Cracken Edge Fell Race 2023

 Two races in as many weeks? Goodness, you'd almost think I was getting to enjoy them again. No, I can assure, I am not getting addicted, and there will not be a proliferation of race related blogs. The Cracken Edge Race is an important fixture in the calendar as it is run by Kinder Mountain Rescue- and there is the honour of the Buzz Lightyear trophy at stake. The fastest Mountain rescue team (or at least, their first 3 runners) gets the trophy. Unfortunately I was injured last year (calf strain/tear from over enthusiasm and "training error"), but others from Glossop MRT were there to fill in the gaps. 

This year Glossop MRT managed to field 10 runners (it would have been 11 had covid not reared it's ugly head again), which I think is a record turnout for us... indeed for any Mountain Rescue Team. Also included in that we had 3 ladies, which would have made a womens team as well, which was absolutely amazing. 

The route was the same as ever- very runnable (and I tried to make sure I ran as much of it as possible this time around), but very wet underfoot. It has been raining a lot recently- and it was raining right up until we set off as well. Although the kit requirements were "take what you think is appropriate"- which a lot of people took to mean "no kit", I took a waterproof and a bumbag to put it in- partially as this wasn't going to be an absolute eyeballs out effort, and partially because I would probably want a coat at the end when hanging around. 

Knowing that my preparation for this race has not been optimal, mixing it with the fast lads at the front was not going to be an option. Ok- it was an option- but not an intelligent one. I can hold my own over a few hours, but on a short and fast course, no chance- so I started somewhat further back in the field. The initial uphill is always a killer, and quite a sorter, and going off full beans here would have certainly taken a lot more out of me than I'd have liked. 

Off we went, and I slowly picked my way through the field on the way up, passing Chris J, and eventually catching Paul Skuse on the road up to the mast. First climb out of the way, and the pace settled a little. Going much faster was not really possible, and looking at my HR after the race, it does seem like I don't really have that ability to push into that extra gear/speed without massively overdoing the exertion. So I pootled along at somewhere around 150-160bpm with other people around me sounding like they were dying- but not really able to push on much faster. 

For the first time in a few years I got to the stile and had to queue before getting over, which was a novelty- getting my breath back mid-race, and I made good on the road, passing Saul on the way to the next climb- which was very sogggy underfoot. On the way up here I started leapfrogging with a couple of Macc Harriers which would continue right to the very end. I never looked behind me, so couldn't tell you how close anyone else was. 

Along from New Allotments down to the road was fairly swift, and on the road we caught and passed a guy in Hokas. I managed to lead the way down to the stile, but was quite quickly caught and passed on the ascent up to the quarry, not only by the battling Macc Harriers, but also by the guy in Hoka's who was climbing like a demon. I managed to run the entire race up to the final 10 metre section to Big Stone (not sure if this did me any good at all, seeing as the others around me were switching between walking and running on the ascent- but it did my ego good), and I continued onward in the midst of the Macc guys, who overtook me on the flattish sections from New Allotments (in the other direction) out to the final(ish) descent. 

Still not really able to raise my heartrate all that much without blowing, I continued at my own pace, wondering why it wasn't raining and if it would have been better to leave my bumbag at the start, I came to the long downhill towards Phoside. Initially it is long and groovy, and pretty easy to run. Would I have gained much more distance in the past when I was better at descending? No idea really- but it seemed like I wasn't gaining much. Then the track peels right and becomes more technical, where I definitely gained some time, then it peels right again and goes down into the woods and is a lot muddier and slippier- first overtake on the way down to the single track between the gates- and now there is less than a kilometre to the end. 

The first Macc guy is behind me, and I don't think he'll really trouble me again- but the other one, and the Hoka guy are in front. I just need to keep in touch in the last couple of fields as the final dash down the field to the end is genuinely my favourite part of any race, anywhere. They pull out a couple of metres on me, but stumble through the last stile/gate which enables me to get to a decent distance to them- we round the final flags and hit the descent to the finish- there is a clear, trodden track with long swishy grass everywhere else, so I take that and let loose, instantly overtaking the other 2 and leaving them for (somewhat damp) dust. 

Maybe I was in the top 20? I don't really know, and won't until the results are out. However, the jacket that I packed and carried all the way around came in very useful as I wandered back up the course taking photos of the rest of the team as they passed me on the way to the finish, and encouraged everyone else in the race. 

We did indeed retain the Buzzlightyear trophy, and good fun was had by all- I have to put out a special mention to all those in Glossop MRT who would not, under normal circumstances have entertained the idea of running around Cracken Edge of an evening. Well done- damn fine effort. 

Scarborough to Glossop cycle tour

 The idea was to catch a train to Scarborough and then take a couple of days to ride home, most likely staying overnight in York. 100k each day. Various things such as train times/logistics/strikes... well, actually, mainly the train logistics- meant that a slightly different plan had to be planned. Eventually something was cobbled together, and, to be honest it was Catherines rather excellent knowledge of the railway system, and especially the way in which you can actually get bikes on trains etc. that enabled this to happen. 

The plan was simple. Bike to Stalybridge, train to Scarborough, then bike to Whitby- staying over there for the night. Bike ride to Toms parents house near York, overnight there, and then cycle home. Job's a good un. 

The exciting thing about it all was the weather forecast. As ever, in the UK in July, you can't be guaranteed of anything, except that it might well be ANYTHING. Rain was kind of forecast, but it was a bit of a "maybe, maybe not". What was *definitely* forecast was wind. A westerly, and gaining in strength through the weekend up to a Force 5-6 on Sunday. Pretty much a block headwind all the way home. Great fun! 

Looking forward to the ride!

The route itself was made by Catherine, and was intended to take in as many cake and tea stops as possible, which is a most commendable ambition for a bike tour. The crux of the whole thing was getting on a train that would accommodate 4 bikes. Normally, the train from Manchester to Scarborough only has a small number of carriages, and so therefore only has 2 bike spaces. However, there are 2 trains a day that have twice as many carriages, and so therefore, twice as many bike spaces... a massive 4 bookable spaces! (Yes. the ability to transport bikes by train in this country is truely woeful. They say "not many people want to take bikes by train".... but it's a nightmare to book them onto a train, and even if you do, there are barely any spaces to do so. But I digress. 

One of these magic trains leaves Stalybridge at 5:50am. Which means leaving home to ride over the hill to Staly a fair bit beforehand. Which means getting up really quite early. However, we'd rather be early rather than late, so off we trotted, nice and early, making FULL use of Lynnes thermal bidon for a decent amount of coffee. All 4 of us joined together on the road just up and past the Waggon and Horses, and convoyed down to the station- the train was caught without a hitch, and the journey to the coast simply flew by. I was expecting to get at least a little sleep on the way, but was utterly surprised when the tannoy told us we were approaching the last stop. 

Classic early morning shot

First things first in a new town at 8am on a sunny morning- find some more coffee. We spent some time touring around Scarborough looking for likely places for coffee, and ended up back at the place at which we started. After a delightful second breakfast we set about working out how to get to the Cinder Track, and work our way north toward Whitby, where we were staying the night. 

Let's fund us some coffee

3 Wahoos and a phone just about managed to get us out of Scarborough and the next few hours were spent on a splendid ride along the Cinder track (cycle route 1) - which had some nice bits, some muddy bits and some bumpy bits (that Lynne really wasn't a fan of). The sun was out, the wind was not against us, and we made pretty decent time to Robin Hoods bay, where we decided to stop for a cake and another coffee. Nevermind that it's down a 30% hill- we'll deal with that when we want to come back up. So down we went along with 30 million other holiday makers, and managed to bag a table at a cafe near the sea.

Cinder Track

The tide was very very in, so Lynne and Catherine decided to postpone their swim until later, when we got in to Whiby. We steeled ourselves for the climb back out of the bay and attempted to weave through the hordes as we scrimped our way back up the hill to the Cinder Track.

 

Getting out of Robin Hood Bay

 Onwards and Northwards, we wound our way and in a relatively short time made our way into Whitby. We were a little early for the hotel to be ready, but they let us leave our bikes in a side room while we went out to explore the surroundings until the rooms were sorted. 

"Explore the surroundings" basically means "wander around and work out if you've been here before". Whitby, it would seem, is very reminicent of every seaside town I've ever been to that has a harbour, amusement arcade, candyfloss places, an RNLI museum and crowds of people trying to by fish and chips. Lynne and Catherine got their swim/being hit by waves thing done, while Tom and I stood by and made sure the Seagulls didn't nick our stuff. 

Whitby

The evening was taken up by more wanderings, up to the Abbey, around the town (again), fish and chips, and a walk out onto the breakwater- which is fairly impressive. Bed time came early as we'd been up since silly'o'clock and there is only so far that much coffee can take you. 

Whitby Abbey

Looking Off.

Day 2

A quick ride down the hill into town for a breakfast from the coffee shop that we made sure would be open in the morning. Whilst sitting there, routes were downloaded and synched into mapping units, and we were pretty much ready to go. The idea was to very much NOT go on the massive A64 out of Whitby, as it would be all kinds of horrible to do that on a bike. So the slightly more exciting/hard/challenging option of offroad was taken. (I could digress here into a bit of a rant about safe cycling provision in this country, but won't). 

Don't want to join the trucks on an A road? This is the other option

Anyhow, let's just say the ground under tyre was a little less than optimal, and our average speed was somewhat curtailed by it. It was a lovely route, and very well planned- heck, it was marvellous not to be on the A64 getting close passed by the various psychos in cars and trucks, but you'd think that if something says "bridleway" on it, you might be able to actually ride a damn bike down it... 

It *might* have been ok going downhill. Actually. No. It wouldn't. And people wonder why we don't always use bridleways.

 

It took a while until we managed to get to much more rideable territory, but once there, the miles steadily ticked by. Sometimes on road, sometimes off- and at one point, the excitement of riding downhill at speed rather got hold of Tom and Catherine, and off they shot- only to be rewarded by a rather impressive rear wheel blowout at speed.

THIS is more like a bridleway

 

The repair took a while- (I was rather confused as to why my pump wasn't pumping up the tube, and it turned out to have rather more holes in it that I realised, so there was no way it was going to get pumped up, no matter how good the pump). 

Standard puncture faff

We did indeed carry on, and lunch was had in a place that rather reminded me of Castleton. The cafe had the largest pieces of rocky road I've ever seen, but considering that there was going to be another cake stop in a bit, I decided to refrain. 

Some single track that Lynne *really* wasn't appreciating

Onward and into a bit of a headwind, we wove our way south and westish and it was all a bit of a blur really. The route took us to where we needed to be, and that place eventually ended up being a cafe with white chocolate cheesecake. Marvellous. From there, it was not a long distance to get to Tom's parents, which has an amazing garden, and very welcoming hosts. 

Across the moors.

Much food, tea, wandering around the marvellous garden, and a bit of bike maintainance was done. Lynne was a bit done in by the end of the day- this being her longest ride to date, so I did the gallant thing and tended to her bike for her, instead of asking "dyou think you might need to do anything to your bike this evening?". 

Again, sleep came early. 

Day 3. 

A strong coffee set us up for the day- the ground was damp, so it was evident that it had rained overnight. The clouds were scudding across the sky in a somewhat unhelpful direction, but it was sunny as we set off. Always a bonus. 

Today there was more promise of roads- not so much on exciting offroad adventuring. This was a day that was going to be over 100k, so again, Lynnes longest day on a bike ever (and by quite some margin), so what with the headwind, easier terrain under the tyres would probably help. As we left the delightful company of Tom's parents I took the lead and cycled into the wind at a steady pace. We managed somewhere in the region of 20kmph for the next decent while as roads and places and hedgerows passed us by. 

Coffee stop

A tea and coffee stop was had at an RSPB reserve, and once energy levels were restored to appropriate levels, we continued on into the wind. The weather stayed pretty decent, with only a couple of light showers occuring. Despite the promise of "mainly tarmac", there were a couple of areas of somewhat more interesting surfaces, including mud and standing water, but that in no way reduced the enjoyment of the journey. 

At one point a Red Kite flew alongside us, and decided it would dive in front of us to check out a tasty morsel by the side of the road, which was rather impressive, which took our minds off the headwind for a short while. The roads were flat and steady for the most part, bringing us into and through Wakefield where, after a bit of traffic dodging, we stopped for a very needed lunch stop at Pudneys park- a place I'm absolutely certain I've been before as that was where my Aunt and Uncle used to windsurf a lot, back in the day.

Refuelled and slightly rested, we gamely carried on, trying to ignore the profile for the rest of the trip, which, while not resembling quite a dinosaurs back, certainly had a certain "humpiness" about it. Through Yorkshire Sculpture park (well, around it, I suppose), and up and down across the roads to the south of Denby dale, we slowly started to see places and place names that were more familiar. Holme moss transmitter mast appeared on the horizon as we steadily worked our way westward. At some point, I took Lynnes pannier from her as she was starting to feel the effects of 3 days of cycling, extra weight, hills and a headwind. 

Yorkshire Sculpture park

As we got closer to home, the headwind seemed to intensify, (was it really coming from Glossop?!), but the number of hills was slowly coming down. We passed Woodhead mountain rescue base, which meant we were getting closer still- then the turning to Hade Edge, where we skirted down to Snailsden reservoir. A final pull up to the Woodhead pass, and then the downhill section to the Longdendale trail, where we hit 100k. 

Snailsden- nearly home

The end was in sight, and we cycled along the trail and up the hill to Devil's Elbow, before rounding the corner to see Glossop below us. Home. 

What a fabulous adventure with excellent company. As you would expect, there were a few dark moments thrown in there, with people experiencing lows at different times, but coffee, tea and sugar certainly helped us through. Although it would have been nice to do the original plan (especially if we'd have had THAT tailwind), this very much ticked the box. 

Thanks to Tom and Catherine for enjoying the trip with us,  and to Tom's parents for being such amazing hosts.

Holme Moss Fell Race 2023

 It's been a while since I did a fell race. (The OCT doesnt really count as it's a pairs race)- and it's been a real while since I did Holme Moss... it was 2015- a hot day, and I was at the peak of my best year. Today was slightly different. 

It's been raining (not just a bit of rain, but REALLY raining) for about 4 days now. The rivers a swollen, there is consistent rain falling through the day, and, as mentioned, I haven't raced in anger since last June when I did Kinder trog. In fact there has been so much rain recently that on Friday an email came out with a diversion on due to the fact Crowden Great Brook has so much water flowing down it that it would be dangerous to cross it once you've gone up and down Bareholme moss- even with a rope. It's a bit of a shame as the alternative route just goes straight to Laddow rocks up the Pennine Way missing out some of the best offroady gnarly bits of the race. Still- having seen the state of the river in spate, it was a good call. 

It basically looked like this....

Interestingly I've been up this way in similar conditions, and it was the river crossings on the Pennine Way just below Red Ratcher that were really quite dodgy- thigh deep and fast slowing- so it would be interesting to see what it would be like today. Especially considering that they simply weren't mentioned on any of the pre-race briefings. 

We lined up in the rain, having had a kit check and a count through. There was a not insignificant breeze coming in from the West, whih promised to be a fairly challenging headwind on the way out. Some runners were opting for vests, the majority had waterproof tops on. I included my waterproof mitts to that as well. Although it wasn't actually all that cold, wet hands, at least on my part, means that I find it hard to be dexterous later in the race. 

Off we went at 11, down the very straight start bit, and it was quite a pace to begin with. I settled in with about 4 or 5 other people at what seemed like a decent pace, we hit the road and kept the same pace, but as soon as we hit that right turn onto the moorland path the pace suddenly dropped like a stone. What on earth? Yes, the floor was a bit uneven, and yes, there was water running down the path, but it's not like there was anything to slow us down. So I overtook them and continued up the track. Just before we hit the rather exciting, muddy and slippy descent, someone came past in Hoka's. Interesting footwear choice for the day. Let's just say that by the time we reached the bottom of the hill he wasn't in front of me any more- though we would be in close touch for the rest of the race for a while. 

Down and across the river, and then back up and onto the traverse-y upward kind of bit that takes you bit by bit across to Holme moss transmitter. There was a headwind the whole way, and underfoot was a combination of wet ground, very wet ground, bog, mud and full on waterlogged ground. The running was fairly challenging, and I was mostly on my own, trailing behind a series of 4 or 5 runners across here. There was a moment of "what on earth am I doing?" creeping into my mind- but being out on ths hill in a ridiculous amount of rain, with very wet ground... of course. I'm having fun! And from that point on, it was just a good time.

Just before heading up to the mast I thought "I must have something to eat"- but I think I forgot at that point, but made sure I had a drink from the fabulous marshals at Holme moss summit. 

Crash down the side of the hill and into the clough, catching up with the Hoka man again at the bottom (yes, it appears he was faster than me along the traverse-y bit... this race is more runnable that I care for), and the first real swollen stream to be jumped. Finally, as I scramble up the steep side of the clough I remember to have some food, take off a glove and immediately put my hand on a bunch of thistles. Nice. The first thing I can put my hands on in my vest is a gel, so that'll have to do, and it gets sucked down pretty easily... however, as we make our way to the top of the rise it seems that I'm still hungry- so another delve finds the clif bar I opened at the beginning- so a chunk of that gets eaten. 

Up and over a stile, and then a sloppy run through vast amounts of bog and footpath that approaches bog-state brings us over and eventually across to checkpoint 2, where I thank the marshals profusely for being out on a day like this, then a delightful downhill... but not downhill enough. My brain was expecting it to just go off and down to Crowden, but there is an extra bit of hill in the way that my brain just didn't remember. Oh well... carry on running, around and over and across, catching up the Hoka guy and someone else as we dropped, and then finally caught them at a slight junction. I hammered on ahead knowing that this would eventually drop us down to the path on Little Crowden brook- but wasn't entirely sure if it was better to stay high, or just take this path... However, standing around and wondering would mean it would take much longer, so I just ran. The downhill was really rather spicey, with lots of ruts, water filled holes, slippy sections and generally runnable/not runnable bits depending on your nerve, so off I went and eventually got down and across to the final descent to Crowden. 

Looking around I couldn't see ANYONE... shit, have I missed a checkpoint? Have I inadvertently cheated? Hang on... I took off my bag to get the map out to check- and just as I was confirming that I was ok, another runner appeared behind me. All good, bag back on and drop to Crowden and onto the changed course. 

Dropping into Crowden- thanks to Clare Higgins for the photo

Grabbing a sip of water at the marshal station, it felt a bit odd crossing the bridge to the old YHA instead of hanging a right to head to Bareholme moss, but there was a bit of a climb now, and no time to really think about anything except keep going at a decent, but not too fast pace, and make sure I got around. Up the windy and wet paths to the Pennine Way, and then a blast along the very sodden footpath along, up and along and up towards Laddow. I haven't run up this path since the Spine in 2016, and I don't think I was running it then. Another gel went in on the way up to the top, and there were a couple of stream crossings that were true jumps. I couldn't see anyone else ahead of me- and the rule is, you don't look behind... it's a waste of energy that you could be using to go faster, and from this point on the only other competitor I saw was someone who had injured themself and was walking off the hill. 

Up to Laddow along what technically is the Pennine Way, but could more accurately be described as a river, at the top I said hi to the Checkpoint crew- the rain was still dropping, and the wind was swirling around, almost coming in from the North West and then it was a drop down the Pennine Way on some - as ever, rain drenched "paths" (streams). The next section below Red Ratcher sees the footpath cross a series of meanders in fast succession. You can techincally go around it by going up and over on the true right bank, or, if you get across the first one and don't fancy the others, there is a very bog bashy way up the true left. I looked for the section where you go across and just waded in. It was, as expected, about mid-thigh depth and pretty fast flowing. It was about 5 strides wide, and on the 5th stride, I lost my footing and pretty much ducked myself as I lunged to the other side. I did not get any wetter than I had been previously, but I did have a little swim. 

Out of the first one, a bit of a jog, and then the second presented itself- a little less of a worry as it is a tributary meander- so I just waded that one as well, again thigh deep. 4 steps, and then the final big one that was going at quite a pace. I got a couple of steps upstream of where I wanted to end up, braced, stepped in and made my way across and downstream to the exit, got out and just carried on. 

From here, lets just say, you know the drill. It was wet. Underfoot it went from splish-splash paddling to full on knee deep water. This was on stone, mud, even and uneven ground. The main idea was to just keep running up the hill to Black hill without break. It's all even more runnable now, and there weren't really any other excitements to report except that by now I had actually shed BOTH gloves, so it was officially "warm". (but very damp).

From Black hill checkpoint the route across to the mast was flagged. Essentially it seemed like they had just found a river and thought "yep, we'll flag that for a laugh". So I stomped through the water (this is where I came across another runner who had injured themselves- checked they were ok, and carried on). Man. This section is LONG. Not only is it long, but when it is wet, the ground is boggy, sucky and very hard to run on, especially after the preceding, I dunno- hour and a half of hard effort. Still, if I was finding it hard, everyone would be finding it hard. The compass was out in case I needed it, but eventually the mast appeared out of the mist, and the interderminable run towards it continued. 

Eventually, after a couple of lifetimes of running I finally made it to Holme moss checkpoint, grabbed a sip of water and continued. One of the marshals kindly called out that I was looking well. 7 steps later I twisted an ankle. Ouch. Still- have to keep running- this isn't the end. So in went another gel... one left... and the long and hard run back the way we came was begun. No -one with hokas to follow this time- there was literally no-one in sight as far as I could see. Slipping and sliding and swearing at my ankle, I attempted to maked good time back across towards the finish. The section seems to stretch as you run , with different cloughs and bits of hill appearing that you swear you didn't see on the way out. 

On the final descent before the horrendous hill that *makes* this race what it is, the final gel went in. The climb wasn't going to be pretty. And it wasn't. Slow and steady, sliding every footstep or so I made my way up it, worrying about cramp. However, after a decent few minutes of promising myself that I should get better at climbing, I topped out, grabbed a sip of water from the marshals and put on my running legs for the last few kilometres. 

Yes. That final climb really does make the race hard. But so does the grinding last few kilometres down a straight and undulating track. It's hard, but you've just got to keep going. I tried not to let the pace slide, and managed a final burst around the cricket pitch. Having switched my watch on at the beginning and hidden it under my coat I had no idea how long I'd been out. It turns out that coming over the line, I was 8th, 2nd v40 and the final runner to come in sub 3 hours. 2:59:24. 

Not a bad day out. 

Thanks so much to Clare Higgins for the support out on the course (and the photo!). Thanks to Neal for the lift. And Congratulations to Alice Willson-Culshaw for her winning of the ladies trophy!

The route was a little disappointing, due to the shortening- however, it was absolutely the right choice. This is still, in my opinion (even with the Bareholme moss bit) still quite a ridiculously runnable AL fell race. It seems that I need to practice my running. And my climbing. But then- that's always the case. And if you're wondering- this is what the strava looks like. (and yes, it is still raining)