30th June - 1st July 2018
Early on day 1. Harrison Stickle on the left, Pavy Ark on the right, and our route goes up the middle between them.
From Grasmere it is a 35 minute uphill walk to the start. Although it is still early, we are already quite sweaty by the time we get there. The forecast is wall to wall sunshine and we have already slapped on our first layer of suncream for the day. Because of the heat wave the start official offers to let us go immediately rather than wait 15 mins for our scheduled time.
My running partner is Nigel Coe with who, together with his wife Jackie, have been friends for nearly 4 decades. Over the years I have shared some highly memorable mountain adventures with both of them, and this promises to be another. Nigel and I have fine-tuned our preparation, by which I mean he, being faster than me, has taken more than half of the communal gear and consequently has the heavier rucksack. We are in competitive mode!
I notice immediately that the description sheets give rather more distance and climb than is usual for our class (Harter Fell) and I set my mental endur-o-meter to 6.5 hours of effort on the hill. We start to gain height but there is not a breath of wind as we punch control 1 in a sheepfold at 375m above sea level. We track westwards along the complex ridge that bounds the northern side of Langdale. As we get higher up, mercifully a gentle breeze springs up to encourage us on our way, and up the first really steep slog between Harrison Stickle and Pavey Ark. The views are fabulous, but it is hard and sweaty work.
By control 3 I announce proudly to Nigel that I have run about 100 paces in total thus far. He could easily go faster but knows it would be risky to push me at this early stage. It seems to me that brisk walking is best, in part because of the degradation of my body in the last few years, but also due to the hot and humid conditions today. “Keep drinking” we say to each other.
The map shows most of day 1 (controls numbered 1-8 in red).
Controls 4x, 5x, 6x were part of the day 2 course.
Unnumbered controls belonged to other courses.
There is a long but gentle climb up to summit of Raise, followed by tricky navigation down to Tarn Crag. In the mist this would be seriously hard. Then comes a huge decision for 5-6. Down and up twice on the shortest route, or a massive run round? I persuade Nigel that we go for the former and dive down into Far Easedale. There is no breeze again, just the relentless sun and sweat. As well as our route on the map, have a look at what others did here on Route Gadget http://www.slmm.routegadget.co.uk/rg2/#5&course=4&route=50128,50142,50153,50158
There are so many options – what would you do? The climb out of Far Easedale makes me hate contours for the first time in my life. It is a nightmare of near vertical bracken, anchored loosely in unstable rubble. I am on my knees, quite literally, as we crest the ridge.
Slowly it dawns on me that my endur-o-meter is set too low. I recalibrate mentally to an expectation of a 7.5 hour day. We are now in siege mode, and even Nigel is suffering a bit. A relatively gentle downhill section brings an unpleasant surprise. Without warning my left leg disappears down a deep hole that was covered with vegetation. In the instinctive reaction to try to stay upright I gash my right shin on a rock, and still end up on the ground anyway. Fortunately I haven’t twisted an ankle or knee so Nigel dives into the first aid kit. Suitably patched up we resume our seemingly endless quest.
At control 6 a glance at the watch says that it was a 2.5 hour leg. That can’t be right surely? But – horrors - it is! The endur-o-meter sneaks up to 8 then 8.5 hours all by itself. We graduate immediately to survival mode. The good thing is that the pace may be slow, but we are relentless. The pain levels are high, but we are still not in serious danger of hitting the wall. Nigel repeats the mantra keep drinking …… keep drinking……keep drinking…..
After what seems like an eternity Nigel’s voice breaks through my mental hot/pain/sweat/thirst bubble. He wants to run! I am just about to say that’s impossible using my best Anglo Saxon when I realise we can see the campsite. Somehow I muster a jog. We arrive in a time of 8 hours 27 minutes. Suddenly it is quite acceptable to collapse.
After some rehydration therapy it becomes clear that the overnight camp site at Stonethwaite (in southern Borrowdale) is really lovely. It is a gently sloping grassy field with steep wooded slopes on the side of the valley, and a stile that leads to Stonethwaite Beck in which nearly all competitors go for a refreshing wash and paddle.
I try to keep a lookout for Keith Henderson who has teamed up with Ian Sayer of Wesssex. Together they are a formidable ultravets combination, but the campsite is large and it is hard to find anyone else. I do bump into some of the other WSX people though, especially Alan Blanchflower and Peter Suba who are doing very well on the Kirk Fell class. Later in the evening Keith and Ian have still not appeared on the results, and we wonder if they are camped for the night somewhere high up and hopefully safe. Later on again, Nigel spots Keith as they come in to the finish. Ian has not been well all day and the hot weather has unfortunately taken its toll. But what stickability and sheer determination! They have kept going and recorded a completion in 10 hours and 50 minutes.
Day 2 dawns bright and sunny. It is going to be another scorcher. Our course takes us further west than the first day, and it is no surprise to be hit quite early on with another mega down and up through Langstrath. This time there is a path option to mitigate the steep slope up to the Stake Pass, and we drop into the metronomic plod that seems to suit me well under the conditions even if Nigel could go faster. Martcrag Moor is usually a very marshy place, and there is still much Cotton Grass around to demonstrate the ecology, but the only thing dampening our feet is sweat. It’s the first time I have crossed it so dry.
Nigel kindly asks if the pace is ok. I laugh because of the irony that his question implies that a lower speed is possible without coming to a complete stop. I am definitely the limiting factor now, but the humour gives me a much-needed lift. However, our super-competitive attitude seems to have melted in the sun, and so Nigel does not object when I request a small detour to Sergeant Man. It is a fantastic viewpoint, and a favourite of my late mother’s. After a few moments to reflect, down we go to beautiful Codale Tarn, nestling in the folds of the landscape. Two women are swimming in the Tarn, and Nigel calls out “It looks nice in there!”. “Come on in, the water’s lovely” they reply”. “I can’t, I’m in a race” says Nigel. “So are we” they say, “who cares?” The temptation is too much, so in goes Nigel whilst I gratefully rest my burning feet at the control and refuel for the remainder of our course.
Eventually the last control pops up and there is just a kilometre to go to the finish. My brain switches off completely, and we consequently miss our path junction and spend several minutes needlessly thrashing around in vegetation before regaining the path to the finish. The expenditure of effort is not quite over though, as we still have to trudge down to the village, but at least we can stop off on the way for a lemonade and a ginger beer respectively.
Best of all, it is only 30 minutes drive back to Nigel and Jackie’s house, with unlimited cold drinks, showers, and shade.
For the record, our total of 15h 50m made us 54th out of 65 finishers in the Harter Fell class, and 11th on Vet’s handicap. One third of the field of 98 retired or were otherwise disqualified. Sadly, Keith and Ian were among the retirees; after their heroics on day 1 they made the sensible decision just to walk back to Grasmere on day 2, going over the fells, but not doing the course. A similar attrition rate applied to the Carrock Fell class, and it was even higher on Kirkfell.
John Walmsley
