Written by Ian Bowles - http://dartmoordogrunner.blogspot.fr/
Friday night and 12 hours to the start of the 2013 Spine Race
Racing the whole of the Pennine Way in January Can’t hurt that much. Can it?
Here I am in the back of my van starting my final prep for the Spine. Typically I have left everything to the last minute. The current problem is how to pack all I might need in my drop bag. It all comes down to what could be a crucial choice - tent or bivi bag? I know I won’t make CP2 at a sensible time so I err on comfort rather than lightweight. The tent it is! The same goes for the choice of the faster cooking MSR Gas stove over super light weight’ fuel tablet’ stove. The stove choice proved particularly important 6 days later.
Back in the race HQ others are making similar decisions. We worry about the weight of our packs. How much we carry is the only thing we can change at this late stage. Few of us appreciate that it,s the small decisions we make out on the trail that will really make the difference.
I ponder why I am here and feel a bit of a fraud (I have not even paid to enter for god’s sake!). Last year I entered the Spine Challenger but had to pull out at the last minute. I passed on my entry to fellow Totnes Runner Mark Brooks.
Mark was not at all keen to enter, as he hates cold weather. He came up with a list of excuses: no bivi bag, no traction aids, no decent sleeping bag, no transport. To each excuse he came up with, I supplied the solution. My parting words as he left for Edale in my van were, “ If you win the Spine Challenger you can let me have your prize of free entry to the 2013 Spine”.
He won and so here I am.
Day One only 268 miles to go.
As expected the majority of the pack rushed off up the hill. Racing was not part of my plan. As a 57 year old plodder with nothing to prove I knew I could make it to CP2 and that anything else would be a bonus. As for finishing the Spine, if I did that I would be chuffed to bits! For now I had only one aim, to get up to Kinder Scout without breaking into a sweat.
I stopped several times to change layers. I have to control my body temperature .The heat I produce must match the heat lost. If I run hot or cold I am just wasting energy. On shorter runs up to say 12 hours you can get away with things but this race is different.
The Kinder Plateau gave me an early wake up call. I slipped into race mode picking off several runners until I took a wrong turn at Kinder Downfall. I am an orienteer and I didn’t even have my map out! The Spine had given me my first gentle kick; a more serious beating was soon to follow.
The rest of that day can best be described as a settling in period. A bitterly cold wind blew from the east and we runners started to form up in groups , each following a navigator. I found myself at the front on map and compass with someone else on GPS cross checking our track. All was well as where the path was indistinct or branching as it forced concentration. The Spine however could never be taken for granted.
Our group soon found ourselves following a good obvious path but we were heading SW on Castleshaw Moor. Somehow we had all stopped navigating, missed a junction and were now 1.5km off track! There was a recovery path marked on my OS map but it was too indistinct to follow on the ground. This left us with a run along a Pennine bridleway and 2km of road to get back on track. Total time lost about one hour. That second kick hurt!
Soon it was lights on time and the group began to work better together. Two of us navigating and those with good night vision spotting the indistinct path among boulders dusted by snow and ice.
We arrived at the next road checkpoint. This is was where I made my worst decision of the whole race!
I was hungry , very hungry but stupidly I decided to pass the brightly lit pub and stick with the group. Several more runners had joined us and we were on a fast, flat wide track. The pace quickened and someone called out our speed. Subtly the group was speeding up. Within a few km I knew I was running over pace and the hunger was turning into that old familiar slightly nauseous feeling that warns of imminent throwing up! The pace slackened on the more technical ground for the last 5km to CP1 but the damage was done.
I arrived at the CP, got my feet sorted and then tried to eat and drink. Not long after I threw up. When I get into that state my face drains of color and my lips go purple. This has happened to me many times before. (I usually crawl on and recover.) This time I was immediately grabbed by the Medics , declared an emergency, told to lie down and get some tubes of dextrose, coke and porridge down me.
You don’t argue with the Spine Medics. I was on final warning! I managed to do as I was told, eventually falling to sleep.
I woke up to find my appetite had returned. After a stiff talking to by the head Medic I was allowed to go on, having promised to up my fluid and food intake.
Day two - 45 miles done
Setting off just before dawn a new group had formed .We quickly got back into eating up the miles. I had learnt my lesson the previous day and resolved to run at my own pace and stuff my face all day. If any one else wanted to tag along at my pace, that was fine but I would not wait or pass any food stops.
Group running on long ultras is more complex than you may think. In a group of say four runners the navigator will lead. Perhaps two runners will cruise at below their sustainable pace saving the energy it takes to navigate. Any other runners are probably being pulled along at above their sustainable pace, not wanting to leave the comfort of the group. Inevitably they suffer and gradually go down hill.
I personally reckon groups of two or three work best. I had also noticed on day one that the runners with support crews tended to stop at every road head and take advantage of their crews, leaving the rest of the group shivering while they waited. Supported and unsupported runners don’t always work well together.
The composition of our band gradually changed and I found my self running with an Irish lad, Eamonn, and Andy, a young guy who lives only five miles from my home. Navigation duties meshed well as Eamonn had a good GPS and Andy a booklet with detailed maps and notes on the route. We made small detours at times to visit cafes, pubs and the Gargrave Co-op pie display. I grabbed 4 pies eating one even before I got to the till.
We were making steady progress. Dave Lee joined us. Dave is a vastly experienced and tough runner in his 60’s I found this a little difficult, as Dave was the only runner in the Spine that I felt I had to beat! Perhaps we both wanted to be group leader? He later told me he felt exactly the same way about me.
Dave had walked the Pennine Way twice before and knew some of it really well. We all shared the navigation. We got as far as Malham Cove and soon everything went pear shaped. The trail was hidden by snow and due to the steep climbs we were trying to navigate in 3D on a 2D map.
We came to the end of a blind gorge which Dave was convinced was not on the trail, so we must be way off course. The GPS was having difficulty keeping a signal. Backtracking only made things worse but eventually a GPS grid fix confirmed we were on course. We eventually located steps hidden in the snow leading up comb hill. It was a real relief to arrive at the CP 1.5 tent at Malham Tarn.
Eamonn pushed on with Andy, as he was worried about the cut off for the Spine Challenger. I don’t recall if Dave camped or pushed on.
After a quick drink of tea I scuttled outside to put up my tent. The snowy ground was covered in bodies holed up in bivi bags. My TN laser tent took no time to erect despite the frozen ground and I was soon cooking up beef hot pot and Ovaltine. Alarm set for four hours sleep and toasty warm, I went out like a light.
Day three - about 90 miles done
Still dark and I fired up the gas stove for porridge and Ovaltine, whilst I re packed. I could hear others emerging from their bivi bags trying to get warm. Thank god for my tent!
I was running solo again, navigating well and keeping a lookout for tracks in the snow. It’s easy to stop navigating and rely onfollowing others tracks but what with sheep and cows hoofs churning up the footprints, you have to keep concentrating.
I soon overhauled a group of four lead by Jenn Gaskell. Jenn is over thirty years younger than me. She is sponsored by Montane and, unlike me, actually wins Ultras!
Jenn was holding back as a couple of the lads in her group were struggling. On a race like The Spine you need to run at your own pace. Staying with the lads was doing no one any favors.
Jenn’s and my pace were better matched so after a quick word with the others she joined me and we pushed ahead.
Jenn, the young Racehorse, and I, the old Carthorse seemed outwardly to be a mismatched pair. We powered up and over the spectacular snow covered heights of Pen-y-ghent. We ran on down to the café in Horton only to discover it was closed Mondays!
Climbing back up the hill we recalled the pre race briefing: The 2013 Spine had been shortened missing out the Horton dogleg and about 3.5km, including a big climb. We had lost well over an hour and the lads had caught us up again. Still we felt we had done the “proper Spine route”. Re passing the lads we chatted all the way to Haws. (110 miles completed.)
We had our feet sorted and wolfed down the hot food. Before leaving Hawes I raided the local butchers and carried of several pies and some local cheese.
Many runners only carry specialized energy foods such as jells and energy bars to save on weight. I find I need salty foods and solid carbs. As a self confessed pig and carthorse I am not so bothered about the weight. If it’s not the sort of thing I would raid the fridge for, then it has no place in my pack . One superb “Spine Snack” is a large jacket potato cooked in the CP with half a stock cube inserted in it. This is foil wrapped put in a plastic bag then stowed inside my down jacket. It will stay warm for up to 6 hrs in my pack . Hot food and warm hands , a real boost at low moments. I also used sachets of HP sauce squeezed directly into my mouth to keep awake!
My body is not so much ‘ A Temple ‘ as a ‘Council Waste Food Processing Plant’.
Night fell and our route now took us up into the snow covered heights of Shunner Fell. With a howling wind, spindrift and no trace of the trail. We used Jenn’s Garmin Oregon GPS to keep us on track. (visibility was so bad that it was difficult to read any contours ) We waded, lurching forward through the boulders. The snow was deep, up to waist height in places. Behind us blowing snow immediately filled in our tracks. Our water bottles had all frozen up and the going was getting tougher. Jenn trudged just behind me walking in my footprints. I was on autopilot mode (head down and pushing on)
I shouted back to Jenn, “are you ok?” Her reply was instant. “I’m having the best time of my life!” I was shocked to realize I felt the same. Here we were, two miss matched knackered runners, short on sleep, fighting our way through a snow storm up an invisible boulder strewn path in the middle of the night This was totally nuts and utterly wonderful!
We never stopped chatting that night and I soon found my roll had changed. Jenn wanted to be the first woman to win the Spine Race and my new mission was to help her every way I could. This took even more pressure off me and raised our already high morale still higher.
‘Team-Age-Gap’, as we called ourselves, was on a roll. We would run until the early hours, and then make camp at the Tan Hill Pub, the highest pub in the UK.
The race organizers had been talking to the barman at the Tan Hill pub. He was keen to help the racers and we had been given his phone number. I phoned him at about 10 pm to let him know that we would not get there till 3am. I asked where would be the best place to put up the tent? I was astonished when he said that if we arrived any time before 3 am we should shout outside his bedroom window and he would let us in to sleep on the pub floor! Who was this saint?
Team-Age-Gap eventually got to the pub at 2.45. I found myself standing on snow covered table shouting up at various windows, watched by two bemused sheep. I was trying to shout, yet being terribly British and trying not to make too much noise at the same time.
No response. Now what? Jenn shone her torch through the ground floor window. Russ, another Spiner, had been kipping on the bar floor. He woke up and let us in. A warm room, running water, carpet, cushions and sofas - for us, sheer bliss. We hung our wet gear over the stools and tables in the lounge bar and Within minutes we were asleep.
Day four - 130 miles done
Up before dawn, and despite eating some cold leftover chips we found , starving again! Decided to fire up my stove outside - I did not want to set off any smoke alarms. Opening the fire door I was confronted by the two sheep who seemed intent on breaking into the pub! I knew it was cold outside but if the local sheep were seeking shelter it must be bloody freezing! Two hot meals and a bowl of porridge later we were ready to go.
The barman came down stairs and offered to cook us breakfast. He was a real star. He even apologized for not waking up!
We learned he had just returned from ‘a Cage Fighting Tour’ of the US. Jenn now knows all of the seven moves you are not allowed to do to your opponent in a Cage Fight so you had better not mess with her!
Just as we started Dave Lee appeared. He looked wiped out, having not slept for forty plus hours. I suggested he go into the pub where our new Cage Fighting Friend would make him breakfast. Dave would have none of it. He wanted to come on with us.
My last memory of the pub was the sight of our Cage Fighting Friend standing in the snow feeding the pubs two pet sheep.
I phoned race control to give them an update on Jenn and I and also of Dave,s condition. Dave promptly shot off ahead but we soon came across him brewing up food. For the next few hours Dave kept yo-yoing around us but never at a steady pace.
About 10km short of the CP at Middleton, Dave vanished completely. I phoned race control again and suggested they send someone to escort him in to the checkpoint.
We arrived at Middleton where Jenn’s Mother did a great job of looking after us both. Dave soon arrived and was prescribed; ‘a good nights sleep’. Jen and I showered, ate and crashed in the bunks intending to sleep for four hours. One hour later my head was still buzzing.
“ Hey Jen, you asleep?”
“ No, I don’t think I can.”
“ Me neither. Do you want to hit the trail?”
“Yes, let’s go for it!”
We arranged with Jenn’s mother to meet us in Dufton at 8 am, where we would sleep in her car for a few hours.
The path now ran along the Tees towards Cow Green Reservoir and the falls at Cauldron Snout. We had been given special instructions on how to pass the Falls but long before we got there we found the trail disappeared among massive boulders alongside the icy rushing water. There were several sets of footprints leading up a near vertical slope away from the water. We followed them up and over 2 km of horrendous energy sapping boggy ground towards the lights of Cow Green Dam. We never did see the Falls! Far ahead in the distance we thought we could see runners lights . We passed the Dam and followed a wide, gradually climbing track.
Day five
Around 3 am Jenn dramatically started to fall apart. I had not realized that she had just not been eating enough. Without food she did not have the energy to generate enough speed to keep warm. Once this cycle starts it’s difficult to reverse especially for a well trained runner with a minimum of body fat. The early stages of hypothermia set in. Running with a partner can be vital as your decision making ability quickly goes down the pan!
Jenn was desperate to stop and camp - not, I felt, a safe option. I argued that her mother would be waiting for her with a nice warm car in Dutton. If we stopped on the high exposed ground she would get even colder and find re starting even more difficult. ( we needed to get down off the cold high ground as fast as we could)
I fed Jenn on shotblocks and lent her my down jacket. Crawling along at a snails pace she could not warm up. My next step was to carry her pack, take her arm and frog march her forward. This helped but progress was difficult on the icy, rutted track whilst trying to carry two packs. Jenn put her pack back on, as it helped keep her back warm, and I dragged and chivvied her foreword despite her pleas for us to stop.
Dawn broke as we crawled past the spectacular High Cup Nick but Jenn was past caring. I phoned race control again to update them of Jenn’s situation and to make sure her mother and the promised “nice warm car” would be waiting in Dufton.
The ground sloped downward and a battered Team-Age-Gap eventually shuffled into Dufton.
We arrived in a deserted Dufton only to find no car! I sat Jenn on a bench, draped my sleeping bag around her and brewed up hot drinks preparing to put the tent up on the snow covered village green.
Much to my relief Jenn’s mother soon arrived with hot soup and food. Her car looked, to a 6ft 2ins bloke, very small but somehow we both folded ourselves into the back . The strange angle of the folded back seats caused my calf to cramp but soon I dozed of.
We woke after about two hours. The Dufton pub had opened and we all trooped inside to eat chips and plan our next move. I half expected Jenn to quit there and then but she was determined to go on.
I had my doubts that Jenn could go much further so we agreed that Jenn’s mum (An experienced hill walker) would come with us for a while to see how Jenn felt.
Jenn was okay on the level path out of Dufton but as soon as we started to climb she slowed down and burst into tears. Jenn could see that she was still struggling and was mortified that she might be ruining any chance I had of finishing the Spine. We could all see that this was probably true. Short of carrying her there was nothing more I could do to help her. I reluctantly agreed that I would push on alone and Jenn would join the following, hopefully slower, group.
After a tearful parting I carried on up towards Cross Fell. Looking back ten minutes later there was no sign of Jenn or her Mum. The snow deepened on the exposed fell side and the wind was rising again. I was deeply troubled that Jenn might not be able to keep up with the second group and try to go it alone! I felt I terribly responsible for her safety.
A local fell runner appeared heading to Dufton. I gave him a message for Jenn telling her of the harsh conditions on the higher ground and that on no account should she run solo.
I was physically strong but lack of sleep meant my emotions were on a constant knife edge. About five minutes later I got a text from Jenn’s Mum saying Jenn had realized she could not carry on and they were walking together back to Dufton. I fell to my knees in the snow and wept, partly from relief but also from knowing how much Jenn had wanted to complete the Spine.
Jenn and I had gained so much strength from each other and now it was up to me to finish this race for both of us! Besides which, somewhere up ahead was the German Team!
The climb up to Cross Fell seemed to go on for hours with several false summits but at least I had daylight and tracks to follow.
Just before the summit I came across a sight that reminded me of how dangerous the fells could be. The trail was invisible but for a few exposed flagstones. I came across two stones with a gap of six inches between them. Below the gap was a drop of two feet to a stream. Anyone following the flagstones could easily have put a foot down the gap, instantly breaking their leg and in these conditions this could be fatal!
I pushed on harder wanting to get out of the danger zone and down to Greg’s Hut before dusk.
Greg’s Hut was a welcome respite. John Bamber and the medics seemed to fill the place with good cheer, making it difficult to leave. I had tea and soup then said my farewell and continued down the track. 100 meters later I realized I had left my remaining walking pole back at the Hut! Cursing I ran back up the hill then started again.
I had hoped to make good time on this track but it was coated in ice and strewn with boulders. The track also divided in places, then re joined. None of these junctions appeared on my map. Progress was frustratingly slow and by the time I got to Garrigill I was well and truly knackered.
A small pub lifted my spirits. I fell through the door, ordered a pint of Coke and asked if they had any food. Unfortunately they were short staffed and no longer serving food.
Looking round I noticed several plates of half eaten food. No one appeared to be guarding them so I sloped over and eat the lot. On looking up I saw a middle aged couple staring at me.
“Come far? ”the man asked, nervously.
Edale I muttered“ I am running the Pennine Way.
They were confused and worried by my answer.
My gaze kept drifting towards their plates.
The man remembered this situation described in a Ray Mears survival program.
He knew what to do : Give the Bear what it wants , don’t make eye contact and back away slowly! The drooling animal before him with no manners and staring bloodshot eyes, certainly stank and acted like a Bear.
The couple abandoned their food , backed out the door and I moved in and shamelessly cleaned their plates.
Grunting my thanks to the remaining customers I lurched back out into the night.
A minute later one of the pub locals came running after me with my pole which I had left in the pub. I stuffed it into the top of my pack and pushed on.
Garrigill to the CP at Alston is only about 7km but again progress was slow. My brain wasn’t working properly and I kept making navigation errors. I passed about 2km of fields covered in rock solid frozen molehills. I have never seen so many in one place. I don’t think I was hallucinating but I was in no position to judge myself. Each molehill was like a mini tank trap ready to break a runner’s toes. The mole hills were followed by a narrow track with overhanging branches which kept snagging my pole but I was to tired to stow the pole properly.
At last Alston CP, food and a few hours sleep. Rather annoyingly the hostel drying room heaters were not switched on so I had to dangle my wet garments over the radiators before retiring to bed. Keeping my feet dry was vital to prevent Trench Foot. Jenn was somewhere in the hostel fast asleep. I never did see her.
Day 6 - 200 miles - somebody stop me!
I planned to be off by 7am. Russell Swift wanted to run with me but was not ready by 7. With three breakfasts inside me I could not wait. The German team where about two hours ahead and I was determined to catch them!
Within the first five minutes I made a navigation error, which cost me time. As an Orienteer I must confess to being a bit of a navigational snob. I hate the idea of the GPS. Now I needed to use all the tools at my disposal. I reluctantly fished out my base model Garmin E Trex, determined to teach myself how to use it on a good trail in daylight. Unlike Jenn’s Garmin Oregon my GPS had no base map so I had to use the waypoints supplied by the Spine Team. All was fine if I had a visible path to follow but once it was obscured by snow I frequently ended up running through a bog parallel to a good flagged path. The waypoints were set just to far apart. Map and compass proved faster than my GPS in daylight.
It soon became apparent that I was physically and mentally changed. I was running faster than at any time during the race. I had plenty to eat and energy to spare. Somehow over the last five days I had re-programmed my body, turning me into an eating running machine!
I was high as a kite whooping with joy, tracking Germans. The only one missing from this rapturous scene was Jenn and my the two dogs: Scooby and Suki, who I love to take running with me across Dartmoor . I felt like Jim Carrey’s character in the film "The Mask" shouting out "somebody stop me!" It’s a good thing the Spine medics were not around as they would have withdrawn me from the race for mental instability!
The ground flew by; at times I was hitting 7mph according to my GPS. The sun came out for a time but the bogs were still frozen enough to run over without getting the dreaded wet feet.
Next big landmark - Hadrian’s Wall. Here the Pennine Way ran east into a biting cold wind. The Spine team met me at one of the road crossings.
Conrad, one of the race organisers, ran with me for a while. We chatted about how the runners felt about the race and how it could be improved for next year.
The subject of food came up and I confessed I could kill for a Camembert cheese or two. He thought for a while and replied "how about Brie?” Yes, I said, three would be better! Once my confusion had been sorted I learnt that Conrad lived nearby. He had had a ‘Brie or two’ in his fridge and made a quick phone call. One hour later, at the next road head, I was handed two Brie cheeses.
Dusk fell again and I parted with Conrad, turning north again towards a forested area. I had been warned that there were two dangerous bogs before the forest and I must stick to the flagstones! The snow had hardened and with no visible trail or footprints I struck out across open ground following the GPS waypoint line. I found the bog but no flagstones. A detour of 90 degrees left and right revealed nothing so nervously I tiptoed my way across the bog. The same thing happened at the second bog. I knew what was happening, I was running parallel to the trail but in these conditions unless I hit the flagstones spot on I could not find it!
The bogs had slowed me down but worse was to follow. On entering the forest the main track was often joined by wide forest rides. In the dark the rides were indistinguishable from the Pennine Way itself. The GPS waypoints did not take into account the winding of the trail so several times I found myself running up dead ends. Not all the rides were shown on the OS map so I found myself frequently back tracking!
My worst moment came when I ran 500 meters up a blind ride. I figured out from a GPS fix that the main trail was about 30 meters to the east. The branches on the trees were so low that I was forced to take my pack off and crawl on my belly, dragging my pack behind me. Once back on the path I was back up to speed again. A few minutes later I noticed I had lost my waterproof thermal cap. There was no chance of finding it if I had lost it while crawling through the trees. It was a bitter blow.
The rest of that night was spent in much the same frustrating way. In low visibility missing the trail by just 3 meters can be enough to stop you dead. My curses could have been heard for miles. Often I had to climb barbed wire topped walls as I could not make out which way the gates were located.
At one point I came to a fairly wide river. The map indicated a footbridge but none was apparent despite searching the bank up and down stream. Eventually, muttering curses, I entered the foot deep ice cold water avoiding the rafts of snow floating down stream. 200 meters later I came upon an obstacle that made me laugh out loud. Before me was a farmyard with a 20 foot high pile of steaming cow dung and according to my GPS, the waypoint was smack bang in its centre! Someone back at Spine HQ had a sense of humour.
It was with some relief that I eventually arrived at the Bellingham CP. All the extra speed on that leg had been for nothing as the night navigation errors had wiped out all the time gained.
CP 5 was where my race was changed yet again. We were due for 65 mph winds, -8oC and a blizzard! With the forecast that bad I feared my race was over.
The Spine team called a conference. It was decided that the only safe way the race could go on was if the remaining runners formed up in two teams. I was to join Michael, Jin, Thomas, Anna and Brian and we would set off in three hours, at 5 am. The second team of Dave, Annie and Russell (who arrived at CP5 a little later) would follow at 6 am.
None of us fully appreciated it at that time but The Spine Race was about to get a lot more serious!
Day 7 - 222 miles done - 45 miles to go!
Russ Ladkins was carried in to the Bellingham CP by the medics. Russ had been ahead of us but had to quit when his digestive system shut down and he became crippled by cramps . Russ was put on a plasma drip with two of the medics watching over him while he tried to get some sleep. All this activity was happening in the bed next to me. I got next to no sleep.
I was also worried about the next leg and my hat problem. I was considering cutting up my towel and wrapping it around my head
Much to my relief I was reunited with my thermal cap which the second team had found on Hadrians Wall. I knew I would need all my extra kit to stay warm and safe over the coming leg. Preparing my pack I estimated I would be carrying over 10Kg.
Five am arrived and we were briefed on what was to come. Anna was given a GPS tracker that would continually transmit our position on a Google Earth to race control. The tracker could be used to signal race control of problems (amber light) or too transmit an emergency signal. For now it would be on plain tracker. The group had to stick together and look after each other.
We set off into the dark. Michael was leading the way with his state of the art GPS. He had every single path on Google Earth and OS maps programmed into his machine and so never strayed more than 2 meters off the path. This explained why I could not catch them the previous day.
Progress was fairly fast but Michael’s pace was very inconsistent. After about one hour we reached a road and Michael announced he was dropping out of The Spine. We were all rather shocked and surprised. He explained that for the last hour he had lost proper control of his body temperature. He felt he would not be able to cope with the conditions forecasted for the latter stages of our last leg. We managed to flag down a car and Michael got a lift back to Bellingham. It must have taken immense courage to take that decision this close to the finish line.
Thomas took over leading with his GPS. The pace quickened, as we knew we had to get as far as possible before the blizzard set in.
Back at Spine HQ unknown to us , our team had been named - The Trans EuropeanFreight Train or TEFT for short. However on the ground our group was not yet a team. Thomas and Jin had been together from the start and moved as one unit. Anna and Brian had paired up several days before and behaved as if they had been married for years. And then there was me, ‘Billy No Mates’, tagging along. The group as yet had no real team spirit.
Things were not helped by cultural differences. If the Germans stopped to eat or change layers we all stopped. If the Brits did the same the Germans would continue marching off into the distance and the Brits would have to play catch up. Thomas marched at a totally uniform speed both up and down hill. I preferred to avoid sweating by moving slower on the up’s then speeding up on the flat’s and downs . Our dysfunctional group was stretched up to 200meters apart at times!
We marched through Redesdale Forest. A storm was approaching and we heard the sinister sounds of Bombs and Artillery from the military ranges to our East. I felt like a Hobbit approaching the dark realm of Mordor. Often we had to step back from the dirt road as vast logging trucks sped past taking runs at the ice covered switch back hills. This was real ‘Red Neck country’.
We met the Spine team again at the road through Byrness. There we topped up our water knowing that for the next 35km we would be on our own in what was essentially a wilderness. Our only hope of shelter were two Mountain Refuge Huts high up in the Cheviots.
Climbing out of Byrness I paused to put on more layers. When I looked up everyone else had disappeared over the skyline. I hauled myself up the slope to see Brian and Anna 50 meters ahead with Jin and Thomas 200meters ahead of them . Neither Thomas nor Jin ever looked back. This was no longer a joke - we were not acting as a team.
I ran to catch up with Thomas telling him he had to slow down so we could keep together. Thomas stopped still. He appeared to have only two speeds, fast relentless march and; “please hurry up, I am getting cold waiting”! Fortunately, as we climbed the snow was getting deeper so Thomas, who was breaking the trail, was naturally slowing down. The group closed up and moved ahead.
At around dusk we reached the First Mountain Refuge Hut. The wind speed increased and the snow fell more heavily. Thomas, with his sheer strength, did the bulk of the trail breaking helping the rest of the team following in his tracks. We started rotating the front runner as with conditions deteriorating no one person could ‘ trail break’ for long. The following team members tramped along head down following the leaders trench.
We seamlessly slipped from being three teams into one powerful team. The TEFT was now acting as a well-oiled machine. I totally forgave Thomas for everything that had annoyed me earlier.
With wind and freezing snow blasting us from our right hand side we clawed our way forward along the Cheviots. All liquid water in our bottles had frozen solid . The snow got deeper but under the drifts the bogs were not frozen. Our feet kept being soaked then re frozen.
For some reason Brian had the worst problems. Great balls of snow and ice had formed around his lower legs. As the balls grew, the zips on his leggings were gradually forced up his leg exposing more places for ice to form. He must have had over 1.5 kg of ice stuck to each leg. His tracks looked like those of a two-legged elephant! Balls of ice also formed on the ends of our running poles
Whenever we passed a solid fence post we kicked out to dislodge some of the ice on our legs. The navigation was getting more difficult. GPS batteries were failing in the cold and I was struggling to wipe snow of my map, let alone read and re fold it in the wind. We knew we had to keep close to the fence but the snow and bogs were deeper there so we were forced away only catching glimpses of our ‘hand rail’ . We kept counting head torches checking we were all still there. If we stopped for a moment our bodies started to freeze! The situation was getting gradually worse and we all knew it. We just had each other, no help from outside was possible.
I think we all had thought of pressing the amber alert button on the tracker but knew that the outside world could do nothing to help us
With the howling wind blasting snow and ice we could only communicate by yelling at each other with heads almost touching
Just before The Cheviot at 700 meters the trail swung NW. Now we had the wind at our backs. We knew there was a Mountain Refuge Hut about 2km ahead but that would take us at least two hours at the rate we were moving. To make matters worse our slow speed was making the GPS pointer swing randomly through 180 degrees! We needed the compass to stay on line.
Auchope Cairn appeared just as the GPS batteries failed yet again. We huddled together and dug out more spare batteries. Changing batteries was a nightmare. Thomas had to take his gloves off while trying to keep snow out of the innards of the GPS. Frostbite was a real danger and we were all chilled when we stood up.
With new batteries installed Thomas promptly started marching back the way we had come. As the GPS had failed before our last waypoint it was indicating that we had to go back up the trail! (to the missed waypoint) I shouted to Thomas we had to go west and waved my map at him.
Thomas was convinced we had to’ follow the GPS’. Dramatically he threw back his head and screamed into the night, “ScHIZZEEERRRRR!!!!!”
If Thomas, who I had come to regard as a cross between Robocop and The Terminator, was shaken we really were in trouble!
By now we could hardly see our feet or the person in front so checking the glow of head torches behind us each time the leader was changed became more vital.
My OS map was trashed and did not show the exact location of the hut so I checked with Anna’s map.( It was marked but with no grid ref) West it was to relocate the fence. We hoped to god we find the hut soon! (and not miss it in the swirling gloom)
At last a square shape emerged out of the blizzard. We fell through the door dehydrated, exhausted and incredibly relieved. It had taken us 7 hours to cover the last 10 miles!
Thomas had some time earlier cut his leg quite badly and promptly went into shock as soon as he sat down! Brian switched into doctor mode, covering Thomas up in a foil blanket and tending his wound. Anna went outside to collect snow and I got stuck in to melting snow and cooking Jin just sat still looking stunned. We all knew how close we had come very close to disaster.
We stripped off our wet clothes, blew up sleeping mats and got out our sleeping bags. I fished out the Brie cheese from my pack and a body warm jacket potato I had been saving. We shared them around while the snow melted then made hot drinks and Couscous .
Water production was tricky. We had to keep going back outside into the storm to collect more snow to melt. Another problem was sheer cold. To get a decent cooker flame even the winter mix gas canisters had to be warmed up by holding a lit candle under them! I think we made some re-hydrated meals but I don’t really remember. A solid fuel stove would have been useless.
There was just enough room on the wooden benches for four. I elected to sleep on the floor as I had the thickest sleeping mat together with a down bag plus liner and my down jacket. We contacted Race HQ saying we would re-assess our situation in the morning. I also gave my opinion that there was no way Dave’s team could make it to the second hut. (I later learn ed they had stopped at the first hut).
We woke up as dawn broke. Out came the gas fire again for breakfast and making water for our bottles. The sun appeared briefly but was soon replaced by wind and blowing snow. To get going we had to remove the blocks of ice from our shoes and gaiters. We did this by bashing them with a snow shovel found in the corner of the hut. Laces had to be thawed out over the gas burner as they were just lumps of ice.( My shoes were only 7 days old and I wondered if bashing them with a shovel and cooking them would nullify their guarantee .) Putting ice filled shoes back on was horrible but at least the spare wool socks helped. I silently thanked the Spine Planners for insisting on a compulsory kit list. I had used every item on the list including all my spare fuel and emergency foil blanket.
We thought the last few miles would be easier but the Spine would not let us off that easily. We had another steep hill to climb. Although the blizzard had abated, the ground was now covered in deep snow. We fell back into the ‘rotating the trail breaker routine.’ The depth of snow could be gauged by the number of wisps of grass protruding from the snows surface. Snow covered heather seemed to be easier to walk on. We weaved forwards continually used our poles for balance and probing the snow.
- In the hollows the deeper snow was an unbroken white sheet. We had to make detours around the deep snow. Where a detour was not possible, we fell to our bellies on the snow, supporting our upper bodies by holding maps and poles flat to the snow surface and crawling forward! Thomas found the deep snow particularly difficult; he was so large he kept sinking through the surface.We pushed on down the hill and the going gradually eased.
- The TEFT 2Km from the finish line.
Not long afterwards we spotted two figures in the distance. The local Mountain Rescue team had been sent up to check if we were okay. We accompanied them back to their 4WD then headed on towards the finish line.
More figures appeared. Most of the Spine Team and the medics had come to welcome us and escort us to the finish line.
My first words to Scott, the chief organiser, were, “Scott --------------- you Bastard!” I did not know weather to laugh or cry as I hugged him.
We were all in tears when we finally reached out and touched the finishing line of the pub wall. I did not even care that the Pennine Way finishing bell had been removed for some unknown reason.
I had just spent the most emotional fantastic and wonderful weak of my life competing in The Spine Race and I would never forget it.
How do I feel about The Spine Race Looking Back?
For me, The Spine Race is female. She will enchant you, frustrate you, and test you to your limits, lifting you up, then smash you down. You will love her for her beauty and be reduced to tears by her cruelty. You must never take her for granted and in return she will reward you with all she has to offer.
What state was I in when I finished?
45 mile Ultra the next day after a little sleep would have been no problem.
Strangely, the worst damage to my body was a horrendous case of Athlete’s Foot , probably not helped by my over stressed Immune System. My feet were swollen from insufficient time sleeping horizontally but my legs were fine. I did a 14 mile recovery run 4 days later.
It did however take some time to re-set my apatite to its normal level.
The Spine Race In One Word
Brutal!
My head had got me to the finish line. My body just tagged along.
One thing I know for certain
Completing The Spine Race will change you forever!
Written by Neil Bryant - www.ultrarunninglife.com
|
Me just about to win Hardmoors 110! |
My year so far has been going really well, though I feel that I am at capacity, race-wise. Any more just might tip me into the injury zone. So my periods of rest are all the more important now. I took two weeks almost completely off of running before the Hardmoors 110. It was relatively long at 113 miles and was split roughly in half, with the first half being over moorland and the second on the coast path. This sounded like a match made in heaven for me. My two favourite terrains, at a decent distance. It has only been going for a few years and originally it was a rule that you had to have a crew. I prefer to run unsupported so had just looked elsewhere for races to do. Then last year I learnt that it was now opened up to unsupported runners too. Once it opened for entries, I was the first on the list. Shortly after I had entered, Drew had entered. Time to recce! In December we had travelled up and ran the first 40 miles of the course. Drew wasn’t feeling very well so we finished there at Kildale. We had planned to get to the coast so to complete the moorland section. I never really had any more free time to recce again so would just have to be on the ball on the day. Drew got up again a few weeks before race day for a little recce.
The race begun on the Friday at 5pm, so this meant another day off work. It happened to fall on the same weekend as the diamond jubilee which meant that we were also being treated to a Bank holiday Monday and Tuesday. Plenty of rest time! Registration was in the lovely village of Helmsley. I was awake at 5am as I was signed up to take the baton for 10 miles for the Real Relay. This is an initiative dreamt up by Endurancelife when they saw the Olympic flame, and realised that it gets driven for much of the distance. They decided to start the ‘Real Relay’. It would follow the same route as the torch, but would be run the entirety. There would be no torch of course. It would be replaced by a baton that has a GPS tracking device attached. My 10 mile stint, begun at Hanham in West Bristol I passed through town, finishing in Flax Bourton on the deadly A370. After this I showered had some breakfast and we were on our way up North. We arrived at Helmsley at 1400. This gave us an hour before registration opened, so we found a tea shop and got a pot of tea to while a way the time. While we there I noticed Drew walk past outside. I got his attention and he came in and chatted. He was feeling good about it and was excited to get going seeing as this was his first major race for a quite a while now. Claire and his Mum were with him and they were going to serve as his crew for the duration.
Registration was efficient and thorough. I had a decent sized pack that was fairly heavy, though this was as usual mostly fluid. I don’t like to have the weight on my back, but am getting used to it now. I bumped into a few other usual suspects here. Alan, Mark, Fiona, and a few other familiar faces. People spoke of what their tactics were going to be. I had my now, tried and tested, super simple plan : I would run at a relatively comfortable pace, moving through cp’s as fast as possible and stopping at the end. I would only allow myself to get caught up in the competition aspect in the second half. The first half I treat as laying the foundations for a hopefully explosive second half. Ok, maybe not explosive, but consistent.
The briefing was informative and before I knew what was going on we were strolling round to the start point. The air is just electric in these moments immediately before a big race. Most people will have trained heavily for this, for many it will be their first venture into this distance… the unknown. I was feeling excited but relaxed. Other than the recce in December I had not really thought too much about it. I had dug my map out on the Thursday evening and in a bit of a panic begun marking the cp’s and self-clip points on it. I knew I was carrying some decent fitness and had no doubt that I would complete unless faced with some adverse situation.
I said goodbye to Lou, and was quite happy to be at the back of the pack with Drew. We were off! We had a 5 minute stretch of road before we stepped foot on the Cleveland Way. Drew and I instantly decided we needed to get past some folk, so we dashed around a few people to get a little nearer the front. Once on the path we could see that there were at least 20 people ahead. That’s fine as I don’t like to be at the front at the start of a big one. We will hopefully pass some of them later on. Now is the time to be vigilant. I must restrain myself and stick to MY pace which gets embedded in my muscles deeper and deeper with each day length run I complete. If people will pass I let them, If I fly past someone then I must be confident that I am doing MY pace and not getting caught up in the adrenaline soaked excitement of the moment. I’m getting better at this. I feel I am learning with each run now.
It was good to run with Drew again. I think the last time was the recce. We chatted lots as we plugged away. Drew was generally in front of us both and was pushing a pretty high pace, though I was ok with it and was surprised to see that still there were many runners up ahead. The trail climbs very slowly up onto the moorland for a fair few miles. It is very runnable and we were soon at Cold Kirby. A quick road crossing and we were soon heading out on the White Horse for 5 minutes or so on a very food foot path. We were still bunched up a lot here and I was looking forward to having my own space. We then dropped down some steep awkward steps down to the first cp in the car park where there were lots of people waiting. This would be everyone’s crews. Most people appeared to be stopping, but I had no reason to stop so continued along the trail that would climb up the same amount as what the steps had taken us down. I was generating plenty of heat due to the relatively high pace so took advantage of the steep walking hill to get hydrated. Once back on the high levelled out trail, Drew caught me back up again after stopping with his crew.
It was nowhere near as windy as when we were up here in December which made it much more pleasant. My memory told me that the first 40 miles weren’t too bad. Easy running for the first 15 miles or so, then a bit of up and downs thrown in to stretch the legs out a bit. A load of the trail had enormous stone slabs laid on it. If they were dry, then they were great for fast running, though if wet they were deadly. One real benefit though was that if you were on this stone trail then you knew you weren’t lost! The trail certainly was in very good condition at the moment, being dry but not rock hard. There was a little give to give some much needed shock absorption. I was wearing my trusty Saucony Peregrine shoes. These are my current all-round 100 miler shoes, taking mud, stones and road in their stride. Running around the edge of the escarpment was beautiful and fast. There was a group of around 5-10 runners that seemed to be sticking together well. When large groups of runners stick together on a 100 miler the odds are that some of them will be running out of their limits. It will possibly be such a small amount above their limits that they will be unaware of this redlining until it is too late.
|
Jon Steele and me looking a little weary |
We carried on at a fair clip for a while and as usual, running the route for the second time always seems to go quicker, though we were definitely going quicker to. I was surprised when we passed the cp in the car park at Square Corner and started the descent that meant we were fairly close to Osmotherly. A little while later we were running down the stone path between fences that would bring us into the centre of the village. We turned right up the road where we could see a number of vehicles that were obviously crew vehicles due to having stocks of food neatly laid out for the runners when they arrived to make things as simple as possible. Drew and I stopped at his car that had the boot open and a neatly laid out surface with things easy to grab and a cup of coke waiting to be drunk. Claire and Drew’s mum immediately offered me food and drink. I gratefully grabbed a few nibbles and we continued walking up the hill to the cp a 100 metres later. They offered us some food and I grabbed some flapjack. There was no chance I’d be running out of energy! We were then heading up a track that was to steep to run so we used the time to get some fluid in us. I was starting to feel a little stiff here, but it was fine.
We passed through Scarth Nick and followed the beautiful singltrack trail through the woodlands. I was happy to have passed through here while it was still daylight as we saw the bluebells which were still hanging around at this time of year. After getting my feet wet here after stupidly slipping into a stream we crossed a road and started a gentle climb. Drew dashed off for a call of nature and it was then just Paul Dickens and I, as the rest of the group split up. We turned right into the woods again only this time it was straight into a very steep climb. I knew that Drew would catch us up shortly as he was walking the ups really well. As we came out of the treeline, we were quite suddenly on the open moorland. The light was just starting to die a little here. There was still some time before we’d need our torches though. We would now be hitting the tops that would have the self-clipping points on them. These were orienteering clips that were at the very top of some of the hills that we had to stamp our sheets with. This was to prove that we had taken the correct path and not the easier lower route. Thankfully these were very simple to spot, being literally at the top of each hill marked with some orange tape.
We soon were passing over Cringle Moor where we met the two guys running the cp who were both very cheerful and had a tent erected that seemed to be full of food for us! Amazing. I grabbed some sweets and continued on my way. The weather was still pretty good and the temperature was just perfect for running. Then there was another road crossing which was another opportunity for the support teams to tend to their runners. Drew’s crew fed him and gave me some food. Claire dashed off to top my bottle up with water and was back in a flash. How incredibly generous of them. We moved off climbing up a hill immediately. We had both mounted our headtorches now but hadn’t switched them on. There were people ahead and behind who had them on though. Suddenly there were quite a few people around us. The lights make people stand out more. This was a decent climb that made me sweat lots. The temperature really didn’t seem to be dropping much. I was wearing my thin silk gloves and my hands were a little too warm. Drew and I were still keeping a decent pace going, and I was feeling pretty smooth. Once we had crested the hill, we soon hit a very good section of trail that very steadily climbed and was very runnable . I wanted to keep a good pace going along here and not waste these good sections during this early stage.
After running along this section for what seemed like a really long time, we hit the sign atBlowarth Crossing which had a self-clip tied to it. We clipped our sheets, then followed the trail which turned almost back on its self and I recalled from our recce was again relatively easy running, so it was head down and dig in now all the way to Kildale which was the first major cp where my drop bag would be. I would top up my supply of 9Bars, grab two new bottles of Lucozade and most importantly take my treat, being a pasty which I would eat as I walked away. The journey from Blowarth Crossing to Kildale on the recce was hampered by Drew suffering with illness, and incredibly strong, cold winds. This was a complete contrast, and maybe that had made me forget how long it took, as it seemed to be endless this stretch. Finally we got on the road and so there was just a decent downhill left then we would be there. We discussed our plan to be as swift as possible at the cp. Do what we had to do then leave.
On arrival, we saw Mark Collinson with Fiona and a Pot Noodle. I chatted to him as I accessed my drop bag commenting on how well he was going. His strategy was to go hard on the first section as he had heard that it was the fastest and he doesn’t see his strength as being in the lumpier stuff. I disagree, I think that he has proven how strong he is on many terrains including routes with lots of ascent. There was a table in the village hall that had a tonne of ‘party food’ piled up on it. I grabbed a handful of flapjack and walked over to Drew. He was ready to move so we walked out into the dark silent night and jogged down the road, knowing that soon we would have a decent uphill where we could eat our treats while walking. The ascent was pretty lengthy and I thankfully didn’t need to rush to finish my pasty. We then left the road and where following some beautiful woodland trail still upwards. I could see a light quickly approaching from behind. ‘Let them pass’ I told myself. There was still 70 miles to cover. He passed us effortlessly and as though he had just begun. We remembered the fact that there were three teams running it as a relay. Maybe he was one? We convinced ourselves that he must be which made us happier.
We exited the woods and were out on the moorland again and there in front of us was Captain Cook’s monument. No time to stop and admire. A slight kink to the right and we followed the trail for a further 20 minutes or so. All this time there were two female runners slowly gaining on us. We then came to the point where we had to go out and back to Roseberry topping. I was really looking forward to this section. Why, I’m not too sure, but it certainly felt like a milestone. A quick descent followed by a steep climb to the very top where there was a cp. Apparently Drew and I were in the lead. There were two ahead but they were both relay teams. The two ladies behind caught us at the top and we discovered that one was a relay and the other was buddy running. As we descended again, we passed those runners behind and got an idea of what was actually happening. Kevin Perry was pretty close and right at his heals was Mark.
After some nice running through Guisborough woods, We dropped down to the woods. As we met the road, Drew’s ever faithful crew were waiting to greet us. We were quick to get what we wanted before moving on. It was brightening up at this point, which is always a fantastic part of the run for me. To be able to remove the Petzl from my head is great, especially if I am sure that I will not be needing it again. I had used the batteries for a few hours before so wasn’t sure whether I would need to do a battery change during the night, but thankfully they had survived. We were getting very close to Saltburn now, which would mean the end of the moorland section and the start of the coastal section. This would also be just over half way covered. From here the race would begin.
|
Mark Collinson (3rd) and Kevin Perry (2nd) |
The cp was in a hotel. Drew and I popped in and made sure we had been seen. I grabbed some cake from the table and Drew stocked up from his crew car. Then we made our way down to steps to the sea front. It felt good to be on the coast at last. I had never been on any of this trail before so it would all be fresh and exciting. I would also have to be on the ball to make sure I didn’t go the wrong way. Drew complained that he was feeling a little nauseous and just needed to be sick and then he would be fine. He thought that it was probably caused by the half dozen or so croissants he had eaten. After a few miles up on the cliffs we came down to pass through Skinningrove. I hadn’t seen anyone behind for ages, but when I turned to look on the road section there was a chap close by, running a lot faster than us. I couldn’t see a pack on him so assumed that he was relay, then I noticed his pack. As he gained on us I saw it was Kevin. As he was about to catch us, I accelerated a little and slowly left Drew behind. I must say that this was a bit of a panicy response, but I did feel in control, and was aware that Kev was still gaining. When he caught me we chatted and he went in the front dictating the pace. It was high! After ten minutes or so, he suddenly stopped and said something. I didn’t quite catch it and assumed it was a call of nature, so continued on my own, expecting him to catch me shortly. This little bit of an injection in pace and adrenaline pumping through me seemed to light my competitive fuse and I now had the bit between my teeth.
So, I am in the front of a long race again. It’s a love hate situation. It is of course exciting being at the front, but I also get pretty paranoid that someone is much stronger than me and chasing me down. I fight the desire to constantly keep looking over my shoulder to get a glimpse of second place. I was running ok still so just tried to focus all my energies on keeping the pressure on. I was approaching Runswick Bay and the path turned inland. There ahead I saw what looked like Drew’s mum spot me then start running back to the car that was parked out of sight. When I arrived they both asked me if I wanted anything, I said I was fine, then Claire offered me a bottle of Lucozade. I gratefully accepted it, and told them that Drew was not too far behind but had a bit of a dicky stomach. Claire ran off to find him and I continued on my way. At the bottom of the hill was a cp. I stopped briefly, thanked the guys then carried on. I was now running along the beach at Runswick Bay. This carried on for a while before turning up a tight gully that climbed straight back up to the cliff top.
The running was very enjoyable from here. I was beginning a slight low point where I was struggling to run at all times. I was tiring mentally but knew this would pass, I just had to ride it out. This low probably dragged on for around 15 miles but I was still moving pretty good. Just before the next drop bag point where I would get my second pasty, I had a deer leap out onto the trail just 20 metres ahead. I slowed a little but continued expecting it to dash off, but he just moved slowly forwards on the path looking back cautiously as I approached. I love to see deers when I’m out running alone, but usually they will disappear rapidly, so this was a real treat and a gift at this difficult time during the run. Eventually the panic overcame it and it bounded off up a steep slope.
Next up was Sandsend, the location of my second pasty! I gingerly climbed down some small steep steps to the car park where the cp car was. I needed water here, but forgot to top up, and moved on pretty quickly, running scared from the phantom second place runner. It wasn’t till about 10 minutes later as I ran along the sea front road that I realised my blunder. I still had a fair amount of fluid on me so it wasn’t fatal but was more irritating to have made the error.
Not too much further on was Whitby, where I asked a member of public for directions and he was deaf. After much signalling what I wanted he pointed down the road. I ran where he pointed and saw the bridge that I needed to cross. After the cobbled streets where behind me I was off up the 199 steps to the abbey and found the trail again and was back in the groove. Time sped up a little bit for the next section which brought me to Robins Hood Bay. As I ran down the road through the town, I heard my name shouted out. I turned and saw Fiona waving. I walked across to her. She hadn’t heard from Mark for a while and asked if I needed anything. I said water. She gave me a bottle and I was off again.
The coast was roughly flatish along the top of the cliffs with dips down to rivers and streams. The next dip was the fantastically named Boggle Hole which was short and sweet. The next cp at Ravenscar came soon enough though I was still struggling a little mentally. I asked the guys at the cp if they had any idea how far the next runner was behind, and they said it was around 30 minutes the last they heard. From here I was starting to feel as though the end was in my sights. The possibility of a win crept into my thoughts now and the race was surely on. Now was the time to put the pressure on!
|
My bloody great sword for a year! |
I could see on my map that I was closing in on Scarborough. The other side was the location of the final cp which signified 13 miles remaining! The home straight. Once onto the road along the seafront there was a long run around the headland to the south beach area. It was here where I saw Lou running towards me with a big beam on her face! I wasn’t expecting to see her till the end so this was a massive morale boost and I felt emotional. We had an embrace then I continued to jog. I told her I was struggling. She said she would meet me at the next cp. She then got me a bottle of water and a wedge of chocolate brownie. Yum! She sped off and left me alone. I straight away walked for a minute or two, before telling myself off and lurching back into a slow jog. This carried on around the corner. Eventually I arrived at the final cp where Lou was. I downed a load of coke (I never drink coke!) then was off. I felt good now and was on a mission to nail this thing! I was determined to run every last bit now unless it was very steep. The weather was glorious and I really was appreciating the whole day. I was really enjoying myself here and definitely had pulled myself out of the dip I had been in for a little bit too long now. I was really feeling as though the win was looking like a definite now. Life was good. I had what I thought was a stone was in my shoe under the ball of my foot. It was quite annoying but nothing more. When I finished, I learnt it was in fact a blister. I can’t believe I can still fall for the ‘blister feeling like a stone in the shoe’ business.
I entered Filey and looked at the directions I had printed off of the website that would guide me to the secondary school where the finish was located. I found my way with no issues and was soon running the grounds of an apparently deserted school. Then I spotted the flags that acted as the finish line and there was a photographer who just managed to get a picture of me finishing.
I’d won! I was completely not expecting that. I thought that sub 24 hour time was an ambitious target, maybe too much, but I had finished in 22:44! I walked into the sports hall where people were. They congratulated me and offered me food and drinks. It was good to sit down. I hadn’t sat down once and it was the best thing. Soon Lou turned up and after a glorious shower and seeing Kevin Perry finishing, we were off to find a meal and back to the B&B which was a fair drive away in the Dalby forest.
Suunto download of the race.
Next day I returned for the prize giving. I received a tankard to keep and a sword that I look after for the year! And what a sword it is too! The previous winners names are engraved on it along with the times. It has to be the coolest prize I have ever received.
So, the year continues and the list of races leading up to the big one slowly shrinks. Next up in two weeks’ time (three weeks after Hardmoors) I have what I consider to be the hardest single stage challenge I will be running this year, the Ultra Trail South West. It is a 100 miler, but it is on the Gloriously tough South West Coast Path. This is a race that I have been excited about from the second I heard about it.
Anyhow, I feel all blogged out now. I almost feel like I should apologise for my blogs going on for ever, but I guess that if you have got this far then you are probably getting some sort of entertainment out of it.
Happy running!
Written by Neil Bryant - www.ultrarunninglife.com
In 2010 I remember reading about the Trans Gran Canaria. Then James Adams went out to run it last year. I was looking forward to see how he rated it on his return and to read his blog entry on it. He was not disappointed! He said it was one of the toughest single day races he’d ran in. His pictures were also convincing. The views looked to be stunning. It looked good to me.
The race has been running for over 10 years now, and was growing year on year though
not on the same scale as the
Ultra Trail Mont Blanc. Like the UTMB this event was sponsored by The North Face. This meant that you would get something decent for finishing and also that there would be some big names there from the ultrarunning world. This would be my second international race after the
Spartathlon and I was really quite excited about it from the day I entered it last year sometime. I would be leaving the damp, cold winter of the UK and flying into fairer climes.
After my run on the Offas Dyke at the end of last year, I’d been clocking up some good mileage. Most of it though had been on the flat road with Trans Europe on my mind. This wasn’t exactly great prep for a race that has a lot of elevation gain and is mostly offroad. In fact, a lot of the trail is supposed to be very technical in places. This was not a race I would be after any great results, as shown by the not exactly ideal preparation. What I was after here was just the experience. I wanted to enjoy running in the sun, in the mountains and to hopefully catch a beautiful sunrise. I of course would put everything into it once I had started. I am pretty strong at the moment, just probably not so great in the hills. I’ll get my excuse in now before I get going. Two weeks before the event I got a cold. I felt really run down as I was training at a pretty high volume so stopped running. As the days passed, the cold developed and eventually I got an upset stomach. I remained fairly positive and saw it as a welcome forced rest before the event. As I’ve learnt over the years, a week or two off when your fitness is reasonable never really does any damage. In fact it can be a blessing in disguise! As it turned out, when I got on the plane, I had run twice in two weeks. Not quite what I had planned but I wasn’t concerned.
I had booked my flights from Gatwick on the Thursday morning at 0920. This meant getting
on a train that I didn’t know existed – the 0420 from Bristol! Needless to say that with the adrenalin flowing I didn’t sleep much that night and the alarm for 0330 was a little testing. All went smoothly though and in a few hours time I was sat on the plane. I soon notice a familiar face. Mark Collinson who finished just 10 minutes behind me in the
North Downs Way was walking towards me with his wife Fiona. There were a few spare seats on the flight so we could move around a bit and the three of us could sit together. I had heard that Mark was racing only a short time before. Up till that point, I wasn’t sure if there were any Brits in it. The flight went pretty quickly as we chatted loads. We also both discovered that we had both just bought a new bag in the last week and we both had it with us for the race even though we’d only used it once so far. We both had bought the
Salomon Advanced Skin S-Lab 12 set. It is a very expensive bag, but we were very excited about
testing it out over Gran Canaria. Mark had run the 124km race last year and Fiona had run the 42km race. Mark was doing the long one again this year, and Fiona was stepping up to the 96km event. Excellent stuff! I picked Marks brains for course information. Soon enough we were off the plane and travelling up the coast on the bus to Las Palmas. My cheap hostel I’d booked was within a 5 minutes walk of the bus station which was nice. I checked in with no bother and made my way up to my room which turned out to be cool, quiet, clean and comfortable. It was very basic, but that’s all I needed. The corridors always stank of cigarette smoke, but it would never seep into my room so I didn’t care. I dumped all my stuff off and immediately went for a wander out to the local supermarket to pick up some supplies. It was around 3pm and I was going to meet up with Mark and Fiona sometime after 5 when we would be at the registration area which was a 15 minute walk down the seafront. I found a backstreet café and popped in for a coffee. My Spanish is pretty non-existent due to never actually having been there so this was fun. Soon enough it was time to wander down to the registration. The weather was a little blowy and about 23 deg Celsius. Not too bad really. I queued for a while and eventually handed in my forms, picked up my timing chip and my race number and was ready. I then went and burnt some time in the rather dull shopping mall across the road, before bumping into Mark and Fiona. The pasta party was in a bit and Mark and I were willing to hang about for it. Fiona was tired so was heading back to their hotel for a lay down. We had a coffee while waiting before heading down to the Pasta party. It was ok. Certainly enough of it though! That night I slept pretty good considering I was buzzing a fair bit for the race.
The race starts at midnight and the buses that leave for Las Palomas which is thesouthern point of the Island and the start, leave at 2200 so I had the whole day to just relax, get my kit ready and drink lots of coffee. I really enjoyed my day of relaxation, practising my exceptionally limited Spanish, but in the background of my mind I just wanted to be running in the mountains. The weather forecast was ok for the Saturday. The following year they had had lots of rain which had made it pretty cold at times. I tried to have a doze during the day but it was a pointless exercise. I got back up and begun packing my kit up into my bag. The first water point on the course is at 18 miles so I decided to take lots of fluid with me. The full 1.5ltrs in the bladder and two 500ml bottles in the shoulder strap pockets. I got dressed and fully ready, and after taking advantage of the hostels wifi and having a quick conversation with Lou, I was on my way. I walked slowly down to the bus pick up point where there were a steadily growing number of other trail runners hanging around. I sat down and took it all in. Then I saw a few guys that looked British. Sure enough, one of them approached and introduced himself. Matt, Jess and a lady (Helen?) all seemed pretty experienced and lived up around the Yorkshire Dales. This, like me, was their first time at this race. We got onto the bus and then Mark and Fiona arrived too. Within the hour we were parking up in Las Palomas. As we disembarked we felt the strength of the wind. It was a little fresh and we had over an hour left before the off. We found a little bar we could sit in near the beach where the start was and ordered lots of tea and coffee and kept warm. I swear this is the hardest bit. The long wait before the start!
Then with about ten minutes to go, we made our way down to the madness on the beachand squeezed in behind the start line. I started up my Garmin to hunt for the satellites that would be getting well used at the moment, and hopped around on the spot trying to stay loose for the start.
After much hype and noise we were off, and within minutes we were away from the crowds and lights of Las Palomos and were runningalong the beach right beside the sea. Initially I am running near no-one I recognise, but soon the tall figure of Mark bounds up behind me and taps me on the shoulder. This is always a great part of a race for me. There has been much waiting and hanging around, but right now I am running, I feel great. I grin just for the moment and my grin broadens as we head further away from the light pollution and the number of visible stars grows with each footstep. Mark and I are going a fair pace right next to the lapping waves so that we are on the relatively easy to run on damp sand. A few people have wrapped their feet and lower legs in bin bags and taped them up so as to keep the sand out as if we are in the sand dunes of the Sahara. I have heard this is a complete waste of time and at the moment that certainly seemed the case. As we continued along the beach I realised that most people had their torches on except Mark and I. You just didn’t need them yet, as the moon wasn’t quite full, but was incredibly bright. Mark had a problem with his bladder as his tube seemed to be kinked inside preventing there being any flow. He wrestled with it for five minutes trying to improve the flow. Once he’d sorted it, he apologised for slowing the pace. I didn’t notice any pace change. We had now passed over the 200 metres or so of dry sand to get on the tarmac. There were a few people here sat on the road cutting off the bin bags that they had pointlessly taped around their legs. We were now heading inland. We would not be at the coast again till we finish at the other side of the island. Soon we dropped down into the storm drain which had a pretty uneven surface so kept us alert. There were many people out shouting and cheering as we passed. We went under many bridges which had lots of people on watching us. Not bad for after 1230 in the morning! It won’t be long till the people fade away and the gaps between runners grows till you are seemingly alone. This is what I love. I love to be alone in the mountains. There is something special about pushing yourself hard, seemingly all alone out in the wilderness. It’s very simple and rewarding. We passed under a bridge over some rocks and Mark fell and bounced up again. Time for the lights to go on I think! We were now on a dusty wide trail that was slowly gaining height. It was still very runable though so we pushed on. The dust was getting kicked up from the runners ahead and was being highlighted by our lights. The gaps were opening up a little, but there were still a few runners around us. It was nice to be running with Mark. Our pace was pretty sharp, but that’s what we both wanted seeing as it was one of the fastest parts of the course. Slowly but surely the gradient increased, till soon enough we agreed that a walk was in order. We then went round our first hairpin bend. I was glad to be in the hills now. This is what I came for.
After a while I was starting to find my groove. As we ran at the base of a climb Mark saidhe was going to walk, I felt good so said goodbye, and said I’ll probably see him in about half an hour. I was now alone. There was soon after this a decent length downhill. I went as fast as I could while staying smooth to save my quads as long as possible. The course has a lot of downhill at the end so will certainly be demanding a lot out of them later on. Almost from the start my Achilles were pretty painful. From previous experience I didn’t really know what to expect from them as the race proceeded. I have on more than one occasion finished an all day run and realised that the pain I had been experiencing for the first 20-30 miles that was promising big things in my feet or Achilles had in fact vanished. A phenomenon, which I am most confused about. I soon saw lights ahead that signified a village, and judging by my Garmin, was the first water point. I crossed over a narrow bridge that led to a water bowser surrounded by cheering people. This was the 18 mile point. I was feeling nicely warmed up and was well into my rhythm so didn’t really want to stop. I reached behind my back and felt my bladder. It felt pretty full. I had only half a bottle left on the front. The next cp was in 8 miles. It was supposed to really get much more mountainous from here on in but I guessed that I easily had enough fluid to get me to the next stop so just ran straight through the cp. I immediately begun climbing and once it got too steep to continue running, I walked and immediately took the opportunity to eat some food and drink more.
I had begun the race with my new Team Endurancelife multi-sports short sleeved top (a cycling top) with arm warmers thin gloves and a buff. Within minutes the buff and gloves had been stowed away and the arm warmers had been pulled down before I had begun heavily perspiring. I had not stopped and my back was completely sodden, so I was quite aware that fluid intake was (as usual) paramount to a good performance. I was quietly hoping that the day wouldn’t be a scorcher when the sun rose. Up till this point the trail had been wide and relatively untechnical. This was about to change as the marker tape suddenly directed you off the trail steeply up some rocky singletrack. I really tried to keep the pressure on as I walked and this was showing as I was generally catching and taking people. Things were feeling pretty good and I was really enjoying it. I was so excited to be in the hills for the sunrise. The star-studded sky was promising a beautiful day coming up.
I soon passed through the first stocked cp and topped up my bottles, ate a handful of cheese, cured sausage and ran off with more in my hands eating as I ran.
The terrain was now pretty demanding and was pretty intense mentally watching your footing in the dark. The hills seemed to be relentless with no real flat not too much down and plenty of very steep, walking ups. I powered on. I was having many little stumbles but not falling. It was surely a matter of time before I went down? I was now seeing the beginnings of daylight as I came across the top of a hill and begun a super steep and rocky descent a Spanish guy effortlessly came past me. I let him go and made my own way down. Just before the gradient eased off a little, another chap came past. It was now a little quicker so I sped up. Minutes later I stumbled and fell forwards. I broke my fall with my hands and my knee hit the deck. I got up quickly and checked the ground for anything I may have dropped before continuing. As I ran I checked myself over. My hands were relatively untouched with just a small graze on one palm. Just before I climbed some steps that would take me to the top of a damn I would cross, I switched my headtorch off. What a relief! As I passed over the damn, I looked around to take in the stunning, dramatic mountains I was surrounded by for the first time. Truly incredible scenery that I was extremely excited to be running through for the whole of the day. There was now a couple mile stretch of road. As I made my way up the hill I caught a small figure which as I got closer I realised was a lady. She was going pretty slow. As I passed her I looked across and wished her well. She thanked me in a English. I carried on for a while and then stopped to pack my Petzl away as she caught me up again, I realised that it was no less than the incredibly accomplished Lizzy Hawker. We chatted a little and I decided to also get my camera out and carry it for a while to take some opportune piccies for the next few hours. She offered to take a picture of me with the stunning backdrop that was developing as we spoke. I felt sorry for her as she was injured so was pulling out. Let’s face it that’s the only time I’ll ever catch Lizzy Hawker up! I said goodbye and moved on.
After a slight descent on the road the markers took me off up the side of a mountain again. That’s better. Much walking ensued as I quickly gained height and admired the ever-changing panorama that presented itself to me. Sightings of other runners were few and far between now. It was peaceful and quiet. I was tiring but still felt strong. My mouth was dry so I kept drinking. I seem to have a bad habit in races of getting a little dehydrated then playing catch up which I seem to be getting better at. I think it would make a lot more sense though if I could not get behind in the first place!
I passed through another cp after a steady climb on a wide steadily climbing trail. I had my chip read here before forcing myself to down about a litre of water, filling up my bladder and bottles, eating a few bits and taking on some electrolytes. I was feeling dizzy. The heat was affecting me. If I could just catch it now, I’d be alright. I left the cp and immediately was directed off the good trail straight up a steep and very long rocky, dust path. There was a little vegetation around so was provided with a little bit of shade, but I was already suffering from my past neglect. I kept taking sips of water and squeezing the sickly Overstims electrolyte gels into my mouth to re-energise my fading body. I felt dizzy and was swaying from side to side. Must keep drinking! I held onto the knowledge that as long as I got back in control, that this would pass and I would feel good again and would be running strongly. This particular climb just kept on going, but finally I made it over the top. Five minutes later I looked ahead to look for the path and could see none, just the red marker tape threading it’s way up a slope of large rocks to the very top of the mountain. It wasn’t very long but it was certainly hard on my weary quadriceps having to scramble with the aid of my hands up this wall of rocks. As I got to the top I turned and looked at what I had just climbed and took a picture, knowing full well that it wouldn’t show the severity of it. I then realised that although I felt exhausted, I was certainly not feeling the dizziness and lethargy of before. It had passed. Now to get on with the race.
The hills kept coming, and I kept the pressure on as much as my fitness allowed. I knew that the race route visited the highest point on the island, Roque Nublo. This is basically a very large upstanding rock formation on top of a mountain that could be seen from far away. I kept getting glances of it as I progressed and got closer and closer. I soon realised that I was now actually climbing up to visit this impressive landmark. I was currently running with a Spaniard. We climbed for a while before being directed left off of the trail heading straight for the top. We climbed up a small gully before being on the surreal landscape at the top. We were on a large plateau, which the rock formation was atop. It took a minute or two to cross this plateau to reach the cp which also had a chip mat. I stopped for thirty seconds here and admired the incredibly beautiful view. There were almost completely clear, blue skies now. You could see the sea and some of the other islands that make up the Canaries. I quickly took a couple photos before running back across the plateau. After stupidly not being able to find the gulley back down again for a few minutes I made my way down then rejoined the main trail again heading down with some light shade from the trees. I was feeling pretty exhausted now and was just plugging away one step at a time. I kept looking around at the surrounding mountains looking for the highest. The general rule was whatever was the highest mountain nearby, then that would be your next destination. I could see there was an observatory on top of a pretty high looking mountain. Surely…?
Within half an hour after making my way across the valley floor I had started the slow and very steep climb up towards the observatory that was sparkling in the bright sun. The footing was loose and dusty, but I soon got to the top knowing that there was soon to be a major cp where I would stop to refuel and top up my provisions fully. There was a long and very steep and therefore painful descent that followed. There certainly seemed to be a little more greenery around now, though it was still really dry and dusty. I then entered the cp. My bag was taken off me to fill the bladder and bottles. I walked into the tent and took a bowl of pasta, grabbed a handful of cheese and sausage and mixed it in and sat down a wolfed it down with some luke warm coffee. I put my bag back on before grabbing a soup and speed walking off with it. I had probably been in there 10 mins. Too long really, but not that bad. This was the 50 mile point. Hopefully in around 10 mins I would start to feel the effects of all this fuel ‘d just stuffed in. The soup was hot, but soon I had finished it and painfully started to run again. Around a marathon left and the last 12 miles was largely downhill. It would be painful but fast hopefully. So I just wanted to push the next 13 hilly miles really hard before the down commenced.
Sure enough I soon felt a little bit perkier. So sped up. These are the times when races are made or lost. You must go hard when you feel good, just not too hard. I was now overtaking numerous runners from the 96km race and even some who were in the marathon. All very positive, and helps to keep the pressure on. I was really enjoying working at a high level. I ran along a short stretch of road, then cut down a long descent into a very green almost tropical valley before finally running on the awful river bed for around 4 miles. My feet were pretty sore by now and running on the large uneven rocks was pretty difficult. I stopped to walk briefly a couple of times, but was still overtaking runners from the shorter races. I hadn’t seen anyone from my race for ages now. Then just as I was coming to the end of the hell of the riverbed, I was overtaken by three guys from my race! I let them pass on the riverbed, then as soon as I got onto a more runnable surface, I grit my teeth and told myself that I would now run the whole lot as hard as I could and not look back. Within minutes, I had passed all three of them and was hell bent on continuing in this vein all the way to the finish line. I did occasionally look back, but I needn’t have as the gap just grew. I was really hurting but knew that I could keep going till the end. I think after some time for reflection that this was probably one of the strongest finishes I’ve ever ran. It felt good to be wringing every last drop of energy out of my body in a controlled way. As I dropped down a long fast descent I could make out the finish are in the distance. I passed another runner, then as I got closer, I spotted another runner ahead. Hopefully he wouldn’t notice me straight away and bolt, but he did. He accelerated fast, but I was gaining on him, we were now on the seafront and there were throngs of people cheering us on. I was totally at my limit now and had nothing more to give. I was about 20 metres behind him now. I then realised that the we had to pass the finish line by around 100mtrs then turn back and run the final 100mtrs to the line. That was too much for me then. I was forced by my screaming body to slow and watch the guy ahead continue and climb the rather cruel ramp up to the finish line. I finished shortly after knowing that I had given absolutely everything.
Garmin download
I staggered into the mess tent and gawped around. I then noticed Fiona chatting to a member of staff. I discovered that she had just finished also. We grabbed a plate of food each and sat down. I felt ill and couldn’t really eat. I needed to just crash out. I really wanted to hang around and cheer people in, but I just felt so rough that I slowly walked back to my hostel, showered and then passed out till 4am.
The next day and a half before my flight was a blissfully relaxing time in which much coffee
was again consumed. I learnt that my time of 17hrs 43mins was enough to place me in 20th position! This was way above my expectation. I couldn’t believe it. It has to rate up there as one of my biggest performances seeing as it was an international race. Mark had gone around 2hrs quicker than last year and Fiona had come in 3rd spot! A phenomenal performance seeing as it was her 2nd ultra. Amazing stuff!
All in all this was an incredibly tough, fun and beautiful course, that I would definitely love to do again one year. Other than getting a bit dehydrated again, I am more than happy with my performance.
My next race is
the Viking Way Ultra, which promises to be very tough but very different at almost double the distance. I will not be racing it. I really just want to get to the finish line. Before that though there is a gap for some Trailblazing so it’s adventure time.
I’ll let you know how it goes soon.
Happy running.