1-2 May and 25-30 May 2024

I’ve noticed that I have a gap in my records, so for my own benefit I’m filling it in. It’s taken a bit of detective work to be sure of the order in which we did things.

Where was Bertie? Wednesday & Thursday 1 & 2 May – Creag Meagaidh Nature Reserve Car Park (donation); Saturday 25 May – Motorhome parking area, Arbroath; Sunday 26 May – usual pull-in near Shap; Monday 27 May – small parking area on a minor road by Tebay; Tuesday 28 May - The Ship @ Freckleton; Wednesday 29 May – Ma-in-Law’s Drive

After leaving Killin on 20 April Bertie had spent his time parked at Newtonmore Hostel, but the guest situation at the hostel on 1 & 2 May meant that he needed to vacate the driveway. It seemed like an excellent excuse for a couple of night’s out. Creag Meagaidh wasn’t far away, it has a good car park that allows overnight parking, and I’d never been up the hill, so that’s where we went.

Was it the snooker that was on at the time? Whatever the sport was that we wanted to watch we arrived to find that we had no phone signal on our usual phones. The spare phone came to the rescue again we were able to watch.

The hills we wanted to visit were duly visited (as described on t’other blog) and on the Thursday morning we returned to Newtonmore, realising on the way that we had forgotten to put any money in the donations box in the car park. Google to the rescue and I put right our omission electronically.

The rest of our time in Newtonmore saw Bertie back at the hostel, then in the middle of the Challenge he transferred to the car park of the Park Hotel in Montrose.

I knitted a jumper for a beaver. As you do...

Leaving The Park on 25 May, after a trip to Charleton Fruit Farm with Martin, Sue & Ali (where we were joined on our table by a couple of parkrunning women, one of whom was quite overbearing), we made it all the way down to Arbroath (some 15 miles distant) to spend the night.

I wasn’t optimistic about getting a spot in the motorhome parking area there. Last year we arrived just as someone vacated a space and it seemed unlikely that we would be that lucky again, and we weren’t in the market for parking in the ‘no motorhomes beyond this point’ area, even though many, many others do.

We arrived to find two spaces spare!

Our mission in Arbroath was to find a Smokie Pie. A TGO Challenger, who had finished her Challenge in Arbroath, had posted a photo of one on Facebook and it looked like the sort of thing I would enjoy. She’d given us directions (the main points were: by the harbour, blue building) and off we set. We soon found that most buildings by the harbour are blue, but we eventually found Cel’s, housed in a purple building.

Me, harbour, pies.

I’m sure the pies would have been nice, if they hadn’t added a bucket of salt to the already salty fish.

The following day, Sunday, was the day of the Edinburgh Marathon, but driving around Edinburgh whilst it was in full swing, we didn't get held up. Anyone who took part in that event is probably still scarred from how wet the day was, but it dried up, per forecast, by the time we reached the location of the three hills I was tackling that day.

The hills were bagged and on to our usual pull-in at Shap we went.

On Monday it was Mick's turn for some exercise and a short drive took us into the Howgills. The parking area I thought I'd found on StreetView didn't work out, but as I was staying in Bertie and could move him at a moment's notice, we went with a slightly inconsiderate spot (marginally impinging on access to a cattle grid bypass gate). We spent that night not much further south, in a little parking area on a minor road just S of the village of Tebay.

My first draft of this post didn't mention this night, because until I found this photo we had completely forgotten about it ...which is why retrospectively writing this post is important to me!

Tuesday morning and we had a late morning date with Conrad at Café Ambio at the cattle market. After an early morning march up to a local highpoint for me, southwards we went with plenty of time to spare, as we needed a stop on the way. A few days had passed since our last shower and we didn’t have enough water in Bertie’s tank to have anything more than a cursory wash, so we pulled in at the first Motorway Services to avail ourselves of their shower facilities.

We knew that Motorway Services had showers, but we’ve never used them before, so it was a surprise, when I asked for the key, that they asked for my car keys in return. That was a problem, as I had left Mick in Bertie and had no keys on me. I offered my phone instead, and they accepted.

The shower was good, if you ignored how filthy it was, and once I was done I took the key straight out to Mick so that he could avoid the whole car key/phone rigmarole (of course, I would have phoned him to summon him to come over, if it wasn’t for the fact that I no longer had a phone!).

Cafe ambio, sadly without Guinness cake

Onwards to visit friends near Preston, with whom we went out for a meal in the evening. I’d come up with a couple of potential places to spend the night and the first one came to fruition: The Ship, where we had our meal, had no objection to us spending the night in their car park.

We were on our way relatively early the next morning, over to see Ma-in-Law. I think we only spent the one night on her driveway, before heading home the next day.

25-30 July - Torver, Coniston & Clapham

Where was Bertie? Thursday: Church House Inn campsite, Torver (£20 without Electricity); Friday/Saturday: A field on Lake Road, Coniston (included in Lakeland entry fee); Sunday/Monday: Temporary Holiday Site at Clapham (£7.50/night)

It was Lakeland 100 weekend, and whilst neither of us was taking part, Mick had paid for a place, so it seemed reasonable to attend for the weekend and use the camping element of his entry fee. (I should clarify that Mick would have loved to have been taking part, but had done some serious damage to his Achilles tendon a couple of months ago and only this last week has he started walking consistently without limping. In that time multiple physio sessions and four sessions of shock wave therapy have taken place.)

The same as last year, we spent Thursday night at Church House Inn in Torver, opting for a spot in their car park rather than in the camping field. We left there later on the Friday morning than last year, in the hope that the early rush to get onto the camping field for the Lakeland weekend would have passed. Our ploy didn’t quite work, in that there was still a queue to access Lake Road, but it wasn’t too long a wait.

The marshall at the first field looked so apologetic when he directed us to the overflow field that I fear that too many people in large vehicles argue for access to the school field. We had no expectation or desire to access that field, so happily continued around the corner.

Had the QR code scanning device being used by the volunteer car park marshall been working properly, then a queue wouldn’t have built up behind us. If a queue hadn’t built up, then the vehicle behind us wouldn’t have had a lapse of concentration (“Sorry. I was looking at my phone!”) and run into the back of Bertie. Damage was minimal such that it certainly wouldn’t be worth an insurance claim (a small scuff that will likely buff out, and a bent bracket underneath the bumper: indeed, had it happened when Bertie had been parked we wouldn’t have even noticed it). 

The next car park marshall then tried to direct us to the far side of the field, involving going over a few bumps. That’s where Bertie was located in 2021, but it was dry that year. This year has not been dry, and the field was already muddy even though only a few vehicles had entered before us. After a little negotiation, he allowed us to stay on the road side of the field.

Leaving Mick to his own devices, I was soon off for an overnight backpacking trip. Within seven hours I was back, wincing at the pain in my lower left back every time I bent or twisted. My back did not, however, stop me from walking back over to the event marquee just before 8pm to attend the evening talks.

That all finished before 9pm, giving us time to make it back to Bertie to see the end of that night’s Hundred cricket match (of which we’d seen the first innings over tea).

It rained heavily at times overnight on Friday and it was still going on Saturday morning. Last year I’d packed walking boots to keep my feet dry for the walk across the long grass of the field. This year I’d forgotten, but at least I had multiple pairs of trainers and some waterproof socks. Mick had neither of those things.

Our first walk across the field was just before 10am, on our way to the Green Housekeeper café, where we’d had a rather good breakfast last year. We weren’t the only people with that idea and as we arrived, Mick looked through the window and saw it was full. I looked through the window and saw that there was, in fact, one small table free in the back corner. However, there was another couple who had stopped just ahead of us. They had a dog with them and whilst they dithered about whether the dog would be allowed inside, I walked past them and claimed the table. A little impolite? Mick reckoned not. You snooze, you lose.

Breakfast was excellent (although I arguably didn’t need the caffeine of quite so many cups of tea)…

…and we couldn’t resist a piece of lemon and blueberry cake to take away for later. 

The photo doesn’t give the sense of scale. This cake was huge.  

The rain had stopped by the time we left and the forecast of an increasingly sunny day came true, but it was a little concerning how wet the fields were. Far more so than after 24 hours of rain last year. We could only hope the next day and a half of sunshine would dry them out, and in the meantime no new vehicles were being allowed onto the fields and if anyone left, they weren’t allowed back on.

The only person we personally knew (using the term loosely) who was doing the L100 this year was a chap we met a few weeks ago, with whom we chatted for around an hour over a post-parkrun breakfast. We kept tabs on him, and on a few other people that I know virtually. I also kept my eye on the front of the race, where, as time went on, it became apparent that the course record was going to be broken.

Mark Darbyshire came pelting down the road at 1245, taking a few seconds shy of 25 minutes off the previous course record (his own course record, set in a dry year). He looked incredibly lively for a chap who had just run 105 miles, with 6000m of ascent, off-road, in 18 hours and 45 minutes. That lasted until he’d spent five or ten minutes chatting to friends and family. By the time he made a move to go and be presented in the marquee, he looked decidedly less fresh and free-moving. A little later he described his state to Mick as "feel like I've been hit by a bus".

Second place was sufficiently close behind that we stood and waited opposite the finish line for him to come in too (he was moving even faster than Mark had been); he also broke the previous course record. Third place was sufficiently far behind for us to take a little walk into Coniston and back, just for something to do rather than just standing still at a roadside. Then we had time to nip into the marquee and buy me two new pairs of Injinji socks.

The first three men, having a chat about how their days had gone

First woman was around four hours behind them, giving us time to return to Bertie for most of the afternoon’s women’s Hundred cricket match before returning to see Robyn Cassidy come over the line looking and sounding like she’d just been for a local jog. By this time, Mick had a beer in his hand, and the marquee was pretty quiet, so we went and took a seat at a table. A few minutes later, Robyn and her friends and family asked if we minded if they joined us, and thus we got to enjoy hearing her immediate thoughts on how her race had gone.

Lucy Gossage was second lady, and she was the one I particularly wanted to see come in. She came third in the Spine Race in January (her first Ultra, because if you’re going to run a long way, then why not start with 268 miles?*). This was her second ultra and as she finished she declared that she wasn’t sure if she liked these long running races, although she was happy at having met her sub-24 hour target.

There’s nowt else to report from Saturday (more cricket was the evening’s entertainment).

On Sunday morning the first thing I did was to check the competitor tracking page and the event’s Facebook page. There I discovered that people were stuck in the mud in the car park. I took a walk out to take a look at the ground conditions.

I’d really wanted to stay until late afternoon, so that we could go to the awards ceremony at lunchtime, but as per 2022, I came to the conclusion that whilst the mud situation was such that we would be able to exit the field right then, there was a risk that if we stayed until lots of other vehicles had moved (and there were a lot of vans in this field, one of which we’d watched get thoroughly bogged down the previous afternoon), then the field would be churned up so much that we wouldn’t be able to get out. Or maybe the warm sunny day would dry it out enough by 4pm? Was it a risk worth taking?

Ten minutes later, everything was packed away and we were on the move.

A car park on Torver Common allowed us to stop for first breakfast, and we had the Goat Gap café on the A65 earmarked for second breakfast. Then it occurred to us that we were passing close to Conrad’s house, and we had the whole day at our disposal, so we diverted.

Conrad was apparently unfazed by such a short notice visit, and it was lunchtime by the time we said farewell.

We did still stop at the Goat Gap, but for a late lunch. From there we checked that our chosen campsite had space for us and told them that we wouldn’t be long – we were, after all, only 2 miles up the road.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, this temporary holiday site is busy. Why wouldn’t you want to come and park in a field in such a nice location at £7.50 per night? There’s water and waste disposal, and that’s all that we need.

Finding ourselves in Clapham, I felt the need to nip up Ingleborough on Monday morning, and Mick went and extended our stay for another night. We were supposed to be going to Ma-in-Law’s that day, but a quick phone call postponed our visit by 24 hours and we enjoyed sitting in a sunny field instead (if only we’d taken our deckchairs with us!). The afternoon saw us walk through Clapham to the Sawmill café, back on the far side of the village, for ice cream. Good ice cream it was too.

This wasn’t our first visit to Clapham. We stayed at a campsite there in Bertie’s predecessor, Colin, in March 2014. Neither Mick nor I have any recollection of Clapham village, even though we know that we walked through it at least twice on that trip.

After two gloriously quiet nights, I went for another little trot on Tuesday morning before we headed a couple of miles in the wrong direction for (second) breakfast at the Goat Gap cafe. 

Good quality breakfast. 

By early afternoon we were with Ma-in-Law and by bedtime we were home.

 

(*Perhaps I should also mention that she used to be a full-time ironman triathlete, so she’s no stranger to long, hard efforts.)

A 24-hour Race

The reason for my three laps of Carsington Water in early June was because there was a chance I was going to get a place in a 24-hour race 3 weeks later and, given my lack of training this year, I thought it would be wise to go out and see how a 6-hour effort felt.

I’m sure that there’s no coach in the world who would say a 24-hour race was a good idea in my state of fitness (after surgery late last year I had an enforced lay-off, followed by a very conservative return to running), but I also had no intention of treating this 24-hour race as a 24-hour race. My intention was to do two 6-hour stints, with 12 hours off overnight, hoping to cover a marathon in each stint.

The Saturday after the Carsington outing, a message came through that I had a place and thus with one training run under my belt, I started my taper (in case you can’t see from where you’re sitting, my tongue is in my cheek).

Travelling to the venue on the morning of the race, it was pleasing that Erica was given a pitch within paces of the start/finish line – the perfect position. I duly registered, got my number, and an hour and a half later (after a spot of early lunch and no small amount of faffing) I stepped out to join everyone else behind the start gantry.

At noon, off we went.

The most notable feature of the afternoon was the weather. Objectively, 21 degrees is not a hot day. The problem, as is so often the case in the UK, is that there had been no chance to acclimatize to warm weather, having seemingly been stuck in early spring for months. There had been some hot weather in the UK in May, but not on the east coast of Scotland, which is where we were at the time, where it was struggling to reach the mid-teens. As a result, 21 degrees felt awfully warm.

I finished my 4^th lap at 1812, and contemplated going out after tea for one more lap on the basis that a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush. However: a) I had a plan, so why not stick to it? and b) my left quad was feeling strained and I felt like I had a small blister on my left little toe, both of which would benefit from sticking to the plan. So, having had an ice cream the moment I stepped off the course, I set about demolishing not just one bowl of pasta but two huge bowls. Thanks to the hot weather, I didn’t feel any need to heat them up; they were just fine straight out of the coolbox.

Pudding before tea

My original plan had been to set out at 6am on Day 2, to give me the intended 6-hour window before the event finished at noon. However, my secondary objective was to cover two marathons, and by the end of Day 1 I’d realized that I’d likely be rather slow on Day 2, thus I brought my intended start time back to 5am.

As it went, I didn’t do much sleeping overnight, and with the forecast being for clear skies and even warmer temperatures, at 0300 I thought I may as well get out in time for sunrise and to take advantage of the cool morning. Waking Mick just enough to get him to put an eye-mask on and move across the bed, I then tried to disturb him as little as possible as I had breakfast and a cup of tea (had we been in Bertie, it would have been easy not to disturb him, but we were in Erica where space is limited, particularly when there’s running gear strewn everywhere too). At 4am, out I went.

Sunrise approaching

I was sluggish on that first lap of the day, such that four laps was hard to contemplate and I was slightly regretting not doing that fifth lap last night (whilst also knowing that could have tipped the strained quad over the edge; it was much more gruntled after a night of rest).

The turn-around in my energy level came about 3km before the end of the lap, when I came upon a chap who was jogging along slowly but steadily. Using my usual opener of asking how he was doing, he confessed that he was struggling, pointing out the evidence: that he was running and I was overtaking him at a walk. I slowed down a bit to continue the conversation, and as we chatted he sped up, then sped up some more until I had to burst into a jog to keep up with him. We ended up jogging the rest of that lap together and I would happily have gone out on the next lap with him, had our timings coincided. He ended up coming first male.

By the end of the second lap of the second day, I had no doubt that I would meet my distance objective, even if I was going to go over my intended 6-hour stint.

At 1048 I crossed the finish line for the final time, having covered an official total of 84.4km, whereupon I confirmed to the timing chap that I wasn’t going out again. The benefit of the earlier finish (other than avoiding the worst of the heat) was that it gave me time for a shower before the massage Mick had arranged for me for 1145.

We didn’t stick around for the prize presentations, but only because we’d become aware on our outward drive of a scheduled closure of the motorway, and it seemed prudent to join the traffic queuing for the diversion route sooner rather than later.

It was a good, fun weekend – for me at least. With Mick even less able to walk on his poorly Achilles than he was 3 weeks ago, he was rather confined to Erica and her immediate environs. He did an admirable job of supporting my efforts though, particularly with timing the making of cups of tea so that they were cold by the time I arrived at the end of each lap (exactly as I wanted).

My lap stats:

Lap (10.5km)	Lap Time	Time in camp after lap	Rank
1	01:19:31	3:09	77th
2	01:21:39	15:33	27th
3	01:24:09	19:30	9th
4	01:25:42	9:53:53	9th
5	01:25:48	16:33	14th
6	01:26:10	20:57	10th
7	01:31:55	17:22	9th
8	01:26:40	1:12:00 (to end of event)	7th