SIPR18 on Fearless Friend

SIPR18 on Fearless Friend

Runner Seeking Boat

A week or so before the race I got a call from an injured runner and signed up with Fearless Friend.  Déjà vu as I’d run SIPR17 as a late replacement with Laura’s Lads.  
Video from SIPR 2017 Laura's Lads

That had been my first SIPR: my partner knew the route like the back of his hand and we’d scaled the big peaks in the evening sunshine.  It was still the hardest thing I’d ever done but I wondered how some of the teams had coped in the dark.  I was about to find out.  I met a more experienced SIPRer on the Oban train.  You’ll be fine she said, just make sure you run The Paps in the daylight.

Oban

After a night on the boat getting to know the Fearless Friends we were kit checked, enthused and ready to race.  A steady start out of Oban with my running partner Laura alongside.  It’s a nice little run out up and over Pulpit Hill and we were soon back to Fraser, our waiting ferryman.  Fraser is a strong rower.  Strong enough to break the oar before we reached the boat!  Safely aboard and skipper Trevor set sail for Mull.  Except there’s no wind, so we row.  And repair the dinghy oar.

Oban: 4 miles, 761ft climb.  Click the link to relive the run.
Relive the Oban run

Mull

We finally arrived in Salen at 7.30pm.  It’s going to be a long night.  “Just come back safely” shout Trevor and Julie as we cast off.  The evening sunshine lit up the roadside bluebells and we made good progress out past Loch Ba.  The light held as we climbed up towards the pyramidal A’Chioch and picked our way across the “tenuous traverse”.  We made the top of Ben More and scurried quickly down to find the tricky control at the head of the stream.  By now there was no pretending, it was getting dark.  Running the contour around Lag a’Bhasdair requires picking a good line and in the failing light we could only bump along over bog and boulders.  We’d been joined by another pair Julien and Sophie.  Frenchman, Julien was fascinated by the bogs and frogs.  Sophie told us about her study of Latin printing in 16th century Paris.  The light went completely as the conversation continued.  It all seemed rather surreal. 

The col checkpoint off the Beinn Fhada ridge was hard to locate.  I knew we were on the saddle but in the headtorch beam every light-coloured rock looked like the kite.  In the daylight there is a nice little trod that descends diagonally back down into Glen Clachaig .  In the dark we couldn’t see the line and forged our own descent across the camber in roughly the right direction.  We finally hit the track and started on the long, long return to Salen.  Fraser was waiting and by 2.00am we were tucking into Julie’s smoked fish supper.

Mull: 24 miles, 3983ft climb.  Click the link to relive the run.

Relive the Mull run

Jura

We’d made a meal of Mull in the dark but if the sailors could get us down to Craighouse by tea time we could knock off the Paps while the clear weather held.  Dolphins appeared and were soon surfing our bow wave and diving under the boat.  A wonderful sight and surely a good omen.  I knew that the Sound of Luing was the key.  With some nifty sailing Trevor just caught the last of the friendly tide and we shot through the Sound.  We got a message that we were leading class 3.  We were flying, we were whooping.  We were stuck within sight of Craighouse for 3 hours, 4 hours … 5 hours.  Fickle winds and tides and we’d lost our daylight: we landed after 11pm.

As we ran out along the coast road I was visualising the route over the Paps.  It’s hard enough in the daylight and I wasn’t sure that it would be possible in the dark.  First things, first: find the mountain.  I had a rough compass bearing and we left the track heading out over the rough terrain towards Pap1.  With headtorch switched off the dark pyramids of the Paps loomed ahead.  Torch back on to avoid the cliffs.

Laura gamely followed my direct attack on Beinn a’Chaolais, a hands and feet climb always scanning ahead for the easier, green lines.  Tunnel vision, cold hands and a relentless climb.  It was rather breezy on the final ridge but we were reassured by meeting another pair and hit a good path for the descent.  The control by the lake was difficult in the dark but once found it put us on the path up Beinn an Oir.  Maybe we could do this after all!  Laura emptied the scree out of her shoes and we headed up into darkness.  Coming off the summit we could see the first hint of daylight and by the time we started the climb up Beinn Shiantaidh the torches were off.  Unfortunately, cloud was now swirling in and the wind was ripping over south ridge.  We hurried up and over the top and made up the descent with a mixture of scree and heather.  I knew that we needed to hit the end of the lake to pick up the return track but the clag obscured everything below.  Finally, I spotted the edge of the lake appearing faintly through the cloud.  Or was it?  The misty, morning light and steep elevation was playing with our perception of distance.  No, it’s the coastline … are we on the wrong side of the mountain?  Thankfully the cloud swirled back some more and the whole lake snapped into focus.  We loped happily down to the stepping stones.  Laura emptied a fair portion of Beinn Shiantaidh out of her shoes.  We squelched back down the moor to the bridge, coast road and eventually the patiently waiting Fraser.

Jura: 15.3 miles, 5138ft climb.  Click the link to relive the run.

Relive the Jura run

Mull of Kintyre

We’d survived Jura in the dark.  Arran was long but it couldn’t kill us.  We tucked into Julie’s chicken casserole and looked forward to some sleep while the boys tackled the sail in one long, comfortably-angled tack. 

It wasn’t to be and we were soon being thrown around the cabin along with cushions, pans, drawers, Julie and anything else that wasn’t securely tied down.  Paul McCartney sung vaguely about his love of the Mull of Kintyre and desire to remain there.  Up in the cockpit, Trevor and Fraser were producing their own more direct and colourful soundtrack accompanied by the smack and crash of the boat as Fearless was tossed about in the standing waves.  This was the infamous “washing machine”.  I managed to wedge myself across the cabin and somehow fell asleep for 3 hours bypassing sea sickness in the process.  I woke up to find our position relative to the South Point lighthouse unchanged.  All three sailors were fighting the winds and washing machine with fierce determination but our trace shows that we circled around until the tide finally let us through.  The one consolation was that we were still just ahead of Marisca.

Arran

Dry land was welcome but I felt strangely unbalanced after the rough day at sea.  We ran off towards Broddick with a slightly drunken gait.  Laura was feeling the cumulative effect but I was a slave driver – we run everything apart from the steeper uphill – look forward to it!  As we toiled on to the summit ridge of Goat Fell it was my turn to feel weary as false summits came and went in the cloud and howling wind.  Our spirits lifted as we started to descend and encountered the Marisca girls coming up.  We knew that they could descend faster than us but maybe not fast enough to overhaul the Fearless survivors before the jetty.  Our race was back on!  The jog became a canter as we left the cloud and hit the easier trail.  Along the shoreline and through Broddick we kept it going.  Back over Prospect Hill and there was Holy Island ahead.  And Fearless Friend.  And sausage casserole.  We were back into Lamlash in sub 4h30 and had held off Marisca. 

There was just one problem:  I’d told Fraser 6hrs and Fearless Friend was fast asleep.  And our texts hadn’t arrived.  As we stood shouting the Marisca girls skipped cheerfully by and sailed clean away.

Arran: 19.2 miles, 4193ft climb.  Click the link to relive the run.

Relive the Arran run

Troon

Trevor announced that we had a favourable wind.  This was a first for the boat and the crew nodded in disbelief.  But yes, we were definitely heading East at a fair rate of knots.  We arrived in Troon ahead of schedule but just behind Marisca.  The broken oar held together for one final effort from the tireless Fraser.  Along the pontoon, into the office and we were done. 

We were over a day behind some teams but the cheery SIPR folk made it feel like we’d won.  Our sailors had shown unbelievable endurance around the Mull of Kintyre.  But at the same time, they couldn’t believe we’d run most of Mull and Jura in the dark.  The Fearless team had taken on the biggest challenges that the SIPR could throw at us and the sense of achievement was immense.  As was the desire to just lie down.

Bollington Festival 3 Peaks

This is a great little race and was well chosen as one of the Wilmslow Summer Series races.  Short fell races always seem to exact a toll on the legs and I was determined to enjoy the hills without killing my quads.  So the tactic was to work the up but stay sensible on the descents.  I'm clumsy over stiles so I'd have a lot to make up on the few flat sections of canal.

1 Peak

We gathered on the Middlewood Way viaduct above Bollington cricket field.  Dark clouds loomed ominously and we'd driven through a cloudburst on the way out.  The elements didn't look favourable for cricket or controlled descents.  We were soon into the first ascent to the top of Kerridge Hill.  I've only ever run this route in reverse and I was surprised how hard we had to work up the rough track to the quarry before getting into the steep climb up to the ridge.  I was happy enough to reach the top in about 10th which gave me a choice of lines to follow down the other side.

2 Peaks

The diagonal traverse up to White Nancy had looked tricky on the map and really anyone with legs of equal length had to work hard against the hill.  Again I had the benefit of following the best lines of those ahead of me and I gained ground while I could see Damian taking a wide loop.  Nancy was soon ahead and I'd gained 2 places before we rounded the tower and plunged down the other side.  This was the descent that had concerned me most as in the winter it had been so slippery that we'd struggled get *up* the hill never mind down.  I was pleased to only lose one place and I soon had that back as we clattered down tracks and alley ways into the village.

3 Peaks

Grinding up through the streets of Bollington I was gaining on two young lads who'd sped away from me down the hills and over the many stiles.  I eased past them on the steep grassy climb up to the Nab.  Damian flew down the hill well clear as I turned to face the final stretch to the trig point.  The soft grass made for a cushioned descent and I managed to just hold off the youngsters until the next stile.  Back out on the tracks and canal I could finally stretch out to full pace.  A strange finish involved us crashing down a small banking and popping out through a hedge onto the edge of the cricket ground and into the funnel.

1 Pint

There was a free pint of Bolly Best at the local brewery and a bowl of chilli, rice, bread.  At £5 entry this was arguably better value than the parkrun :O.  Sitting around with our beer and chilli there was plenty of time to relive our trial by 3 peaks. 

http://www.strava.com/activities/139538296

Easy Thrills In New Mills

I was only aiming for a slow run this morning and stopped to take a few photos of some favourite views in the glorious May sunshine.  I even tried to record the haunting calls of the curlews.

The higher path from the former Moorside Hotel runs below Black Hill.  I saw three curlews gliding across the moor and a buzzard hung on the thermals high above.  The views to the right are amazing right across the valley and up the successive ridges of Windgather, Pym Chair, Cat's Tor and Shining Tor.  The track contours around before heading down to the road where I picked up the path down to Furness Vale.

Joining the canal I followed the towpath then cut off down towards New Mills and the Torrs.  Just after crossing the Goyt there is a farm that keeps a number of llamas.  The first time I passed here slightly light headed after a fast section, I thought my mind was going but now they seem part of the scenery.  I followed the river path down to the Torrs where great stone bridges and viaducts appear to grow out of the living rock as they reach across the gorge that hides in the centre of New Mills.  It's such an unexpectedly dramatic place of cliffs, torrents, shattered mill buildings and clinging trees.  The Millennium Walkway continues the theme providing an exciting bouncy run above the river. 

From New Mills I rejoined the canal to Disley, crossed the A6 and climbed up Red Lane before dropping back down into Lyme Park.

Cuckoo Run

This turned out to be a run too far after the racing on Thursday and Saturday.  But never mind sometimes you just have to get out on the hills.

I headed up the track from the Boars Head, Poynton and into Lyme Park.  The red deer looked on suspiciously as I tracked across the moor and up the long climb to Sponds Hill.  There were dark clouds hanging over Shining Tor and my left quad twinged: two warning signs that I should have taken more seriously.  Running down from Charles Head the valley was laid out below and I was soon flying across the contour.  It was great to be out on these trails again after they'd been mud-bound for months.

It's a long drag up to Pym Chair at the best of times but suddenly I found my left leg refusing to lift properly.  I could still jog back but unfortunately this was the most distant point of my route.  The cloud was down and it started to drizzle.  I'd be late back but it was still only 9.00am and I was lucky to be out on the hills.  I'd just have to enjoy the sights, sounds and silence at slower pace.  Trotting down past Windgather Rocks I heard a cuckoo calling loudly out of the forest.  What a treat - I can't remember hearing a cuckoo since I was a boy.  It's a traditional sign of spring and sure enough the cloud was lifting.

I skipped down Taxal Edge trying to keep the dodgy leg off the rocks and out of trouble and picked up the trail past Taxal Church to Fernilee.  After rounding Toddbrook Reservoir I cut up through Slatersbank Wood to Start Lane before heading towards the Moorside Hotel.  At this time of year Whaley Moor is alive with the whooping calls of the curlew.  Look hard and you can spot them gliding across the moor, heavily camouflaged but in profile given away by their long curved beaks.  I took the easy contour back into Lyme Park via East Gate and hobbled on back down the track to the Boars Head. 

Two hours forty.  Too far, too soon after a marathon.  Lesson learnt.   

http://www.strava.com/activities/134852944

Bramhall parkrun - so now we are 6

Amazingly it is 6 years and over 300 runs since the first 5k race round the park.  Race?  Well it was then and it still is today.  But only for those who want to race.  Against themselves, against their time and for a bit of fun against their mates and rivals.  Today Gareth and Steve chased me hard round 1.5 laps before I finally got a small gap - and left them to race each other in to the finish.

After barcode scanning through the busy bulge of runners around 25 minutes I jogged up to the café for the birthday presentations.  It's become part of the tradition to give a little speech and it is good to thank the team who make it all happen week after week.  The league winners have shown some impressive commitment too, running just about every week to make the podium.  Thanks to Janine I have large chocolate bars to present to the juniors much to their delight.

In the beginning I thought that this would be a fun weekly race-pace workout with a dozen or more local club runners.  But almost immediately it became a community event for local families.  Race or run?  Exercise or social?  It's whatever you want it to be on the day - you can even change your mind half way round.

Mobberley "Round The Runway"

Check In

This is a great little race organised by the "evergreen" Malcolm Fowler that makes use of the trails and dead end roads that were a side effect of Manchester airport's long disputed but eventually built anyway second runway.  Remember Swampy?

I was helping on registration with entries on the night and between us we managed to issue over 200 numbers to add to a similar number of pre-entries and raise over £2000 for an Alzheimers charity.  It was hectic but we managed a sort of system that got everyone signed in by 7.30pm.

Take Off

After a few warm up strides I joined the waiting pack and we were off racing up the lanes.  The pace was steady and I slotted into the leading group that included Damian, Steve Watson (Buxton) and a whole bunch of eager Sale Harriers.  On to the stony trails Damian started to push the pace and the group were stretched out by the second road section.  The race takes an almost surreal turn as the trail appears to be leading out on to the runway apron.  Surely we're not allowed out here.  In fact there is a fence hidden in the ditch but you don't notice this as large jets race past while the trail bobbles along.  A steep descent took us into the vast Bollin Tunnel and directly under the runway.  I was now in 4th trying to hang on to a couple of the Sale guys with Damian 100m clear in front.

Bumpy Landing

The climb back up to runway level was hard on my marathon legs and by the top I was losing the fight for my favourite position, 4th.  I held on across the fields and back on to the roads and we were making up ground on the leaders.  Into the last 400m I was down to 5th and lost another place almost on the line.

A pint in the evening sunshine felt well deserved after a hard race.  

Rivington Pike

From one iconic race to another.  Rivington Pike has some claim to be the oldest fell race and on a sunny day it seemed like half the town were out to spectate.  The rest were in the pub at the start / finish.  The pike looms high, very high above Horwich.  The race is straight up and down no messing.  It really doesn't look likely that the faster runners will be up and back to the pub in well under 20 minutes.

Ellen and I lined up for the start still buzzing with the excitement of Juliet's U16 race where she'd sprinted down the hill for an unlikely 2nd place.  I knew that I wasn't recovered from the marathon so I started very steadily up the road monitoring carefully how my legs were coping. 

As the gradient steepened I felt surprisingly good and I picked my way gradually through the field.  I continued to jog up the final grassy slope grinding past the first woman and Richard Marlton  (Stockport).  The leaders came flying down the hill followed by Damian while I trotted on up around the tower and into the descent.  I knew that I had to be careful here with my brittle marathon legs.  A few hard core fell runners bounced past at literally break neck speed but I caught them all up when we reached safer ground.

Back on the road I started to close down a few more but by now my legs were reminding me about the quality time we'd spent on the Embankment last weekend and I had an easy float in to the finish.

Damian had a fine run for 10th, his best ever placing here but just out of the prizes.  Ellen was 12th woman / 4th u18 after finding the summit hill tough and taking a tumble on the descent.  Andy Dodd had doubled up by doing Bramhall parkrun which might have given him an excuse for being outrun by a guy running in an inflated Sumo suit.  I'd run well enough but outside the top 20 and soundly beaten by a Kendall v50.  Doddy was subdued and sub Sumo.  Starving hungry we'd have all enjoyed the solace of a large burger at this point but the pub was so rammed that even a bag of nuts was beyond our reach.

Rob