The BIG ONE - Ultra Tour Lake District

I started this little blogging journey to report my preperation for the Atlantic Coast Challenge nearly a year ago. Back then three trail marathons in three days seemed a massive challenge. Since the ACC I've surfed a wave of momentum which has brought me through a 50miler and the Fellsman and deposited me at the mercy of another awesome challenge. All in much less than 12 months, which seems fast, but maybe it was just the kick up the arse I needed after about ten years of running incorporating lots of road racing from 5k to marathons which was starting to feel a bit "same old....".

Moving along, following the reality check at the Wasdale race I basically spent the next 2 weeks trying to be as innactive as possible barring a short run every few days to keep the legs turning over. I also ate well, but not irresponsibly and drank plenty of non-dehydrating  fluids and a reduction in the dehyrdrating kind.

I perhaps had my least stressful organisation, packing and journey. I'd done a trial run with my backpack fully-loaded the week before and was happy with the weight and comfort. So the rest got packed fairly stress-lessly the day before. I had a good sleep the night before but still woke at 7:30 and took a leisurely breakfast and drive to Coniston. Arriving at just after midday I could now take a leisurely 5 hours to kit check, eat and prepare for the start.

Mark was already in the field of Coniston school and I was just in time to help complete putting up the tent. We were soon able to head up to the school and get our "weigh in" and kit check out of the way before the possibility of queues. I left the hall after a succesful kit check. Now with two tyvex strips on my right wrist, one with my weight printed on, another to strap the dibber on. I also had my Montane Lakeland 100 running top, waterproof map and roadbook. It all felt very organised and thought out. Exactly the reassurance you need before such a long event.

There was now plenty of time to take a leisurely lunch in Coniston with mark and Claire. Claire taunted me and Mark having a beer, as her event started tomorrow. But I was happy not to and enjoyed a healthy but filling jacket potato with cheese. I pointed out that we might look rather odd to others sat outside the pub. The three of us sat here with tags around our wrists with the dibber device may look like we were out on day release from the asylum.

The next few hours consisted of a few toilet visits, a bit more hydration and some last minute snacking to try and get as comfortable as possible before the start. There was also the compulsary briefing with a guest appearence by no less than Joss Naylor, fell-running legend.

Fast forward to just a few minutes to go before the start and the sun comes out for about the first time today and the heat is raised just a notch. I could do without this. but at least I know its now early evening and it won't last.

Coniston to Seathwaite - 6.4m, 2106ft asc, 1949 desc, 1h30m

5:30 and we were off, up the slight hill to the main road into Coniston. No question of walking this small slope. We then disturbed the traffic on the main road for a moment and gave the people outside the pubs something to talk about - "Thats the slowest race I've ever seen", "Whats with the backpacks?". We were soon off the main road and heading up the first real hill. I was sweating and walking halfway up this one due to the recently reappeared sun and the need to get rid of some excess heat via sweat quickly. It was then off roads altogether onto a trail and a half loop around the grand Old Man of Coniston with great views up on the right and down to the lake left.

The good path then steadily undulated for a few miles before the big climb of the stage over Walna Scar pass. It was a walker, but didn't last long and we soon topped out for a long descent. The descent was tricky as for most of the way down it was sufficiently steep to let go and not try and hold back, but on the other hand it was so early in a such a long event. We then hit a road to run down to the first CP in the village hall what seemed like no time at all.

Seathwaite to Boot - 6.7m, 1165ft asc, 1345 desc, 1h47m

On paper this could have been another 1:30 section. Little further than the last and a lot less climb. In reality, after some woodland trail running on a slightly boggy path we were running valley bottom trails, farmland and plantations - all of which were pretty boggy going with the recent rains.The plantation section took quite a while on very liquid footpaths and a slight upward gradient. A descent followed and a shock as I nearly ran over the body of a recently deceased sheep! My mind was telling me we were near the section end.

In reality the section dragged on quite a bit longer. Through a stream valley, around a farm on permissive paths before another woodland trail. The run into Boot was downhill on a track and then road. Its a shame the name of this place is likely to be blighted forever by recent events as it looks a cracking small village. A scattering of pubs with atmospheric beer gardens, the pleasent low, green valley backdrop. The unusual CP location at the corn mill on the north flank of Eskdale was like a trip back in time inside with dim lighting and bygone era decoration and tools scattered around. It was cooling a bit now as the light dimmed, but the end of day weather was a sign of the night to come.

Boot to Wasdale Head - 5.4m, 906ft asc, 817 desc, 1h24m

In planning I'd regarded this section and the previous as "money in the bank", not much climb and quite short. The last section hadn't quite panned out that way, at first this one didn't seem to be either. An initial uphil trudge led us onto Eskdale Moor, whish saw a low gradient climb on sometimes wet and technical path/trail so we didn't run much here. Onto the moor and it flattened out a bit. Quite a green grass, good going sort of moor comapaired to some of the tussocky swamps I've run. In the failing light mountains loomed in the distance. Despite the clear skies one or two were even shrowded in cloud..... yep, that would be Wasdale then.

A slight descent to the tarn and then some wet foot crossings stream crossings and boggy grass near the tarn head. We undulated slighty uphill before appearing in the gap between Illgill head and the foot-slopes of Scafell. Navigation suddenly became very easy as we descended the rocky path towards the NT campsite in the opposite direction of the start of the Wasdale race. Even in the near darkness the views of Wasdale's menacing peaks were as good as any we'd seen on the race day two weeks ago. The lack of wind and rain also saw the lake millpond-esque.

We had a good jog down the road through Wasdale head where the pub was seeing good trade from its captive audience of campers and the odd local (there can't be many). In a barn behind the pub the busy CP saw numerous people pulling out headtorches - myself included, filling water carriers and enjoying the extra-bonus of soup on offer from this CP. I was already appreciating any change I could get from sugary carbs that were making me nauseous.

Wasdale Head to Buttermere - 6.8m, 2437ft asc, 2306 desc, 2h43m

After the challenging climb of section 1 we'd had a comparitive lack of climb. This was our escalation. Two stages I hadn't recce'd that on paper looked to be the toughest back-to-back, it was also now dark. I felt quite good on the lower slope paths heading towards Black Sail pass, a bit of a buzz to have got to at least Wasdale without headtorch and in good time against my rough plan of 4mph Friday PM daytime sections. The same rough plan just required 3mph overnight. My only slight irritation was my headtorch pressing against my forehead giving me slight discomfort. I'd never noticed this previously as I'd only worn it in in more wintry conditions over a hat.

As we rounded Kirk Fell the only way was up and it was time for hard walking again. Ahead we could see lights gradually climbing the blackened hillside in a spread out pattern. So no issues with directions around here? But then after crossing the rampaging Gatherstone Beck the path seemed to disappear. The GPS track and slight recollection from descending here during our aborted Wasdale Fell race meant we headed up the steep grass bank, tempting as it was to follow a few people just ahead who kept low to the the beck assuming a steep climb later. Just as the calves started to moan the path crossed me and I shouted down to Mark. The aforementioned people just in front would rejoin the path near us 5-minutes or so later after a much longer ascent up the steep bank.

Much climbing later we found the reassuring broken metal gate at the top of Black Sail pass and moved onto the stoney zig-zag down the slope. The lights up ahead had now disappeared from view, probably somewhere on this descent obscurred from our view my ridges and undulations. After a brief detour we got our navigational heads on and tracked back to stick close to the on-off trail alongside the fast-falling waters of Sail beck. Though only about twenty miles in this kind of descent was feeling hard on the quads and knees as they were forced to break momentum skipping over large rocks that halted the flow of the trail.

Across the River Liza, passed the remote Black Sail hut YHA and it was up again. Seemingly our first double whammy of big climbs in a single stage. Through Scarth Gap at the top and we emerged onto whatbvthe raod book describes as "very rocky, rocky, cairned path". Any doubling of a word like rocky - or steep - in this book means not to be taken lightly. The descent went on for what felt like miles of picking our way through jagged, loose, large rocks contouring around High Crag down towards Buttermere. Again we navigated better than some as we saw lights well down below who had dropped too far too early and had to run a path along a river bank. We joined this large group at the true bottom of the descent. The relief was not exaggerated as we finally got to Buttermere Village hall CP via a forested lakeside path. I reckon this section would have been stunning in daylight and must revisit the past two valleys north of Wasdale.

TBC.....

To recce and ruin...... to new heights!

The enthusiasm from the previous weekend had not worn thin. The logistic challenges of an out and back, unofficial recce (e.g. no organised bus to bring us back from end to start and no food drink on-route) had stopped Mark and I putting a plan together. The tougher sections incorporating Buttermere and Wasdale were a no-no as there was no convenient, cheap or relatively quick method of public transport between such areas and the Keswick area. So we settled on Braithwaite (near Keswick) to Dalemain, where we commenced our first recce last week. A course of some 26-28m we figured. From here there were buses every few hours back to Braithwaite until about 5:30pm.

With this deadline and no England Worl Cup last-16 match to rush back for - what with England being 2nd in group giving us an akward (for us) mid afternoon Sunday kick off - I opted to drive up to Mark's and lakes on the day. However a chain of events were set in motion from midweek that forced our best-made plans to fail slightly. I ran Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday this week, racking up over 20 miles and quite a tough speed session on the Thursday. This isn't usually a problem with only a long slow run at the weekend. I hadn't allowed for the effects of this mileage off the back of several 50+m weeks including long hill runs and 70+ last week culminating in the long lakes recces. I had a few beers on Thursday night, but still felt fine Friday morning. Then Friday afternoon I started to get the bitter taste in my throat that often proceeds a cold or sore throat. I still felt physically ok, but during the unneeded, warm night I slept terribly. Seemingly feverish, my mind racing with stress dreams and I kept waking up to find I was sweating profusely. I eventually got an hour or two of reasonable sleep with the aid of a strepsil and soluble paracetamol+codeine.

I still woke earlier than needed and ate and drank as per normal. On the road I felt tired despite having just got up. I stopped at the M62/A1 services for what probably ranks as my earliest strong coffee ever. After picking Mark up I was on the road again, not quite energetic still, but the company took my mind off it. As well as the coffee I drank a good half litre of water. When I had to stop for a pee near Hawes I assumed I was about hydrated.

On arrival in Braithwaite it was already very warm. The strong sun just thinly sheltered by stretched cloud and morning haze. The section out of Braithwaite was uninspiring down a busy A-road. From the start I realised I wasn't right. I had a real thirst and felt like I'd done 26m already!! I ploughed on figuring I could see out this distance steadily on my good fitness base and that I may yet perk up. I started to enjoy myself more as we started to ascend up towards Skiddaw, back to challenging off-road climbs away from the roads and civilisation to what the Lakes peaks are famous for.

We turned to round the higher peaks on a rocky trail which led us along an undulating mountain path into a valley, across which was Blencathra. As the track got tougher the day-walkers thinned out and it was mostly just us and the crazy mountain bikers whom I was discovering were quite common to the lakes. One guy fixing his bike told me a "lovely" story of some yanks who'd ventured up this rutted and rocky track, with the intention of "showing us brits how mountains should be ridden". Apparently one fell off, which was recorded on his helmet cam. I didn't ask if he survived - this trail was narrow and in many places a sheer drop to our right.

The route horseshoed us around this valley bringing us back along a sidepath around Blencathra (picture to right is a view of Blencathra or "Saddleback" from our campsite on the plain below). This section was back to last weeks sheer, muchly untamed, landscapes and this perked me up a bit. We arrived at the Blencathra centre and I hunted for indoor "facilities" and a source of water. I struck out in both endeavours and nibbled a sandwich slowly. When I'm struggling to eat and already over hlfaway through my liquid supply at 8m I know thats not good. We headed off downhill and on to a nice easy section along a track that was formerly a railway line. At Threlkeld I persuaded Mark to divert off route into the village so I could seek fluids. The local pub obliged with a small fresh orange and a glass of water to top up my bottle. In hindsight I should have paid for an extra fresh orange and been cheeky enough to ask for a pint of water with that.

We found our way back on route. This section was very much valley bottom and mildly undulating. Soon we were back to business ascending over rough moorland to find join a path over higher moorland. This path was very stoney, completley sun exposed and went on for about 4 miles in a meandering and mildly undulating fashion. It was somewhere along here, as we struggled to run for long periods without a walk break, that we decided our pace was sufficiently slow that we might not make Dalemain for that 5:30 bus. We decided we'd cut short when we got to a road and head to Troutbeck on the A66. With the pressure off we slowed and slowed some more over the next miles, mostly dictated by my non-existant energy levels. Even mark was struggling a bit and he said he was feeling pretty fresh at the start, the exposed moorland section on a very warm day had been the straw that broke the camels back for us. On days like this I wish I were a camel! Due to the dryness and lack of hills here there was no chance of a freshwater mountain stream when I really needed one.

After a brief stop on a carpark grass verge to eat and drink after the moor road we headed down the hill to Dockray. I again saught the only source of liquid, the pub (none of the tiny villages in this area have a shop, though many have several pubs). Getting some odd looks from a smartly dressed wedding party I downed a glass ok coke and deposited the ice from it in my water bottle in an attempt to make good use of any liquid I could. The route from here would have taken us to Ullswater, Dalemain and a bus stop somewhere beyond there - about 8-10 miles. Our cuts short meant 4 miles of road to Troutbeck, which we hoped would have a bus stop, being on the A66. This also meant we had plenty of time, which was a good job. With the sun still beating down, 4m of tarmac and a flatter and less scenic landscape than much of the route - I could barely raise  a jog form more than a few minutes. This was not fully due to my hydration and energy issues, now my motivation was bottomed out too.

Thankfully the end came within about an hour and I was appreciative of a pub where I could indulge in a pint of ice cold cola to kickstart hydration so I could be running in some way or form tomorrow. After bussing back to the car we sorted the camping and headed to Keswick for "medicine" in the form of not curry. A hot curry an be a risky affair with a ru planned the next day, but I mostly abstained from alcohol that night and the carbs, hydration and a good nights sleep made me feel a whole lot rosier the next morning.

With the England match mid-afternoon we decided to abstain from a recce and planned a few hours up into the hills... or I think I can justifiably say mountains as this was the Helvellyn range. We parked up near the bottom of Clough Head and after half circumnavigating the base on the moor road we saw a path up. This culminated in a sometimes buttock-clenching ascent up what is marked on the map as "Red Screes". At one point the path was just loosen shingle and was sliding away beneath our feet. In trail shoes with worn down grip I had a moment of panic and had to take a moment to get hold of myself, "Its not too bad, you'll only slide down about 50-100ft from here, be a man!", I told myself. Soon we were on top and were rewarded with miles of grassy, runnable, undulating, high-level trails over numerous near 3000ft peaks - Great Dodd, Watsons Dodd, Stybarrow Dodd.... On top of Raise - where there is a ski tow! - I persuaded Mark that the high peak two cairns away would be makeable inj time for us to get back for the football. That was Helvellyn Lower man, satisfied to have broken 3000ft - highest I've been in UK - but lacking the time to hit Helvellyn we ran back the way we came to the car. The picture above is from Lower man looking down towards Ullswater and capturing on the right some of vertigo-enducing "Swirral Edge" path over to the steep-sided Catstye Cam. Even finding a quicker way down after the nerve-racking Red Screes which avoided the half loop of Clough Head.

This "peak bagging" session saved the weekend from the memory of yesterdays hard run. And..... If I'd known the footie result I would have kept running over Helvellyn and on to Grasmere or Ambleside I think.