Lakeland 50 Recce - Mick's Turn

Tuesday 13 April

For what felt like the fifty-sixth day in a row, I didn't have a good night's sleep (1. It's my age; 2. It was actually the fifth night but the efforts of the day before made it feel like more) so it was a bit painful when the alarm went off at 0530. My first attempt at getting up was brief and lasted as long as it took for me to turn the fan heater on; it had been a cold night.

Happily, once I did drag myself out of bed I found my body to not just be in a fit state to drive, but in a good state overall. My legs didn't feel too bad so I was happy to take my share of the chores, albeit they were hampered by all of the campsite taps being frozen solid. Good job I'd stirred myself to fill the water bottles just before bed!

Whilst I had run from Pooley Bridge the previous day, it had occurred to me that there was no value in Mick also running the first section of road, particularly as I now knew that I could easily drop him off at the gate at the road end. It was just before half past seven when I did that and waved him off.

 Not as sunny as I'd had, but still excellent conditions

Straight around to Mardale Head I drove, to nab a good spot in the car park before it filled up (hmmm, only partially successful. I chose a spot where there was no chance of other cars making my exit manoeuvre awkward, but it was also fully in the shade and a bit of solar gain would have been nice). After having a tidy-up inside Erica, I decided the best use of my time would be to draw the curtains and have a kip. I failed, but did lie under a blanket in the dark until the alarm on my phone told me it was time to start looking out for Mick.

 

Not a breath of wind

He duly arrived, looking more fresh than I'd felt at this point, and told me about the people he'd met (in Fusedale another L50 entrant, who probably wouldn't be able to take part due to a knee operation; between High Kop and Low Kop a chap who Mick thought might be in trouble, but who had lost a glove) whilst I fed him a fried egg sandwich and chocolate biscuits, and set about restocking his bag with food and water.

Just over half an hour after arriving he was off again, soon finding his freshness leaving him as he hauled himself up to Gatescarth Pass. 

 

Heading up Gatescarth Pass

To my surprise, given his dislike of stony tracks, he didn't find Garburn Pass as unpleasant as I had (I'll put my dislike down to tiredness, as I don't usually mind such surfaces). Perhaps he was completely distracted by the enormous backpacks of a couple he could see ahead of him. As he caught them up, it was to the realisation that they were carrying bouldering mats - a local couple out in their backyard, he found out as he paused for a chat.

 

How can anyone (particularly someone with a dislike of stony tracks) prefer this to Gatescarth?!

 

Mick & I are on the same mobile phone network and I'd been able to send him regular messages the day before updating him of my progress. Unfortunately, during the afternoon, whether due to atmospheric conditions or inferior hardware*, he was unable to get a signal in the same places and thus by the time I heard from him I'd already sent him a message asking if he was still alive. Happily, he was, and towards the top of Garburn Pass he called me to report progress.

The time stamps on the received messages illustrate why we always make sure to state a 'sent' time within the message. 

That was at just gone 1430 at which time I, having been incredibly lazy all day, was still (dare I admit this?) in my pyjama top, having not felt the need to get fully dressed as I'd not been out anywhere (not counting driving as being 'out'). My knowledge that I should go for a leg-stretch was countered with the fact that I was nice and warm in Erica and it was decidedly cool outside, but after a pep talk I managed to get myself dressed and off up Garburn Pass I went to intercept Mick on his way down. 

The return leg of that little outing proved that I did now have sore quads, but not as bad as expected (although they were yet to get worse before they got better). Mick was, of course, tired by now, but still moving well and as we descended I set out the options for the night. I would very much have liked to have driven a short distance and stayed on a campsite for another night, but the cost/benefit analysis suggested that the best option was just to drive straight home. 

It was a longer journey than it should have been (a car fire on the M6) and sitting still in a car for a few hours is never a good thing to do immediately after a day of exercise. There were audible groans as Mick heaved himself out of the car and straightened himself up. 

We went to bed just before 9pm that night and I woke up at gone half past eight the following morning. I can't remember the last time I slept that long! It was the Friday before my legs had forgiven me sufficiently to go out for my next run.

After such a fine trip we're looking forward to returning to the Lakes early in May to recce the southern section of the route (could we possibly be so lucky with the weather again?), but next time it will be the turn of Bertie to provide transport and accommodation, as he's been waiting patiently for far too long for a trip. Not that he'll have to wait until May ... but I'll be back with the interim plan in due course...

The track, as recorded on Monday.

(*Mick's not going to appreciate that assessment, given the relative values/specs of our phones!)