Lakeland 50 Recce - Gayle's Turn

(This blog post is far too long. I considered writing a much shorter version, but for my own benefit I want to record the day, so please skip over it if you’re not in the market for a long read.) 

Monday 12 April
Where was Erica? She was at Yanwath Woodhouse, a certified (5-van) caravan site just to the south west of Penrith at a cost of £12 per night including electric hook up. They have the usual water and waste, as well as a toilet and sink with hot and cold water.
Weather: Glorious, if cold. 

As my alarm went off at 0530 on Monday morning, I was already in Ma-in-Law’s kitchen making breakfast, whilst Mick had a quick shower. Before 7am Erica had been defrosted (including her sliding rear door which was frozen firmly shut) and we were on the road on a gloriously sunny morning. 

The journey went smoothly, with the temperature rising as we went from a chilly -4 to a more tolerable +1, and at ten past nine I stepped out of Erica in the car park in Pooley Bridge. Off up the road I trotted, having committed to memory the first part of the route instructions. At St Paul's Church I duly forked L before thinking that something didn't look quite right. A double check of the route instructions: "Fork R at St Paul's Church". Oh dear. This wasn't a good start, 200m into a 40km day!

Back on the right track I was soon walking. The plan was to walk the ups and trot the flats and the downs, but I knew that even that would be a tall order, given that the overwhelming majority of our runs and walks over the last 13 months have been conducted in the flatlands surrounding home. My quads were clearly not going to appreciate a 40km route involving 1700m of ascent and descent.

Leaving the road, the first incline was easier than expected, and the views were already spectacular…

…but even so, by the top of the climb I’d realised that I was overdressed. It turns out that hauling oneself up hills in +1 in full sunshine is warmer work than running in the same temperature at home. 

A few weeks ago we had analysed the route and sectioned it into three categories (up (walk), steep down (fast walk) and ‘runnable’), allocating assumed paces for each of those categories. It transpired that we had been conservative in our assessment of the first section of the route, as after that first climb I ran almost the entire way to Checkpoint 1 at Howtown. 

Next I had to gain the head of Fusedale – a valley I don’t believe I’ve visited before. I was still on the valley floor when chap on a mountain bike passed me, soon disappearing off into the distance. Then the ascent started and slowly I reeled him in. Eventually, with much gasping, I got to around 10m from him and could have overtaken, but I took pity on his pride and instead paused to look at the map whilst he got his breath back. The next bit of the route was flat, allowing him to open the gap again. At the second ruin, he turned right whilst I turned left and started my huffing and gasping afresh as the terrain steepened up to the highest point on the route. 

Once on the top, the grassy track, which would otherwise have been boggy, was in the perfect state of frozen (i.e. still some give, but hard enough to hold my weight), giving a gloriously easy running surface between High Kop and Low Kop.

Elsewhere bits of path were more inconveniently sheets of ice; care was needed! 

Next came the descent to Haweswater, the line of which looked complicated on the map but was straightforward on the ground (watching a recce of the route on YouTube had helped). Part way down I acknowledged that running down such steep terrain was folly from the point of view of my quads. I thus slowed to my fast downhill walk, which is speedy, but gentler on the knees and thighs.

Hitting the path along Haweswater I had two expectations: 1) it would be largely runnable; 2) it was about 4km to the car park where I would find Erica. The former expectation had no basis other than contour lines on the map; the latter was based on having already covered 17km (per my watch) versus my rough estimate of the total distance to Mardale Head being 21km. As I made my way along the path, that was often too rocky for me to run (I kept catching a toe even at a fast walk), I referred to the route notes again which told me I had 6.5km to go. That was a bit of a blow!

Did I mention what a nice day it was to be out? 

The extra distance made me 10 minutes later arriving at Mardale Head than expected, which was good going, I thought, considering the 2.5km undermeasurement. There in the full-to-bursting car park was Mick ready to tend to my needs.

A bowl of pasta was consumed, interspersed by some chocolate ginger biscuits. My warm tights were changed for less-warm ones. Water bottles were refilled (I’d run dry 5km earlier). Snacks were stowed in my pack. Shoes were changed (I’d done the morning in my old shoes, thinking that 40km as the second outing in a pair of new zero-drop shoes would be asking for trouble). Exactly thirty minutes after arriving, I was off again.

Some clouds had now drifted in and it snowed gently on me at the top of Gatescarth Pass. The track down the other side was stony and with my propensity to catch a toe, I was selective as to which bits I ran. I passed within a kilometre of the summit of an unbagged Marilyn, but had to acknowledge that this wasn’t the day to visit it. Then I reached Sadgill.

Maybe because I was getting tired, I have no recollection of the next ascent and descent, until just before the road on the way to Kentmere. I do remember Garburn Pass, after Kentmere – the final pass of my day – because it was on my way up there that I started to question my sanity. I recorded voice notes throughout the day as to what the terrain was like and what time I reached key points. This is a transcript of my first note, which you’ll see is brief and factual:
“Car Park 0912. Runnable to just after crossroads before Hill Croft Farm. Gate at road end 0923. Good stony track with fantastic view over Ullswater. Top of track 0932.”

In contrast, here’s my final voice note of the day:
“Heading up Garburn Pass. Questioning my life choices. I could be sitting in an armchair kitting, listening to an audiobook and instead I’m thrashing my body up the most hideous rocky – loose rock – incline. But what was the point I was going to make? Um… Yes -this bit of the path is horrible. It’s bouldery, rocky, loose rock, not nice at all. And it’s uphill and I’m not really appreciating that just now. And it’s about to get a whole lot more uphill. Ridiculous thing to be doing.”

The bit of path I was on when I recorded the voice note set out above. 

Having gained the top of the pass I greeted a chap who was just tying his shoelace. “Are you recce-ing the Lakeland 50 route?” he asked. His name was David and he was also checking out part of the route, being also a first timer … at the age of 78. I had a lovely time walking with him until the first gate, by which time he’d encouraged me twice to go on ahead of him and I wasn’t sure if he was concerned that he was holding me up, or if he really didn’t want my company. Either way, at the gate I trotted on ahead, pausing further along to tell his wife, who was waiting on a rock, that he wasn’t far behind me. 

By then, with the end of my day within sniffing distance, I figured that it no longer mattered how much I trashed my quads, so I picked up the pace for the final couple of kilometres to Troutbeck, where Mick was waiting for me.

Writing this five days later, I assess the day as having been good fun. However, I also acknowledge that the latter stages of the afternoon fell firmly into the category of Type 2 fun*. I’d not only be happy to go and do the route again, but positively want to, to see if I can do it better (note: better ≠ faster).

Back to Monday: after my usual stretching routine, I clambered into Erica and off we set over the Kirkstone Pass to our campsite at Yanwath, where I was pleasantly surprised to find that my legs hadn’t seized up. How would they feel on the morrow? Would they be in a fit state to do driving duties whilst Mick ran? 

(*Type 1 fun: fun when it’s happening. Type 2 fun: not fun at the time, but it becomes so in retrospect.)