Cham Story 2010

I think it's worth telling a bit of the tale of the dramatic events in and around Chamonix last weekend, in which the real winners were British Ultra Running and probably The North Face company, as a background to my very small part in them. So if you're interested, pour yourself a dram or a G&T or whatever, and settle down as you may be involved a while.

The Background

The last weekend in August in Chamonix is now firmly established as the "Ultra Trail" weekend. It started with the first running of the "Ultra Trail du Mont Blanc" in 2003, and has grown in popularity over subsequent years to reach its current status as the annual pinnacle of the ultra calendar in Europe if not the world. There are now three races each year involving over 5000 runners:

- the "Courmayeur-Champex-Chamonix" (CCC), 98k and 5600m of ascent, with 1800 runners, starting in Courmayeur at 10am on the Friday, with a maximum allowed time of 26 hours

- the "Traces des Ducs de Savoie" (TDS), 111k and 7000m of ascent, with 1200 runners, starting in Courmayeur at midnight Friday and following a somewhat wilder route back to Chamonix in a maximum time of 32 hours

- and of course the original big one, the "Ultra Trail du Mont Blanc" (UTMB), in which 2300 runners start from Chamonix at 6.30pm on Friday evening and have 46 hours to find their way back via an enourmous loop loosely following the classic "Tour du Mont Blanc" walking trail. The first half to Courmayeur is 78k and 4400m of ascent, and the tougher return leg, on a route mainly along the same route as the CCC, is 88k and 5100m of ascent making a massive 166k and 9500m in total.

To put these into some sort of UK context, the general feeling is that as undertakings, the CCC is a little bit easier than the West Highland Way, the TDS a little bit harder, and the UTMB in a different league.  Before this year, in spite of some pretty adverse weather at times, all the races which were planned went on to start and be completed.

Demand for places in the UTMB is high and a ballot is held in January. This year I missed out, but was able to progress to an automatic entry into the TDS and a guaranteed UTMB entry next year, so with that objective I drove out to Chamonix a week before the race, did a couple of acclimatisation runs then generally lazed about for a few days. The weather was great, sunshine and blue skies. There was a forecast for some rain on Friday then showers on Saturday but no dire warnings involved. A number of friends from the WHW family were in town for the various races and spirits were high.

Friday 27 August

We woke up to the sound of rain and a message from the UTMB organisation on our mobile phones (a mandatory piece of kit for participants!) - "weather conditions rain wind cold Provide the necessary equipment". We had breakfast, it rained. A number of us had arranged to meet up near the "pointy man statue" for a chat and coffee before retiring to our beds again for last chance sleeps. As we turned up from various directions it rained - it was just as well  there was a tent errected near the statue. We waited for an easing in the rain so we could make it to the cafe a hundred yards away; there wasn't one so we got wetter. Unbeknown to us the CCC was just starting in identical weather conditions. An hour later we left the cafe and walked home in the rain. Later it stopped. Then it started again.

At 6.30 the UTMB got under way in a slight easing of the weather. Not long after it was raining again. I was due to get a bus at 10.00pm to go to Courmayeur for the start of the TDS. I walked up to the Sports Centre in the rain, there were a lot of people still there although the buses were supposed to have been shuttling runners over from 8pm. I got a phone call from George Reid and John Malcolm, also up for the TDS and booked on the 9pm bus - "we're still here, and they're talking about calling off the race". I went and found them. It was one of those situations where information comes bit at a time, sometimes conflicting and you're never quite sure what to believe. The first thing we heard was that because of the heavy rain, strong winds on the Col du Bonhomme, and mud slides causing the route markers to be washed away on the Col de la Seine, the UTMB had been stopped; runners were being brought back from St Gervais and Les Contamines.

It was clear that the TDS buses were going nowhere so we all gathered in the Sports Centre out of the rain. We first heard that the TDS start would be delayed until at least 3am, then until at least 5am, the organisation would make a decision by 2am latest. Could we go home and get some sleep? No we must stay here because if a positive decision was made we would go to Courmayeur asap. We scattered around the floor and dozed. Though not properly asleep, I was roused by George at around 12.30 - "It's off, have a beer". Well at least there was plenty of that around. A drink and a shrug and we all went our separate ways, it was clearly all over until l'anee prochain. I wandered back through town philosophically. At least we hadn't had a soaking three or four hours on the trail like the UTMB guys.

Saturday 28th August

Back at the hotel I lay down, tired but brain still wandering over events, unable to sleep. I was just starting to doze off when we had another text from UTMB "TDS/UTMB to depart Sat 28th course Courmayeur-Champex-Chamonix buses leave Sports Centre Chamonix from 0630" This meant that all the TDS and UTMB runners were offered a race along the second half of the UTMB course. It wasn't what I'd come for but I would kick myself if the weather turned a bit better and it would still be a good ultra. The buses would take a couple of hours at least, I'd set an alarm an get a later one. Still unable to sleep, I was roused again by a second text "Due to cancellation of CCC and repatriation of runners, bus departs for Courmayeur now limited to 1000 runners". Because of flash flooding on the section between the Col de Montets and Flegere, the CCC had been stopped. 400 runners had passed this point, the rest were now being bussed back from all down the course, creating a shortage of buses.(Incidentally, those who finished the CCC and those who were still going when it was stopped had all put up a pretty heroic performance in truly appalling conditions)

Effectively, this meant that out of the TDS and UTMB fields, the first 1000 to turn up at the bus stop would get to race. It was now 5am. If I was going, I had to get my stuff organised and go. I looked outside again, the rain was like stair-rods. But these are the times when you remember that this sport isn't exactly about comfort, so out I went. One of the first people I met in the bus queue was Shirley, one of the few WHW folk I hadn't met so far this week. She's been stopped at St Gervais on the UTMB, had a few beers then made it back. "I think I'm still slightly drunk". We had to queue in an orderly line and this was out in the rain of course. I don't know how the cutoff was managed but we got on the bus.

Amazingly, as we drove out of the Mont Blanc tunnel into Italy we were greeted by blue sky. We got out at the Courmayeur Sports Centre and grabbed what was available for breakfast. Although we hadn't communicated during the night, all the usual suspects were there - George, John, Ritchie, Drew and the others, it clearly takes more than a drop of rain to halt the Tartan Army. Before we left to walk through the town to the start we put on sun screen.......

The Race

The start was scheduled for 10, but we eventually got under way at 10.15, a little circuit of the town then up the hill to the Bertone Hut. I knew what was going to happen here but I didn't have the energy starting out to prevent it affecting me. At least a thousand closely packed runners (it turned out that in the end there were 1250 starters) were going to run uphill for a couple of miles and then converge onto a single track which effectively goes on for the next 6 or 7 miles. If you were near the back (of course I was, even if I'm not tired it's my normal tactic) your pace was going to be set by the guy in front for the next couple of hours or so. The modern CCC follows a different route initially to thin the field out, but we were on the UTMB route; the same thing had happened to me on this, the "old" CCC route when I ran that race in 2007.

Still I was happy to go with the flow, up the long 900m climb to the Bertone, then along the wonderful slightly undulating balcony to the next checkpoint at the Bonatti Hut. The weather was fine, the ground underfoot seemed to be drying out well, the views were as good as ever and it was great to be doing something after all the frustrations of the night. It wasn't to last though, as we descended to the next checkpoint at Arnuva it was clouding over again and a chill wind was springing up. The mist turned to drizzle and it was rain jackets on for the climb up to the Col de Grand Ferret, at just over 2500m the highest point on the course. I was glad to get my jacket on. In spite of all my pre-race concentration on lightening my load, when it came to setting out in the prevailing conditions I had opted for a fairly heavy jacket and overtrousers - my packed seemed to weigh a ton as normal.  The lack of sun affected the ground underfoot on the climb, slippery mud most of the way, without poles I would have struggled to make progress as I was as usual wearing road shoes. It's an honest climb though, nothing sneaky, and the top seemed to come fairly quickly.

The descent was the real disappointment. From the col down to La Fouly is usually 10 kilometeres of wonderfully runnable wide track at a perfect descending gradient, 8 minute mile territory even for me. Today it was run, slip, check, adjust, almost stop, start again, all the way down. I kept thinking how it would be in Rocklites......

Just before La Fouly I met up with two other Brits, Ken and Dave, and I travelled on with them for quite a way. The long gentle descent down the Swiss Val Ferret went easily, and the nicely graded 300m climb up to Champex at the end wasn't too bad. Plenty of people were eating and suiting up for the night here, but we agreed on a brief pause to top up water and press on to make best use of the remaining daylight.

Champex was half distance maybe a bit more on this course, but everyone who has been along this way will tell you that this is where the work starts. The cruel finish to the end of the UTMB, three big climbs each with their own particular brand of challenge. The first one is Bovine, the most technical ascent on the UTMB, a jumble of tree roots and boulders where no real rhythm is possible. Half way up here we had to put on our torches. The long descent from the top down to Trient is usually pretty harmless but tonight we got the first inkling of what was to come; mud at times worthy of Rotherham had us lurching and sliding in the darkness most of the way down. At the Trient checkpoint I decided to rest and have something to eat, and to change into a dry shirt - I'd brought all this stuff, I might as well use it! Ken and Dave were going strongly so I told them to press on.

Eventually I pulled out of Trient for the second of the three climbs. This one is OK going up; long and steep but a good rocky path underfoot, I just latched onto a small caravan of runners going at about the pace I wanted and shut my brain down until we got to the top, graced by a small tent, one marshal and a bonfire - a long night out for him. The weather was looking much better now though, the sky had cleared and the temperature really started to drop. On these long uphills at night you occasionally look up to see the dots of headtorches ahead of you - at one point as the ground had started to level off I saw lights way higher than I expected, a real moment of deflation until I realised there was something familiar about the pattern of the lights I was looking at - it was the tail of the Plough constellation, breathe again!  But the sting in this section was on the descent - it's muddy at the best of times, tonight it was just horrendous, I'm sure I went slower on the descent than on the up. I was glad to get to Vallorcine, a bowl of soup and a cup of tea.

At Vallorcine you used to be able to think quite justifiably that the UTMB, or the CCC, whichever was your course, was in the bag. A gentle ascent up to the Col de Montets up the ancient Chemin des Diligences (coach road), then an undulating but benign 5 or 6 miles down the valley to Chamonix. Then some massochist in the organisation decided that a little more spice was required. From the Col de Montets you climb 60 steep and rocky zigzags then rock slabs and boulders to gain another 800m to the Tete aux Vents, after which you follow an undulating rocky track on which there is barely a hundred yards where you don't have to place each foot (and sometimes hand) with care, for several kilometers to the Flegere checkpoint. I had to dig quite deep on this stretch, I was slow, and by the time I reached La Flegere the daylight of Sunday had arrived. I was just about to leave the checkpoint when Neil MacRitchie came in looking fitter than I felt. We started down together but as he broke into a run I carried on walking. There was still a final 50m to climb, but strange things happen in ultras and when I was half way up it I suddenly started to feel some energy flooding back. From the top of the rise I jogged all the way down into the valley and through Chamonix to the finish, beating my "predicted arrival time" (which had been automatically texted to Jan by the organisation, based on my location and recent speed) by 15 minutes, so by the time she arrived I had collected my goodies, had a rest and was chatting to Neil, having picked up 20 or so places on the final stretch.

I was also met by Mike (M Gilet Rouge) and his wife Gill, to be first congratulated and then sternly admonished that the "UTMB Finisher" vest which everyone in this rearranged race had collected was definitely fraudulent and would not be recognised on any occasion in which I wore it in his sight. After a solid breakfast and a couple of hours sleep I was ready for the day where we caught up with what had been going on. Jez had at last shown the world that he really is the star that we all knew he was by winning the race outright, and Lizzy Hawker took the ladies' prize to complete a UK whitewash which probably won't go down too well with the locals but sent our gang home happy. Ritchie's training miles paid off again as he came home third Brit (or first Scot, which he probably considers far more important). John Malcolm had a storming run, and there were the usual impressive finishes from George, Drew, and the rest of the contingent. Shirley must have sobered up along the way because she finished well, along with Helen.

Reflections

I was happy with my race although the performance wasn't one of my best. I ran this course (the then CCC) in 2007 finishing in about 17 and a half hours. The new finish over to Flegere probably adds a couple of hours, conditions were much worse, especially the muddy night-time descents, the events of the preceding 12-15 hours weren't condusive to a relaxed starting condition,  and I'm three years older, but even so  my time of 21:40 was pretty unspectacular.  Against this, I was in good shape at the finish and never felt at any time that I was in danger of not completing the course. Although I felt I slowed up a lot in the second half this was no more than those around me as I continued to pick up places steadily through to the end, rising from position 1061 at the Bonatti to 781 at the end. Maybe in future I should heed the wise words of Murdo tM, who I know always felt I had taken on a bit too much this year in doing 4 long ultras as well as a handful of "10-12 hour" races.

But the impressive statistics were (a) that the race took place at all - the amount of rethinking and on-the-feet reorganisation done by the race directors and their crews during the harrowing Friday night was truly amazing, and (b) how well the runners responded to this. Normally in the Chamonix races, in good conditions, drop-out rates of 30-40% and higher are commonplace each year. At 10am on Saturday morning,  runners assembled for the reorganised race in Courmayeur. None of them had had more than an hour or two's sleep, all of them had already got extremely wet in the preceeding 12 hours, many of them had run 15 or 20 miles in very poor conditions the night before. They faced a course ankle-deep in mud for many miles, and no-one knew what the state of the last section (closed 6 hours earlier to the CCC) would be when they eventually got there. 1250 started from Courmayeur; 1127 finished.

Postscript

On Monday it was still a bit rainy. Jan and I drove round to the Giannada Foundation in Martigny where there is normally a good art exhibition on. Afterwards, out of interest, we drove up the Swiss Val Ferret until we could see up to the Col de Grand Ferret. It was completely white with snow.

Pack your bag and go?

One of the great things about running a supported race such as the West Highland Way is that you don't have to carry much. A water bottle and a couple of Mars Bars seems to be the norm for most of the people you see, probably less than you take on a typical day out training, and this means that the running is pretty enjoyable. A glance at some of the leaders in the American events suggests that even items such as shirts and hats are superfluous if you can rely on your team turning up with anything you might need at the next aid station. 

Now go along to an unsupported event and it's a different game. You first carry everything the organisers insist you take, which is usually quite a lot of stuff. If you're like me you then throw in everything that you think you might need, or that might make your journey a bit more pleasant (a small flask of your distillation of choice for example to see you through the hard times...) and you end up STUFF. Yes it feels like capital letters. Stuff that makes breaking into a jog on anything other than a significant downhill a decidedly unattractive proposition.

So I was quite surprised to see on Jez Bragg's blog that he thought the introduction of a minimum weight of rucsac rule for the UTMB races was a good thing as it would stop people "travelling light". Now the minimum weight is, wait (or should I say weight) for it,  ONE KG! (or 2kg including a litre of water as you leave each aid station). I have jackets that must weigh more than a kilogramme, so I've clearly been getting something wrong here. So I decided to be a bit more scientific and see what I could get the weight of my pack down to.

First, here are the "obligatory" items

Rucsac  487g (one of the smallest Raidlight ones with all the stuff I don't use cut off)

Waterproof Jacket 224g

2 torches with batteries 130g

1 set of spare batteries 35g

Whistle 5g

Bandage 15g

Space blanket 35g

Cup 25g

Phone 91g

Bladder and tube 93g

Emergency food (say 2 gels) 66g

Passport 28g

This lot comes to nearly 1300g. Personally, I wouldn't go without a light fleece, warm hat and gloves,a few blister plasters and some vaseline, and a bit more food than this, adding on another 500g or so, so just how do these guys do it?

But at least the exercise has got me down to a pack of around 2kg (3kg with water), so I'll leave out the manhole cover and 2 extra sandbags and see if it makes a difference this time.

Snowdons

I wanted a last solid day in the hills before leaving for Chamonix and the TDS; I'd done enough miles on forest tracks for the week already but I needed a bit of serious height gain, so I decided I would have some Snowdons.

Now Snowdon is a maligned, overcrowded, rather desecrated old heap of stones but I still love it. Like Mont Blanc in its own way, it has everything  -  one of the best climbing crags in Wales at Clogwyn Du'r Arddu ("Cloggy"), the high Trinity face which holds good snow most winters, and about ten largely independent footpaths to the summit - broad tracks for easy running, rocky scrambles, knife-edged ridges, grassy cwms, something for everyone. And just an hour's drive away, I can't complain.

The forecast was good for a change, the alarm went off at six, but I loitered in bed and lingered over breakfast, so it was past eight o'clock when I finally tumbled out of the car in Llanberis.  No early starters today, a bit of activity at the railway station but no-one on the track yet.  I eased into a steady pace for the first few miles to the summit. As went I thought about the food experiment I was going to make. I read Stuart Mills' blog about his winning run in the Lakeland 100 a few weeks ago, and it seemed that he ate very little so I asked him about it. His theory is that if you're running at a demanding pace (say in a marathon) then your body needs carbohydrates, but if you're going much more easily as you do in an ultra it will switch to consuming fat, of which we all have plenty. If our "intelligent" scales at home are to be believed I have about 20% body fat, about 14kg, well that should be good for 500 miles at least so using up a bit of it going up Snowdon should be easy. So I had taken just one or two gels for emergencies, otherwise just water.

It was a treat to be on this track, usually so crowded, on my own on a sunny morning, the miles drifted by

   Cloggy from the Llanberis track in the morning sunshine 

    Looking back down the track towards Halfway House and Llanberis 

and I was soon on the summit. Off down the Miners' Track, usually considered the easiest way up from the Pen y Pass side, although its initial descent is every bit as technical as the far superior Pyg Track, but it has the advantage that once down this first bit it's an easy run all the way down to Pen y Pass. Into the cafe to top up water and my no food strategy was immediately blown. The place had been poshed up a bit since my last visit, and the array of cakes on the counter was just too tempting. I'll have one of those I said, pointing at a thinnish scone-looking affair; they come in twos said the lady serving, with butter and jam. So that was that but I did feel a little slowed down starting out again.

Next objective was the classic "Snowdon Horseshoe" round, up over Crib Goch and Crib y Ddysgl and down over Lliwedd. The 2000ft from Pen y Pass to Crib Goch looked big, come on, just get stuck in, there's a 2000ft climb round every corner on the TMB, so it was done. The morning was wearing on as I threaded my way though the traffic on the Crib Goch ridge and pinnacles. The crowds were friendly, everyone prepared to wait a second or two when it was clear I was going faster. I've been coming along here for at least 45 years so I can remember pretty well every hand and foothold by now, but it's always an entertaining stretch.

   Looking back over the Crib Goch pinnacles 

The only mist of the day caught me on the final ascent to Snowdon summit, which by now had succumbed to the normal Sunday lunchtime human battering, so I wasted no time in heading off down the first nasty 1000ft 

   Typical August Sunday on Snowdon summit

of the Watkin Path and out into the sunshine again. This second half of the Horseshoe always seems less crowded than the first, I guess because quite a lot of people don't quite know what they're taking on and bail out at Snowdon. Anyway the climb up to Lliwedd and descent that follows are a real pleasure in the now warm sunshine. 

   Lliwedd from the Pyg Track

As a one-off I would be trying to get as close as I could to three hours for the horseshoe circuit, but as part of this longer day I'm happy to be back at  Pen y Pass in three hours forty minutes after leaving. I know I'm a failed experimenter now, and the cafe gets hit for a cup of tea and a flapjack this time. I've planned my trip to avoid too many of the "haven't I seen you before today" comments you get when doing laps on the same mountain, but I do get one or two on the next stretch back up to Snowdon via the Pyg Track. I think this is one of my favourites, a long balcony with wonderful views over the lakes below, while at the same time a good enough surface to keep up a reasonable speed without having to think too hard.

   Crib Goch, with (top to bottom), the Horseshoe, Pyg, and Miners Tracks

Just as I emerged from the top of the zigzags to join the Llanberis track for the final five minutes to Snowdon summit I was passed by an uphill train, the hundred year old steam locomotive giving its all on the final steep incline. A stirring sight and sound, a million miles from the diesel drone that follows most trains on Snowdon. And the smell, that smell that you only get from steam, immediately bringing back childhood memories of trips to the seaside before cars figured much in the average person's life. If you really have to have a railway up a mountain, it ought to be memorable.

Back on Snowdon there was decision to be made.  No more easy options to Pen y Pass, next descent has to be 3000ft plus. Did I have time for one more ascent and two descents? Without really making a decision I headed off South-Westwards. At the junction I looked at the start of the South Ridge knife-edge, easier and less crowded than Crib Goch but somehow more elegant; no, that would lead me down to the Gwynant valley and a definite return in darkness, for which I had no torch. So I sloped off right down the long gently descending track to Rhyd Ddu.  Another fine route this one, dotted with families who know they can do it and want to get away from the hordes coming up from Llanberis. A gentle jog all the way to the village. The Cwellyn Arms was almost too tempting, but I still had ground to cover and settled for a swift half of coke and a packet of crisps.

   Final mile to Rhyd Ddu in lengthening shadows

Down the road a mile or two to the start of the Snowdon Ranger track. This starts with the best uphill of the day; long easy zigzags, compact smooth gravel underfoot, perfect angle, the sort of ground where you can really feel the four-wheel drive effect of the poles. TMB land in Wales. But about a third of the way up I had to take stock; if I carried on it would be dark or very nearly for the last few miles of descent, why turn a nice day out into a possible epic? So I turned off left, up over an easy grassy climb to a place that my generation will always refer to as the "Telegraph Col", though the posts from which this name came are long gone now. At 1550ft it saves me nearly 2000ft of up and 4 or 5 miles. The route down to Llanberis is a perfect balcony track down a lonely valley, even on an August Sunday; in the past it's been for us a mountain bike single track blast when the mood took us, or a walk from the hut in Llanberis over to the Cwellyn Arms for lunch on days when the weather permitted nothing else. This evening it was my get out of jail card, and I ran steadily all the way down to the town.

Back at the car, my Garmin said just over 31 miles and just under 13,000ft of ascent. Good enough. I ran out of time, not energy. And the two scones, one flapjack, and a packet of crisps kept me going, I was never hungry. I'm going to re-read Stuart's stuff, and although I still think a bit of regular carbohydrate input is good, I'm now more convinced that he's on to something. I never went particularly fast, I just kept going. Ready as I'll ever be for this year's Chamonix experience.

 

Birthdays and Heroes

Well last week another year clicked by. On Saturday I was at a nephew's wedding, the sort of occasion when you meet distant family that you haven't seen for years. Jan and I re-acquainted with many of our own generation; nice people, sensible souls who don't spend their spare time running hills, climbing rocks and ski-ing real snow. Sometimes of a morning when the first trip downstairs hasn't been great I wonder if I should join them. Plenty of people to ask if you're really sure you want to be doing this sort of thing nowadays. 

But we are who we are; the experiences we've had mould us, and so long as the good times outnumber the less good we'll keep coming back for more and be thankful that we can. We're not short of role models. Like Marco Olmo winning the UTMB outright at 59.  Joe Brown and Chris Bonington climbing in their seventies better than I ever did at any age. Joss Naylor seemingly running on forever.

  

These are the superstars of course, but less well known and often even more inspirational stories abound. In 1977 I was prompted to start a climbing diary (which I still keep up) by reading an article in the old "Climber and Rambler" magazine about a guy called Ivan Waller, who "had kept a meticulously accurate climbing diary since 1923" and at the time was still climbing. I kept the diary but didn't come across any other reference to Ivan until many years later when I browsed then bought a little book by Ronald Turnbull called "The Book of the Bivvy", which contains the following passage:

Once there was a man called Ivan Waller. In 1931 he climbed behind Colin Kirkus on a seriously overhanging route called Mickledore Grooves in the days when falling off generally meant death, or severe injury if you were really lucky.

What happens to mountaineers as they get older? They just turn into older mountaineers. At the age of 70 Ivan turned to the Munros and climbed 140 of them in two years to become Munroist number 207. Three years later he backpacked across Scotland in the Ultimate Challenge event. Still in his seventies he completed the 45 mile walk of the Lakeland 3000ft peaks in a day, and climbed Tower Ridge in winter conditions without causing the slightest anxiety to my cousin, who was his companion. He also traversed the Cuillin Ridge twice, the second time escorting an older companion. He considered the Corbetts: "This may be beyond my span because I still have more than 160 to do at 81 years of age  -  but a man can try".

Way to go. I'll now put this subject away until August 2011.

Lakeland not quite 100

At 2.26am yesterday morning I called it a day (or I suppose more accurately a night) on the Lakeland 100. I had been out nearly 33 hours, covered 88 miles, and more than 20,000 of the 23,000 feet of climbing involved in the event. So near, devastatingly disappointing.............well, actually no. I was neither injured nor ill, I had made a few mistakes along the way but they probably wouldn't have affected the outcome, I just reached a point where I was simply too tired to make any further progress. A couple of hours sleep could have (and subsequently did) put me right, but I didn't have enough time left on the clock for that solution, so I stopped. No hard feelings, it was a good adventure and I learned a lot. One up to the mountains but I'm nothing if not persistent, I'll be back.

Even though I had checked out around 80% of the ground before, I still didn't realise what an inspiring course this is when you put it all together, taking in almost every valley in the Lake District in a great meandering loop following many of the age-old pass routes and from which you could see every major lake except Thirlmere if it was daylight!  There are 15 checkpoints in the valleys with no great distances between them (the longest stretch is barely 10 miles) but of course this means there are15+ climbs of varying difficulty. Starting at Coniston, the first 5 stages to Braithwaite follow rough mountain tracks with often tricky navigation,  half of which are taken in the dark. Three gentler stages on tracks kinder to the feet, but still with over 4000ft of climbing between them, lead to the main "half way" checkpoint at Dalemain (60 miles). From there the easiest stage leads in 7 miles to the last major climb, after which the navigation problems should be over but darkness will be approaching again and a series of shorter climbs on easier but still stony tracks gets you to the finish back in Coniston.  It's a tough outing, with a cut-off time at the finish of 40 hours. Of the 123 starters this year, 70 won through to the end, the highest percentage ever. Stuart Mills' win in just over 24 hours was a class performance, only 11 finishers made it in under 30 hours, 16 got home in the last two hours. So how was my trip?

Well we were set on our way by the legendary Joss Naylor at 5.30 on Friday evening in unexpected sunshine, to tackle immediately the 2000ft of ascent over the Walna Scar pass. Everyone at my end of the field walked the ups and we passed and repassed each other chatting with the enthusiasm of the start. At the top, the views over to Sca Fell and the other central fells were stunning in the evening sunshine. Down the other side was a wonderfully runnable blast and I reached the Seathwaite checkpoint (6.4 miles) at 7.15. The next stage over to Boot in Eskdale was again under 7 miles and barely 1000ft of up, but over some of the worst tracks on the course, bogs, boulders, bracken and tree-roots. Everyone got wet feet here, and if you didn't carry spare socks they stayed wet until Dalemain, 40-odd miles further on. The last mile or so were on good tracks down the Esk valley and jogging I caught up with some competitors walking. Come on guys, there's plenty of ground ahead that you can't run, make the most of it here - two came with me who turned out to be Barry and David who had come up from, wait for it, Suffolk to do the race ("We don't train on hills, we don't have any").  We jogged into the Boot checkpoint at 8.48, and the routine for me at least was now established. Quick drink (tea if possible, water otherwise), a bite to eat, top up water bottle, get any gear for next section (headlamp and jacket this time, we expected it to get dark and then cold) then out. But this was still taking rather too long - 10 minutes here.

Barry and David decided to stick with me for a bit as they neither knew the course nor had a GPS, so we set out onto the moor. The three miles and 900ft up to the high point just beyond Burnmoor Tarn were easy - it was just light enough to follow the track on mostly springy grass, and the hill was long and gentle. The two miles down to Wasdale Head were a different deal; we finally had to put on our torches to avoid holes and boulders, and the way down becomes steeper and very rocky, with recent rain turning the track into a stream. When we reached the Wasdale checkpoint at 11.05pm it already seemed like a lot of work had gone in to get a total of eighteen and a half miles on the clock. On the plus side the night was clear and dry, even warm so jackets had come off again fairly quickly. Another 10 minute stop at Wasdale saw us out to face the most continuously strenuous section of the route, the two stages over to Braithwaite. We had picked up another David ("Dave") by now so our little team of four made our way steadily up Black Sail Pass. This is beautifully engineered to combat erosion on this side so although fairly steep the climb is not too bad. The descent down the other side is just the opposite; difficult enough in daylight it becomes very trying at night. Stony zig-zags, bits of grassy trod, little rock steps, the sort of ground where you never take exactly the same line twice.  Are you sure this is the right way my new East Anglian friends asked several times, especially at the little rocky scoop which was one of my remembered landmarks, but I'd been there twice before and was happy. A quick check on the direction to find the footbridge at the bottom (the embryonic River Liza is quite deep and fast even up here) and we were down and along to the famous Black Sail youth hostel, fast asleep in the middle of nowhere. The climb back up to Scarth Gap to complete the 2400ft of climb for the stage seemed easy, the bouldery descent to Butteremere lake less so and we were glad to hit the undulating lakeside track, the first easily runnable ground for miles. We jogged steadily the length of the lake, around its end, and up through the sleeping village of Buttermere into a warm hall, to be greeted by friendly faces and mushroom soup.

The next stage to Braithwaite has better ground underfoot but does all its 2500ft of climbing in one go, following narrow traversing trods for over 4 miles. Two critical turnings must not be missed and in spite of the fine night I used the GPS to make sure. The reward is that once you have reached the high point at another Sail Pass (though not Black this time), it's downhill all the way to Braithwaite and most of it runnable. We rolled into the checkpoint (33.9 miles) at 4.36am, and I was relieved to have got the toughest third of the course done in a reasonable time (I was aiming for around 5am) and still feeling good. This point had the first hot meals and we tucked into pasta and tea for breakfast, but again stayed too long, nearly 30 minutes.

It was light as we left Braithwaite. Dave had stayed on longer but David and Barry were still in the game as we followed two longish stages (16 miles total) first to Blencathra Centre then Dockray, with runnable tracks and steady gradients. The last three miles of the "Old Coach Road" to Dockray felt a bit Lairig-Mor-like, with the track winding visibly into the distance for miles ahead. David struggled at times but normally caught up if Barry and I waited a bit, then seemed to get stronger again. A final 10 miles, through woods, climbing to a wonderful balcony track through the bracken high above Ullswater, then fields and a mile or two of country lane, led us to the 60 mile point at Dalemain at 1.38pm. Here we could pick up our drop bags and luxuriate in dry socks and shirts, before taking in some more pasta, rice pudding, and of course the magic tea. The "Lakeland 50", a simultaneous event, started from here at 12.30pm, first doing a local 4 mile loop and then heading out on the same route as us for the final 44 miles to Coniston; because of the timings we would be catching the slower runners on the 50 from here on. Both David and Barry had very sore feet, but by the time I said I was ready to go they were up for it so we headed out again together. I had agreed with them that we wouldn't run again because we had time to walk to the finish, but even then I sort of wished I had run a bit more in the earlier stages.

The next stage is very easy, pleasantly through nearly flat fields alongside the River Eamon to Pooley Bridge, then a gentle climb of around 500ft or so on a good track to the Cockpit right at the Northern end of the High Street range, and an equally gentle descent over the next few miles back to the edge of Ullswater at Howtown. As we were going up the hill we were caught by John Vernon, who we had seen on and off at checkpoints since pretty well the start of the race, but who up until then was travelling with another two or three runners. He told us they had suggested he pushed on as he was going stronger than they were. Now I've been aware of John for a while, and even met him without realising it on the Hardmoors 55, when he was  running the Bloworth Crossing checkpoint, holed up in his tiny tent against the elements in what was on that particular day a very bleak location. He is a very experienced ultra runner (7 West Highland Ways, 9 Fellsmans - or should that be Fellsmen, UTMB, you get the picture) and also a fellow climber, so we chatted away as you do when you have had some similar experiences but never met before. A mile or two before Howtown I noticed that David and Barry were not only not with us but nowhere in sight. I felt a bit responsible because I knew they were nervous about the navigation over to Mardale so I said I would wait a bit, and John stopped too. Before too long, David appeared to say that Barry's feet were now so bad that he couldn't carry on. As they had committed to the event together, David would pull out as well and retire with him at Howtown. We comiserated, he wished us luck and we went our separate ways. They must have gone very slowly to the checkpoint because it is on an out and back leg, and John and I were there for at least ten minutes without seeing them. I didn't see them again but I enjoyed the miles we had spent together; with no hills to train on I think they put in a pretty fine effort to get as far as they did.

John and I left Howtown to tackle one of the biggest hills on the route, 2000ft plus up to High Kop. But perversely it didn't seem too hard because it was on grass nearly all the way, a bit wet at times but not boggy so we made steady progress to the top. The weather had turned by now though. The sunshine of yesterday evening had disappeared into a dull morning, and now it was starting to rain, with the clouds getting lower in all directions. From High Kop to Low Kop it would have been good to run but I was starting to tire and didn't want to blow it so we kept up a good brisk walk over the high ground, then jogged/shambled down through the bracken to the Haweswater reservoir.  The route then follows an undulating rocky track along the lake side to Mardale Head, the next checkpoint at 75 miles, which we reached at 7.20pm. It's simply a roadhead here, no buildings and no place to put a tent, the checkpoint was just a landrover but thankfully with a stove in the back, so we had our soup and tea standing in the rain which was now getting a bit more persistent. Hats, gloves, jackets went on and we set out into the gathering gloom.

Of all the climbs on the course, the one I was looking forward to least was this next one from Mardale Head up to Gatescarth Pass. It's only about 1100ft up, on a broad track with no navigation difficulties at all, but it's steep, rocky, and I had reccied it on a particularly bleak day in November last year, since when it had obviously grown some in my mind; I was pleased to reach the top, and I knew that there were no climbs as big as this still to come. It was cold and wet descending, John stopped to put on overtrousers, so we made our separate ways down to Sadgill, agreeing at the bottom that Longsleddale had been, well..... long. There is a short ascent from Sadgill at the end of Longsleddale over to Kentmere. It's on the now ubiquitous rocky track (we passed a landrover going up that looked as if he was going to fail), barely 500ft of ascent, but I had forgotten about it so wasn't expecting it and found it very hard. Even going down the far side I was lagging 20 or 30 yards behind John, and admitted that I was struggling. For the first time on the course I started to feel queasy, probably as a result of the amount of jarring rocky descent we had done, something I needed to sort out. I determined to put things right at the next checkpoint. We checked into the warm, welcoming glow of Kentmere Institute (81 miles) at 10.13pm, just as it went dark. I told John that I would be a while and that he should push on when he was ready.

I had a cup of tea with a couple of Succeed electrolyte caps (I had been taking these pretty regularly all through the race but felt a boost might be required),  took my shoes off, changed my wet shirt for a dry one and lay down on a bench to doze for 15 minutes. I'm not sure if I actually went to sleep, but I came round feeling a lot better. There was pasta with tomato sauce on offer so I had a bowl of this and another two cups of tea. I wasn't 100% (well who is after 80 miles?) but I could definitely go on. Just as I was putting my shoes on I was surprised to see John standing in front of me; he too had meant to lie down for just a few minutes but then went to sleep for half an hour! We were back in business and set out for the next obstacle, the Garburn Pass. This rises about 900ft up, yes you've got it, a rocky track, along a flat bit at the top with man-sized puddles to be avoided, then a similar height drop down to Troutbeck on probably the rockiest track of this second half of the route. For the first time it got misty and although the track was obvious some of the puddles almost took us by surprise. But we were going well, we knew which forks in the track to take without bothering with map or roadbook, and Troutbeck showed up below us fairly soon. We coasted down to the road, then down again over the bridge. 

It was on the climb up the road through the village that I first realised I was struggling again. From the bridge at Troutbeck to the highpoint en route to Ambleside the route rises no more than 400ft. My legs felt fine; my stomach felt OK; it was just that putting one foot in front of the other just felt so.......hard. John was now ahead and I concentrated on blanking everything else out and staying with him. But now he was 10 yards ahead. Half a mile later he was 20 yards ahead. I couldn't hold the gap. By High Skelgyll Farm, a couple of miles from Ambleside it was 30 or 40 yards. John held a gate for me; I said I wasn't sure I could get beyond Ambleside, he was strong, he should definitely push on. He had completed the course last year but in 20 minutes over the 40 hours, I knew he could get inside the time from here, so off he went.  In the two miles after we parted he gained 17 minutes on me, by the time I got down to Ambleside I knew my race was run. I had covered the last two miles down hill at slower than two miles an hour. From the time I walked into the Lakes Runner shop checkpoint, I had just seven hours to cover the 16 miles to the end. There were three climbs to come, not big, not bad, but enough. With an hour or two's sleep in the warm first I might do it, without I had no chance. It was an easy decision.

Dozing in the shop, waiting for a lift back to Coniston I was conscious of some of the organisation's side of the race. Where was this runner, had so-and-so reached this checkpoint yet? A telephone call from a runner who had lost the track between Kentmere and Troutbeck and was out on a fellside somewhere, he didn't know where. This is the stuff we don't normally see, the race director and his team are the real heroes of the event. A minibus picked up two retirees from the Lakeland 50 and me, collected another from the Chapel Stile checkpoint, and dropped us back to the camping field by the school in Coniston. I didn't have the energy for a shower, but crawled into my sleeping bag in the car and passed out. A couple of hours later I was awake and feeling fine, able to sort myself out. I wandered across to the finish in time to meet John, just finished in an hour under the time limit. The man knows how to do it. I got in the car and drove home, in time for Sunday lunch with Jan and our daughter Julia visiting from Reading for the weekend. Last night I slept well.

I learned a lot; on the encouraging side I know this is a great event and will become a classic, of course I'll be back; I now seem to know how to manage my eating and drinking to avoid getting sick; I know that barring accidents my legs seem to be able to go on forever. On the things to work on, generally I need to stop less at checkpoints as I did in the West Highland Way - I haven't added my total stop time here, it's too frightening; I should worry a bit less about conserving energy and go a bit quicker in the early stages; these two would give me more of a cushion in case I need to take a real rest later on, because one major thing I have learned from both the Lakeland 100 and the Heart of Scotland is that somewhere between 30 and 35 hours is the longest I can do without sleep and remain effective.

Above all, I had another experience that I won't forget, in countryside that we are so lucky to have in our small island, in the company of the only people who understand what it's like to do what we do. DNF? No, just a training run for next time.

The Same Mistakes Again

Doing exactly the same thing again and expecting a different result is madness (Einstein I think). But we do it.

In my first year of ultra running I developed Plantar Fasciitis. If you're aware of this condition you'll need no further explanation, but for those who have not experienced its joys I'll just say that it turns up as a pain under the heel which varies from making running uncomfortable to feeling as if you have upturned drawing pins inside your shoe. The detective work at the time suggested that I probably increased distance too quickly, but it was also clear that trail shoes and long distances over rocky ground didn't suit my style.  I had run the 2007 Highland Fling (my first ultra) in trainers, but was then recommended Montrail Hardrocks in which I hammered round 55 miles of the northern section of the Anglesey coast path at a good clip, resulting in not being able to run at all for about four weeks.

I consulted the right people and did the right things, the stretches, the sole rolling, the night splints and so on. The condition never really goes away but so long as I'm careful I have developed a coping strategy, a key plank of which is to wear comfy shoes for running in. In the last three years I've dallied with a few types but always come back to, and now finally settled on, Asics Nimbus road shoes which seem to suit me fine. I must have had a dozen pairs by now. At the end of 50 miles or so my heels are always a bit sore but never bad enough to stop running.

So why tempt fate and change? Well, I've been doing a bit of work on the route of the Lakeland 100 which starts on Friday evening. This is a rocky trail for much of its length, far harder underfoot than say the West Highland Way or the UTMB. I was finding from my training runs that I was getting sore soles from the battering they were taking on the uneven rocky surfaces. A trail shoe would give me better protection....... I looked around and discovered that Asics do a shoe called the Trabuco; it also promised gel in the mid sole so I assumed I would get similar comfort to the Nimbus (I didn't). I bought a pair and tried them out up and down the rocky paths of Snowdon on a wet, wet day 10 days ago. They seemed to do the trick so last Tuesday I went for the last three sections of the Lakeland 100, about 20 miles or so, plenty of up and down and plenty of rocks. When I finished my soles were trouble free. The only problem was that my heels hurt - rather a lot. A couple of recovery runs confirmed it, the PF had returned. What an idiot.

I decided to have at least a week off running until the start of the Lakeland 100 - something that I haven't done this year so far. Half way through the week and I'm not sure that I've detected any improvement yet. I guess the sensible thing would be to pull out, but at my age I think I'm excused being sensible, so I'm sure Friday evening will see me on the start line, equipped with a few pain killers to get me through until something else starts to hurt.

Apart from the foot incompetence, I'm looking forward to the event.  The forecast so far is for showers at worst so we may not get the soaking competitors have had in previous years. But it's still going to be the toughest event in my calendar this year, more than 100 miles and over 20,000 feet of ascent to add to the hard going underfoot. I'm targetting about 36 hours, so with a 5.30pm start that means two full nights out. I was pretty tired after 30 hours in the Heart of Scotland earlier this year (falling asleep tired rather than can't walk any further tired) so I'm contemplating whether I need a few minutes sleep after 24 hours or so  - we'll see how we go.

I'll let you know next week.

WHW 2010 Reflections

I don't often do this but at this point nearly 2 weeks after the race I thought I might reflect on what went right and wrong for me on the day, and whether I learned anything.  John K normally does this sort of recap and they're always interesting. I'd welcome any comments on some of the points I can't quite figure out yet.

Overall

I had a good run, enjoyed it, and was pleased to get under the 24 hours (at last!) but I also came away thinking that I could have done better on the day.

Pacing

I set out a race plan to finish in 23 and a half hours and stuck to it. At only one point was I more than 5 minutes off target (when I got to Auchtertyre 15 minutes faster than I planned in spite of being on time at Beinn Glas). It was a conservative plan, one I knew that barring accidents I could keep to, and I built a lot of spare time into the sections from Kingshouse to the end - but I ended up using all the time anyway. I've always gone slowly over this last twenty miles or so, and I can well remember from the days when I was a factory production manager being told frequently by my planner "you can only plan to known performance, not hopes or aspirations", but I can't help feeling that a more aspirational plan might have pushed me along a bit more. My biggest frustration was walking all the runnable ground between Kinlochleven and the end  -  9 or 10 miles. Running this at any pace would have saved me at least 30 minutes, so I need to find a way to access this. I may still be putting in too much effort on non-runnable ground early on, but I suspect I ran out of steam late on due to nutrition or hydration issues.

Aches and Pains

I get a few of these as everyone does, but compared with the issues that some runners get I seem to be really lucky here. Walking around on Sunday morning was fine (I went for a walk with Jan up the last couple of miles of the WHW on the Sunday afternoon). Took things easy for a week after (10 -15 easy miles total) but had a biggish day in the Lakes last Tuesday and now back into the swing of things.

Equipment and stuff

The dry day made choices really easy. I wore one pair of trainers (Asics Nimbus) and one pair of socks (Falke) from start to finish.  I chose to start in a long-sleeved shirt and tights because in previous years the midges were a problem, but as they were almost non-existent this year shorts would have been OK. The only thing I changed was into a short-sleeved top at Auchtertyre, then back again at Glencoe. I found the "Foreign Legion" style hat (essential for UTMB attempts!) useful in the sunnier parts of the day, but the weather was never really hot. I have normally carried a rucksac the whole way, this year I ditched it at Rowardennan and I never carried more than a half litre of fluid after that. It would be great to travel light the whole way but it seems unreasonable not to let your crew have some sleep on the first night so I normally carry enough liquid to see me through to Rowardennan. If my track record of finishing earlier on the second night holds good, maybe I can negotiate on this next year!

Hydration and Nutrition

I've learnt a lot over the past few years, but I'm sure I still don't get this right. I used to get a bit paranoid about not eating/drinking enough, but there is some good reading about this around now (eg look at the UTMB site), and the wisdom these days seems to be

- drink to thirst

- although you will burn at least 100 calories a mile, so long as you put back 100 calories an hour you will survive.

The problem I have with the first of these is that I rarely get thirsty, so if I didn't work on some sort of preset pattern I probably wouldn't bother to drink at all. What I have been doing in recent races is to drink a litre every 4 hours, ie 250ml once an hour, plus a "bonus" of a cup of tea whenever I can get one. I tend to start on coke, then move through ginger beer to water in the closing stages. In this year's race I drank a total of 6,5 litres

- 3,50 litres up to Auchtertyre (50 miles, 11,5 hours) weight loss zero

- 2,75 litres Auchtertyre to Kinlochleven (31 miles, 7,5 hours) weight loss 2kg

- 0,25 litres Kinlochleven to the end (14 miles, 4,5 hours) weight loss 2kg

I lost my appetite for eating/drinking round about the Devil's Staircase. The weight loss figures suggest that I didn't drink enough in the later stages, but maybe I should have been drinking more earlier too. The figures suggest I should be going for a litre every 3 hours in this type of race - adjusting to the effort seems to be important as I drank at a litre every 4 hours throughout the Heart of Scotland and finished feeling tired but constitutionally quite strong after nearly 31 hours, but at a slower overall pace. I would be interested to know what rates other people drink at.

I took Succeed Cap every two hours. Other runners I talked to afterwards took them more frequently. I felt nauseous coming into Kinlochleven  (sure sign of electrolyte imbalance) but I guess by then the damage was done, I should have taken them more often from the start, or at least after the day warmed up a bit.

I consumed a total of 4000 calories during the race (coke, ginger beer, milk shakes, rice puddings, custards, bananas, soup, sausage rolls, marmalade sandwich, and 11 Gu gels) but again it was front end weighted (2600 before Auchtertyre, 1400 after) - I guess this is fairly inevitable. I had a pretty good appetite up to Glencoe but I'm wary of eating too much at one go as this has caught me out in the past - you have to walk too long afterwards to digest it. I guess if my hydration was better over the closing stages I would have been able to eat more then as well.

So the main thing I think I really need to address here is hydration and electrolyte tablets - increase intake by somewhere between a third and a half as much again - problem is training doesn't give you any realistic feedback on this, I'll have to wait for the next long race to try it out.

In Conclusion

This analysis was a bit too much of a technical exercise for me (not what I go running for) and I probably won't do it again for a while. But I think it's been useful and I've come to the conclusion that while I'm happy with the way I plan my races (aim to run as much of the easily  runnable ground as possible and don't bother about the rest), to get the best execution I probably need to pay better attention to hydration/electrolytes to be able to carry on later in the race.

Enough of this stuff, time to get out and do a few hills before the Lakeland 100......