, softening as I descended below the frost line, helped me cover the ground quickly and soon I was down in valley on the road leading to Kirk Yetholm. I took off my Yaktrax and almost immediately stepped on to a finger of black ice and ended up on my back. In the six and a half days prior to this I had stumbled, been blown off balance, skidded on the mud, slipped on the ice, slid on the wet duck-boards and skied on the wet grass but I had only fallen over twice. The first time was within 1 mile of the start and the second within 1 mile of the finish.
The tarmac took all the wind from my sails. I got a good march going and started to think of the finish and the welcome and the pub and the beer and the food.
One more cruel and brutal hill on the road into town surprised me but soon I was walking down the village green towards where I thought the pub must be. I could see no lights or banners to guide me. There was a small crowd so I headed towards them. They gave me a polite ripple of applause which I tried to acknowledge while still looking faintly embarrassed.
Prompted by an onlooker, I touched the pub wall and turned to go inside. As I did Nici Griffin came out slightly flustered and insisted I go through my finish ritual again so that she could then present me with my medal. Actually, I just wanted my beer. Ok, I wanted my medal too. There are no pictures of my finish but I did do it, I promise.
I opened the door of the pub to a rapturous round of applause from racers, volunteers and general pub goers. I don't expect to ever again receive a welcome like that when I enter a pub.The photo above captures how I felt at that moment.
Amazingly, I was reunited with my phone and so could capture a moment of two of the evening before "exhaustion" set in. I caught up with fellow racers, some of whom I'd not seen since the start, and volunteers. The atmosphere as more and more finishers came into the pub was lovely, like a big extended family welcoming home sons and daughters at Christmas
My hurry to make sure that I finished ahead of Phil was somewhat misplaced and Ian and Amanda had a little wait for him at Hut 2. The pub had kicked out and I was wondering how long I was prepared to wait in the freezing evening when Phil, Amanda and Ian strolled down the hill.
In something of an anti-climax, Phil touched the pub wall and was given his medal. They had run out of finisher's t-shirts in any size other than XL and there was no finisher's half pint of beer to greet him.
We headed for Ian's camper van and he drove us to the village hall. I stayed up and ate and drank for as long as I could, wanting to savour the moment but soon was too tired to carry on and crawled into my sleeping bag.
I understand that the hall was very noisy that night and in particular one person was making a lot of drunken noise right next to me. Once again I proved that if nothing else that I could outsleep anyone.
Afterthoughts
For the last two days of the race, I could not imagine doing this race again. In fact I was slightly bemused by the people who had come back 2, 3 and 4 times. Now, a few weeks later, I know that come January 2016 I will feel a great sense of missing-out, if I am not on the start line. The Spine Race is a great adventure. The organisers, racers and volunteers form a community that is unique to this type of event. To have the opportunity to test myself in this way is a great privilege. The excitement of the unknown that faced me on the start line was thrilling. That excitement will not be the same for me, in future Spine Races and for that reason I may look to other adventures, if any at all.
For now, the curiosity about how far I can push myself and just what I can achieve, has dissipated. It's a good time to enjoy steady bike rides, tea-shops and cake; short walks in the country and a pint or two; and bimbly climbs on roadside crags in the sunshine.
