Montane Lakeland 50 2013 - A grand day (and night) out

Following on from my last post...

...we arrived at Coniston on Friday evening, found the event headquarters, parked and pitched the tent in cloudless, still conditions.

We did the weigh-in thing, signed in and had kit checked, then collected numbers, maps and road books, got some free stuff,  and had dibbers apparently permanently welded to our wrists.

Back at the tent we ate a couple of sandwiches and some rice pudding, then had an early night.

Next morning I was awake early, and surprised to see so many others up and about. I was a little dismayed to see that the sky was still cloud free, and promising to be warm.

After breakfast I sorted out the food I was taking with me, and added a change of socks and a vest to my rucksack. I stuck some magic tape onto my shoulders to help stop my rucksack rubbing (thank you to the neighbour in the camper van for the loan of a pair of scissors; the magic tape resisted my teeth) and A did some similar last minute faffing.

After a last minute cup of tea we went to the briefing in the hall, already full of sweating runners. Then we were on the coach and off to Dalemain to wait for the start.

And so it began with a quick dip of the dibber and a jog round the fields at Dalemain, in the blazing heat, then off towards Pooley Bridge. Once we were through Pooley Bridge we were soon out onto the track above Ullswater. It was still very warm as we dropped down to the first checkpoint at Howtown. Once we had dibbed, topped up water bottles and grabbed a piece of value flapjack, we were back off up the hill, pausing only to point out to a couple of competitors that they were about to head off up Fusedale without bothering with the first checkpoint.

And so to the first climb of the day; it was hot, humid and airless. Everybody seemed to be suffering, not just me, which was some consolation, but not much. At the top we ran over the soft bouncy turf, and actually found the correct cairn, and footpath straight down to Haweswater. A bit of a drag along the lakeside path and on to the second checkpoint at Mardale Head for a cup of tea and a sit down on the tarmac.

It was still warm on the drag out of Mardale Head to Gatesgarth Pass, but once we over the top there were ominous grumblings and rumblings of distant thunder, accompanied by one or two huge spots of rain. A few hundred metres further and it was pouring, it didn't last long, but it was worth putting on waterproof tops for.

There were more showers off and on all the way to the next checkpoint, making it difficult to decide whether to keep the waterproof on, and steam within, or chance taking it off, only to replace it again almost immediately when the next downpour started.

A more unusual side effect of the rain was the deluge of dilute sweat and sun cream finding its way into my eyes and causing some discomfort, as a bonus my steamed up and rain spattered spectacles weren't helping over the loose and rough surface of the descent. I had a choice, take my glasses off and see vague shapes, or leave them on and see a wet blur.

But still we managed  to arrive at the Kentmere  checkpoint for another cup of tea and a small piece of apple (don't worry, we were eating more than this, but the food deserves a blog post all to itself). We had been going for 7 and 3/4 hours and had covered 27 miles; not fast, but that wasn't the point, we wanted to be sure of getting round, and given the lack of training we didn't want to take chances.

Once the tea was drunk, we left the throbbing techno behind and we were back out into more rain. Waterproofs back on, we set off up over Garburn Pass. We met a few of the people we had overtaken earlier, and assumed that they had resisted the lure of the checkpoint, but apparently we just faffed more than anybody else.

We got over the top of the Garburn Pass fairly easily, and chatted to a hundred competitor, clearly not a local, who seemed to think the weather was just crazy, one minute warm, the next cold, then raining and then thundering. He was fed up with putting his waterproof on, then taking it off again, so he was leaving it in his bag.

On to Troutbeck, then to Ambleside, stumbling through the woods as it began to get dark. The checkpoint was packed, and steaming hot. We grabbed another cup of tea, and I had a cheese sandwich while trying to get a blister plaster to stick on A's Vaseline covered feet. We didn't stay long as it was too hot, but more faffing with head torches was required once we were back outside and realised that it was now dark.  

It wasn't a great surprise that it was dark, but it was earlier than we had been expecting. It was only 9:40, and we had been hoping not to need the headlights until 10:30 or so. Never mind, at least the rain had stopped.

The next section to Chapel Stile, was relatively easy. Mostly runnable after the initial climb, even by the light of our torches. And we got to within a few miles of the Chapel Stile checkpoint before the rain became heavy enough to warrant putting the waterproofs back on; this time they stayed on until the end.

The checkpoint at Chapel Stile is clearly best appreciated after dark; lit by blazing scented logs, it is a bizarre apparition in a tent pretty much in the middle of nowhere, but we tried not to get too comfortable, even though the offer of tea once more proved irresistible.

Now properly dark and properly raining, A took the opportunity to change out of shorts and into running tights, in a somewhat indiscreet manner. Then I took the opportunity to show my inability to navigate in the dark by leading a group past the stile I was looking for, despite A having pointed it out to me. I kept trying to explain to people not to follow me, but they wouldn't listen. Somewhat chastened, we fell in behind those who knew better than us, but for some reason we let them get away, and once more I was at the front. This time it worked out a little better, and we were soon heading down past Blea Tarn; but of course we couldn't see the tarn in the dark and my confidence was a bit shaken by now, and I  had to get a grid reference from my GPS to confirm we were on the correct path.

Another group caught up with us, and following some debate over whether we had strayed to far away from Blea Moss, we turned to head directly to the distant light on the self dib on the road. Entirely to everybody's surprise, this turned out to be about 20 metres away, when a moment before it seemed to be about half a mile away.

On towards Tilberthwaite the rain got heavier, the wind was blowing and A's headlight was fading. We stopped to change the batteries, but it wouldn't work. We could have tried another spare set, but the cold was starting to affect me and we agreed that she would take my headlight and I would manage with my (awesome Hope) hand torch.

The checkpoint at Tilberthwaite was a disappointment. This wasn't anybody's fault, it just didn't provide enough cover from the rain, and we were craving a dry spot to allow us to put on every additional piece of clothing we had; waterproof trousers (have I ever, in my life, worn waterproof trousers?), buff, extra Helly Hansen thermal shirt, Buff, hat, gloves...

And then back out into it, for the final stretch. It was now after 2 in the morning, and we had been out for 14 and a half hours, but we now had less than 4 miles to go. We weren't giving up, even with a horrific climb up the side of the quarry in front of us, with everything awash, and streams pouring along the paths. But it went reasonably well, we kept to the path and at the top found a safe way over the stream above the waterfall, now in spate. Then past the tarn, and very slowly down the very rough path down to the cottages and the track back to Coniston.

And so back to Coniston, still running, and into the school to be greeted like heroes... when in fact we had taken 16 hours to achieve what others had done in less than 8, and if we had only gone a bit faster we would have missed all of the rain and the dark. Although I'm not sure I really would have wanted to miss all of that.

Epic.