Right here goes... After over a year of planning, training, posting on Facebook, and generally boring people with talking about my next race, race weekend had finally arrived. Jeff picked my up and all my kit and we headed north.
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| All packed up. |
We arrived in Edale after a quite journey. I unloaded my kit into the registration hall and queued up for registration.
Now for a little explanation. In previous runnings of The Spine race, the tracker page had little pictures of each runner so when you click on their dot a picture of them appears. Last year I had this in mind when I took off my jacket to reveal a full DJ, white shirt, and bow tie, only to discover that that year they chose not to use the pictures. Gutted. Not put off by this, I had decided to go a little different this year, and chose to wear a tropical Hawaiian shirt and sun hat. Standing there in that attire I hoped that this year the pictures would be used. And as luck would have it they were! Only one slight problem - they need a new photographer!
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| The picture you got when clicking my dot! |
No evidence of sun hat - and not even my head.
So, picture taken, I headed over to the kit check area. This was a lottery and you either get drawn a "show 3 random things from the list" or you got "show the whole damn lot". Guess what I got? Yes the whole lot. Not to worry, I knew I had everything, and that it was well within the minimum spec of what was required, it just meant spilling out all my kit over the floor and table.
Registration and kit check done, I headed off to the briefing, my massive kit bag in tow, and then onto the B&B where at last I could dump my stuff and travel a bit lighter.
A quick bite to eat (vegetable lasagna) and back to my room for kit sorting and an early night.
Race day arrived, and finally packed I lugged my gear back down the hill to the start, at last dumping my bag with the baggage team before begging the tracker man to re-take my photo - which he did, just to humor me it seems as the photo was never changed.
I sat there, quietly contemplating how the other runners got all their required kit into such small bags, and just generally relaxing, waiting for the off.
Which came along eventually - we were ushered out into the cold morning air - it was a lovely morning, cold, crisp, not snowy, and dry!
And we were off...
I had put together a list of loose times, just to judge how I was doing compared to last year, and also took times from one of last years racers, again to judge the later areas. First target was Snake pass, and I arrived there with a 30 minute cushion. Now I know I wasn't going off too fast, last year was very icy and slippery so it wasn't surprising that I had already made time up in the first 10 miles.
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| Approaching Snake Pass (I think) |
Bleaklow passed without event, and I was soon down at Torside and the first monitoring point. 15 miles and a 50 minute cushion now. A quick top up with the water bottles and off I toddled towards Black hill and Wassenden.
Another uneventful section and I arrived at Wessenden 1:20 up. At 23 miles Wessenden is almost the gateway to the darkness ahead, so shortly after I added a layer or 2, and changed to warmer gloves ready for the hours of darkness. I was also caught up with fellow 2017 Challenger runner Michelle Payne who was on for the full race this year. We ran and chatted for a bit, Michelle listing all the amazing races she had done, many of them were on my dream list, and me silently contemplating how inexperienced I was in comparison (this was to be only my 5th Ultra) where as Michelle had, by the sound of it done that many in just the last year. I felt very inadequate.
Reaching the next monitoring station at Standedge (28 miles), I was 1:50 up on last years time, a quick top up with water and off I went into the night.
Then came the burger van at the M62 crossing (32 miles). I arrived there with the same 1:50 cushion as the darkness had slowed me down a bit, and I decided on a bit of a re-fuel. I ordered a hot chocolate - yum - the same as last year, but added a fried egg bap. This didn't go down well and I binned half of it and set off over the motorway.
Next target was The White House pub (35 miles). Banned to Spine racers inside, but a good monitoring point outside with hot drinks and flapjack. I was now 2 hours up.
I think it was raining by now, 8pm, 12 hours into the race, and this last long stretch would take me into Hebden bridge, and then finally up to the first checkpoint at Hebden hay.
I arrived at the first checkpoint at 00:33 early Monday morning after 45 miles on the go. By this time I had a 2:45 cushion on my time last year, and and still 2 hours on my target time. Happy with this, and no plans to sleep yet, I had a quick plate of pasta, sorted my (still perfect) feet, and set out into the rain/darkness.
Sorry this is all sounding a bit mundane at the moment - it does get more exciting eventually...
Anyway - by now the rain was coming down proper, the mud of the Pennine way was well and truly churned up, and slips/slides were plentiful. Even the trail running shoes I was wearing were sliding all over the place, and they have a grip pretty much as "aggressive" as you can get in a trail shoe.
Sorry this is all sounding a bit mundane at the moment - it does get more exciting eventually...
Anyway - by now the rain was coming down proper, the mud of the Pennine way was well and truly churned up, and slips/slides were plentiful. Even the trail running shoes I was wearing were sliding all over the place, and they have a grip pretty much as "aggressive" as you can get in a trail shoe.
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| My current shoes - the Inov8 X-Claw |
I did end up going down in the mud several times, but knew that others were probably experiencing things just as bad (or worse if they didn't have the grip I had).
The route winds round a couple of reservoirs before heading back up into the moors - I avoided the turn I took in error last year, and carried on upwards towards Bronte country. No ice to contend with this year, I was really motoring, making good time as I descended towards Ponden reservoir,now over 3 hours up on last year.
Daylight came and the next section was uneventful, apart from the rain and a few stumbles, and I arrived in Gargrave 3:20 up on last year. A healthy cushion was developing. Not wanting or needing to stop for food in the Co-op I pressed on.
And then I went wrong...
Happily bumbling across muddy fields I completely missed the path and ended up crossing soggy crop fields and climbing over walls to get back on track. I recon I lost about 30 minutes on this detour (it was in daylight also, so absolutely no excuses)
The route winds round a couple of reservoirs before heading back up into the moors - I avoided the turn I took in error last year, and carried on upwards towards Bronte country. No ice to contend with this year, I was really motoring, making good time as I descended towards Ponden reservoir,now over 3 hours up on last year.
Daylight came and the next section was uneventful, apart from the rain and a few stumbles, and I arrived in Gargrave 3:20 up on last year. A healthy cushion was developing. Not wanting or needing to stop for food in the Co-op I pressed on.
And then I went wrong...
Happily bumbling across muddy fields I completely missed the path and ended up crossing soggy crop fields and climbing over walls to get back on track. I recon I lost about 30 minutes on this detour (it was in daylight also, so absolutely no excuses)
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| My "detour" in purple |
Back on route things were back to normal. Rain was still coming down, mud was still slippery and it was dark again, as we arrived in Malham village.
Time for a sleep... So I headed for the public loos, a favourite spot for fellow Spine racers. Two others followed me in and we called HQ with our intentions to prevent possible inadvertent rescues due to stationary GPS dots.
I got my bag out and laid out under the window, and the other two by the sinks, and set the alarm for 2 hours....zzzz
Up and off we went after a short sleep - which included getting up to have a wee in the urinal just above my feet :-)
The climb up the side of Malham cove and subsequent ascent up to Malham tarn all went well, and after a quick hot drink at the "mini checkpoint" I was on my way again, running into the night in anticipation of the next two big climbs, Fountains fell, and Pen-y-Ghent, the later of which had a detour in place to avoid the iced up climb.
As I got higher the rain turned to snow and the ground took on a pretty white covering. The wind was also getting stronger now, blowing the snow across the path.
Descending Fountains fell the snow went slushy again but the wind remained strong, then ascending Pen-y-Ghent the wind was howling over the wall I was hid behind, trouble was the route - now diverted - involved going through a gate in the wall and heading straight into the wind.
Battling in the headwind, I gradually descended the treacherously slippery steps, and grass banks, and eventually made it down to the warm sanctuary of the Pen-y-Ghent cafe in Horton.
I had a coffee, a can of lemonade, and a vegetarian bean casserole, and then set off into the darkness with Carlos Climent for company.
We ascended up the path onto the Cam high road with the weather really hitting hard now. Strong side winds and blown snow meant full face covering including wind/snow goggles.
Eventually descending into Hawes and the waiting checkpoint, we stumbled in from the cold - snow now settling everywhere - and set about sorting ourselves out.
I had a plate of pasta while sorting kit for the next stage and then went upstairs for a kip. I think I managed a couple of hours, before heading back down - a bowl of rice pudding (with jam) before heading out into the dying daylight. Immediately I discovered that I couldn't run unless I used my poles. It seemed that my core muscles were now out of balance, my front being stronger than my back, and unless I supported my upper body by using poles I was stooping forward quite alarmingly. Oh well, running with poles it was then...
It very quickly became apparent that this stage was going to be hard! Strong winds and thick snow soon meant the path was invisible, and footprints from fellow racers lasted less than a few minutes before completely disappearing. It was now dark, and the strong wind-blown snow meant visibility was down to 10 meters or less. Now fully relying on GPS to show me the path, as the path itself was obliterated. Stumbling between the hard path under inches of snow, to suddenly being knee deep as you trod into a hidden hole, the pace slowed to a crawl. The path could be under me, 1 meter to the left, 1 meter to the right, you just couldn't tell, often now in thigh deep drifts of snow, this was energy sapping, having to step high every time I tried to make forward progress. On the path, off the path, falling down, running a few meters, it was a long slow progress...
We (not sure who it was, but the last mile or so was spent with another fellow racer) eventually reached the summit of Great Shunner fell, no stopping there - just onward and down the other side. More of the same ensued, we became separated and again, the trail disappeared in the maelstrom of windblown snow making the descent long and arduous, spending many minutes slogging through thigh deep snow, unsure if it was the path or not, and eventually - several hours later - breaking out onto the track and down to civilisation.
From Thwaite, the path wasn't too bad as it was relatively sheltered, but all too soon the path headed upwards into Stonesdale moor and the high winds, snow, and general uncertainty of where the path was continued. This stretch was particularly exposed, and the drifts were even more leg sapping. I stopped to don another layer as the cold wind was really biting, so on with my primaloft jacket, under my waterproof - much better once everything was done up again. By this time a small group had caught me up, so we carried on together, falling into snow holes, stumbling about, praying for the lights of the Tan Hill Inn to appear. Which it did eventually, 11 hours after leaving Hawes (16 miles back). That leg was slooooow.
I thawed out in front of a roaring fire and had a bite to eat. One of our party was pulled out by a medic with suspected hypothermia and others wanted a rest/sleep - but I was very conscious of how long that leg had taken, so after donning all my layers I ventured out into the snow.
Quickly losing the obliterated path in the dark/wind/snow I was resigned to wallowing about on Sleightholme moor, sometimes sinking fully thigh deep in the snow, this stretch is bad enough in daylight with good visibility, so to navigate across it with the above visibility was rather tricky. It took me 2 full hours to cover 2.5 miles on this section.
The next 16 miles was not much better than the last 16 miles, although we had some daylight and less wind, so technically it was a bit easier, but the efforts from last night had really taken their toll and I was like a walking zombie.
I staggered into Middleton and checkpoint 3 on my last legs. 24 hours since leaving Hawes. As far as I was concerned my race was over. I could not move fast enough and the cut off for leaving this checkpoint was looming. I cannot remember if I had anything to eat before crashing out on a bunk, quickly falling asleep.
As I slept all sorts of things were happening - mainly weather related, and as a result the race was paused. All racers were recalled (where possible) and we were not allowed to continue until the morning. The later cut off times were not adjusted however, so unless I sped up to more than double the speed I was managing then it was impossible to reach the next cut off. However I will give it my best shot.
We were woken in the morning to tell us that the race will restart in an hour, so I went to get some food. 5 breakfasts later and I was ready to get going. Then the bombshell hit - the checkpoint manager said the cut off to leave this checkpoint was in 15 minutes time! I was completely unready to go - nothing was sorted, I wasn't even dressed properly, so I grabbed all my stuff, did what I needed to do before leaving, and then stood outside in the snow having officially "left" the checkpoint, so I could continue to get ready properly.
Obviously being the last to leave, and thus last in the race, I set off along the river. It was a lovely morning, crisp, cold, not very windy, and a lovely snowscape all around. It was still very cold and icy, but at least the going was easier. I was still unable to run properly and knew that unless I sped right up I was probably going to be timed out at the next checkpoint, but onwards I went, buoyed by the decent sleep and multiple breakfasts I had consumed.
I followed the river round, and then came to a known tricky part not far from Cauldren snout. Here there is a section of rocks/boulders that cover the path and take to right next to the icy river./ The path just goes over these rocks and it is a balancing act to stay upright and out of the river. Many rocks were covered in an icy layer, and in my tired state the inevitable happened and down I went. I nearly face planted a boulder, but saved myself (no idea how) but in doing so I felt my right quad ping. Ouch!
That was it. I was moving even slower now, not faster like I needed. The climb up the side of the waterfall was very tricky with one leg not doing as it should. Eventually reaching the top I had a decision to make. I was on a road which if I turned left to carry on in the race, would lead me up and out into the wilderness for another 12 miles before reaching Dufton and certain DNF.
Turning right would lead me towards a larger road and safety - with easy access by the spine team to bring me in from the cold.
I turned right.
I phoned HQ and informed them of my decision and carried on along the road (which was mostly hidden under 10 inches of snow at this point). It was now dark again and the wind was blowing hard. I needed to get out of the wind and snow while I waited for the safety team to find me. I had everything I needed to stay the night if needed, but it would be better to be out of the wind - and then I saw on the map a handy building a few hundred metres away.
And there it was, a lovely little shelter, I set up my light outside so they could find me easier and lit my stove for a brew - and waited.
A huge thanks for everyone involved in The Spine race. All the checkpoint people, the safety team, the organisers - everyone. And of course to Stuart Smith who drew the short straw and had to brave the weather to come and fetch me.
Thanks - and see you in January for another attempt.
Time for a sleep... So I headed for the public loos, a favourite spot for fellow Spine racers. Two others followed me in and we called HQ with our intentions to prevent possible inadvertent rescues due to stationary GPS dots.
I got my bag out and laid out under the window, and the other two by the sinks, and set the alarm for 2 hours....zzzz
Up and off we went after a short sleep - which included getting up to have a wee in the urinal just above my feet :-)
The climb up the side of Malham cove and subsequent ascent up to Malham tarn all went well, and after a quick hot drink at the "mini checkpoint" I was on my way again, running into the night in anticipation of the next two big climbs, Fountains fell, and Pen-y-Ghent, the later of which had a detour in place to avoid the iced up climb.
As I got higher the rain turned to snow and the ground took on a pretty white covering. The wind was also getting stronger now, blowing the snow across the path.
Descending Fountains fell the snow went slushy again but the wind remained strong, then ascending Pen-y-Ghent the wind was howling over the wall I was hid behind, trouble was the route - now diverted - involved going through a gate in the wall and heading straight into the wind.
Battling in the headwind, I gradually descended the treacherously slippery steps, and grass banks, and eventually made it down to the warm sanctuary of the Pen-y-Ghent cafe in Horton.
I had a coffee, a can of lemonade, and a vegetarian bean casserole, and then set off into the darkness with Carlos Climent for company.
We ascended up the path onto the Cam high road with the weather really hitting hard now. Strong side winds and blown snow meant full face covering including wind/snow goggles.
 |
| On the Cam high road |
Eventually descending into Hawes and the waiting checkpoint, we stumbled in from the cold - snow now settling everywhere - and set about sorting ourselves out.
I had a plate of pasta while sorting kit for the next stage and then went upstairs for a kip. I think I managed a couple of hours, before heading back down - a bowl of rice pudding (with jam) before heading out into the dying daylight. Immediately I discovered that I couldn't run unless I used my poles. It seemed that my core muscles were now out of balance, my front being stronger than my back, and unless I supported my upper body by using poles I was stooping forward quite alarmingly. Oh well, running with poles it was then...
It very quickly became apparent that this stage was going to be hard! Strong winds and thick snow soon meant the path was invisible, and footprints from fellow racers lasted less than a few minutes before completely disappearing. It was now dark, and the strong wind-blown snow meant visibility was down to 10 meters or less. Now fully relying on GPS to show me the path, as the path itself was obliterated. Stumbling between the hard path under inches of snow, to suddenly being knee deep as you trod into a hidden hole, the pace slowed to a crawl. The path could be under me, 1 meter to the left, 1 meter to the right, you just couldn't tell, often now in thigh deep drifts of snow, this was energy sapping, having to step high every time I tried to make forward progress. On the path, off the path, falling down, running a few meters, it was a long slow progress...
We (not sure who it was, but the last mile or so was spent with another fellow racer) eventually reached the summit of Great Shunner fell, no stopping there - just onward and down the other side. More of the same ensued, we became separated and again, the trail disappeared in the maelstrom of windblown snow making the descent long and arduous, spending many minutes slogging through thigh deep snow, unsure if it was the path or not, and eventually - several hours later - breaking out onto the track and down to civilisation.
From Thwaite, the path wasn't too bad as it was relatively sheltered, but all too soon the path headed upwards into Stonesdale moor and the high winds, snow, and general uncertainty of where the path was continued. This stretch was particularly exposed, and the drifts were even more leg sapping. I stopped to don another layer as the cold wind was really biting, so on with my primaloft jacket, under my waterproof - much better once everything was done up again. By this time a small group had caught me up, so we carried on together, falling into snow holes, stumbling about, praying for the lights of the Tan Hill Inn to appear. Which it did eventually, 11 hours after leaving Hawes (16 miles back). That leg was slooooow.
I thawed out in front of a roaring fire and had a bite to eat. One of our party was pulled out by a medic with suspected hypothermia and others wanted a rest/sleep - but I was very conscious of how long that leg had taken, so after donning all my layers I ventured out into the snow.
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| My "view" |
The next 16 miles was not much better than the last 16 miles, although we had some daylight and less wind, so technically it was a bit easier, but the efforts from last night had really taken their toll and I was like a walking zombie.
I staggered into Middleton and checkpoint 3 on my last legs. 24 hours since leaving Hawes. As far as I was concerned my race was over. I could not move fast enough and the cut off for leaving this checkpoint was looming. I cannot remember if I had anything to eat before crashing out on a bunk, quickly falling asleep.
As I slept all sorts of things were happening - mainly weather related, and as a result the race was paused. All racers were recalled (where possible) and we were not allowed to continue until the morning. The later cut off times were not adjusted however, so unless I sped up to more than double the speed I was managing then it was impossible to reach the next cut off. However I will give it my best shot.
We were woken in the morning to tell us that the race will restart in an hour, so I went to get some food. 5 breakfasts later and I was ready to get going. Then the bombshell hit - the checkpoint manager said the cut off to leave this checkpoint was in 15 minutes time! I was completely unready to go - nothing was sorted, I wasn't even dressed properly, so I grabbed all my stuff, did what I needed to do before leaving, and then stood outside in the snow having officially "left" the checkpoint, so I could continue to get ready properly.
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| Getting ready having "left" the checkpoint. |
I followed the river round, and then came to a known tricky part not far from Cauldren snout. Here there is a section of rocks/boulders that cover the path and take to right next to the icy river./ The path just goes over these rocks and it is a balancing act to stay upright and out of the river. Many rocks were covered in an icy layer, and in my tired state the inevitable happened and down I went. I nearly face planted a boulder, but saved myself (no idea how) but in doing so I felt my right quad ping. Ouch!
That was it. I was moving even slower now, not faster like I needed. The climb up the side of the waterfall was very tricky with one leg not doing as it should. Eventually reaching the top I had a decision to make. I was on a road which if I turned left to carry on in the race, would lead me up and out into the wilderness for another 12 miles before reaching Dufton and certain DNF.
Turning right would lead me towards a larger road and safety - with easy access by the spine team to bring me in from the cold.
I turned right.
I phoned HQ and informed them of my decision and carried on along the road (which was mostly hidden under 10 inches of snow at this point). It was now dark again and the wind was blowing hard. I needed to get out of the wind and snow while I waited for the safety team to find me. I had everything I needed to stay the night if needed, but it would be better to be out of the wind - and then I saw on the map a handy building a few hundred metres away.
And there it was, a lovely little shelter, I set up my light outside so they could find me easier and lit my stove for a brew - and waited.
A huge thanks for everyone involved in The Spine race. All the checkpoint people, the safety team, the organisers - everyone. And of course to Stuart Smith who drew the short straw and had to brave the weather to come and fetch me.
Thanks - and see you in January for another attempt.
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