Clay Bank West

Last race of 7 in the NE Counties Champs and one that I was keen to get to in order to complete 4 and count for the series overall. Bit of a haul all the way from Belford, but the fount of fell running knowledge that is Phil Green (You can rely on PG Tips!) gave good directions and I made it in time to join the queue (!) to enter. If queueing is a peculiarly British thing then surely queueing to enter a fell-race must be one of our ultimate perversities? Yes- it was a popular race and attracted a record entry despite the unpleasant weather. Eventually the organising crew whittled the queue down and set everyone on their way. We were on quite a steep incline up through the woods for the first few hundred metres until the track levelled and became a nice little stream! Some of the muddiest running I've encountered for a while! Great fun but occasionally treacherous with stones, potholes and tree-roots ready to snag the unwary. Being quite a short course, a little over 4 miles by my measurement, initial pace was quick- and combined with the climbing start, then boggy ground, made for a testing first couple of miles. Things didn't get any easier after that because once we left the swampy track along the wood edge it was to turn and climb again- across a field and then onto the open tops on stone flagged steps and path. A rocky scramble brought the course to it's high point at The Wainstones and then it was flatter for a while along the ridge with super views all round even through intermittent rain and sleet. Last bit was a quick descent from the ridge back down to the tree-line from whence we'd emerged, and then back to base down the first hill we'd taken on the out.
Right from the off it was Will Horsely who made the running. I've not seen him go from the front before but this was to be a tactic which put him in an untouchable lead before perhaps just a mile was done on this occasion. An impressive run. The next few places thereafter were hotly contested as a look at the results will show. The first two ladies Shelli Gordon and Charlotte edge also finished with just a hairs breadth between them! I managed a 10th overall which I was fairly happy with although I wasn't feeling  particularly strong at any point .Those more familiar with the course perhaps knew to temper the early enthusiasm and save a bit for later and I dropped 2 or 3 places to some who were stronger in the second half. I was cross at myself for missing an optional drop-off point from the ridge near the end that Mr. Green had forewarned me about. Taking the slightly longer route cost me a place in the last minutes. Even so I  somehow managed to get amongst the prizes which were- to say the least- abundant! In short, between them the various category winners, winning teams and other prize recipients took away an off-licence worth of wine! So- thanks to organisers from Esk Valley for hosting a super event. Results at their site: http://www.eskvalleyfellclub.org/results.htm and, along with series overall at NFR: http://www.northumberlandfellrunners.co.uk/

Karl's Kielder Cruise/Jedburgh Half Marathon.

Having enjoyed the company of the Merry Men a couple of sundays ago I allowed my arm to be twisted again by Mr.Wait and enlisted for some of the miles of the epic Langlee-Kielder jaunt he was planning. Despite not feeling up to the whole 30 something miles involved I probably would've had a go if I'd been able to give over the neccessary time. That's my story and I'm sticking to it. Did the surf forecast for the afternoon have anything to do with wimping out of the full whack? Merely a rumour....

An early start was order of the day and I hurriedly guzzled some porridge and coffee to get to Langlee for 7am. Alot of rain during the night had woken me up a few times but consequent thoughts of  mudbath conditions underfoot were replaced by a new environmental concern as the Cheviots loomed into view whilst I drove over toward Wooler. The higher tops were all ghostly white with snow! Karl took my text: "Have you got your snowshoes?" to be a joke since the Wooler contingent of the running party didn't see the conditions until they got up the valley. No white stuff lying at lower altitude or clogging the roads though, so our group was promptly assembled, trussed up with hydration packs and appropriate gear and ready for the off. The 'Famous Five' taking on the long haul up Cheviot, along the Pennine Way to Byrness then on to Kielder via the Forest Drive were: Karl Wait, Bruce Crombie, David Egan, Alison Wright and Sue Mitchell. I was to play a mutineering Timmy The Dog, only staying faithful to the gang until just past Cheviot summit before haring off on my own tangent to do a loop I had in mind.

Despite the rough weather conditions overnight we were blessed with a still day and, as we ascended Cheviot, the dawn put on a bit of a show for us with the sun cresting Hedgehope to our left and lighting up the snow crusted terrain. Beautiful...

Further up where it was cooler the mist enveloped eerily and moisture droplets beaded on eyebrows, eyelashes, buffs and beards. It was cold underfoot but the mud wasn't as bad as I'd expected. In fact I've run Chevy Chase in July a few times and found myself sinking deeper than I did this time! With steady walking on the steeps and then jogging again once on the flagstones we were soon at the summit.

After that it wasn't long before the parting of the ways. When I'd first thought I might do some of this mission I'd envisaged going along the Border Ridge/Pennine Way for a while with the group and then returning the same way. That plan changed though because I saw the opportunity to do a loop route and take in a bit of Cheviots territory I'd never yet visited. I was going to drop off Cheviot by Auchope Cairn then down into College Valley as far as Southernknowe, before climbing again to Goldscleugh Farm then going back across to Langlee via the Broadhope watershed and Hawsen Burn. The latter part of this cicuit, Southernknowe across to Langlee, was the unseen bit for me. So- where the Pennine Way bore off from Cheviot- we said our goodbyes and I proceeded alone in the mist with the occasional  grouse cackling as I passed.

I hadn't descended far when I passed 4 walkers trudging up the way. They didn't seem unduly surprised to see a solo frosty bearded loon running towards them but neither did they engage me in pleasant conversation or a share of mint cake or owt like that! Dropping sharply after Auchope Cairn the mist started to lift revealing perhaps the nicest view of the day for me; dappled sunlight spreading across The Schill in the foreground and a thin snowbound line of the Pentlands showing on the far horizon.

Camera batteries gave up after that though so I could concentrate on running! Before long I was in the College Valley and at Mounthooly. Karl had suggested taking a woodland track rather than the road to Southerknowe but I wasn't sure of the turn-off, or if it was a right of way. The stretch along to Goldscleugh, still on road, was a steeper and much slippier ascent than expected. There, in the shadow of Cheviot it had stayed colder and the tarmac was a bit treacherous. Up to the right Bizzle Crags were still well shrouded in mist but at Goldscleugh the sun was making an appearance again and I set about the last stretch, back on tracks through bracken and heather, up to the watershed below Broadhope Hill and then down the Hawsen Burn. Perhaps a little too quick pace for the road miles was taking it's toll. I felt well ropey and tired as I plugged away at the side of Broadhope. This was the wettest stretch too, water running down the track in a little stream. My thoughts were with the others, hoping non of them felt as dodgy as I did by then. Descending the last stretch beside the burn through the little valley was much easier though and I got back to the start point exactly 3 hours after setting out.

The others had estimated being on the go for at least 7-7.5 hours so they would still have a lot ahead of them. I let Karl's wife (Back up Crew Co-ordinator) know I was back in one piece and received a few entertaining texts through the day telling of their progress. All eventually passed off successfully for them and other blogs will tell of their progress. A fantastic effort.

Bonus extra for me came later on in the afternoon when a nice swell pushed some good waves in across the reef and beach at Bamburgh which I managed to take advantage of. Suffered a few eye-watering cramps in the calf regions though so the compression tights got an airing in the evening. Recommended!

Jedburgh Half Marathon the previous week was a very well organised and straightforward affair. My first blast at a road Half for many a year. Several WRC members along; Pauline, Nick J., Simon and Pam, as well as Mr Crombie and myself. Special mention should be given to Bruce's good lady- Leanda-setting out for her very first Half. I saw quite a few familiar faces from the Borders XC series too and Moorfoot in particular were well represented and clocked some impressive times. The day couldn't have been better really with sunshine and a light cooling breeze now and again. The course is a relatively flat out and back- near enough, with just a small ascent between 10 & 11miles. 4 water stations en-route mean no excuse for getting thirsty. Chip timing adds to the slick organisation.
I had a good race and was pleased to clock 1hr 22min 10sec, without any special prep for the event, and get inside the top 20 overall. Perhaps the first 3 miles were a little faster than I'd intended going but I didn't lose too much pace once I started to tire after 9 miles and was gaining places all the way except for one lad I'd passed with about 400m to go who just had the legs to outsprint me to the line. Full results etc at: http://www.jedburghhalfmarathon.org.uk/



Merry Men's Muddy Monkish Mission.

Mr Wait started hatching the plan to run some of The St. Cuthbert's Way quite a while ago if I remember rightly, and I'd expressed an interest when the idea first sprang up but then the trail went cold, as it were, and nothing more was said until a couple of weeks ago. Both Karl and Bruce were in touch a few days before the planned date and eventually I declared myself 'in'.

A quick virtual recce via goodrunguide and its excellent route-planner facility showed a distance of about 17miles and modest climbs amounting to about 850ft. I knew we were in for some pleasant territory in the latter half as we would approximately bisect one of my favourite training loops out of Belford, but the first few miles were much less familiar to me. And even the best route-planners, sat-navs and whatever can't tell you what the going is like underfoot, so a bit of local knowledge came as a good fore-warning when my dear old Mum told of one section through Kyloe Woods: "A bloody quagmire!"

8am rendezvous at The Riverside in Wooler and we were underway. I was re- introduced to Dave Egan, experienced ultra-runner, who I'd met fleetingly at Borders Search & Rescue Run before I charged off to get myself lost. Dave had put in a few miles already having run down from home at Branxton as a warm up! Messers Crombie, Wait and Pringle, in addition to myself, made up the rest of the party. Mr. Crombie can also claim some ultra-running experience. He modestly mentioned that he'd met Mr. Egan whilst participating in The Lakeland 50 earlier this year. Bravo! Mr Wait, not to be outdone by Mr. Crombie, soon declared that he too was to join the ranks of The Ultras having entered the Highland Fling (53miles?) next April. It dawned on me that between them, over the course of 2 races, these mega-mileage headcases would probably clock up more miles than I had so far this year. Mr. Pringle, a man of fewer words than the others, declined to 'big-up' any of his past achievements/future plans and focused on the route ahead.

Away we went over Weetwood Moor taking in the steepest climb of the day within the first half mile! Weather was overcast with sporadic rays of sunshine and more sporadic showers. Nice views over Wooler to Cheviot as we dropped down to Weetwood Bridge but barely time to take them in before Mr.Wait took centre stage by 'slowing himself down grabbing some bracken fronds' and lacerated his finger in the process. An amplified heart rate and (so it seemed) haemophilia gave rise to quite an impressive amount of gore which he only partly staunched with some bog roll. Between us, first rate boy-scouts that we were, we had zero first-aid provision! Well- Dave had some ibuprofen and a plaster he'd used before on a blister...or something. We pressed on up the undulating road to the Hortons, Mr. Wait growing paler with every step, our sympathies flagging likewise. Over Wait's relentless demands for attention Mr. Crombie outlined a rather energetic pyramid session he'd run on the very same road just the other day... I was finding out just how Merry these Merry Men could be! At Hazelrigg Schoolhouse Wait, now paler than death itself and weaving about the road unsteadily due to lack of blood, took practical action and accosted the occupant with a request for a plaster for his poorly finger. And was met with a similar measure of sympathy there as from his fellow runners. The mangled stump was starting to scab over though and before long we had the distraction of Cuddy's Cove to marvel at. Had dutiful monks really traversed this path on their own ultra trek, loyally carrying the corpse of their mate? If Wait started bleeding again would we have to loyally carry the corpse of our mate the rest of the way to Holy Island? Doubtful. On both counts.

 

Above Cuddy's Cove the vistas of the coast and almost all of the remainder of the route were spread out before us. Apart from the near loss of Wait's arm, and some soreness which was troubling Mr.Pringle, we were all intact and ready to set about the slime which we soon encountered as we descended and got amidst Kyloe Woods and Dolly Parton's Lonnen. (Well- 'Dolly Somebody-or-Other's Lonnen' but, for some reason, Dolly Parton was the name that stuck.) Mr. Crombie pointed out an interesting feature of the landscape alongside the track, a higgledy-piggledy collapsed fence-line which he remembered erecting a few weeks before... The mud was good pre cross-country season experience and surprisingly little of it stuck. After the wooded section another brief stint on the road took us through Fenwick and across the A1 then our next little obstacle was the railway line. Messers Egan and Wait flagrantly disobeyed all safety warnings and sprinted across, probably without even looking! The much more safety conscious Mr. Crombie followed the correct procedure and phoned the signalman from a little telephone kiosk provided.... Three phone calls later we were eventually on our way again! (1st call: "No. Don't cross. A train is coming. Tell your mates who did cross that they're lucky to be alive. Especially the one who is bleeding. Phone again when train has passed!"/ 2nd call: "Ok. Cross now. Phone again from other side."/ 3rd call: "Right, if you're all safely across the Transport Police won't need to be informed.")

Onto the foreshore and the last lap was following the line of marker poles that show the most direct route across to Holy Island itself; The Pilgrim's Way. Since this is a pathway I've always wanted to walk or run, but never actually got around to doing,  it was the part of the route that I enjoyed most. (It being totally flat and the finish and pub within sniffing distance had nowt to do with it!) Feeling pretty lively I struck out a bit faster for this last couple of miles along with Mr.Crombie and we did our best to keep the quicker pace even where it got muddiest and slippiest, just before we were back to road again. Our arrival at the Chare Ends coincided almost perfectly with that of Mr. Murray-John who had very sportingly agreed to come and collect us all in Crombie's pick-up even though a knee injury had put him out of the day's running. Before leaving for home we enjoyed beers on the island in The Ship where the barman did look somewhat dubious at Mr.Egan's claim of having run all the St. Cuthbert's way from Melrose in his bid for a free pint. Despite my prior concern we weren't turned away at the door even though covered in mud and blood and sweat, and the crowds strangely dispersed to leave us the best seats by the fire! Jolly hospitable. And a great finish to the morning out.