Witterings From The Rear

The purpose of this article isn’t to blog about my experience on the Montane Spine Race 2017, there are plenty more entertaining and informative ones online. What it may however do is, hopefully, help you enter the race equipped with kit and knowledge if things go wrong for you as they did me.

 It is worth articulating, briefly, how I got to toe the line in Edale in January 2017.

My journey started at the 2016 Spine Race, where I volunteered at the checkpoints. It is the best way to immerse yourself in the race, learn loads, meet some of the key players and kick start what can quickly become an obsession with racing along the Pennine Way. If you are harbouring thoughts about the race, then I would strongly recommend a stint at volunteering first.

 There then followed a year of racing and training, teaming up with an experienced coach, lots of kit purchasing and testing, many nights sleeping out in a bivvy bag, the Spine training weekend and a one to one navigation course followed by considerable practice, mostly at night. All of these, as it turned out, helped convert personal disaster into a manageable incident.

 My race was hard, as it’s supposed to be, and exciting in places; just what I wanted. Melting snow led to an early soaking through a thigh deep crossing of Kinder downfall and by the time I got to some other small streams I had to take some risks to cross what were then raging torrents. At one point 4 of us were actually partly swept away, by a dangerous night crossing of one such stream.

 My safety tracker didn’t work properly from the get go. My supporters back home were disappointed at not being able to track my progress until it was fixed later in the first leg but it not operating properly was to come back to bite me later on. The training weekend run covers a similar distance to the first leg of the Spine and on identical terrain. What had taken me 15hrs taking it steady on that previous weekend took just over 20hrs hard graft on the race. I am slow and I plod along but such a late arrival left little time to get sorted and leave ahead of the very first cut off.

As a result, I tagged onto a couple of previous Spine Racers, close to the back of the field, got my head down and grafted out the next 60 odd miles but I was skirting with the clock from the start.

 Fairly uneventful stuff in comparison to other racers experiences on the Spine but never the less personally highly testing, exciting and challenging stuff. It isn’t like any other race. I felt really good, all my kit was performing great, feet good, navigation was spot on, sleep was being managed (never slept on a picnic table in a restaurant garden before) and I was really looking forward to the legs after check point 2 and some of the iconic spots on the route.

 Coming down from the summit of Pen‐y‐ghent along a seemingly endless rock strewn track my left ankle started to ache strangely but we continued to make good time to the nearby café for a bowl of soup and some foot admin. Unfortunately, as I stood up my left ankle was seized solid and hurting much more than to be expected.

 At this point I made a judgement error. I decided to push on to the check point at Hawes some 20kms away, and seek a medic there before continuing. I had made good progress and was ahead of time and due to get to the check point ahead of the finishing time for the Challenger Race. Personal pride took over good judgement, I wanted to hit the Challenger time, get fixed up and then press on.

 I left the café with a limp, slipped to the back of our team of 3 and then started getting slower and slower. By the time I left the Cam High Road for the final run in to Hawes there was nobody behind me still racing. Sure, lots had dropped out but in terms of racers I was in last place.

 I was on my own. It was night time, foggy, windy, cold and just starting to rain. Nothing special up there and strangely enjoyable. The final 8 or so kms before Hawes follow a remote track in the lea of Dodd Fell, Ten End and other large hills.

 Being pitch black and foggy you couldn’t see further than the end of your headtorch and, using just map and compass you couldn’t be certain exactly where you were.

 As I slowly navigated the deep mud my left ankle turned slightly and I felt a sharp pop in my heel. I had seriously ruptured the achilles tendon. Apart from the pain, which nearly made me faint, I was unable to move my foot or put any weight on it. My race was done and I knew it. I just needed to get to safety. Herein comes the mandatory kit bit. I was stood on one leg in the part shelter of a wall, removed my bag and detached the tracker. The race brief had explained the workings and I had been paying attention for once. SOS button pressed and nothing happened. Rebooted it and same result. It looked like it was either malfunctioning or in an area of zero reception.

 Next attempt was mobile phone. I had an old Nokia race phone with a MANX sim card for this race. No signal at all, nothing. Working on the worst‐case scenario that my tracker hadn’t been working for some time and there was nobody behind it was probable that nobody knew where I was nor going to find me in a timely manner. With the increasing pain and the cold I obviously had to do something myself.

 I plotted my exact position on my GPS. Easy as I’d loaded it with 1:25k mapping and was completely at ease with its intricacies having used it for months prior. I could see that I had to either achieve the summit of Dodd Fell or move forward about 800m to stand any chance of the topography allowing a phone signal. I went for the latter and after about an hour I was still heading forward to the goal. I was getting cold through lack of speed and layered up using the pretty amazing True Mountain top which I’d carried for 100 miles without wearing but needed it now. I had pretty much all my kit on and was using my walking poles as a second leg, slow and painful progress. I did slip a few times which sent a pain so intense up my leg I shouted out obscenities and tears came to my eyes.

 Eventually, thanks to the network hopping SIM card, I got a single bar on a Vodafone network and called in my position and condition to the emergency number given at briefing.

Immediately after that call I never got any service on the phone up there. Thank goodness for the MANX card tip at the training weekend.

 I’d used all my reserves making the last km progress and was physically done in. There was no standard vehicle access from Hawes possible, no flat ground for an air landing so I was there for a bit but I knew the support team knew I was in trouble and exactly where I was. Out came the rest of the mandatory kit:

 Spare headtorch, one of the small petzl elite zips, put on flashing mode mounted on a walking pole stuck in the top of a wall stake using my knife marked my position visually.

Blow up sleeping mat to insulate from the ground, sleeping bag and alpkit bivvy deployed, the latter big enough to get in sat up against the wall in shelter. One of the alternative lighter slim line ones just wouldn’t have done.    

Jetboil stove out and a brew and expedition meal enjoyed with painkillers for dessert.

The whistle. Have you ever used it? Me neither but I did at that point. The sound of the whistle brought in the medics and Spine Safety Team to my position. Am I grateful to them and the responding Swaledale Mountain Rescue Team.

Somehow, they managed to get 4x4 access from the Cam High road, got me to CP2 where the ambulance was waiting, some much needed gas and air and then it was off to a variety of hospitals in a fairly dirty and very smelly state.

I was gutted to see one of my racing buddies Matt Clayton at the CP having suffered a medical issue  that meant he also had to withdraw from the race. To his credit he sorted all my kit out in my absence as well as his own logistics.

In summary, if I had not been carrying any one item of the mandatory safety kit, or had sacrificed  functionality for weight or had not been comfortable it its use I would have suffered up on the hill.

I’ve had surgery to repair the achilles and been in a cast for 12  weeks followed by crutches and expect to be fully mobile hopefully within the year.  6 months in Im in the gym weekly, have a new bike, using a natty Compex machine and blood flow restriction band training to try to grow my now weedy left calf muscle.

My running days may well be at an end and you can imagine how that feels as an ultra runner who enjoys the trails. That said I went into the race with my eyes open, prepared and equipped and I loved every minute, until the end. If I can run again I will be back, no question at all.

Get the experience to be fully self‐reliant, carry the full kit at all times and know how to use it, be very good at navigating, especially at night. Hopefully what happened to me will never happen to you but, if it does look after yourself.

Amazing that gas and air…….

Understanding that I wont be running much (any) of the 268 mile Spine Race the latest training was a multi day hike to get the legs used to the different mechanics of hiking.

A couple of weeks off exercise as a result of a spectacular slip on Dartmoor which overextended the leg and did something not nice. Physio and the podiatrist followed to not much avail. I know I have very tight calves and hamstrings and have been stretching out, funny how something like that can make such a big difference.

So it was out at 9am with full Spine kit and the new Aarn Marathon 33 pack. Unfortunately not a drop of rain fell over the next two days and nights which was a pain for kit testing purposes. As always lessons were learnt, some kit was great, some not so much.

A long day, quick turn round using drop bag, night time then another long day and 110kms done. It brought it home how hard the Spine is going to be at 440+kms in mid winter when it is dark 16hrs a day and very cold and wet and windy. More training is needed for sure.

What worked was: HOKA mid boots fully waterproof and okay on the comfort front. Going to be trying the new ALTRA neo boots shortly then decide what to settle on for the Spine. Aarn pack, superb, cant fault it, this is going to become a multi day event favourite. Brynje string vest (really, look them up), Mountain King poles and Garmin 64 GPS with 1:25000 mapping. What didnt work: lightweight stove, complete rubbish in anything above a puff of wind, and I forgot a lighter, Fenix 3 replacement fabric strap, rubbish velcro and a second replacement from Garmin, back to the standard one.

A first run of the Dartmoor Highground 50 ultra seemed like too good an opportunity for  bit more race specific Spine Training. A quick consultation with ‘coach’ and entry was put in. This race was a fully marked trail race that followed a series of long loops with 5 aid stations.

Briefing found 16 runners on the 50 mile option who started at 0630 into a beautiful sunny morning.The first few miles meandered through the woods and onto the open moors. At this point I found myself in last place with the sweeper runner closely shadowing me, not the greatest feeling. I managed to overtake a runner on a long uphill slog but when I got to the first aid station found my sweeper lady. Id followed the correct route but had been overtaken and was back in last.

Off onto the long loop until the next aid station and the weather changed for the worst, which I was hoping for. After the long descent from Steeperton into Taw Marsh we found another runner who was lost. On being asked if they had a map and compass we found they had but didn't have any idea how to use it. We followed the route out and I found myself with an extending lead on the drag up Cosdon Beacon down the other side into Belstone.

I could see the other runner and my sweeper descending Cosdon some way back but found the next section very hard going ascending in the driving rain. I got to the aid to find their shelter had blown away and the two volunteers had set up in the meagre shelter of a large rock. We could see the sweeper and her new charge heading along the ridge of Oke Tor, the wrong way. That was the last I saw of them, but not the sweeper.

The weather got worse, which was great, and the ground got much harder going. Very boggy ground for miles. A few lost marathon runners due to the markers having been messed with were the only people I saw for hours and hours, again, just what I wanted.

The third aid station came and went at which point I found my Altras had developed a long split on the inside. I wondered if I would have to copy the shoeless running of one of my friends during an  ultra:  https://www.tumblr.com/reblog/143031143246/PARJJorA

I got to Branscombe’s Loaf, the cut off point but there was nobody there to clock me in. The descent to Sandy Ford was horrid but with all the rain the earlier crossing had become  raging torrent. With no other option the knee deep traverse was braved. Now with soaking feet the steep ascent up to the highest section of the moor, and the SW region was a slog as the gloom descended. I was still running well down to aid station 4, which actually had gone. I knew I was inside the cut off time but there was nobody there. A double check of the map confirmed I was in the correct place. Nothing to do but move forward.

Out of the gloom I found a van that was now the CP, waiting for me after their tent blew away, a common theme. Here I met up with a guy in running gear who expressed his pleasure to see me. I didn't really know what he was on about until he told be he was my new sweeper. I have to apologise here formally. He was a really friendly chatty guy, but I was in the pain cave and really happy with my own company in the weather and wasn't really pleased to have another sweeper runner stuck close to me over the final section.

Unfortunately it was pitch black, very windy, foggy and rainy and he was not sure enough of the route to leave me to it and follow on behind out of sight.

As we started the long hard ascent of Yes Tor he slipped and fell into the swollen Red-a-ven Brook and submerged himself. This quietened him down but had the effect of him getting even closer to me. I definitely should have been much more accommodating and friendly but I was in a bad place. We lost the route early on the climb, I was happy I knew where we were and the way to go but my confidence wasn't shared. Using the GPS was a doddle and we were soon sat at the top in the howling wind. 

My kit (apart form the ripped shoes) was snug and warm and working perfectly, a real boost for the Spine Training. A tricky descent through the clitter to the final CP at West Mill Tor and we found the shelter in situ. Id been given some wrong info about the distance to the finish at the previous CP so was pleasantly surprised to find it was half of what I was expecting.

I decided to run in the final section to try to get in under 17hrs so I trotted in the final couple of kms as fast as I could and eventually finished, in last place and some 8hrs behind the winner.

Tough race in the weather with 3800m of ascent, 700m more than the Lakeland 50. I think it will continue to improve, hopefully get more runners for 2017 and develop into a great event.

A bit happier with my sweeping buddy at the end.

https://connect.garmin.com/modern/activity/1337233041

As part of the training plan I signed up to the 50 mile Dartmoor Ultra that follows (almost) the ancient Perambulation of Dartmoor route, one of the most ancient walks that traces the old boundaries of the forest.

A weekend recce of the route and finding water sources under the belt took place, then an email from the ‘organisers’ stating they were cancelling the race due to a small number of entrants. Personally my view is that if you publish a race the least you can do is run it, regardless if your not going to make a load of money. 

Anyway, I decided to run the route, despite there being no aid stations and, of course, no route back to the car should the need arise.

The van was parked on the super village of Belstone and tea made on the stove followed by some faffing, reading and a night sleep in the back.

Breakfast was early and I left the ‘start’ at 0459hrs. Headtorch work for the first hour saw me over the river crossing of the Taw, up over Cosdon and along the ridge to Hangingstone Hill where a quick stop from the fog and wind was taken.

The next leg through Whitehorse Hill, Quintins Man, a water refill at the Little Varracombe,  Sittaford was uneventful. From there the crossing of White Ridge up to Water Hill was wet and boggy but the drop down and climb to Bennetts Cross was hideous with gorse and bracken hiding any path.

 A brew up, sock change into Dexshells and a general faff here before a really nice section through the old Vifter and Golden dagger tin mines, a forest section at Soussons Warren. The route follows the Two Moors Way (TMW) south to the beautiful hamlet of Sherwell and a further water refill at the crystal clear spring just west of the thatched cottages.

Skirting the western flanks of Yar Tor was an ordeal in neck high bracken with no discernable path which made very slow progress down to Dartmeet where the west and east Dart rivers collide to form the Dart River. Crossing the West Dart by the large stepping stones in the cool belied the hot climb up to Combestone Tor and the start proper of the bleak southern moor section. At this time it was hot, sunny and clear which was forecast to persist throughout the day, unfortunately, as is so often on the high moor, this wasn't to happen.

 The going was progressively tough from here over Ryder’s Hill, the quagmire to Snowden, Pupers Hill and rejoining the TMW. I was fairly well dehydrated here so pleased to get to Huntingdon Cross as it stands at the confluence of the River Avon and Western Wella Brook. A brew here, water filtering and some food as a steady stream of wholly under dressed walkers filtered past.

Crossing an ancient clapper bridge the route leads the poorly named Dry Lake ford . I took the wrong route through Erme Pitts tin workings and had some steep climbing up to the Broad Rock Marker stone. Getting a little fatigued at this point after about 50k of hills I couldn't find the Abbots Way route and ended up breaking ground again to Plym Ford. From here there is a nice path to Nuns Cross farm, just before the path I took my first tumble and was only surprising it hadn't come sooner. Made good time here up to South Hessary Tor but was having some foot issues with my left heel caused by some deteriorating insoles in my Altras. Due to their unique foot shaped toe box it is impossible to get new insoles and Altra dont stock them. Anyway a longer than usual stop here to attend to feet taping proceeded the drop into Princetown.

Into the shops for a can of coke, a pie and coffee at the cafe, but I forgot to buy some bottled water! I didnt hang about and ascended to the TV station tower at North Hessary Tor where you couldnt see the mast due to low cloud. A water refil at the spring at Rundlestone and an easy ascent to Great Mis Tor where the going was good. Unfortunately it then turned to a huge bog (The Mistor Marsh) for the next 4Kms to Lynch Tor. I was still fairly well ahead of the cut off time but the route was taking its toll, constantly route finding and then very hard pushing through a further 3k of tussocks to Deadlake Foot where the weather was deceptively clear.

Within 20mins of starting the climb from the river up to Hare Tor the wind, rain and fog came in very quickly, proper Spine Race Training now as I passed the ruins of the appropriately named Bleak House  and joined a paved track leading to the Rattlebrook Peat works. The paved track quickly became deep featherbed bogs as I missed the route path to Kitty Tor where I arrived tired. The descent from Kitty to Sandy Ford was the slowest section as I tried to cross deep ravines hidden in the grass with flowing streams ready to grab the badly placed leg. A real danger of falling and breaking a leg was very slow progress. The sting in the tail of course is the steep unrelenting ascent from here up to the highest point on the moor. The last water stop at the river crossing just added weight to weary legs as I slowly made my way up in the gathering darkness to the huts at Fordsland Ledge and the final push up to High Willhayes. The route here should be easy(er) following stone army roads but the wind and fog meant the headtorch was useless in seeing the route. I was at this point behind time and faced with the prospect of failing to meet the 18hr cut off. I had laughed at the rather long 18hrs provided to cover the 50 miles of this race prior to undertaking it, I was now looking defeat in the face, I just couldnt see it in the fog.

The final 9-10ks had to be run as hard as I could and were the fastest of the day. I got back to the van with 10mins to spare in 17hrs 50mins and change, packed up and drove home.

Hard work, great training and hardly anyone seen on the route all day long.

Having decided to invest some quality time with a running coach I received my initial training plan. Slightly bemused to find it is a 7 day a week plan. Coach either thinks I am out to win the race or knows about my ability levels and is trying to pull me up albeit 6 months out.

Here is  short clip of what turned out to be a lovely run in the southern extremities of the national park.

Race To The King 2016. Biblical rain and 89kms hills, more good training

Firstly, as you can see the navigation course wasnt all wasted with these footpath locating skills.

So, it is time to start running with the Spine Race mandatory kit. As a nice series of thunder storms were forecast the big bag was packed with the following:

Sleeping bag, sleeping mat, bivvy bag, sleeping bag liner, stove, 3000 cal of food, outer jacket and layering, head torch x2, hat, gloves and assorted faffing kit and 2 L of water, plus my new best friend:

After some 30 kms it became obvious that I need some gym time to work on the shoulders plus some more internet shopping for lighter weight kit where possible.

Only one race planned now this year, the training is now aimed at testing kit, testing it again and making sure it becomes second nature as to where it all fits together. Already discarded a few bits as not being fit for purpose.

This started really with The Thames Path 100, a really flat 100 mile race. Not the best choice of terrain for the Pennine Way?

Actually it wasn’t a bad race. Its a monotonous hard slog with a high attrition rate and a whole night section due to the start time plus an early opportunity to test out some of the kit I plan to take on the Spine and assess some niggles I've had for a while.

What worked? Injinji socks (which I plan toy wear as a liner sock under some Dexshells), Bionic-X running leggings, Extremities Top Bag over mitts and Odlo baselayer. It was down to freezing in the night and I wouldn't have noticed if it hadn't been for the frost and freezing fog.

So that’s a longish run done and all was well, time to move onto some more specific training aimed at a multi day long effort in the hills in winter.

It seemed an obvious thing to do, hone navigation skills to reduce race errors and move as efficiently as possible along the route. A 1K deviation could cost 30+ minutes race time on the Spine route and with so much potential along the 268 miles for nav meltdown I felt the investment worth it.

Left Bristol in the pouring rain to arrive 4 hrs later in hot sun at Hayfield and the ranch of Stu Westfield the owner of Ranger Expeditions and the go to Spine Race safety team co-ordinator. This turned out to be a good choice on my part. Not only did I get the nav training but countless tips and advise for January.

So with the nav, within 500m I was ‘challenged’ by the warren of streets, side roads, tracks and paths and eventually made it out and onto the hills. 30kms later we had boxed off all the compass work, time and distance estimation, micro nav, GPS work, night nav, start recce, found a boundary stone Stu hadn’t seen before, reestablishing the correct course, pacing and a host of other stuff that I hadn’t known or forgotten, plus scoffed a big home made pie in a pub in Edale. In short the input from day one and 2 means I’m more than happy to get out and trundle round on my own.<\p>

A detailed map review of the race route and a load of discussion including pace notes, sleep, feed, CP strategies, kit, feeding , bivvy skills etc has provided a foundation on which to train and build between now and January.<\p>

If, like me, you’ve never attempted the Spine or Challenger I think you’ll find this input and insight like gold dust, you can’t buy personal experience but you can give yourself a massive leg up in terms of getting your skills up to speed for this adventure and listening to someone that has seen hundreds of racers at these events over the past 5 years.<\p>

So, this is as good a place to start as any. January 2016 on the Pennine Way volunteering in the checkpoints for the Spine Race.

I’m not much of a runner, I’m one of those that that swells the numbers at races but no matter how hard I train the ‘Further. Faster’ mantra only applies in part, and it’s not the speed element. With a usual progression from 10K, half and marathons to ultra running, directly related to ageing, I have a unenviable running ‘pedigree’; but I enjoy it, I love the challenge, it’s what I do.

Back to winter 2016, the Spine is an amazing event, a continuous 268 mile 7 day foot race along the Pennine Way in winter. Highly organised, well supported by volunteers across check points, safety teams, medics etc, it is an incredible thing to watch.

To cut a very long story short, I went there with my van and dog not quite knowing what to expect. I helped the athletes with a number of things I’m not well known for such as cooking, cleaning, organising kit (bit of a faffer), shoe cleaning, weather forecasting interspersed with lots of driving between checkpoints. It’s only when you drive north, from the Dales towards Scotland, that the distance the athletes are running is of epic status.

I gave a little during the 7 days that I hope helped some but I came away with a vast abundance of information, advice, knowledge, no shortage of inspiration and a decent portion of stupidity. Could I turn myself from cook and shoe cleaner to Spine competitor in a year? Obviously, in my head I could. Foolhardy, many would suggest so, me to probably. Stretching yourself to your own limits and beyond, certainly.