Thurs-Sun 24-26 September - Elgin and Lossiemouth

Where was Bertie? Thurs: A pull-in on a minor road south of Forres; Fri: a car park in Elgin (£1); Sat: Riverside Caravan Park,Elgin (£27); Sun: Harbour Car Park, Lossiemouth (£5 donation to the local community council).
Weather: on Friday the weather came good again. Plenty of sunshine and unseasonably warm at 20-22 degrees. Breezy at times, but even the wind was warm.

Loch of Blairs, around which I walked on Friday morning

This weekend was the main event of this trip: the CXX Squadron reunion, with an informal get-together in Elgin's Ex-Servicemen's Club on Friday night and a formal sit-down dinner at the Mansefield on Saturday night.

Interspersed with that there was visiting with friends and Elgin parkrun on Saturday morning, which felt far harder than my pace suggested it should have been - probably as a result of the late night on Friday.

We had originally intended, after Friday night's do, to drive out of Elgin to find somewhere to park. Then, having parked up in a huge and largely empty car park immediately across the road from where we needed to be on Saturday morning, we decided the convenience of being able to just roll out of bed and cross the road  trumped the likelihood of disturbance by boy racers. The car park screamed 'boy racer haunt!' as soon as we drove in, and sure enough by late afternoon there were four in evidence. By the time we returned at around 11pm their numbers had swollen to a dozen or so, yet still we decided to stay. It was far from the worst night we've ever had, but peace didn't reign until 1am. Funnily enough, they were no trouble when they were loitering in the car park; it was only the tooting of horns as a group periodically set out to tear around the town, and the wheel-spinning, revving and over-sized-exhaust noise on the adjacent road that disturbed us.

Unfortunately cut off. It was a long frock and killer shoes (or so my feet felt within five minutes of standing in them)

Even though the boy racers probably followed the exact same template on Saturday night, on reflection we probably should have stayed in town then too (when we were likely out later than they were anyway). Only a few years ago, Riverside Caravan Park was a reasonably priced place. Now it's expensive, and we were absent for much of the 24-hours we paid for, having gone out mid-afternoon and not arriving back until 2am. In the intervening period, as well as making my feet suffer in heeled shoes, enjoying a formal three-course meal, and chatting with lots of people, Mick enjoyed a few glasses of wine. However, he didn't appear too drunk when we got back to the campsite, so when he insisted he was fine to go and plug Bertie back into the mains, I let him get on with it. It was only when he didn't reappear within a reasonable period (i.e. I'd made the bed and there was still no sign of him) that I went out to investigate. It turned out that he may have been a little more sozzled than he appeared and that plugging in a motorhome can be akin to trying to get your Yale key into the front door lock when you can't see straight...

Sunday dawned another clear skied and warm day, but understandably, we slept for the first part of the morning, cramming campsite chores into the remaining time (including a haircut for me; I'd kept it 'long' for Saturday night's do, but was ready for it to return to its usual length by Sunday), finally leaving the campsite four minutes before their departure deadline. To Lossiemouth we came where bar a couple of strolls around (and a disappointment when the chip shop we walked to for lunch was closed) was the extent of our activity.

Lossie East Beach. What you can't see is how windy it was.

It was early to bed for us and whilst Mick was too busy catching up on sleep to notice, I was aware of the forecast rain starting. As I type this on Monday morning, it's fair pattering down and the forecast is telling us that whilst we should see plenty more sunshine this week, we are done with warm weather now. It was lovely whilst it lasted!

Tues-Fri 21-24 September - Scotland

Where was Bertie? He spent Tuesday night in a pull-in alongside a B-road by Leadhills, Wednesday at a pull-in in the vicinity of Dalwhinnie and Thursday at a pull-in alongside a minor road not far from Forres.
Weather: Tuesday - mainly sunny and warm; Wednesday - disappointingly grey and, later in the day, drizzly; Thursday - mixed, breezy and cool but with a fine spell in the middle of the day

Tuesday
Monday's intended departure got delayed. The main culprits: 1) an incident of Bertie being parked next to a tree-chipping machine led to the push I've been needing to finally get up on his roof and give it a good clean; 2) resolution of the black versus white paint situation (a reference back to the footnote in my previous post; it turned out there was more than one rogue tin the shop). Add in a couple of other more minor distractions and suddenly the day had gone.

So, we hit the road on Tuesday morning and had a leisurely drive north, which isn't to say we tootled along abnormally slowly, but that we had quite a few stops (a petrol station that had no diesel; a supermarket; another petrol station that did have diesel; lunch; afternoon tea). It was thus beyond teatime when Bertie settled into a pull-in on a B-road alongside the M74. By the time I'd got half way through cooking tea, the road noise had caused me to decide that we would be moving on. A good call, in hindsight, as whilst we did drive a few miles out of our way, we found a discrete, and much prettier, spot that was quiet too.

All pitches look the same once it's dark out, but in the short while until dusk, we had a good view

After a day of sitting down, I managed to stir myself to take a bit of a stroll just as darkness was falling. My route was short due to the obstacle of a ford on the track I followed, but I repeated it four times, until the level of light told me to go inside and do a bit of crocheting for the rest of the evening.

Wednesday
The map didn't reveal an obvious place for a run in the immediate vicinity of where we were parked, but it occurred to me that Strathclyde Loch is only a couple of minutes away from the motorway, just SE of Glasgow. A prolonged pause was thus had there whilst I worked myself up to going outside (the MetOffice said that it was 9 degrees out; Bertie said it was 14; as soon as I got moving I decided Bertie was right) for a circuit of the loch, which was followed by coffee and a crossword. By then lunchtime was about upon us and had we not had good reason to end the day much further north, we likely would have found ourselves frittering away the day and staying the night. As it was, we made it to Perth before stopping for more fuel* and for lunch.

Strathclyde Loch 

Given the way that Scotland has been overrun with motorhomes over the last year or so, we would have gone from there to a campsite near Newtonmore, except that one of them is closed and the other is only accepting stays of 7 nights or more (apparently due to Covid, but since their toilet block and reception are also closed, I can't see how the length of stay has any bearing). Unless I'm lacking some knowledge, it thus seems to me that there is not a single campsite in the immediate vicinity of the main trunk road running through the Highlands for the entire section between Blair Atholl and Aviemore. So, a layby it was for us after all.

Thursday
All was quiet in our layby until just after 1am, when suddenly Bertie started getting assaulted by a blustery wind. He pitched and rolled making us feel like we were at sea. Then it would die down, only to pick up to another squall within the hour. And so the night went on. It didn't make for the best night of sleep, which is no doubt how we came to silence the alarm at 0730 and not wake up for another hour.

Yikes! We were on a schedule today. By 0832 I had the kettle on the stove and breakfast on the table (breakfast = cold soaked porridge, so preparing it involves opening the fridge door to remove the containers and grabbing two spoons).

Having relocated ourselves to Newtonmore some delaying-tactics-faffing ensued, hoping for the rain to stop and the cloud to clear per the forecast. A short while later we headed out into the rain anyway, and by the time we'd run a 10km route up towards Loch Gynack and back** there were patches of blue sky to be seen.

After an afternoon catching up with Ali and Sue (TGO Challenge Coordinators and owners of Newtonmore Hostel), Bertie's nose was once again pointed northwards, bringing us to this spot, which positions us well for more visiting of friends tomorrow.

(*In case I've not mentioned before, Bertie has developed a problem with his fuel tank, in that it leaks when it's full. Our temporary work around has been not to completely fill the tank. This minimises the smell of diesel (the actual quantity leaking is tiny, but it stinks), but does, of course, reduce his range. He's booked in to a garage in a few weeks time for it to be looked at.
**How quickly fitness is lost! It's hard to believe it was just three months ago that I ran 50km on those trails, only a few seconds per km slower than today's pace. I certainly couldn't have kept it up for another 40km today!)

Friday 17 - Sunday 19 September - Equinox24 at Belvoir Castle

Where was Bertie? He was at the Equinox24 event at Belvoir Castle where it cost a total of £10.60 including (had we chosen to take full advantage) a pitch for three nights, use of portaloos and portashowers, water and waste facilities.  

Weather: Sunny intervals and 21 degrees on Saturday. A bit cooler and cloudier on Sunday, with rain starting just before 11am.

Background

After the Lakeland 50 I felt that the fitness I'd gained through five months of training hadn't been tested, and thus I put some thought into what I could do to take advantage of the hard work I'd put in. The plan I came up with was the Pennine Way in 7 days at the beginning of August then, if my body recovered in time, Equinox24 six weeks later. 

As described in my last-but-one post, the Pennine Way ended prematurely, and it didn't take me long to conclude that it was highly unlikely that the something-behind-my-knee would be recovered in time for Equinox24.

A bit of a description of Equinox24: it's a 24-hour race that takes place at Belvoir Castle in Leicestershire on the weekend nearest to the autumn equinox. The course is an undulating 10km multi-terrain circuit that competitors repeat as many times as they are able, or feel inclined to, between noon on the Saturday and noon on the Sunday. Theoretically a 24-hour race, but the rules work on a 'I've started so I'll finish' basis, such that any lap started before the 24-hour clock hits zero can be completed and will count towards the total tally. 

Entries closed at the end of August, and I dithered almost until the last minute over whether to enter. Eventually I concluded that the risk of the something-behind-my-knee curtailing my efforts was too great relative to the entry fee, and also had to concede that the amount of fitness I'd lost since the end of July was such that, along with my Pennine Way intentions, my 24-hour race aspirations will have to wait until next year. 

So, what were we doing there? Well, having never been to a 24-hour race, I thought it would be good to go along to experience the weekend, so I signed us up to volunteer on the registration desk on Friday afternoon/evening, and also bought us camping passes so that we could stay the whole weekend.

Friday

The entrance to the event field opens at noon on Friday and we arrived at about quarter past, giving us plenty of time for lunch and to work out what was where before we needed to report to Race HQ for our stint on the registration desk. The four hours giving out race packs sped by. My two best memories of that afternoon: 

1) When 'Are we Human?' by the Killers was played over the sound system, when it got to the line "And I'm on my knees, looking for the answers" two passing women got down onto their knees, mimed holding magnifying glasses and started searching through the grass. Then they got up and nonchalantly walked on. Perhaps you had to be there to witness it, but in the context of everyone else queuing or generally milling around, it amused me.

2) Of all the teams (I was dealing with Pairs and Small Teams; Mick was on Solos, another chap was on Large Teams*; we all dealt with 10k-ers), the one that got my 'best team name' vote was 'Divas with Belvoirs'. (You have to know how Belvoir is pronounced for this one to work).

Our reward for the volunteering stint was a meal voucher for one of the on-site vendors, so we made our way back to Bertie in the pitch dark clutching a tray of stir-fry noodles each. 

We also got a t-shirt for our trouble, but unfortunately in my least favourite t-shirt colour. 

(Incidentally, we discovered during our stint at Registration that even though entries had closed at the end of August, it would have been possible to enter on the day**. It took a lot of restraint to resist. If I'd had more than one set of running clothes and shoes with me, it would quite probably have tipped the balance over to an impulsive last-minute entry.) 

Saturday

Mick's day didn't start well, with a bad case of the runs (which, funnily enough, was exactly the name of one of the teams). That ruined his intention to join me for an early morning run around the course, to see what it was like. I went anyway, and it was lovely - as was the weather, albeit the misty start meant that none of the snaps I took came out well. 

As I failed to take a decent snap, here's a drone shot stolen from the Facebook page. 

Same photo but annotated with an arrow pointing at Bertie and orange dashes showing the 1km section of the route that goes through the camping field. 

The rest of our day was spent loitering around the site, watching first the conclusion of the Kids' 1km Fun Run, then hanging around to see the main race plus the daytime 10k set out an hour later. We were still loitering around start/finish when the first 10k runner crossed the line 37 minutes later. A pretty keen time on that course, but moreso as Adam was also entered as a Solo in the 24-hour race and ended up coming third, having managed 18 laps (just to say that again in slightly different words: he ran his first lap in 37 minutes, then went on to run a total of 180km). 

And they're off. Including Mr Blobby, albeit only for one lap as far as I know. 

This chap does, however, run every lap every year in a morph suit (and yep, it does cover his eyes, nose and mouth). 

After a couple of stints of spectating/encouraging further out on the course, one in the afternoon, one in the pitch dark whilst the night 10k race was going on, we called it a day.

Not much, bar torch light, to be seen at night. 

Sunday

We'd gone along to this event with the full expectation of not getting any sleep on Saturday night. There was, after all, a 24-hour race going on around us, with team members coming and going on a relay basis and with plenty of spectators to offer encouragement during the night. It turned out, however, that in our efforts to put Bertie in a position such that if it rained he wouldn't be far from a hard-surfaced track, we also managed to position him in the quietest corner of the field. We went to bed not long after 10pm and had a completely undisturbed night, not stirring until just before 7am. 

As I couldn't, in all reasonableness, go out on the course whilst the race was in progress, I opted to leave the running event to go for a run. Through Woolsthrope on Belvoir, out to a canal, along a disused railway, along some field tracks and back to the castle. Not as pleasing a 10km as the Equinox course, but it did the job. 

On reflection, it would have been more interesting to run along the tow path, rather than the adjacent disused railway. 

Another stint of spectating by the crossroads on the course (a location that has the advantage of having runners go past in four directions, so you get to see everyone in a short space of time) caused us some (sick and twisted) amusement by the state of some of the runners (in our defence, we were only amused by those who seemed just stiff or tired, not those who looked plain injured). The biggest giggle was the chap who got to the crossroads relieved that his jumper, that he'd decided he didn't need anymore, was still where he had left it, only then to find that he was unable to bend down to pick it back up. Other runners (including some Solos) were still moving incredibly well, including those that we recognised as the race leaders. Due to the nature of the event, for those we didn't recognise, we had no idea whether they looked fresh because they only wanted to do a few laps and had thus only just gone back out on the course after a few hours sleep. 

Another of Sid's morph suits.

Alas, the forecast rain came in about an hour earlier than anyone wanted, and whilst those on the course had to resign themselves to getting wet, we stood under a tree for a while, then scurried back to Bertie. Half an hour later we were heading home, foregoing the third night that our camping pass would have allowed us to stay***.

I'm pleased to say that the weekend hasn't put me off the notion of a 24-hour race, but, as much as I'd like to do Equinox24, it's unlikely it will be this one as I very much hope not to be in the UK in September next year.  

 

(*for Pairs and Teams (small and large) the event is run as a relay, such that only one member of the team is allowed to be on the course at any one time. 

**It's a funny thing, to my mind, that last year so many people were desperate for races to return, yet this year places are going unfilled. Equinox only had 1800 entrants this year across all of the adult races and categories - which was 1000 down on the last event, in 2019.

***The weather warning for flooding would almost certainly have caused us to leave anyway as we wouldn't have wanted to risk Bertie getting bogged down, but the actual reason we came home today was because I needed to get the door we made, primed and undercoated last week glossed before we go on our next trip. So, we came home, I rubbed down the primer/undercoat layers on the door and opened the brand new tin of Pure Brilliant White, only to find it full of black paint.)

3-10 September: Yorkshire & Lincoln

Background
Mick's brother, who we've not seen in person for three years, was visiting his mum, so we thought we'd gatecrash the reunion. As his visit would relegate us to the bunk beds, we took our own accommodation, in the shape of Bertie, and as we had a week free between commitments at home, it seemed wasteful to just do a there-and-back journey.

Friday 3 September - Yorkshire Sculpture Park
Where was Bertie? He spent the night at Savill Town Wharf Marina, a Caravan Club Certificated Location in Dewsbury, where it costs £13 per night, including electric (and allegedly toilets and showers, although we didn't investigate).
Weather: A disappointingly damp morning followed by a grey afternoon.

It has been a long time since we did anything cultural and Yorkshire Sculpture Park, being outdoors, seemed like a good choice. Alas, the fair forecast that had held steady for days (and even on the day) didn't come to fruition, so we got drizzled on during our drive and for the first hour or so of our visit.

Five and a half hours were spent in the park, during which we walked around 7 miles, yet still we left a large area and lots of exhibits unseen. We were in agreement in our verdict: it's well worth a visit, but probably best enjoyed by not reading the information signs about each sculpture (many an exclamation along the lines of 'what tosh!' was made about the narratives surrounding the pieces; relatively few such exclamations were made about the artworks themselves).

Rat on a stick, and others.

Awful quality of snap, but see the big head across the water? 

Close up of head, showing that it's not the shape one might expect when viewed from across the water. 

The drive to the marina (which sits on a spur off the Calder and Hebble Navigation) at Dewsbury took less than half an hour and after our day of exersion we were rather lazy on arrival. In fact, the only time I stirred myself to step outside of Bertie during our stay was to open and close the entrance gate. In hindsight, we really should have made a bit more of an effort to take a stroll along the canal.

Saturday & Sunday 4/5 September - Halifax
Where was Bertie? He spent two nights sitting on Ma-in-Law's driveway, which is fortunately level and just big enough for a Bertie-sized vehicle.
Weather: Ummm. I have little recollection other than that it was dry, save for a few minutes of a shower at about 5am on Sunday.

An early breakfast on Saturday morning then a drive to Brighouse, where I ran my first parkrun since last January. The venue was selected for its flat course as I felt my something-behind-the-knee was probably up to a 5km run, but was unconvinced it was yet up to the undulations of Halifax parkrun.

My something-behind-the-knee voiced no objections and a good time was had, although I found it odd how few people were chatting and that no-one else in my vicinity thanked any of the marshals.

There's not much to report for the rest of the weekend, most of which was spent variously sitting on a sofa chatting or eating and chatting (and sometimes combining the two).

Monday - Wednesday 6-8 September - Lincoln
Where was Bertie? He was in The Lawns Car Park in Lincoln where it costs £8.80 for a 24-hour ticket or £3.80 overnight (6pm-8am). We got through two of the former and one of the latter to see us through 3 nights.
Weather: Spectacular! Sunny and 28 degrees.

In the persistent drizzle at the Sculpture Park on Friday we'd rued not packing Paramo trousers to go with our Paramo jackets and it felt like autumn was upon us after a disappointingly cool summer. By Monday evening I was ruing not having packed our it's-too-hot-for-the-duvet topsheet for the bed (topsheet+blanket being one notch down from the duvet; topsheet alone being two notches down), along with not having packed myself any shorts or sandals. (I found a spare duvet cover tucked away in Bertie that took the place of the top sheet and I resolved the lack of shorts with a £2 sale rail purchase.)

Back to Monday lunchtime though, when we parked up in a large layby outside Lincoln and frittered away some time with a walk along some waterways. The ploy worked and by the time we arrived in Lincoln at around 6pm there were parking spaces aplenty free in what would have been a full car park earlier in the day. 

The council making a bit of money from what would otherwise be an empty car park overnight. It'd be nice if it caught on in all under-used council car parks!

A partial view of the castle and cathedral from the car park.

Our intended one-night stay became extended to three, during which we:
- ran a circuit taking in the school Mick attended and the house he lived in from 1968-1971, along with other sites of nostalgic value.
- wandered a lot (been here 3 times before yet was unaware of Brayford Pool)
- didn't visit the cathedral, because it was in use the whole time for university graduation ceremonies.
- ate a lot (including two meals out plus an order from Wagamama's that they successfully delivered to us in our car park)
- frittered away hours on shaded benches in the park behind Bertie,
- at one point found we could barely open Bertie's door due to the proximity of the motorhome parked next to us*.

Nostalgia points of interest in Lincoln

Brayford pool

Brayford pool entrance

Wagamama delivery to Bertie

Thursday 9 September - Whisby Nature Reserve/Thorpe on the Hill
Where was Bertie? He spent the day at Whisby Nature Reserve at a cost of £2, and the night at The Railway Inn, just around the corner, at a cost of £15 including electricity, toilet and shower.
Weather: Murky start, clearing to sunshine, then clouding over to showers, some thundery. Still shorts and t-shirt temperatures.

Leaving Lincoln before 8am (the expiry time on our overnight ticket), we drove against the flow of traffic to the location where I intended us to spend the day, walking along the River Witham. Bertie breathed in to squeeze down the overgrown lane only to find the parking spot unsuitable for our purposes, so we turned around and headed back out. Gah! We were now heading back towards Lincoln with the flow of rush hour traffic. As we came to a standstill we pulled into the adjacent's restaurant's car park, from where we witnessed someone's failure to notice that the traffic in front of them was stationary, writing off their car in the process.

After an age of looking for somewhere to go, I settled on Whisby Nature Reserve which (once we'd battled the traffic) turned out to be a good choice. After a morning stroll around one of the lakes, at lunchtime we ran all of the waymarked trails.

Where to go for the night was the post-lunch question. Resources were consulted again and, due to our desire to shower, and due to a seriously dwindling quantity of water on board**, we opted for a campsite. That this one was 2 minutes away from where we were parked, and has a shower, it was the obvious choice, even though we may be in for a disturbed night (for two reasons, one of which is apparent from the name of the pub!).

Photo (not zoomed in) taken from inside Bertie, through his side window. The passenger trains (of which there were many) weren't too noisy. The freight trains (of which there were quite a few) were loud, could be felt, went on for ages, and continued through the night. The site's description of 'occasional train noise' was wildly inaccurate.

As it turned out, the classic car meet caused us no bother at all (although there was a mini episode when a visitor driving a HGV tractor unit decided that on our pitch, for which we'd paid good money, was an appropriate place for him to park too. The landlord of the pub soon put him right).

The bottom left photo was taken about 100m before a "haven't we been here before" moment. 

Friday 10 September - Thorpe on the Hill

Having realised the day before that we'd walked through Thorpe on the Hill during our Big Walk in 2014, we'd discussed where we'd stayed the night before. I described our field-margin pitch in as much detail as I could recall (including the content of the conversation of two dog walkers who passed the other side of the adjacent hedge), but Mick drew a blank.

Not needing to be off the campsite  until 11am, we had plenty of time for a reasonably leisurely start followed by a 5km circuit taking in part of our 2014 route. The 'this is where we pitched' part of the plan didn't come to fruition due to a missing footpath (obliterated by a field of maize in one direction and completely absent from its other end), but it was a pleasant bit of exercise all the same.

Then we went home intent on having some productive days. As it turned out construction supply chain issues scuppered us, such that we may as well have stayed away over the weekend, but at least we'd had a good week in what will surely have been the last really good weather of the summer? 

(*There was nothing technically wrong with how they'd parked and surely they'd only done so because it was the only available space when they'd arrived, but it did cause us an impediment for a few hours as we arrived back whilst they were out.
**We left home with about 30 litres in Bertie's tank, which had sat there since the Lakeland 50 weekend at the end of July, having decided not to top it up as we expected to be at a campsite on Monday night. I'm not sure how many times we have to go through water shortages on this exact basis before we learn a lesson from it.)

Pennine Way - Abort! Abort! Abort!

There’s a whole story as to how I found myself setting out on the Pennine Way yesterday with the intention of trying to walk its distance in a week, but it’s too long, and probably not overly relevant, to relate that here. Suffice to say that after putting a significant amount of time and effort into a level of planning and preparation that I’ve not engaged in for years, we set the alarm clocks for silly-o’clock yesterday morning to drive up to Edale and at just gone 7am I headed off up the road towards the Nag’s Head, as Mick (driving support for me) set off to jump ahead to Crowden. 

It’s now Tuesday evening and I’m writing this post from home, having travelled today from Ma-in-Law’s house, where we spent yesterday afternoon and last night. From that snippet of information you may gather that things didn’t go to plan.

I made no secret of the fact that I was highly pessimistic as to the chance of me succeeding in my goal, but equally I knew that unless I started I had absolutely no chance of finishing, so set out I did. What I hadn’t anticipated, in my expectations of failure, was that my mission would end so soon after it started.

I was still on my way up onto Kinder Scout when I felt a pull behind my left knee, in the same place as the niggle I’d felt in the Lakes a couple of weeks ago. Should I have anticipated this recurrence? Perhaps, but given that the niggle had disappeared the moment I stopped walking two weeks ago, and that in the following week and a half I’d been for a walk on Cannock Chase, a flat run and done a hill-reps session, all without any hint of an ongoing issue, it hadn’t entered my head that it would be a problem. Even when it did make its presence felt, I was optimistic that it would soon settle down.

By the time I reached Mill Hill on the far side of Kinder Scout I was in no doubt that I was going to have to abort, and for a short while I thought I was going to have to call Mick to pick me up from Snake Road. Then, between Mill Hill and the Snake Road, I ascertained that I could walk downhill without any hint of an issue and that I could run without a problem too, so I thought I may as well continue over Bleaklow. The uphill bits of that  extra 10km confirmed, without doubt, that stopping was the only sensible option. 

Disappointing to have such an early end to an endeavour like this, particularly given how much effort I put into the preparation (moreover, considering the good weather forecast was for this week!). Pulling out later, after a couple of days say, would have been a harder decision to make, but would no doubt have left me with some ‘lessons learnt’ and a better view as to my capabilities (both mental and physical). On the positive side, I did have a lovely morning’s walk, even with the fog and rain. 

I reckon I’ve got five more weeks this year before the available hours of daylight dictate that a rerun has to be postponed until next year. Five weeks is also the timeframe to another endeavour I had pencilled into the calendar. In the unlikely event that I’m confident in my ability to walk pain-free uphill again by then, I’ll have the challenge of deciding which one to pursue.

Obligatory Nag’s Head selfie

A long way to go!
 (or so I thought when I took this snap)

View back along Hope Valley, not long after I’d passed a chap just setting out to backpack half of the Way.

Heading for the foot of Jacob’s Ladder (note the cloud is now down over Kinder Scout)

Kinder Low trig point. The cloud, into which I’d ascended after Jacob’s Ladder, finally lifted just before I got to Bleaklow. It also started raining on me just after Kinder Downfall (which I could hear but not see) and continued for far longer than was reasonable on a day when rain wasn’t forecast.

Glorious surroundings, with the heather coming into bloom. I met Mick, who’d walked out to meet me, further down Torside Clough. 
 

Lakeland 50: Part 4 - The Good Things

Whilst the Lakeland 50 didn’t go well for me (as described in Part 3), there was more to the event than covering 50 miles on foot within 24 hours and thus, even with the 10 hours of digestive distress and my dislike of the experience of Fusedale and Haweswater, overall I had a good weekend. Here are some of the highlights:

• Once past Mardale Head, and the frustrations of the single file, we had a nice walk!

• Whilst many complained that it was too hot, and I certainly wouldn’t have minded more cloud cover, we were incredibly lucky with the weather, getting the coolest day of a hot week, without any threat of rain and with uncommonly dry underfoot conditions.

• The benefit of walking 50 miles, rather than running a goodly chunk of it, is that it’s much easier on the body. Whilst I developed a minor niggle in the back of my left knee late on (whilst Mick suffered with a sore lower back), at no point did I feel like my body wasn’t capable of the distance. Indeed, if someone had told me at the finish that I had to go another 10 miles, I don’t think I would have cried. So, we finished in pretty good shape, feeling strong and not feeling like it was going to take long to recover.

Dawn giving hints of breaking at 0425

The moon about to dip out of sight 30 minutes later

• I’d hoped that we would finish in the early hours of the morning, but in the event we walked straight through the night. That had its own highlights, ranging from the quantity of bats flying around just above our heads as we descended from Garburn (pity there weren’t more to make a dent in the midge population!), to the impressive sight of lines of headtorches. At Troutbeck Post Office we succumbed to a bench for a couple of minutes (it was the first time we’d sat on anything but the ground since we’d started) and it took me a couple of moments to realise that the line of lights I could see coming down the hillside were headtorches, not car headlights. Similarly in Langdale I wondered why all those cars a little ahead and to the left of us were moving so slowly, before again twigging that they were headtorches.
  
  

It's worth clicking on this for a larger view of the line of headtoches coming down the hillside opposite

• As well as meeting new people we got to catch up with a few TGO Challengers. 

• It was truly inspirational to see how good and strong some of the 100 runners looked (they'd been going for 18 hours longer and had covered 55 more miles than us). A special mention goes to Fiona, who I decided is a machine. She was the only person I struggled to catch as I powered over Gatescarth to find Mick and she later passed us on Garburn. Then there were the three 100 chaps who ran past us in the full dark at 3am on some terrain that I couldn't run even in daylight.
  

• It was a fun weekend in general, with a good festival feel in the camping fields at Coniston. There was even live music, albeit we didn’t attend, choosing instead to have a quiet evening in Bertie.

• The volunteers manning Coniston and all of the Check Points (a whole army of them) are incredible. We didn’t take best advantage of what was on offer at the Check Points, but we still came to appreciate how hard the volunteers were working, putting in a phenomenally long shift to ensure everyone was looked after. I’m sure they all had a significantly more tiring weekend than we did.

• Finally, a word has to be said about how well organised the event was. There’s clearly a massive amount of organisation that goes into an event on this scale (there were 2250 registered entries across both the 100 and the 50; with pre-event attrition, that translated to almost 1700 starters), and whilst I will never be happy about the wait we had at CP1, in all other respects I couldn’t fault anything I saw or experienced.

Will I do it again?

Never say never, but as much as I can see the positives, and would love to attend again in some capacity, I have to conclude that an event this big (as in number of people, not distance!) is not my cup of tea, and nor is setting out at 11.30am - I'm very much an 'early start' sort of a person. As for Mick, he says he wouldn’t mind having another crack at it. 

 

Refueling. These M&S Lemon Curd Iced Buns were superb!

Lakeland 50: Part 3 - Things That Didn't Go To Plan

 

In Part 2 I listed the things that did go to plan in our race. Unfortunately, the list of things that didn’t go to plan is rather longer and is set out below. Mick has commented in proof-reading this post that it comes over as entirely negative and like I had a miserable time. Well, it is entirely negative (see Parts 2 and 4 for the positives!) and I did have a miserable time … whilst at the same time having a reasonable degree of fun (yes, that is possible). If Mick was to write a similar set of posts then there would be much more positivity, because many of the issues that affected me didn’t affect him. Anyhoo, here you go with… 

Things that didn’t go to plan:

• Starting in a rested state. In a completely irrational attack of anxiety (really, I had a lot of hours to think through all aspects of what could be worrying me and the only thing that had any rational basis was the Covid risk of the bus ride to the start, but I’d worked through all the stats on that earlier in the week and resigned myself to it) I managed just 3.5 hours of broken sleep on Friday night.

• Pre-Event Eating. Associated with the anxiety referred to above, I awoke feeling like I would never want to eat again. It took me an hour and a half to force my usual bowl of porridge down. It took me an hour to eat the single wrap I’d made myself for lunch. What a fine start: a lack of sleep and food. At least I was going in well hydrated, wasn’t I…

• Pre-Event Hydration.  I’d taken electrolyte tablets the night before to give my body the best chance of hanging onto as much fluid as possible, yet I still had to get up for about 87 wees overnight (an outrageous exaggeration, but it is what it felt like each time I crept out of bed trying not to disturb Mick). Then there was the bus ride, which meant that I didn’t dare drink too much until we got to the start at Dalemain, but at least we would be there an hour before the start, giving me plenty of time to neck a decent amount of water…

• The Bus journey. A whole fleet of coaches take competitors from Coniston to Dalemain. 1134 people started the 50-mile race this year, some of whom had lifts from family and friends. The rest went by coach and clearly that requires a lot of coaches. Only one of those broke down en-route and that was the one we were on. A hose ruptured on the way up Dunmail Raise and by the time the driver found somewhere safe to pull over alongside Thirlmere the engine had dumped its water over the road. The driver happened to be one of the bus company’s mechanics, which would have been handy if he’d had any tools available to him. In the absence of tools, it would have been handy if we hadn’t been in a mobile phone blackspot, but as it was a busload of competitors was stuck in a layby with no immediate way to let the organisers know. Fortunately, there were at least 5 more coaches of the fleet behind us and each of them was flagged down and any spare seats filled. I suspect that the one Mick and I got on was bringing up the rear, given how many empty seats it had. We then hit traffic just before Dalemain and finally made it into the car park to disembark with 2 minutes to spare before the race was due to start (not that I had any intention of starting until I’d visited the Portaloos and drunk some water). We eventually crossed the start line at 1150, only twenty minutes late. Starting late was of no great importance, as official timings were based on individual trackers rather than the clock (although had we started in the 16-18 hour position in the start pen, would we have been held up so much later? We’ll never know).
  
  

Loitering in a layby with a broken bus

• The First Check Point. We were focused on not getting sucked into a vortex at Check Points and our objective for CP1 was 4 minutes. We would enter with water bottles in hand, get them filled, grab some food off the table and leave. What a blow then to find ourselves in a 300m queue just to reach the check point. It took us 28 minutes to get to the front of that queue. 28 minutes of standing in the heat of the day, whilst likely everybody we’d passed as we ran the previous kilometres caught us back up. I was completely demoralised. To add insult to injury, the queue transpired to just be for water; if we’d known* we would have carried our water filters and used streams. (*We couldn’t have known; apparently there’s not been a queue there in previous years)
  
  
  Many thanks go to friend Vic for grabbing this screenshot from the live feed of CP1. I think it conveys nicely our contemporaneous feelings about the queue. 

• Fusedale. A significant difference between our recces and the event (other than the number of people around!) was that in the intervening period the whole landscape had been changed by the growth of bracken. Paths that had seemed reasonably wide were now hemmed in. The impact on Fusedale was that, in a location where I knew we could make reasonably good time, overtaking proved difficult, giving us great stretches where we were limited to the speed of the slowest person in front of us. On the one hand it made the going really easy, but on the other hand I hadn’t spent 5 months training hard to go up here at a slow walk.

• Haweswater. I already knew that there were limited opportunities to overtake along Haweswater and that was made worse by the bracken. The only people we overtook along this section were those who stood aside for us. The impact of the delay at CP1 and the ‘speed of the slowest person in front’ in Fusedale and Haweswater was that, even taking into account the Dalemain Loop at the start (which I’d not been able to recce), we arrived at Mardale Head over 2 hours slower than the times I’d done in training. Had there been any easy way of getting back to Coniston from Mardale Head, I would have taken it, having decided I’d much rather cover the distance on a different day by myself rather than in a ‘follow the leader’ fashion. I suppose I should count my blessings that getting back to Coniston from there would have taken 8 hours*, as the congestion/narrow path issues ceased to exist from that point on. Theoretically things should have got better from there…

Not my photo, and thanks go to whoever took it. It's Mardale Head CP before it was beseiged by competitors. Look how low the water in Haweswater is!

(*We arrived at Mardale Head at 6pm. The next bus was scheduled to leave at 11pm and it’s advertised as a 3-hour journey back to Coniston.)

• Indigestion agogo. I had a nice time up Gatescarth Pass, walking a good distance of the way with someone we know, before putting a spurt on to catch Mick who by now was on the other side of the pass (I caught him 30 seconds after he’d sat down to wait for me; he was most miffed!). Alas, coming down the other side I started getting indigestion (on reflection: I knew I was dehydrated at Mardale Head, yet didn’t drink any extra water there. I then ate a packet of crisps (the tastiest and best crisps I’ve ever had in my life!) whilst walking. Dehydration + movement + fatty snack = recipe for indigestion). For the next 10 hours I variously felt pretty rough, absolutely awful, and ‘is this actually a heart attack?’. Ridiculously, on the way to Kentmere I spent a couple of miles contemplating that I might feel better if I consumed some antacids, before I paused for the ten seconds required to get them out and eat them. Over the course of this event, I reckon I consumed more Rennies than I have in total over the last 30 years.

• The running bits. Theoretically from the top of Gatescarth Pass we could finally do the running we had trained so hard for, but that plan was scuppered by the indigestion. There was a direct relationship between speed of movement, how much pain I was in and how poorly I felt, so I resigned myself to walking until the indigestion resolved itself. Even with my antacid consumption, that didn’t happen until after the finish.

 One of a series of motivational signs on the way into Kentmere.

• Keeping on top of food and water. We’d also trained hard to make sure we could eat whilst running and run immediately after a meal, but that was of no use when I lost the ability to eat. Once the indigestion hit, I could only manage the tiniest bites of food without making myself feel worse and I could only manage little sips of water too (although I sipped so regularly that I felt like I was well hydrated for the whole second half of the course). I’m pretty sure the root of the problem was drinking too little before the start and in the early stages, in the hottest part of a hot day, so I only have myself to blame.
• 
  Surveying the food table at the final Check Point at quarter past four in the morning. I was sure I wanted something to eat, but I had no idea what, beyond the fact that whatever it was, it wasn't on that table (which is no bad reflection on the CP - they had lots on offer)
   

Oh dear. What a tale of woe! I'll be back in Part 4 with some more positivity.