Following in Joss’
footsteps ….
Running off the final descent, I touched the bridge and stopped my watch. Bent over double, chest heaving, I felt happiness and relief all at once. But where did it all begin?
But living in Devon
brings its own challenges to lakeland ambitions. When I took off at 5am on
August 9th from Pooley Bridge, with my friend and support runner
Matt in tow, and driver Garry wishing us well, a stiff headwind slowed our
progress across the first few hours. Neither of us had reccied the first leg,
and it showed just past Stony Cove Pike, when we both got distracted by a cairn
that, for some reason, magnetically attracted us off our way and had us going
around in circles for 10 minutes trying to figure out which way to go.
Fortunately I could just about see Kirkstone Pass away to the south, and
forcing myself to obey the compass, headed us down in that direction. We reached
the car park bang on target pace for an MV55 (15 hours), but with a strong
sense of having left a good chunk of time go a begging on leg 1.
Fortunately, I was
joined across legs 2 and 3 by local runner Carol Morgan, and as the rain began
to fall, the clag descended and the gusts increased in severity, there was, at
least, less chance of going navigationally awry. We headed up the steep slopes
of Red Screes in a large group as another runner, Nick from Sheffield, was also
attempting the Challenge that day with his supporters. As we crested the hill,
Carol eased us away and we were on our own for the rest of the leg, chatting
away and swapping stories about growing up in Dublin.
There were a few
moments when the gusts were a bit spicy – I wouldn’t have wanted them any
stronger for sure. But on we went without mishap and soon we were in familiar
BGR territory, the summit of Fairfield, down to Seat Sandal with Dunmaile Raise
in view.
At this stage, we were
almost 20 minutes up on 15 hour pace, which was just fine by me. A quick
turnaround at the checkpoint, just enough time to refill bottles and load up
with salty potatoes (and yes, jokes were made by Garry and Matt about my food
choice!), and we were off up Steel Fell.
At least we were out
of the wind, briefly. From Steel Fell to High Raise will stay with me as a
boggy trudge of a slog in near white-out conditions and strong winds. I must
admit there were times when I was wondering surely there must be an easier line
we could take with some kind of trod, any kind of trod, to make the distance
pass a bit easier? But Carol was following her line of choice, a direct one,
and I was not about to quibble the route choice of an 11:50 JNC finisher!
In time, we passed
Rossetts Pike and Bowfell, talking all the while, and, as the weather began to
change, clouds lifting and light emerging, I had a strong sense that we were a
good half way around, things were going well and Styhead Pass was not so far
away. From there, I was confident of toughing it out.
But first there was
the descent of Great End to deal with, another section I had not covered before.
I could see the pass below us and it didn’t seem that far away, but the descent
seemed to take ages, time slowing down. At least it gave me time to get my
breath back, and I jogged into the pass with legs moving well. Thanking Carol
and greeting Sarian, Debs, Scott and Matt, there was just enough time to
swallow some soup, munch a delicious slice of quiche, and refill bottles before
pressing on. Now 36 minutes up on 15 hour pace, a sub-14 clocking was a real
possibility.
Scott, along with his
two dogs, led us up Great Gable, Matt and myself following on. What a
difference! Suddenly we could see all the hills around us, etched with detail
in the afternoon sunlight. Valleys opened up, lakes glistened and the sea greeted
us to the west. The wind was still fresh, but nothing like as gusty as earlier,
with the added advantage of drying the rock. The next few hours were simple
enough. Follow Scott, remember to appreciate where I was and who I was with, ignore
the tiredness and keep pushing!
Steeple was
magnificent. Both Matt and myself marvelled at the contrast with just 3
weekends before, when on BGR support we had passed this way without seeing much
at all. I began to look at my watch regularly, too much perhaps, wondering if a
thirteen and a half hour finish was within reach. More new ground to me. First Seatallan
came and went, then Middle Fell. But how far to go and where on earth was
Greendale? Hiding under the hillside of course. I found the bridge with my
eyes, trying to hurry yet avoid a fall on the still tricky descent. Wastwater
away to our left and suddenly we were on a grassy slope threading our way
through the bracken. The pace lifted, I found the bridge with my feet and
suddenly we were home. 13 hours, 26 minutes, 53 seconds. Relieved and happy, that’ll
do!
Thank you to all the
team: Garry for miles of driving and organising and knowledge sharing; Sarian
for endless optimism, putting the team together, offering advice and coming up
to Styhead; Carol for advice, nav and great chats; Debs for the home-made soup
and quiche at Styhead; Scott ‘GPS’ for superb nav; Matt for pace, company and
support and, last but not least, Marie for the sausage rolls.








