Herod Farm Fellrace 2012 race report

I have shamelessly nicked Ians photo. Thanks Ian.

It is a year since we moved to Glossop. Last year, my first fellrace as a local was Herod Farm. I was keen to see how my running has progressed since last year and have very much been looking forward to this years edition!

However, just as an aside from running, for a moment, last year I turned up to the race knowing no-one, not really knowing what was going on, but still had a good time. This year, I am part of the organising club, there were many friendly faces, to say hello to, and others from elsewhere that apparently knew me even though I had no idea who they were.
So socially, fellrunning is a definite tick.

This year, Herod farm was Lynne's first real fellrace- she has done a few navigational races this year, but not a straight through, non nav, hill-tastic leg blast. I'm sure there will be a lovely account on her blog sometime soon.

The weather this year was somewhat different to last, being claggy, wet and horrible for the days leading up to it, and throughout the race as well. The course was muddy and grungy and slippery, but eminently runnable and likely to get churned up if you were far down the field.
After signing in and getting numbers, we jogged up to the start, followed by a quick trip up the first part of the course.
Julien, still with arm in converted sling from crocking his arm at Lads Leap was with me as we came back down the hill to the start- faced with mass ranks of runners- ready to start.

Perfect timing. We slotted in near the front of the pack, and listened to andy's pre-race talk, short and sweet. A rousing cheer was given for Joe Barber, local merchant, race sponser, and this year, participant as well.
All too soon, it was ready, steady, go, and we were off, pounding the path.

I don't know if I am the only one to think about races before I run them- but when I do, I envision myself near the front, running along effortlessly with everyone else, ready to blast out and really put some leg speed in.
Reality is somewhat different.

The lead guys shoot off like gazelles, and I'm trudging up the path, among a crowd of others, struggling to contain my gasping breath, wondering why it feels so hard to run up a slight incline. Barely 200yards into the race I'm out of breath bewildered as to where all my supposed fitness has gone- all illusions of keeping up with the guys at the front, vanished.
I see a few glossopdale vests ahead of me- one of them Julien- who is "taking it easy" on account of his fractured shoulder.
Crikey.

The path steepens and I get into a bit of a stride, Grouse comes passed me and we nod a greeting. Up onto the first part of the mud and grass and the guys in front of me begin to walk. On my recce a week ago I was able to run this quite happily. What's going on that I am now reduced to walking as well?! Walk/run up to the gate where Charlie was standing, (looking very dapper with an umbrella), left up the hill, and again, more walking.
I put in a burst and overtook 3 guys, including Steve in a GDH vest, and then try to keep up with Grouse as we alternately walk and run up the remainder of the hill.

A glorious picture of me at my best. Thanks ShaunP

Hit the top of the section, and julien is in front of us, we give chase up and over the bomb-holed grassy field, over the stile- with someone else in close pursuit. Legs feeling a bit better now, round the high point, with Neil Shuttleworth encouraging us on from the sidelines, and plunge down the first descent. Grouse catches Julien up fast, but I take my time, taking a different line over the stream, to stay in touch with him. Over a stile and into the heather.

Halfway through there is a section where you can end up in a marshy bit if you're not careful, I skirt round it and Grouse goes through it, enabling me to get round and in front of him. Down, through a stile and down the steep slippy hill. The next stile is horrible, especially if approached directly perpendicular to it, I carve out left and circle in to take it at an angle instead of having to slow too much, up, ove... Foot catches in the wire on the top.
Bugger.
Topple forward, but manage to release my foot, scrabble for some kind of balance and realise I'm losing it. Tuck, roll, up and keep running, with grouse saying 'can ye do that again, I missed it'.
We pass Ian marshaling at the corner (credit goes to him for the photo), and Grouse passes me on the path. Over the fields, and he's making good his escape and I know someone else is breathing down my neck. Through bog, mud and a couple of gates, right, through the archway of trees to the bottom of the final hill, trying desperately not to blow my legs up before getting to it.
Up through a quagmire which breaks my stride and I end up walking where I was happily jogging last week. Again. A guy in green shorts overtakes, I try and keep up with him, turning the legs over, yet he gets further away. I figure I'm doing damage to whoever is behind me, but have to drop to a walk.
Julien comes past me. Its inspiring when someone theoretically old enough to be your dad, with a fractured bone in his arm, cruises along by as you're struggling up a hill.

Beryl, marshalling and enjoying the April weather. Thanks again ShaunP

If he can do it. So can I. Back to a jog, and then through the gate. He takes more of a lead and I concentrate on trying to keep the guy behind me, behind me. I can hear rasping breaths, and it sounds like Matt. Just need to keep in front up here and I'll have him on the down hills anyway. Legs. Legs. Legs. Pain and tiredness, but Beryl and Carl are at the top, shouting encouragement to everyone. I try to run the last few steps to the top, and a glance under my arm confirms someone breathing down my neck. But its not Matt. Someone else- an unknown quantity on descents- just go for it then.
Julien is in front, but not desperately far away, catchable as he is 'taking it easy' Grouse is a long way ahead, catchable only if he makes a mistake. Unlikely.

Plunge down the hill, brain off, brakes off, I must be stretching out on the guy behind me, but never bother checking. Over a stile, down a field, jump off the next one, down through heather and catch Julien as we hit the final stretch of road. (The mantra being muttered by both of us now being "Don't fall. Don't fall")

I hammer home, never looking back, but striding out as much as I can, coming in at 28:59, 20th place. 11 better than last year and a minute and a half cut off my time. Nice.
I'm happy with that!
Looking at splits, I was faster in every part of the race in comparison to last year, excellent. Not quite there yet, still a long way to go. But progress has been made.


Apologies for the lack of photos, Lynne and I were both running and didn't really have much of a chance to take any. There were a few guys out there on the course, so as and when I can blag a couple more, they will be posted.

Bog Warriors take on the High Peak Marathon

Julien and Ian, pre-race

An MEP, and IT consultant, a construction consultant and a massage therapist go for a run in the fog and bog.
Sounds like the beginning to a very bad joke, but that was basically last night. Having been drafted into a team, pretty much at last minute, (though it was actually more like 2 teams that had been amalgamated together, with me tacked on at the end), I had not had the chance to neurotically worry about the weather, conditions underfoot, navigational problems, and all the other things that can make a long run go from challenging to downright unpleasant.
As it turns out I spent most of Friday day poring over a map and google earth, looking at lines that I had no idea if they were still on the ground, and trying to memorise key bits of the route which I had never done. Packed up all my stuff (I took far too much food, but thats another story), poked my head out the window and realised I could see a few planets and stars and thought, "oh, we've been lucky, a kind of clear night".

I then got a lift over to Edale with Sue, another late entrant, (though she had at LEAST 2 and a half weeks notice!) and as soon as we started driving, the clag came in. And it stayed in. Over the hill and into Edale it was approaching peasouper conditions. So much for a clear night then. This could make navigation a bit amusing.

race HQ

Once at the race HQ I had my first problem of the evening, finding out who my team were. Never met them before and only knew one of their names. A quick text to Ben to tell him I was there and was wandering about in a turquoise helly (maybe I should have been wearing a carnation as well...) we soon met up and had a brief chat about potential route choice. Howard was next, a veteran of HPM's, having a number of them under his belt. When I met him I saw he had a Lowe Alpine Contour runner bag- anyone who has one of those is alright in my book, so we sat down (or rather, stood up, considering the mass of bodies in the HQ and chatted about the slightly less obvious lines in the race).

Kit Check

Chris turned up soon after, and by 2230 we had registered, and got our kit checked, there wasn't long before we started, and people were gathering by the door. Being the 3rd running team off was a little daunting (not many lights to follow), but all too soon we were out of the door, away from the bright lights, and off down the road on our way up to Edale Cross.

The key to our plan for the run was to keep it nice and steady for the first half, so that we had enough in the tank to be able to run the last few miles as well. It took us 15 mins to get up to Hollins Cross, with Chris spending much of the time trying to work out how his new headtorch worked, and by the time we reached the checkpoint we had been overtaken by a couple of teams, and had overtaken a couple as well. We then dropped over the back and took a lower line on the South side of the hill, while all the other teams elected to go over the top. We jogged through, and got to the top of Lose hill before any of the teams that passed us, and they ended up going past again as we trundled down the hill into the to the outskirts of Hope. Which was nice, mainly because they were young and excited about running around like idiots, and having to pass the same team twice in about 30 mins when they were going as hard as they could is always going to be amusing.

Up Winhill, past Twitchhill, and we were doing well, keeping it steady, and not having too much trouble in any way shape or form. We hit the trig point check point, dibbed, and then shot off down through the woods. Thankfully, as one of the teams who started first, we had the advantage of not having a mass of teams on the descent to get past, or who were attempting to get past us. Down to the bottom, and straight up the other side, staying on the road up and over into High Neb. Legs were still feeling good, I wasn't wearing gloves as it was still fairly mild, and it was still clagged out, so we couldn't see more than about 10 metres in any direction. This looked like being a theme for the evening. We passed one of the walking teams just as we crossed the cattlegrid before heading up onto the moor.

Despite the low visibility we made our way to the checkpoint, dibbed and got out of there, continuing up and over to Moscar. Along this stretch we were overtaken by what looked like a very strong team, recognising this wasn't going to be the first time this evening that was going to happen. We jogged along under the edge, which you couldn't see unless you were standing directly underneath it, it was like being enclosed in a fog bubble that contained just us and our lights. Along and down into Moscar, the first food station, and the first opportunity to pull out if you were really feeling bad. As we walked in a voice piped up out of the gloom "is there a Tim Budd in this team"?
Oh no, who has been spreading rumours about me? I warily replied to the affirmative.
"Oh, Hi!" comes the answer, "Caroline McCann says hello!" Nice. Thanks Caroline!

We grabbed a little sustenance, a cup of tea, banana etc, and I refilled my water bladder, and off we trotted down the road with Howard recounting how this was a new part of the run, with the original route taking more of a scenic route through the fields, but it's had to be re-routed due to various issues.

Check point. In the Clag.

Bottom of the road, and hang a right, up onto the moor. This is where things could begin to get interesting. We haven't been lost yet, but this could be our chance, especially in the continuing zero visibility.
Not much of a problem getting up there, though there was a moment of doubt as we couldn't find a very obvious path. Then we found it, which led us directly to the Checkpoint, then up and onto the edge, getting a little confused and wayward around Saltcellar. I've never been up this way before, and I can say now, that considering the view (next to nothing), I still haven't really been up there!
A couple of teams came hurtling past us, as we got to the really quite massive path, which we followed along to Back tor. Its a long way along that path, and there was a map stop to make sure that we had not missed it, and just as we hit the turn off, another team passed- I recognised the voice, and it was Julien, Mark, John and Jasmine from High Peak Roller Bladers, bouncing along and doing well, not even checking to map read. We followed their lights across to Lost Lad, and had a minor navigational faff working out exactly which direction to head in to hit Shepards clough, but it was worth it, as we beelined in perfectly, hit the CP and turned to head up the route I had seen on Google Earth the day before.

Still minimal visibility and working from memory to a trod that I wasn't sure was going to be there worked perfectly. Up the side, and over foul clough, and a team came up behind us. I figured we were going in vaguely the right direction if there was someone following us, and as they passed, lo and behold, it was Julien and the High Peak Rollerbladers- again. No idea how we got in front of them, but we did.

First teams at Snake Summit

Directionally I now got a bit muddleheaded and have no idea how we really reached the next CP, but reach it we did, and then some. Ian Winterburn and Tiggers Brown Vests passed us just as we were getting to it, and we started out on the long horrendous bog monster patch that just seems to go on forever.
We walked. I couldnt see anything for mist except lights around us. At times, I couldn't even see the ground in front of me for the mist, and at several points after crossing massive groughs we lost the path completely, only to find it again a little later on.
It carried on like this for, oh, about a year or so.
Teams passed us, yet there wasn't anything we could really do. The path wasn't what you could call runnable, and my legs were beginning to burn. I was constantly on the look out for massive bogs which could swallow you whole, and at one point, Ben stepped into a puddle, that ended up coming up to his waist. The only reason he didn't sink further was because he threw his arms out. He got out, commenting that he didn't even touch the bottom.
Flipping heck.

Later, much later the path began to swing West, and underfoot began to take on a slightly different character. Less bog monster, and more will sapping nightmare that can only be described as the terrain leading up to Swains Head. We hit the navigational point of the mushroom stone dead on, (a stone which I hadn't heard about until yesterday, and has only seen 1 photo of), and then carried on up to Swains Head.

It was getting cold. Even with my Mitts on, my hands were cold, I was beginning to shiver, I hadn't eaten for ages, but didn't want to get any food out because it would chill my hands even more. It can't be to much further. Another team passes us, and I'm stumbling through the groughs. Right. Action.
We stopped to put on waterproofs, and in the meantime I grabbed food and started to nibble. Couldn't eat any faster or I would have come to a dead stop, but at least I was getting food into my system.
The drag up to Swains Head, which I have only done once before, in relatively good weather was as bad as I remembered. It took and indeterminable amount of time. We lost the path, we gained it, and lost it again, and ended up hitting it by instinct.

A quick stop and then carry on through groughy wasteland. The original plan being to work our way up the ridge, (not something I was looking forward to in my windchilled state). Going across to, and beyond Swains head was definitely the worst point of the whole race. I was questioning why I was there, questioning why I wasn't tucked up in bed somewhere, why I decided to even do this race at all, and how nice it would be to just stop. If there was a Minibus there that could have taken me home, I'd have got in it without hesitation at that point.

It was light by the time we hit Snake summit

On and on through the groughs, and eventually we hit a path heading south. Take this one.
I had an inkling that we had gone far too far to the West and that we had actually hit Far Black. As we continued up the hill, in the shelter of the grough, I was convinced. Brilliant. A chance to conserve some energy by not shivering and make good time by going up the "path". Which by now had been pretty churned up. The mud wasn't quite bog monster status, but it had a lot of Gloop factor.
Up the grough, and (eventually) bang onto Bleaklow stones.

From there, there are a couple of interesting and exciting navigational ways you can take to get to Bleaklow Head and Wainstones. I know them, but not all that well, and it was decided that we would follow the stakes. A safe option under the circumstances. It was just getting light, and by the time we were mid Bleaklow, head torches were finally off, and instead of seeing nothing but darkness and fog, we could just see fog. Nice to have a change.
To Bleaklow head. good navigation by Ben, and then to Wainstones, and a steady jog down to Snake summit. It was fantastic to finally get proper running again after a few hours of trudging endlessly through ankle/knee/waist deep bog.

We made good time down to Snake, where Lynne and Matt Dawson were cheering on all and sundry who passed. They had been there since some ridiculous time in the morning, and they were a welcome sight. Lynne took a load of photos, and they are going to be taking up a large portion of the photos in this blog.

FOOD STOP!

mmm. "food"

We stuffed a load of food into our mouths, I replenished my water, and looked forward to the rest of the flagstones across Bleaklow. Cross the road, with a longing look at my car which Lynne had driven up to Snake Summit- and across the flags. A shuffle over the stones was the next order of the day, over to Mill hill. I knew it was a long way, and I knew it would take a while, so I kept up what I hoped was a decent pace and we played yoyo with a couple of other teams as they walked and ran, and we walked and ran. It was complete purgatory. Legs hurting, muscles just about working and causing grimaces at every step. It was just time to grit the teeth and keep on keeping on.

off into the clag

After another couple of years later and we finally, finally, finally reached Mill hill. Across and up to Kinder, where we passed Andy Howie from Pennine.
The climb to Kinder was horrible, and I can honestly say I have never felt such heavy legs on a climb. My adductors and vastus medialis were beginning to really hurt, as were my feet. Across the top we were just shuffling, and there was nothing more to it than that. Along past Red Brook 2 figures popped out of the mist, John and Charlie, who were out for a run. Apparently they had taken an "interesting" line and just happened upon the path as we appeared out of the mist, (I would love to say that we ran past, but really, it was much less than a run).

Coming off Kinder is a bit of a blur, and we hit Edale Cross, where Carl was camping out, taking photos- another delightful surprise. I could barely believe how many Glossopdalers were out, and it was a great morale boost. The Haribo came out at this point, and I knew I'd be surviving on sugar up to the end of this now. Passed Brown Knoll, and I fished around for another haribo packet. I came out with some Kendal Mint cake. Well, its not haribo, but it will definitely do.
Across and over the bog to the North East of the trig, checking a bearing we slushed through the mud, now pretty much immune to anything.
Just in case you were wondering, yes, the clag was still down, and no, the visibility was no more than 20 metres at best. Still clagged in, after 10 hours or so. Off the hill, and across Lords seat. About 300 metres before the next checkpoint there were a kindly couple doling out haribo and coffee. More sugar. Excellent. Just what I need.
The wind was blowing across the edge, sending hard mist into our heads. (thats rain). Last check point, and we are still running. Fantastic, making pretty good time at the end. So glad that we are still running instead of walking this last part of the grind.
A little further ahead, who should we bump into, but Becky, Alison, Lindsay and John Stephensen. Another uplifting moment as we toiled on to the final point at Edale Cross.
Legs really hurting now. I can see that Ben is also suffering, wheras Howard and Chris seem to be not all that much worse for wear.
Its the superhuman old man syndrome. Once you start them running, they just don't stop.

Final downhill into Edale and a "sprint" up the road to the end.
Yes, its still misty and claggy, and we stopped the clock at 11:18:51. Not too shabby at all, considering we were an amalgamated team with very little preparation. In the end we were very well matched as a team, running together all the way around, never with anyone lagging behind or shooting off ahead. A brilliant effort.

Discussing tactics, post race

Julien with the Mixed team trophy.

High Peak Rollerbladers- 1st mixed team in 9:18 or so. Mark, Jasmine, John and Julien

Lots of things hurt now, and I think I may take a couple of days rest from running, but it was a fantastic experience. The only thing that annoyed me was that we ran through crappy weather for the entire thing. I'm sure that there are some fantastic views to be had across the entire route. I suspect that I'll be doing it again in the summer when I can actually see what is going on, so that I can appreciate what is out there, rather than running on what is essentially a boggy, treacherous, clag filled treadmill.

Thanks to all the marshalls who stood out in the bog for hours for us lot to come past and dib, and for the great organisation. Well done to High Peak Rollerbladers, who finally won a prize after a number of years in perpetual 2nd and 3rd place. (ok, they were still 2nd overall, but only by about 15 mins), its one heck of a trophy as well.
And of course thanks to Ben, Chris and Howard for the camaradarie and the trot around the hills. It was (mostly) a pleasure. For a team that was put together at the last minute we hung together well, and ran well. A great night out, but next time... its going to be in the daylight.

If you're interested, here is the track.

Its odd how the mind works

Found out that another runner I know went over on his ankle before the weekend, figured it was just a sprained ankle. After a couple of days of it not going down, he was badgered into going to hospital where they found a helixical fracture of the fibula.

Flippin heck.
Found out that yesterday.
I was going to go for a run during the day but thought better of it. Lots of snow and ice all over the place, very likely to slip, fall and do myself a mischief. So I sat inside and did an hour on the turbo.

It got to evening and I hadn't really been out. Club night. I steeled myself, got some gear on, made sure my spikes were in the bumbag and went out. Wore the spikes all evening, there were times when they weren't needed, and times when they definitely were. However, the main thing holding me back at the beginning was the fear of falling and doing something horrible.
It didn't happen.

A lot of time its the fear in the head that holds you back. Occasionally its justified. Most of the time its not.

Trigger- First race of the Year

Awakening at 5:50am for a race isn't something I had done for a very long time, however, it was a reality. A beautifully clear sky, frost and ice on the car awaited us. Breakfast and coffee, and a while to wake up properly, and we were on our way to Marsden. We went via 3 pick up points for fellow racers that we were ferrying to the start.
Although there was ice on the road, there was a lot of grit too, so no issues in getting there.

Pre-start

We were pretty much the first people to the race centre, and Ian from Woodhead Mountain Rescue (and DarkPeak) was there in full kit check capacity, making sure that everyone had the required kit.
A quick shuffle through, picked up the race number and sat down to chill out (quite literally) and wait.
Soon enough, people were arriving in droves. There were 200 entries, and it was over subscribed, to make up for any droppoutage.

Prep, note the lack of long legs on shorts. oops.

Waiting for the start was cold, and the water in my Camelbak tube froze while I left it on the floor. Schoolboy error! Thankfully, Lynne had some hot water in a flask in the car, so I used a cup of that to defrost the offending bit. Thank goodness. That might have caused a few problems! There was good banter at the start, a large number of Glossopdalers had entered and were standing around getting cold. I was very very glad that I had my down jacket on, which was about to be thrown into the car. One minor issue was that I had decided I'd wear shorts. Seemed sensible. But the vast majority of the competitors were wearing long tights. I hadn't even brought a pair to change into had I wanted to, and it was freezing. (-5 by someones reckoning). I had a Helly hansen top on, and a pair of merino arm warmers under that. The combination, along with the sealskinz lobster gloves should keep me warm all along the race. Very soon we were called together for a short speech before a very non-ceremonial 3-2-1.... go.

Waving at the off

Off we went into the sunrise. Beautifully clear, blue sky above us, not a breath of wind, and a couple of miles of running ahead of us. I've never raced this kind of distance before- but I have run it, so I thought I'd just focus on surviving rather than going all out, settling into a relaxed pace I saw the leaders hammering off into the distance. I was quite high up in the field, but not hooning away in any shape or form. Up the road, onto a wide track, and Matt from Glossop was a few steps ahead, so I sped up to have a chat as we ran alongside Butterly reservoir. Still cold, and very, very still, the surface was mirror-like, and you could see a very thin crust of ice that had formed in a zigzag shape across the middle. The sun was coming up over the hill, and I was very glad for my peaked cap that I had decided to wear- pretty much at the last minute, with a lot of the people around me being dazzled by the sun so low in the sky.

As we started climbing slightly I decided to let Matt get on with it and drop back slightly- his pace was a little faster than mine uphill, and I didn't want to hold him back, or burn out this early in the race. Toddling along at my own pace holding my own with a few others, we passed a bevy of deer up in a farm to our left, and then a flock of sheep, just lined up across the dam at Wessenden reservoir.
We carried on up, a massive line of runners, perhaps spread out over a kilometre or so by now, the path carried on up the hill, and then, all of a sudden, runners were splitting from the path and hacking out across bog. Everyone was doing it, and as I hadn't reccied this bit I thought, no harm in following them, and tagged along at the back. Over a boggy stream, up a hill our first real taste of off road running- very hard and icy, over a couple of stiles, and down a hill. Hey presto. We're at Isle of Skye road.

Credit- Rich Asquith - Flaming Photography

That was fast. Excellent. Eat half a Geo-bar, (there is no sense in carrying food that I'm not eating), and after all, a long run is really just an extended food management exercise, I thought I'd just carry on at that pace.

Across the road, with a fantastic cloud inversion across to the East, we travelled down into a slight valley, and then up the hill, which always promised to be a bit of a slog. The paving slabs underfoot were generally ok, but in places where water had trickled across them over night, were a bit treacherous. Very very slippy ice and black ice was in evidence, and you had to be a bit careful with your foot placement. I nearly slipped once, but held it together quite happily. Up the hill, walking, then running, then walking, then running, a skein of about 50 geese winged its way overhead, honking quite merrily, which was a fantastic sight to see on such a clear day. Up and up, as we crested the rise, the wind was howling up from the South, with quite a chill in the air, clothing management, and the Buff came off my wrist and on my head, under the cap, covering my ears. Mmm. Thats warmer. At one point we had to cross a stream, careful managment of foot placement should see me across it happily enough. Down to the rock by the waters edge, a launch, on which my foot skidded quite spectacularly, and a rather ungainly step into the middle of the cold cold water. Nice. According to the photo that was taken by Rich Asquith a little later on, a cut on my leg... no idea that was there. (Go to his website Flaming Photography for some excellent images of the race)

I was still in no-mans land. The faster runners way off ahead, the slower-faster runners a about 200 yards ahead, and the faster-slower runners behind, but my cold, wet foot was warming up with every step.
Coming up to the first trig, Black Hill, we passed the Woodhead Mountain Rescue contingent who were marking off our numbers as we came through, and I was finally on ground that I vaguely knew, and the first downhill section of the race. Excellent, I'll make up a bit of time here.
At this point, I was behind a couple of people who were running together, but quickly dispatched them. But the ground was not nice to run on. It should have been a bit boggy, quite squishy, and easy to run on. Not a bit of it. It had iced over, the ground was rock solid, tufts of grass were sticking up which were also iced solid, unstable ground was frozen and unforgiving, and at speed, it would have been pretty vicious ankle spraining territory. Not quite the downhill flying section I was anticipating.
Ah well, keep it together, and just keep going downhill. I was gaining on a few people, and without really trying, took a few quite easily. Jumping across ditches was interesting, because you couldn't trust that the ground was going to be forgiving and easy to land on. It was like concrete.
Except the bits with a thin crust of ice which you went through to get another cold shoe of water, and cut your shins on the ice.

The ground steepened as we surged down toward Crowden Littlebrook, and I was finally catching up with Matt and his little group of runners. Ian Winterburn was taking some wild lines across the bog, and when I saw there was a curve in the path ahead, I decided I'd just bee-line it across. Great idea. Well executed, and then a fall, a roll and get up, in front of about 8 runners- getting up just in time to see the ground radically steepen below me down toward Littlebrook, and a gaggle of Mountain Rescue Guys who were waiting for people like me to come crashing down the hill.
But I stood up, carried on running, looked down the steepness and assessed where the best line for getting down the clough and up the other side, and, to be honest, it looked best and most straight forward to follow the fall line.
Bang, straight down, across the river, up again and onto the path, in the process passing all 8 people. Saying "Hi" to the MRT guys in as nonchalant style as possible, trying to make it seem as if the whole thing was planned, I gained the path, fixed my eyes on the runner ahead, and plodded. I fully expecting the horde of people I had just thundered past to gain on me and overtake at any moment.
Nope. Not a bit of it.

Carried on, caught up with the next runner- which was Dan, who I did the 15 trigs with mid last year. We carried on, and still, no-one was catching us up. Ah well, quite a good little line there then.

Along the path, and then a descent into Crowden, we were eventually getting caught, down and a dodgy road crossing, passed another gaggle of MRT members and then along the reservoir to the dam, and then up and onto Bleaklow- the 2nd climb of the day.
I knew there were helicopters buzzing around, working on the "Moors for Future" project, ferrying large sacks of moss and heather and other stuff up onto the moors. I had heard there was a Huey up there, and didn't really believe it, but as we approached there was that trademark deep "choka-choka-choka" that you hear on films like Platoon and Apocalypse Now. Flipping heck. There's a Huey up there!

I was with Dan, Andy and Matt, all Glossopdalers, and John Doyle from Pennine, as we headed up across the road and up the slopes, it was just like a club run. To the right were people clay-pigeon shooting, up above us were low flying helicopters, it was certainly like no other fellrace I have ever run.
Ian W was at it again with his various "short-cuts" which inevitably brought him out at the same place as us, at exactly the same time.
Up and then, really, up. A scramble up a semi-dry waterfall/stream bed, straight up, clinging onto heather and rocks, and all too soon, it was over, and on to the top, along Lawrence Edge up to Wildboar clough.
By the end of the scramble I had no one around me, with everyone taking different lines up, so I set off in pursuit of John- not very fast pursuit, I must hasten to add, but I was pursuing.

Coming up to Snake Summit

To be honest, I was shuffling a bit by now, but keeping moving. Heading up through Wildboar clough it was icy as a freezer. Underfoot was horrible, and I nearly twisted my ankles numerous times. I heard footsteps behind me, figuring it was Andy, Dan or Matt, I carried on and figured they'd pass me at some point in the very near future. The Huey continued to thunder overhead, at times seeming to be just a couple of hundred metres off the deck, may be closer. Those things are LOUD!

We trudged up the clough, which seemed to take an age, and then a massive leap over the stream at the end and up, over the stile.
At this point, I realised the guy behind me wasn't a familiar one, we had a quick conversation about lines up and onto Bleaklow, so I told him to follow me up and over, there was a pretty good line, so we carried on.
The line up to the Pennine Way was fine, nothing out of the ordinary occurred, no-one over took us, and really, we didn't see anyone until we got up to Bleaklow Head, a turn about and over to Wain stones.

On my last recce, in the midst of fairly average Bleaklow weather I ended up going far too far in the wrong direction, completely missed my point, gave up and got myself off the hill for dinner time. Nothing like that today. It was clear as a bell, and as we passed the MRT guys at Wain stones I looked out for the trod going across to Herne Stones, and then onward to the Trig point. I missed it completely. However, no problem at all, as the bogs we were crossing, normally leg sucking monstrosities, were iced over and solid underfoot. By this time Craig (yes, we had introduced ourselves by now, and exchanged life stories) and I could see a couple of people who were ahead, and appeared to have taken the correct line, however, by bashing across the bog in a straight line, we caught up to them as we passed Herne stones, and had over taken them by the time we had got to the Trig point. - It was Dark Peaker John Boyle (not to be confused with John Doyle who I mentioned earlier... I ALWAYS get them the wrong way around, sorry guys). At the trig point Craig and I turned South East and powered down the hill toward the waterfall in Crooked clough.
Again, the ground, rough and hard, ankle snapping stuff, but we got off ok. Up onto the trod, and then a bust across the moor onto the Pennine way. I completely stuffed the line up and broke up too early, but again, the frozen ground came to the rescue, and we hit the Path early with no problems at all. We were discussing lines across to Kinder now, and Craig was saying his friends told him the best line, without doubt, was straight down the flagstones and up onto Kinder. Fine, if he wanted to go that way, not a problem, I was going straight over Featherbed Moss. He asked if he could go with, and as he asked so nicely, I said yes.

Away over Featherbed Moss

An easy pace down toward the Snake Pass where Lynne was waiting with a camera and water if I needed it, which I didn't, MRT members were also there, and we got across the road without incident, through the gate, hang a left, and up the Landy track. Skirting Featherbed Moss we resorted to walking at points, as we saw John Doyle ahead of us- we reccied the same route a couple of weeks before. Over the "crest" and now we could see the line of the ascent up to Kinder. But not before a hellish descent over groughs and through heather to get to the bottom of Ashop Clough. I swear it took half a lifetime to get through that lot- it certainly didn't seem that far when I reccied it the other day, but to be fair, that was just a bob over the hill as opposed to having run 15 miles beforehand.

The climb up Kinder was horrible. Nothing like Bleaklow, which was more of a scramble, this was just a long, hard, horrible slog that seemed to go on forever. Getting tired now, and eating the last of my "normal" food, only "emergency" type food left- but I had a bit of it left. We eventually broke onto the top and stumbled up the ramp clough to the trig, I wasn't quite finished, but was at the beginnings of struggling.
Past the MRT guys at the trig, showing our numbers for the last time before the end, turn down, across what would normally be bog, but now frozen ground, and onto the edge path, from there nearly to the Downfall, and then up the river, which was frozen solid.
If there is one thing that you don't want to do without spikes on your shoes, its on a frozen river. We worked our way up and past Kinder Gates, and eventually, it had to happen, one of us went over HARD. It wasn't me. Craig was on the floor on the ice in a fair amount of pain. Stop. Make sure he is ok, help him up, check he can walk/run, help him along, and we were back going.
The line across Kinder wasn't ideal, it certainly wasn't as good as the one I hit on another recce the week before, but again the solid ground made it fine. By this time, Craig and I had been joined by another runner, who piggy backed us across the plateau.
It was testing and hard, but we got across, at which point, I was sugar-crashing quite interestingly. I stuffed down a Snickers and sucked up the last of my water. When I filled the bladder in the morning I was hoping that I would run out just before I hit the last descent. Seems like I got the balance pretty much right, but the guy who piggy backed across behind us was flying down the clough to Grindslow Knoll. Dammit. I was getting cold, hands, which were warm all the way through the run were beginning to chill, the biting wind cutting across the moor. However, not too far to go, I didn't need to put on a waterproof yet, and anyway, the end was nearly in sight. I'd get there ok.

As I was coming to the Knoll, who should pop out from the West... Ian Winterburn! He must have had an AMAZING line across Kinder, either that, or he was just better at rough ground at the end of a long race than me. I trailed behind all three of them (Craig was ahead by this point), and I dragged myself to the end of the Knoll, and threw myself down the hill. Too tired to work out any intelligent line, I pretty much kept to the path all the way down, overtaking Ian, but being left behing by the other two.
Argh. Tired, painful legs, not quite working properly, hammering down a hill at the end of a race... there was an amazing line which I completely missed, but nevermind, just focus on the end.

Through the gate, and John Hewitt was there shouting at me to get a move on and catch the 2 guys in front, one of whom had just fallen over in the field. Great, I thrash into the field, theoretically, great running terrain and within 10 paces, I'm over and sliding down on my side, up again, and a few more steps, exactly the same, over on my side. Nightmare. The grass is icy and slick as the river back at the top. Be more careful- a few more running steps, and a third time, I hit the ground, hard.

Right. Speed has to be the key. Up and run faster. All I can hear is John in the distance shouting at me to "GET UP" and something about being a lazy swine, lying around on the floor at the end of a race- but I might have imagined that. Running down the grass, I can see the other 2 in the distance, catchable? I don't know. They disappear down the path, and I plunge down there after them. But not fast enough.

The end

By the time I get to the end of the path and onto the final run in on the tarmac, they have gone. Ah well, keep up the speed, and down the road, dodging cars and jeeps, and 100 yards before the end, I finally catch up with Craig.
I don't know if he felt guilty that I lead him to the end all the way across from Bleaklow and let me finish before him, or if he was genuinely knackered and couldn't stop me from getting past. Probably the the former, to be honest.

So I came in 23rd. Pretty tired, but quite happy with the result. And about a minute later I remembered to stop my garmin. Official time, 3:59:12 for 35km, with (allegedly) 1,165m elevation (learnt not to trust Garmin so much on the height gain...) That's not bad.

Remembering to switch off

The food (chilli and a load of cake) at the end was most welcome, along with the happy smiley faces, the excellent organisation and the help from Woodhead Mountain Rescue.

Julien came in 6th in about 3:30, and first V50, and the Glossopdale ladies team came in 2nd team place. A pretty good result, it has to be said! The winner was Oli Johnsone from Dark Peak in 3:13
Excellent event, and a classic in the making.

Real food

Post race laughs

Julien getting V50, going in for a snog with Nicky

Ian, and the Woodhead Rescue Ale

CAKE!

A run over the moors. And back. And over. And back.

Icy and snowy. Mmmm.

Went out for a quick run up on the moors with John and (his dog) Peggy. Semi planned last night and confirmed about half an hour before we set out this morning, the idea was to go and see if we could find a decent line across the top of Kinder as a race line for the up coming Trigger race.
I knew there was meant to be a decent line off in the direction that we wanted to go in, but had no idea how to get there.
I haven't even been to Kinder Gates yet.

We set off from Snake summit, taking quite a radically new line to that which either of us had taken before, quite a decent line, with good running, and soon enough we were at the bottom of the Ashop, looking up at Kinder. A variety of lines beckoned, but we settled on the one that seemed to be the most expedient, and were able to take a bee-line directly to the Trig Point from there.

From the Trig point was all quite straightforward, up from Kinder Downfall to Kinder Gates seemed to work quite well, too.

Kinder Gates

The next bit was the poser.

To cut the first long story short, we found a grough and ran along that, and eventually came to a place of seemingly impassable bog. What does One do when faced with seemingly impassable bog?
Carry on, of course.

We forged our way over the bog in the direction that made the most sense, but when we finally came off the other side, we had completely missed the line that we were looking for. Hmm. Well, a quick run out to Grindsbrook knoll, feed doggy biscuits to Peggy, turn around and come back.

Edale Valley. Lovely.

This time we were approaching the line from the South, and it was impossible to miss. We travelled up it, passed a Shooting cabin with an interesting name, and up the clough until we came to, what do you know... impassable bog.

Right, so we have found a decent way on, and a decent way off, all we need to do is link the two. We tried doing this and squelched our way across the top, vaguely going in the right direction. The occassional thigh deep bog, nearly losing shoes, and general amusements, a load of helicoptor drop bags, vague trails, and eventually we came across.... Kinder Gates.
What?!
Thats not right. How did that happen? Right. A re-assessment of where we went and came from, and back up the way that we went in the first place. Literally running around in circles... We ran up a few promising looking groughs, only to be repelled, on and on, up and down, around and along promising looking places. There is a couple walking a dog along the bog, and they seem to be having a whole lot less trouble than us in making progess. How are they doing that?
We run around in more circles, looking for trails and other bits, eventually we drop over the side of a grough and are about to give up, turning around.... whats that? It looks like a path... we take it, and bang, straight to a part of the downward grough that I recognise. Bingo.  We were going in slightly the wrong direction and were put off by the fake path caused by the river.

The slog home

Just need to retrace it back up- which is more difficult that it seems.

Eventually, we get back over bog, ice, snow, peat and general coldness, over to Kinder Gate, and back across to the trig, over to Featherbed Moss and back to the car. 24km in all, I'm not putting up the GPS track yet. Maybe after we do the race....

Throughout the whole thing I was trying out a pair of Sealskinz socks... a new pair. Feet still cold. I think I may have to stick to wool.

Run in the Carneddau

Well, thats what we'll be heading up in a bit

It seems that at the moment, its all the rage to go out on reccies for the Trigger, a Marsden to Edale race. The tricky bits are on our doorstep, and so it makes sense. I've been on a grand total of 1, and when an email came out at the beginning of the week about a potential run in Wales, with a route in the Carneddau being proposed I jumped at the chance to run somewhere I haven't really properly run. I can go out the back door and run round Kinder and Bleaklow any time, but Wales tends to need a little more planning.
The route was about 17 miles, and helpfully, spread between the 2 sides of the Snowdonia Explorer map. (Having now run around the route, I'm convinced that the reason for not running in the area before simply because of the map faff factor, but thats another thing).

Naviagation

So pick up from Glossop at 7:15, which ended up as being a little bit later, and we were eventually on the road by 8, arriving in the destination carpark at about 10ish- with some rather fine driving up some very dodgy roads by Andy in his Landrover. Getting there in a Rover or a Nissan Micra- the other 2 options, may not have worked quite so well.

At the carpark there were already a number of other cars, the weather was fairly overcast, but not (yet) raining), we put our stuff on, I performed my first trip of the day, getting my mudclaws caught in a bag and falling backwards out of the Landy, but no serious damage was done. Decisions on what items of clothing to wear and take were interesting. It wasn't all that cold, but it promised to be pretty chilly later on, and also wet. I ended up with Mudclaws, thick wooly teko socks, CW-X leggings, a merino helly and Rab Stretch Vaporize, with a buff, hat and lobster sealskin gloves on, just for good measure. Proshell gortex in the bag, with a pair of £10 Quechua waterproof trousers for emergencies.

Too hot on the way up the first hill

A brief discussion about the potential route and off we went. Nice and steady up a decent path. We rounded Clogwynyreyr at a low level, crossed the river, seeing a bird which I could not identify- which is the first time in a long time, and started the climb up toward Foel Fras. Walking mode engaged. After a while Andy and John started stripping layers, saying that they knew it wasn't going to be long before they were putting them back on. I was the only one without waterproof socks, but apparently, after the bog we had traipsed through, I was not the only one with cold, wet feet. Coming up, we hit the snow that was smattered across the hill, and continued up to the ridge, and then followed the wall to the top.

Foel fras Trig

Ice on a fence

A couple of photos of the ice, and off we went, also finding some rather spectacular ice formed on a fence- which actually fell off about 10 seconds after I took the photos. Across and onto the path, and through icy mud and bog water up to Garnedd Uchaf. The mist coming and going as we forged along, so that the view off to Foel Grach and the Carneddi was there, and suddenly obscured. On up to Foel Grach, and then a decision.

Bog-tastic running

The original plan was to drop from Foel Grach to Ffynnon Caseg and then go directly up the side of Yr Elen, probably involving 300metres of height loss and another 300 metres of height gain. Or, we could run along the ridge to Carrnedd Llewelyn, and then down West along to Yr Elen. The Descent/Ascent route was canned for future amusement as the route up Yr Elen looked a tad dodgy with a lot of snow and ice, and we ran across the ridge to a very snowy and icey Llewelyn. The wind was beginning to get up, and the rain was slowly making itself felt, but we forged on down and over to Yr Elen, stopping for a brief moment behind some stones in order to put on waterproofs as it was getting a tad wet and cold.

Icy descent

We got wetter and colder by standing still for a moment, before heading back out and warming up on the run down the scree path, and then up the hill to the peak of Yr Elen. Nothing like cycling- where if you get cold feet, they stay cold, with running, if my feet are cold, I just need to get moving, and they just seem to re-warm... as long as I am moving fast enough. My hands were still toasty in the seal skins, though with the constant taking my hand out and putting it back in for various things, the inners were getting a little wet.

From the peak of Yr Elen, in the wind, looking down at Ffynnon Caseg, and thinking what a lovely place it would be for a swim... in the summer, we picked our line off the hill to the South in preparation for going right down into the valley, and then climb back out up to Carnedd dafydd. There is a lovely grade 1 scramble up one of the ridges, but it was decided that with all the snow and ice up there at the moment, it might not have been the best idea in the world, so we instead decided to go up earlier, hit the ridge and head to the peak from there. The descent was excellent, we picked a great line that missed out 2 patches of scree, the hill was ridiculously steep, and as long as you didn't hit any stone patches, you could generally stay on your feet. Not even Mudclaws can grip on wet rock, and we all spend some time not necessarily on our feet.

Off Yr Elen

Hit the bottom, crossed the stream and straight up the other side. Hearts pounding we ascended a fair way, and just before getting to the top, recognising that this was going to be the most shelter we were going to get before well, almost the end of the run, we decided to stop and have lunch. John handed around coffee, sandwiches were broken out, and we looked at a rather delightful vista spread before us. I noticed a rock tumbling down from where we were stood. As it fell, I thought, hmmm. thats black, I didn't realise there was coal up here. We watched it go for a short while and John said. "Hang on. Thats the top to my flask". We waited for it to stop, and thankfully, it only went about 25 metres down, and he set off after it, with Andy and I chuckling and digging about for our cameras.

Retrieval of coffee top

John located it with our help- shouting left, right, up and down, and slowly came back up, with Andy helpfully commenting that John HAD mentioned he might do reps of the hill.

Up and onto the ridge, and the wind was really howling, the rain was driving, and we slogged up the hill, hoods up. The rain was pounding into the side of my hood, without that I suspect I'd have had rain driven right through my ear. The noise was almost so loud that I thought my ears were going to start ringing. The frozen turf was ok, but as soon as we reached bands of scree that we had to cross, each and every one of us started imitating Bambi on ice. No grip whatsoever. Wet rock and fellshoes do not mix in any way shape or form, and if anyone knows of a shoe that might grip on that kind of stuff, please start selling it. Average speed, already not all that fast was cut in half on the rock, and it was all we could do to find the fastest way across it to get back onto frozen grass again.
Toward the top, of course, its entirely wet, icy, frozen rock, so we teetered along, completely unsure of any footing, with wind and rain howling around us. Needless to say there was no photo stop as we gathered our thoughts and trotted off toward Carnedd Llewellyn. A lot of that track is also slick rock, so average speed across there wouldn't have broken many records either, and as we crossed the NE/SW ridge, the wind gathered speed and strength so that we could barely walk, let alone run... standing still involved comedic levels of lean into the wind, and footing was still pretty unstable and uncertain.

shelteres side of the ridge

Across there, and we decided to head to the top of the hill in order to gain the ridge going East towards Penywaur-wen. The trudge to the top of the hill was a bit of a slog, going over snow and ice, and looking off down nigh on sheer drops of snow covered ground. Route finding from the top in the thick mist was fairly amusing, but with a map and compass, it was all quite easy, and we turned down the snowy ridge. As we dropped onto the ridge the wind that had been battering us for the past few miles relented, and we ran along a very misty ridge line. Most of the time we could run unimpeded, though there were a couple of spectacular rock steps that needed to be negotiated on feet, hands and bum, steepness and worry about foot grip being the main issues. We eventually hit Helgi Du, with a great scramble tagged on the end of the run, and took a line off the hill which took us between 2 crags and and down some very steep ground. As we did this, the mist lifted and the valley which we were heading down to was spread out before us in glorious relief.

Andy looking for his camera

Camera out, photos.
Andy was a little slow with his camera, fishing about in his bag, and by the time he had it out, the cloud had come in again. Camera safely back in the bag, and it cleared... right. I'll send him some of mine then.
Off down the hill, again missing a couple of crags, opting for steep, (but not sheer) ground. Down and down, through bog and mush, round a few horses which Andy has a mighty aversion to, over a river, up a bog and back onto a path, which would lead us back to the car.

We were up there. In the mist.

The final run back to the car wasn't bad, and we held a decent pace all the way, making it back to the car park about 10 mins after sundown with the light just beginning to fail. Perfect timing.

A decent 26km day out in the hills, never mind reccying for races, THIS is what fell running is about.
And if you are interested, here is the Garmin track







Kit thoughts

Tall tales in the pub

Generic kit in the landy

I kept the Helly and the Vaporise top on all day, with my camera in the chest pocket. I didn't get too hot or sweaty (though I did get a little hot and sweaty... but thats running for you), and covering up with the Proshell, I was expecting to get quite uncomfortable, but despite keeping it on for the rest of the day, it was absolutely fine. The tights were excellent, as ever, slightly windproof, in fact, so windproof that I felt colder in the one place that I have managed to get a hole in the knee than anywhere else. The socks were wet through within about 5 mins, but as long as we were moving, feet stayed warm, the gloves, as ever, were excellent, my hands got wet eventually, but as long as the pace was kept up, they stayed warm. Shoes were great, except, as pointed out previously, on wet rock, but that was to be expected.

Glossopdale Solstice run

I realise that I am writing about one run after another here, and I really don't intent to write about every single run I do, however, recently we have had some interesting stuff going on, snowy runs, wet runs, and last night, the solstice run. Marking an end to the ever-shortening nights, and welcoming the (somewhat slow) return to longer daylight hours.

along Kinder edge with Manchester in the Background

My introduction to the solstice run was in the summer when we happened to be out on the Summer solstice, and halfway round, John got out some home-made rocket fuel and some shot glasses, and we toasted the longest day. This year, the Winter solstice also conveniently fell on a club run night as well, and a group of 9 of us gathered at Bowden Bridge carpark in order to head up to Kinder Downfall to toast the coming lightening of days.

At Bowden bridge there was another gaggle of runners- our Pennine Breathren were out in force, just off on their club run for the week. I never realised they had so many members... a fair few more of them on a fairly average club night than we had for the end of year social. Still- its great to be in a small and cosy club like Glossopdale. Lynne was also out this evening, but was off on her own for a slightly more sedate night run around the lower reaches of Kinder.
Pennine headed off up toward Sandy Heys, and there was a brief moment where we had to make sure we didn't lose any of our runners (or the dog) off with a different club (yes, it has happened before), and set off up to Kinder Low end. Halfway up I did a quick audit and we were one member down.
Hang on guys... where's Chris?! A short stop enabled him to catch up with ease- nothing about losing way, just faffage at the carpark, pure and simple.
After a ridiculously fast start we trundled up and over toward Low End, but with a bit of a breeze coming in, opted to run along the side, and then upward from there. We spread out quite considerably, from Julien out in front to John, who had already been in the pub earlier on in the day, and was carrying 500ml of sherry and a tub of mince pies...
I took the opportunity to take a few pictures (having been inspired by my attempts on the previous snowy run), but only took a point and shoot- SLRs being a bit too big and fragile to be taking night running- and besides, its not actually my camera to break...

mmmm. Mince pies. In bits.

After scrambling up and over through Red Brook, we regathered and forged along the top path, and across to the Downfall. The wind, by this point had changed direction, and we had a bit of an issue finding a sheltered area, and, in hindsight, probably chose the worst possible place to gather for the feast.

bilberry vodka

The mince pies came out, as did the sherry, and once that was all gone, (John insisted that he wasn't going to carry it down with him), Julien produced a bottle of home-made bilbery vodka- which smelled of aniseed and had quite a kick.
After a we had toasted various versions of days getting longer etc, we packed the bits and pieces away and headed off along the path and split at the top of Sandy Heys, one group coming straight down, and the others continuing along for a while before dropping down a rather delightful grassy descent.

I took the shorter route- partially because I was a little concerned for my Phantom Toe Injury, and partially because I was taking my new Inov8 Mudclaw 333's out for their first taste of mud. On the way down conversation inevitably turned to the subject of the coming decisions to be made about the club championships for 2012. There are a lot of opinions, and no matter what the final decision, some people will be happy, some will be annoyed, but you can't please everyone.
However it turns out, I suspect we will all be out for the races, enjoying the cameraderie and banter of being in a club, and although it does matter who wins, part of the pleasure of racing against your friends in the club is that you are having a good time while doing it. (or maybe not WHILE you're racing, its more likely to be afterward, but thats another thing...)

Post run we dropped into the Star in Glossop, where they had the locally brewed Dark Peak ale (thanks to Howard Town brewery). Excellent stuff, though quite strong at about 6.4%. Last to leave the pub and a bit of a stagger home. What a delightful evening.
My toe appears to be better, to a point, well, there were other bits of my foot that hurt more than my phantom toe due to hot spots from the shoes... but thats for another blog.