Winter Walking with Mountain Magic

 



Me using the ice pick

Last week, I escaped the claustrophobic confines of the buildings, pavements and oddly mild climate of our fair city of London. I swapped it for the amazing hills of Glen Coe! I was booked up with Mountain Magic for an enlightening week of clear horizons, snow and fairly constant rain. As my plans in the near future include traverses up Mont Blanc and various volcanoes in Kamchatka, I thought it was probably not such a bad idea to become familiar with the business end of ice picks and crampons.

I had excitedly bought myself a pair of B2 boots to pair with crampons from Ellis Brigham (you can rent, but over about three trips it is worth buying your own pair), which had sat in the corner of my room glaring expectantly at me, and wondering what they were doing in North London. Probably. I mean, I can't speak 'boot', but I reckon that was their thought for the week they sat dormant. But not for long!

After an epic journey from home right up to Fort William, changing about four times, I arrived at 10pm. The welcome sight of Paul Boggis (director of Mountain Magic) was there to greet me and another walker, and lift us back to the cottage in Glen Coe that everyone on our course was staying in. I was absolutely cream crackered by the time we got there, but no rest. I sat on the floor and fiddled with the adjustments on a set of crampons lent to me, trying to fit them to my boot. A few interjections from my course mates helped me along the way, and I finally got it sorted enough that I could hit the hay!
 

Paul Boggis

The course was pretty full, which I feel is always good in terms of having a more social time (which doesn't tend to be my forte, but which makes for a nice cheerful atmosphere). There were two other girls, Georgie and Krysia. We were sharing a room together in close confines. There were also three guys. Two, JP and Nick, are good friends and walking aficionados who came together. The other guy, Chris, had come along to help clear his stress with a few days of walking.

To bed! And the adventure begins tomorrow. With that thought, I drifted off...

Day 1 - Stob Dubh

We woke early in time for a 7.30am breakfast, and I was pretty excited! The mealtime theme for the week was mildly paleo, a ridiculous concept where you essentially eat only foods that would have been available in caveman/hunter-gatherer times. The effect of this is a weirdly skewed version of the Atkinsons where you never quite have enough energy. Luckily, the paleo vibe in this week was only a light theme, punctuated with pasta, rice and toast. Otherwise I might have found myself secretly gnawing on the sofas to try and eke out some carbohydrates at an hour no one else would find me out. Actually, I was pretty chuffed with the food, as we were all asked re our preferences prior to the course. When I mentioned cereal, an instant offer to get some in was made, and veggie dishes were cooked separately (awkwardly, I was the only non meat eater). Also, the world's best (homemade!) flapjack was taken as an accessible snack during the snowy daytime.

After taking an age to sort out our kit (first day, and all that), we got in the van and went out on the hill! We took an epic trip to the 958m peak of Stob Dubh on this day. I whacked out my trekking poles (thanks Mum!) for the first section of the hill, which was basically steep and slippery steps, up and up and up! There was some initial chat and banter, which fell to the wayside as heartrates increased and everyone concentrated on the task at hand. Georgie led the way, and we marched up the hill. Snow was on the hill from very low down, patches here and there, then extending to whole areas. We stopped for a quick rest and water break partway up the hill, which was the point that I noticed that one member of the group wasn't quite right. Chris, shellshocked by the marching pace we had fallen into, had turned an alarming shade of grey. He looked wiped! We stopped for a wee while so that everyone felt okay to carry on, then up we went!

One moment it was snow patches, and then, snow! We saw another group out practicing ice pick arrests in a section here. The air turned a little colder as we went on until a little saddle. I tried breaking ground in the snow here for a while, and it is bloody exhausting! The snow was quite soft, so I sank in with each step. I got to the saddle, and crouched like a little chipmunk with my bit of flapjack. I had to take off my glove for this, but it was worth it! I madly nibbled as much as I could until all of my group had gone past and up the next hill a little. I didn't realise they were just trying to find a place out of the wind so that they could do just the same!

Now comes the really cool bit of the day - we were taught some snow skills! We all put our rucksacks in a pile, and went up a little way to learn the basics. One point is that you should move along and up the slope in a zigzag pattern, and always have the ice pick adze (non pointy bit) forwards and in the uphill hand. I struggled with holding my pick correctly, and was pulled up on it more than once! Then we were showing the correct posture to hold the pick in in order to arrest ourselves if we start sliding to our death on a snowy slope. Good to know! We slide down on our back sans pick to create a nice slidely slope, then started practicing. We were taught techniques to stop ourselves no matter what our orientation when we fall, and if we do or don't have our pick to hand. It is pretty difficult to turn yourself round from a head first slide without rolling! I need to practice this shit more. We spent about an hour rolling around in the snow doing all these stops.

Snow sliding

I started feeling pretty cold at this point, as there was a fierce blizzard coming off of the mountain top and we weren't doing sustained walking effort. However, despite having almost no outdoors skills to base this off of, I have a massive ego. I didn't want to mention that I was the wimp that was feeling the cold! To make it worse, I sat for ages whilst I tried to work out my crampons. I have practiced them the night before, but they are much trickier on a cold, snowy mountainside. Then people ate and drank, and stood talking navigation. Finally, I was pretty sure I was going to cause an avalanche by the force of my shivering, and it became apparent to the others. Annoying! My weakling complex surfaced, and I grumbled "I'm fine" when asked how I was.

Thank God! We are moving again, up the slope, in the zigzag fashion as before. Despite a mini problem with my gaiters, mostly all was well. I warmed up as we climbed. Paul warned us as we got higher of the risk of cornices, large banks of snow sticking out over the edge of drops. It is possible that they can be large enough for you to be well on a cornice before seeing the edge in poorer visibility. So the advice was to stick to areas where you can definitely see rock showing, to ensure you are on mountain top and not what is essentially floating snow! The winds picked up, and a light blizzard flurried around our faces. Most of us threw on our shades/goggles to protect our eyes. Mine are a bloody nightmare! Every time I breathe (which I am sure I read somewhere is a necessity or something like that), the whole bloody things fog up! I am stumbling after the group, trying to see out of the top left patch of sunglass that is clear. Later on, I learned not to breath. That helped a little. ;)

So, with crampons on your feet, the thing you tend to really hate is bloody rock. Sticking up, catching, tipping you off balance. Snow please! On snow, they really don't even feel like they're on at all.

Then, a bit of scrambling, and we are on top of the Stob Dubh summit! The weather clears a little bit, and there are even some sunrays. We take a summit picture, and everyone chows down eagerly. First mountain top of the course! That is 'summit' to brag about! Ahem, sorry about that last sentence. Won't happen again (it probably will)



The Clachaig Inn

The way down was fairly uneventful. We came down the same way, and the weather felt really mild on the lower slopes in comparison to the summit. The only saga was the first outdoors wee of the week (of many!). Running for 90+ minutes in wild trails, I thought I had a good grasp of seamless outdoor weeing. In fact, I even did it on a caving trip last year. But weeing on the side of a snow slope is a whole new challenge! I hiked up a few metres to a covering rock, then staring paranoidly at my group to check no one was watching, the business was done. Slippery wee times.

Nick and JP went ahead as they are faster trekkers, and wanted to get down to Fort William to change their boots. We came down at a slower rate, and at the bottom the pub was suggested. This became a mini tradition of ajourning to the Clachaig Inn each evening post walk that I became rather fond of! In the evening after the dinner, we sat and watched a film called 'The Pinnacle', about climbers that have recreated a series of legendary Scottish climbs.

Day 2 - The Lost Valley

I was excited when we discussed this the night before, as I thought we might throw in a trip to the famous Ossian's Cave. Alas, we didn't. But we did head to a place called 'The Lost Valley', which is apparently "Where Faeries and Pixies live if they exist in this world" (courtesy of Mr Paul Boggis). The main theme of this today was step kicking in snow, an exhausting activity that requires turns to be taken throughout the group.

Trekking up towards the snow

 

The first section was a nice little trot down in the valley, and up a few slippery steps. Then we went up a little, following the stream along as closely as possible. From checking the map we knew that we would need to be crossing the stream and ending up on the left hand side of it at some point. This point came close to the point of the first little patches of snow, at a place where the stream was about knee height. Now, I have no qualms about being wet, but of course the concern on a long day is making sure that you don't lose too much heat. So I wobbled precariously from rock to rock across the stream, my trekking poles held aloft in one hand, trying to get my footing. Thankfully JP took my poles for me and allowed me to hop across in a more or less dry fashion. As we went along the bank down to the river fell away sharply, leaving a scary drop. Then was the moment that I knew was coming, the arrival of enough snow so that the trekking poles would be packed away, and the ice pick would come out! We had to make our way through the Lost Valley, slowly along and up, through this heavy sloped snow bank. Footing was incredibly important here, which I imagine is why we were taught the ice pick self arrest the day before. We didn't put crampons on for the way up, instead getting our introduction to kicking steps in the snow to make our way. Paul did them all to start with, and we had to concentrate on holding our picks correctly and following the steps. But it wasn't that easy for long! We started to rotate and take turns kicking the steps. Because of the steep slope, we had to make sure the steps were angled inwards to make foot placement in them easier, and so that we were less likely to slip out of the steps. I was very conscious on my turn that my feet were quite a bit smaller than the guys', so I had to boot the snow four or five times on each step in order to make it big enough. It was bloody exhausting! How Paul managed to do it continuously and with no apparent sign of fatigue I will never know! I have to confess that on this day, I actually forgot my map, so was relying on Paul to tell me where to kick up to!

Eventually we got close to the top of the hill. The weather was coming in and blizzarding a little as we sat here and rested. We had to create ourselves a sort of bum shaped hole to rest in. We had a bite to eat and some hot drink. Before we went back down, we popped on our crampons to make the downhill slope easier. I say 'popped on'. What actually ensured was about twenty minutes of tugging and tying and grunting (mostly from my quarter). Cold hands and cold feet were an inevitable conclusion of this session, after which I proudly announced my success! One glance from Paul: "Jen." He said, with no small amount of disbelief "You've got them on the wrong way round". Yup, I had put left on right and vice versa. Luckily Paul took pity on me and helped me to swap them around!



Following snow steps up

Coming back down was less exhausting, but infinitely more frustrating. No matter how I walked, on tracked or fresh snow, I seemed to be constantly slipping and falling on my ass. I really don't have a good temper at the best of times, but after pitching forwards or sideways about twenty times I was little more than an uncoordinated bundle of rage. Finally someone told me to dig my heels in as I went down...woohoo! This is it! I've got it, i'm moving...ohhh, i'm slipping! And down I went, on my back to start then I flipped on my front to try and arrest myself. But before I knew it, the pick was jerked from my hand and left sitting pretty in the snow twenty metres up from me. In panic, I cupped my hands and dug them both at the same time into the snow. It was a good thing that this snow was relatively soft, as this actually worked. Red faced, I climbed up freehand to my semi abandoned pick and retrieved it. We continued our downwards trajectory, going along a bit and back across some of the more melty, streamy sections. It was tiring, but after a couple of hours we had made it back down to less snowy realms of the valley. Another expected but unwelcome toilet trip behind a handy rock led to a little incoordination, and I managed to give the back of my thermal trousers a little unexpected christening. Well, what can you do? I did hear a story of someone who accidentally pooed in the back of their caving suit and put it back on without realising, so I think i'm still winning in the grand scheme of things?

We got back to the bottom, and were soon on our way to the Clachaig Inn! On the way we say someone walking back there, so we told him to hop in and gave him a lift. He was staying at the inn, and he told us about a talk that was happening there that evening about Winter skills. It sounded great! As far as I could tell the plan was to grab a quick drink, head for dinner, and then get back to the pub in time for the talk beginning at 8pm. I availed myself of a bowl of the soup of the day (which I think was broccoli and brie, or something of that nature), and chowed down with gusto. Oh, it was so good, even sat in my soaked waterproofs.

We headed back for dinner. I went first in the van with Paul, as he was trying to go ahead and get it ready. On the way back I saw a deer bounding across the road. "Oh!" I exclaimed in suprise as it bounced out of sight. Then the shock of our lives; another came out directly in front of the van, so close there was hardly any time at all to react. When I took my hands from my face, the van had come to a stop and the deer was gone, but unfortunately, we probably clipped him a little. Sad times. I hope it was a bump and not anything serious!

By the time 8pm rolled around, we were all still at the dinner table, and so alas, we missed the talk. Everyone did go off to the pub a little later to have a few rounds, but it is definitely not my scene! So I stayed in and went to bed early. Bring on the next day!

Day 3 - rainy navigation day

So I can't actually remember the name of the hills that we went to on this day. But today was basically the slightly shorter, sort of rest day. Unfortunately Chris hadn't been able to come out as he had a bad stomach. So today we practiced navigation! I was pleased to get my teeth back into this subject, as I did a few days mid December, and was worried the knowledge was fading back into the dark recesses of my brain where it would live. The other factor was that my immunity had taken a little battering by the harsh weather on the previous two days, and I could feel a little cold or flu dredging itself up. I squashed it down, sacked up, and marched on.

Dinner is served

We did a check on how many paces each of us took to one hundred metres. This does increase based on the terrain, with factors such as weather, ease of walking, height gain, etc. all having an impact. I seemed to remember that my normal amount of paces for the kind of easy terrain at the start of this walk was sixty five. But it must have gone up a little! It is about seventy to seventy-five now. As we went along counting paces, we were checking for a specific turn on the trail that would be indicated by a flatter section afterwards. The ground was rocky and gravelly, with minimal snow patches. This may have been because there was a constant stream of water running both down and alongside the path. As the day went on the temperature rose and the water was gushing down at a terrific rate.

When we finally made it to what we thought was our turning point on the map, we had gone further than we thought and so it was quite close. So much for knowing our position accurately! We stopped off for a bite at a cairn, and then started off with some specific micronavigation to a tarn. The first section of this seemed to walk straight through the middle of an icy pond! But we were taught 'boxing off' an obstacle, such as a body of water or cornice. This basically means you go around it a bit, and then back to the same point on the other side of it. Demystified! In case you asked. We were also asked to work out the degree on the compass we should be heading, and the distance we would walk to get there. We did this a few times over, and it is really difficult to keep on a true bearing! I went off on a random tangent more than once. I realised I was extremely off course when I saw Paul trudging off at about right angles of where I was! I really want to practice this a little more on my own. JP was telling me about The Wainwrights in the Lake district, so I have a thought I might go up there armed with an OS map!

Navigating the hills

Back to the present. Once we had done a few of these little navigation tasks, it was time for the promised introduction to the emergency shelter! It is basically a large canvas shelter that is supposed to be able to hold 4-6 people in an emergency situation. An example is if someone is injured, or a white out occurs and it is too risky to move about. We took it out of its bag, all took an edge and 'up and over'! it went above our heads and we all sat down at once. I can truly say that this is one of the more uncomfortable experiences of my life. With six people inside, all sitting on an edge and trying to eat, there wasn't even any space to lift my head properly. My knees were crushed up to my chest, and the memory of easy breathing left for a little while! I still think I probably had a better deal than some of the taller members of the group, or those that were sitting halfway down a backwards slope! After a brief period in here, away from the driving rain, we all stood back up en masse. The relief! It was about time then to head back down, as today was the easier day. I seemed to have huge problems keeping up on the way back down! To be fair, I am always slower coming back than going up. But I sort of stumbled along behind, and the rain had picked up its pace. At one point Nick hung back and checked that I was alright with a handy high five. I was a little confused why I was being high fived! I only realised later that I looked a little out of my depth because I kept losing my balance.

One wee stop and a short drive later, we were back at the Clachaig. I finally partook in the amazing looking hot chocolate with cream and chocolate sauce on top! We all sat close around the fire (to the slightly bemused glances of the other pubgoers), chatted and warmed ourselves up. When we got back to the cottage Chris was around, but not feeling too much better. He hadn't got much sleep, and still had a dodgy stomach. But he did sit in for the talk later, which was consolidating all the navigation skills that we had practiced out on the hills. A shorter day was nice, but I was looking forward to practicing more snow skills the next day as was promised!

Day 4 - Stob coire nan lochan

This day was literally the best day out of all of them! We finally got over one thousand metres, and it was great fun getting there! I knew that this was the day we were planning to practice some more snow skills (ice pick arrest being my big worry, as I have a habit of flinging it out away from me rather than keep it tight into my body). We climbed up via a steep route that included crossing a few precarious waterfall tops. The views were pretty incredible, and the mountain stretched upwards into a point in the upper distance. Apparently, there are some crazy cats who actually skied down from that upper point all the way to the bottom! Sounds like an amazing ride!

It wasn't long before the ice picks came out, the snow banks rolling down towards precarious waterfalls and sudden drops. The snow was not as firm as that in the Lost Valley, and slid around beneath our feet. Some areas required a little hands and feet scrambling. But we finally got up to some big banks of snow that we could practice on. A quick hop across an icy river, and we got started!



River crossing

I have to say, there is nothing quite as awesome as sliding down a snowbank that you know you won't die at the bottom of. Wheeee! This time we practiced the skills rucksack on so that it would be a little bit more realistic. I put my camera in my bag, and followed the footsteps up to the top of the slope. Weirdly, as I sat at the top of the slope, a quiver of fear danced through me. But I am never one to let my fear stop me from doing anything! I slid down with one quick push, and managed to stop myself with one quick drive into the snow with the pick. I pushed off again, and each time I felt I was improving my technique. Here's hoping I manage to come through when I actually slip and fall! I don't think I would be quite as lucky if it happened accidentally on Mont Blanc! We also all practised what we would do if we fell down head first, which involves first of all holding the pick aloft, then flinging it out to one side to use as a pivot point to turn on. Then we would arrest ourselves as normal if the pivot hadn't stopped us. Paul was taking quite a few pics of us all flinging ourselves down the slope, so i'm hoping to get hold of a cool looking one of me pivoting! Fingers crossed!

After the snow skills session we were asked what was more important - snow shelter and avalanche stuff, or summiting the mountain! I'm afraid, peak bagger that I am (although novice), I didn't hesitate to join in the chimes of "Summit!". This is where the really cool stuff came in, and it got just the right amount of hairy for me. We strapped on our crampons and starting make our way up. Some areas of the ground were packed snow, and other areas punctuated by rocks that tipped our crampons off balance a little. But after a walk, we started to get into some proper scrambling, and some properly fierce weather conditions. Climbing up crevices, the sides of jutting rock and from stone to stone all with the wind whipping round at up to fifty miles per hour. Paul had brought some rope just in case anyone felt worried enough to feel like they needed it (we didn't in the end), and after every little scramble we all congregated in a little safe rocky spot where he would check everyone felt okay. He told us later that he really felt like he earned his money on this scramble, as there is a lot of supervising and guiding to do! There were some other people making their way up to the summit via this route, but like us, they stopped frequently and rested. I loved the scrambling so, so much I want to do some more (albeit in slightly more Summery conditions!), and maybe some higher grades with ropes! The scariest section was what looked like a bridge entirely made of snow, which I was hesitant to cross. I know some of the others weren't fans of the heights and felt as I did about that section. Because of the frequent stops, my hands were starting to feel the temperature! We worked out later that with wind chill, it felt like minus fifteen degrees at the summit! I am very suprised at that, as although it was cold I had an idea that that temperature would be almost unbearable. But with enough movement it is pretty alright. With my hands feeling it a little, I kept scrunching them up into fists inside my gloves, and waggling them to keep them feeling alive. I am currently reading a book about Ranulph Fiennes Artic adventures, in which he said one person on his team let seven of his fingers become frostbitten from apathy in that environment. I know it's not quite the Artic Circle, but that story stuck in my mind! What I didn't realise was that all the scrunching had exposed my wrist to the elements, and it was turning a rather weather beaten shade of red. Paul did notice however, and on the precarious side of a rock, in a blizzard, he swapped his gloves with mine (he had spares) and tucked my wrists in to protect them from the elements. Quite good to have a guide that notices and anticipates problems!

Snack break

Now that the weather was really up, we didn't spend too much more time sitting. The scrambling section was done, and now it was a short snowy walk up to the summit! I was so relieved to see we were finally at the top, and I could claim that peak bagged! We all crouched in a close circle and chomped some well earned flapjack and hot tea. I remember some discussions about penguins (although can't remember if it was that we were or weren't like penguins, or that we should be!). It was a bit too fierce to get any summit pictures. We went down on the other side of the mountain, and according to estimates it would take two to three hours to come down. This side was a bit more strolling (and stumbling on my part!) down snow and rock slopes, and not scrambling. We saw the coolest thing on the way down. We came across a deep loop carved into the snow. It turns out that this way a way that people abseil down, with rope wedged into this loop of snow. It looks amazing! I really want to do that. I don't know how solid/reliable it is, but the snow is pretty firmly packed! I didn't get a chance to take a picture of it though.

By the time we got back down to the area that was near our snow skills spot, it seemed that everyone was coming back down, and we met up with about twenty people on the path! I was bum sliding down to avoid any forward trips (and also because, let's face it, it was pretty fun!). At the bottom spot here we took our crampons back off (relief!) and then it was a skip back down to the bottom. Except it wasn't quite a skip, it was a bit of a slippery slog. When we got back to the area of crossing near the waterfall, I accidentally took the wrong route out across some rocks, and only realised when Paul called me back. Oh shit! I turned back to follow the correct path, and my foot skidded on the rock. Before I knew it, I was sliding away down the rock! I tried to grab with my hands, but couldn't get purchase on anything. I literally had no control as I went, and couldn't believe my luck when a small bank of snow stopped my sliding out any further and into the river. Looking back up at Paul, his face looked as white as a sheet. He said that it was the first near miss he had had this Winter season! Profuse apologies ensued, and secretly I was kicking myself at my clumsiness. On the way down, I could feel my boots rubbing on the side of my heel, with each step downwards. That feeling was there for about an hour, and by the time we were about the bottom, I was fairly sure that my entire boot was full of blood. Okay, yes I am a drama queen. It was actually a small blister. But I have a feeling from this trip that I need to toughen my feet a lot more to cope with the hardy conditions of Mont Blanc! On that evening we had a cool avalanche talk. It described the different types of avalanches, and how to avoid and manage them. Also a story about a group of hikers that rode from the top of the mountain to the bottom on a detached block of ice! Epic!

Nick, JP, me, Georgie, Krysia and Chris

The next day I had to head back to London, and my rubbish dual twelve hour shifts. But I am sure that I got a little wiser, and a little hardier, this holiday! And it was great fun too!

Flatt7








The Suffering race review

High spirits!

On the 29^th of July, I ran The Suffering race for my Granddad’s hospice, the Molly Wisdom hospice in Kent. Prior to running I raised over £330 for the cause from friends, family and various people I had met on my adventures! Below is a brief report of how it went!

I travelled up the night before so I would be able to be at the grounds at the start time, and in the evening I went for a quick recce of the grounds to see if I would be able to walk to the event village. It was beautiful! The castle rising up, church bells, sun setting and wild birds flitting about. I even found the edge of the course that was next to the castle walls, complete with ‘Reapers, beware’ signage. This little walk was the most relaxing part of the trip!

On the Sunday I arrived at the race grounds quite early and got my registration pack. Pinning my number precariously onto my running top, I was approached by another runner. She had run a couple of other races, and was asking me about what I had run and how I liked it, etc. Then she asked me how long I thought this ten miler would take; I estimated about three hours (as it turned out, this wasn’t exactly a ten miler, and took over four). Anyway, she strangely took this as an opportunity to mock me.

“THREE HOURS?!” She screeched, gaping at me in disbelief.

“Well, thanks for that.” I responded, with no small degree of hatred at the random, judgemental elf that had popped up to keep me company. I turned back to fixing on my number, trying to ignore her questions as to why on earth it would take me so long, what was my normal running pace and terrain, etc. Then her friend came over to join her.

“Hey” she stage whispered conspiratorially to him, nudging him with her elbow. “This girl thinks it will take her THREE HOURS to get round the course!” She laughed.

ARE YOU KIDDING ME?  With no small amount of rage, I turned to her red faced and told her that making fun of other runners was extremely poor sportsmanship. With that, I stomped off. I literally have never experienced any attitude within fitness pursuits except for support and encouragement (as an adult, at least), so I was still a little flabbergasted as I finished my race preparations.

Trying to put it out of my mind, I stepped up for the wave three warmup, which included lunges, star jumps, pushups and a little bit of stretching. Then, smoke flare in hand, the trainer led the charge to the start line! I have to add that this particular gentleman had a particular penchant for chips, and before the warmup I saw him at one point spilling his boxful of chips onto the stage (accidentally, I presume), and then half-heartedly trying to kick them off the stage onto the ground. I did feel for him when I saw that.

Anyway, back to the race! Starting out, I deliberately hung back, pacing myself at about a 13 minute mile (for those that don’t know, that is not much more than shuffling on the spot). A guy just in front of me was lamenting:

“Oh no, I’m last!”

“Don’t worry, mate” I said “I’m last!”



Startline

The first obstacle was almost straight away! All the spectators were encouraged to grab a wet sponge and chuck them at the runner diving under the first set of cargo nets. I managed to get a couple back with the sponges! After this I managed to pick up my pace a little more and settle into my stride.

So, as my race of 13 miles (someone’s measurement of the supposedly 10 mile race) has blurred together a little bit, below are the highlights in no particular order!

The Reapers

The Suffering’s name for marshalls. As well as doing all of the normal marshally things such as instruction, encouragement and safety checks, they also had the right to right to give you forfeits any time they liked! These included pushups, situps, squats and burpees.  I found them very friendly and funny!

The running terrain

Mostly mossy fields with some sections of sucking mud and rivers! I found that they tended to put longer running sections before water obstacles, which is a very good layout, unsure if deliberate! Definitely enough to get a good pace on some sections! The killer part was the up and down hill tracks, which required a hill sprint on each upward section. I surprised myself by pacing quite well in this part, and not walking too much! Some sections also had precarious balancing acts through seas of nettles, which I grabbed only a couple of times before I learned it was better to trip over in the middle than grab for the sides. I still have the bloated, post nettle hands to prove it!

The monkey bars

Something I realised as soon as I nervously gripped the first rung...I can now do monkey bars! When did that happen! I didn’t make it all the way across, but did about twenty rungs before dropping! The whole time I was shaking with amazement as I honestly just expected to drop straight off like I always do! The arm training is working!

The water slide

This was a terribly managed obstacle. When I got there I had to wait fifteen minutes behind a throng of people that were delicately balancing on a muddy hill (which means you could not even jog to keep warm). When I got to the front the tarpaulin was stretched out across a series of jutting rocks with a hay bale to catch you at the bottom. It might be wimpy, but I carefully controlled my descent to the bottom. When I got there I jogged up past a guy that had clearly injured his back on the rocks. Bad times.

The up and overs

Including wooden barriers, elevated logs and tire racks. Many thanks to the guys who hoiked me up some of these! Told you I was heavier than I looked!

The seventh circle of hell

Also known as the area with the water tubs. At the entrance a little Damien was giving us our instructions to pick up one of the water tubs and take it around the course. He must have been about three years old, so in my addled brain it took me a second to understand what he was saying! My tub was one of the lightest, and weighed about 20kg. We had to take them up slippery slopes, over trees and under cargo nets. A huge degree of teamwork was used here, with people grabbing others tubs and pushing and pulling to help others. Then we all had to do ten situps in the water!

The water obstacles

There were plenty of these, but luckily due to the weather they were pretty warm and not too strenuous! They included boggy rivers, swim pits with and without cargo nets to go under and one actually quite welcome dowsing with a spray hose! June is the perfect month to splash about!

Tire hill

This was a steep hill next to the castle walls (i.e., lots of elderly spectators) which we had to go round twice with a tyre on each arm. I saw one cheaty maleaty couple lie and say they had already done it twice! Not cool, man!



Posing with medal

The final battle

Near the finish line, there were a group of men holding what were essential giant padded shields that you had to barge your way through. I let roar my best battle cry and charged towards them! Well, I know from other accounts that they did go a little easy on me, but maybe my kiai scared them so much that they backed off! I did hear a little girl say “Wow” just before I sprinted off, which lifted my spirits!

Overall impressions

Overall I would say that the course was amazingly and painstakingly laid out through bogs, rivers, forest and clipped fields alike! I can only imagine the effort put into putting the route together! The reapers were excellent, team camaraderie was at a high amongst all runners and there were some cool imaginative touches such as the Spider’s web near the end of the course. I also loved that spectators were allowed to roam about the course, so you never knew when a random spectator or group of enthusiastic children would pop up to cheer you on! I even got a high five from a little boy on the sidelines! However, I would say that there was a huge problem with water supply on the day, with the first water stall at about mile six! By then I was absolutely gasping, and listening to other runners, I know I wasn’t the only one.  I had to resort to picking up random discarded bottles and hoping against hope that there was a dribble left in them. I was very, very close to drinking some of the river water, with only a flicker of common sense gainfully battling to hold me back from this. I was also a tad disappointed with the goody bags.

I would run this again, but only with the clear knowledge that their race mileage is very loosely calculated! Still, more race for my money so I’m not complaining! And it afforded me the opportunity to raise a lot of money for the Molly Wisdom hospice! Thanks to everyone who made their contribution! Onto the next challenge! Ideas on a postcard. ;)

Flatt7

Ps Thanks all for tolerating my frankly excessively liberal sprinkling of exclamation marks...I feel I may have a problem. :P


Leaping an obstacle

Devon Trail Ferret running camp diary

Me at the Trail Ferret camp

Friday 14^th March 2014

So! After a 6.30am start and a familiarity with the infrastructure of trains that went far past what I needed, I am finally here in Devon. I’m up in my room in St George’s house at the moment, after having met my fellow runners. There are six others in the house – Zoe, Emma, Jules, Martha, Rachel and Wanda. I’m dreading the crazy itinerary that’s planned. I was greeted near the train station by an enthusiastic Ben and Paul, who are running the camp.

St George's House

Tonight we are going for a couple of hours run in the dark (doesn’t sound too bad!), but tomorrow they are driving us 32 miles away and then getting us to run back! 32 miles! I have already bid farewell to my leg function for the foreseeable future post that run. Well, we’ll see how it goes.  After asking around, it’s clear that all the other runners are marathoners or more, I am the only newbie of the bunch. I think I am definitely out of my depth! Ash believes in me, though.  That kind of spurs me on.

Okay, going to go and break my headlamp out of its packaging. Never used one before! Wow, I feel all high tech! Now, um, where do the batteries go?

Later...

So, just back from the Braunton Burrows, where we all had our first run together! I had no idea of what they were going to break into when they promised an initial ‘nice, easy pace’ (with slightly traumatising memories of the ‘easy’ pace of one of PKG’s instructors, Alex), but was pleasantly surprised that it was genuinely a nice pace for me. Whew, not as bad as I thought, maybe! The Burrows are this meandering system of sandy hills, with paths winding in-between them. Parts of the path are flooded and boggy. In other sections they rise up slightly and tangled vegetation grows (including copious amounts of bramble). On the whole path you can hear the nearby sea moving gently in and out. So pretty cool scenery.

Night running

It took me a few moments to get the hang of the different settings on my headlamp, and to not blinding everyone I looked at instantly (although there are a couple of different accounts on my competency at the second aspect!). Ben was guiding us to start with, but a couple of people had GPS systems, and we were being taught how to navigate using them. As well as this, at one point we turned all the headlamps off, and Ben pointed out other factors by which to navigate, such as distant landmarks and the sound of the sea. He did a disappearing act halfway through the run, after which we had to navigate for ourselves. We had to detour past the flooded areas of the path, and at one point had to turn around completely and find a new path to our destination. But finally, we got on a good running stretch. The hills rose up then fell away as my feet moved faster underneath me, and the night area rushed refreshingly past my head. Despite my best efforts, I couldn’t match the pace of my cohorts, and found myself desperately following Zoe’s headlamp with the hope that I wouldn’t lose her! We had been going for a little while, the group split up into two, and occasionally pausing for GPS checks, when we came to an abrupt stop at one crossroads. This time we weren’t sure where we were going at all, and were about to go down a particularly boggy path when Ben’s voice floated out of the darkness.

“Stop!” He said “I wouldn’t go down that path” He made his way across to us. He had been watching the headlamps from above to check our location. Apparently we had been about to get into a flooded area that would have been difficult underfoot. At some point we had made a navigation mistake (I’m still not quite sure what). In any case, he was here to lead us out. Thank God! It didn’t take much more meandering before we were on the main path again, and headed back to the van. On the way back there was a semi lively discussion about stretching. It seems like I am the only one here who actually stretches? I know for a fact if I don’t I will have major DOMS the next day. I did get a reaction like I was a bit weird for stretching, heheh. Okay! I have seriously got to go to sleep. Big day tomorrow! Night.

Saturday 15^th March 2014



River crossing

Today was the day of the big run, the Ultra marathon day! As I said before, they planned a 32 mile run back to the house. Well, I didn’t quite manage that, but I did knock out about 19 and a half miles! I am pretty chuffed with myself, having never run that far before in my entire life. As those who have read my blog before may know, my biggest running accomplishment to date is the Tough Mudder, a 13 mile obstacle course race that took me about four bloody hours to complete. I had a determination to beat that today, by hell or high-water!



Signposts

We started off on a pretty woodland path by Watersmeet, a path that tracked alongside the river. Occasionally we criss crossed via various bridges. Stones, pebbles and waterfalls interspersed through the area gave it a sort of magical feeling. Some of the stones were marked with their location and the date of placement. This was a pretty flat part of the route as well, so I could keep up with the group with little difficulty (although I was at the back). A few people walking their dogs smiled at us as we passed. This was a common feature on the run, but later on in the hills, it was clear that the owners considered us to be totally insane. At this point they were pretty relaxed.

Cargo tram

Village stop

After a while, we emerged from the river path into a little village which I think may have been called Lyn (going from a picture of its well that I have). We stopped for a brief toilet break, and then took a little jog round the corner to what looked like a sort of cargo railway! It ran steeply all the way up to the top of the hill. One of the cars is pulled up whilst the other one goes down. I was chuffed to realise that we were taking a wee cheeky shortcut by using this to get to the top of the hill! I didn’t realise we would still have plenty of hill to climb later in the day. The conductor waved us aboard, and we took it to the top. At the top, we ran through another little village to get onto the coastal path. There were several people congregated outside the church there, and they all cheered at our group as we ran past! That was pretty epic, and definitely had me smiling for at least the next couple of miles.

Coastal running

Sea views

Now we were right up on the cliff, and the view was astounding! The sea stretched out across the vista, and it was amazing to run alongside it. The wind snatched at my hat like a hungry wolf, and after a near miss in which it almost become acquainted with the sea, I acquiesced to holding it in my hand instead of on my head. We ran round the cliff top we were on, and down into the adjoining valley. A whole family of semi-wild goats roamed around this area, including a kid. I got a few pictures, but alas, they weren’t keen to be approached. Our first checkpoint was supposed to be here, actually, but when we got here there was no van to be seen. It was decided that he had probably already come and thought that we were ahead of him, so had gone on. Some of the group took a meander up to the top of another hill, but I’m afraid I stayed at the bottom and conserved my energy!



Valley Goats

Me and Emma took off with Paul, as many of the others knew exactly where they were going and we needed a bit of guidance. We trotted along the rest of the valley, then out onto a concrete road that ran alongside the nearby fields. I have to say, I saw quite possibly the largest two bulls I have ever seen just chilling out next to each other as we ran!  There was another opportunity for weeing (if you have ever trail run, you’ll know it is a luxury not to wee in a thin patch of nettles), a little shack that had a couple of chickens meandering casually around it. As I came back out and rejoined the group I heard the most almighty racket behind me! I turned in horror to see that somebody’s pet dog was relentlessly attacking one of the chickens, tearing at it and trying to pin it down. I ran to help, but they were moving so much I couldn’t stop them! I was panicking, but luckily Sophina managed to grab the chicken and rescue it from the dog. She went round the back of the shack and put it out of harm’s way. The other wise chicken had already made itself scarce. But what I couldn’t believe was that the guy didn’t seem to care at all! He was making jokes about it. I felt like setting an ostrich on him (not his dog, him).

The ill fated chicken

After this is where the uphill really started, and I began to struggle in earnest and unfortunately walk quite a bit (although I continued to run on flat/downhill for quite a while). Higher and higher and higher we climbed along the road, until we made our way onto a crumbling cliff top. The amazing views were back! And as large stretches of the route on the cliff were fairly uniform, I was okay to run on them. I got a mid run check from Ben, who ran with me a little way, I think to check that I was bearing up. Running on the very edge where the grass grew was a little dangerous as you never knew when the edge of the cliff would crumble and collapse! To my right there was a very long, very steep diagonal roll down to the drop of the cliff. If I stumbled I think it would have been curtains for me! After I chewed his ear off for a little while, he ascertained that I was alright, and made off at his own pace.

Riverside break

We meandered back down, into a woodland area, and stopped for a quick break! Here, people were filling up their water bottles, and chowing down on energy bars. I took a few grateful bites of some. I had only brought one gel sachet, and I had already eaten it. Bah.

Afterwards we moved on again. I have to admit my memory becomes a little hazy as to this section, except for the fact that it went back up. And up. And up. For seemingly ever! This time Paul hung back with me, and I think I made it to the second checkpoint a good twenty minutes after everybody else. Wanda had raced on ahead, but then somehow gotten lost and didn’t make it to the fourteen mile checkpoint. All I remember is gratefully seeing the van parked, and inhaling two bowls of pasta and some melted Soreen before glugging the rest of my water bottle and then lying on the ground in stunned relief. I think everybody else went into the van. I was too bloody knackered to move from that spot for a little while.

Wild hills

After hearing that the next checkpoint would only be about six miles away, I decided that it was doable. I didn’t want to give up not even having done half of the route. So onwards I went! Thankfully, we were once again abandoning the road and instead we took a more mountainous route upwards where there were high winds, sharp brambles and jagged rocks at every turn. I was loving all of the different terrains that the run was taking us through, sort of like going screen to screen in Final Fantasy (geeks?). I took the back of course, but still enjoyed the running. At the top of one hill we made our way past a huge rounded stack of small stones. Very odd! I took a picture, but still not a hundred percent sure what on earth it was for!

Mystery pile o' rocks

The gravel trails rolled beneath my feet as the path rose up and down the mountain trails. This was beautiful, epic, but by now I was definitely feeling the weight of the run in my legs! I only dared to run flat sections, as I thought they may give up on me if I went downhill, and send me sprawling in a face plant. Ben told me to go on ahead, as he needed to try and locate Wanda, and find the Sleeping Elephant. I wasn’t quite sure what he meant, but he told me I would know it when I saw it.

I ran the next section of the narrow trails completely alone (although I knew Ben wasn’t far behind me). It was a cool feeling. Although the path was pretty obvious, and there wasn’t much room for error, I still had a stronger sense of freedom. I broke into what I have been reliably informed is called ‘The Ultra Shuffle’, i.e. a very, very slow jog. But better than a walk. I gazed outwards at the sea and landscape as I ran. I ran like this for a while, and then suddenly stumbled on the path and ended up on my knees (a rare occurrence, I have found that I naturally quick-crouch whenever I normally stumble). Tired, I sat here for a couple of minutes, and contemplated just how far I had actually run. When I finally got moving again, I could only walk. And it wasn’t long before Ben rounded the corner and caught up with me. Seeing I was knackered, he doled out a much needed energy cube thing, and slowly we made our way down the path to the third checkpoint.



My aching feet post run

Oh. My. God. The van! Right in front of me! I have never been so pleased in my life to see something, ever. I sat down in the van gratefully, and peeled off my shoes and socks whilst simultaneously stuffing flapjacks into my mouth. Yes! Almost twenty miles! I had done it! Wanda was also in the van, having called it quits for that day. I think she was worried about overdoing it just before her 160 mile challenge.



Fish and Chip stop

But the rest of the pack was still doggedly moving forward, so after a brief midway stop, we made a longer 45 minute stop in nearby Ilfracombe, a dockside village. I got out of the van and went to sit on the tiny beach, staring out at the boats. I dug the sand between my toes, and watched a few children running here and there along the edge of the water. One of them came to stand behind me, moving when I turned. She only left when I pointed out in amusement that I could see her shadow. Heheh. When the rest of the pack arrived triumphantly, it was fish and chips all round! Although I had eaten my weight in flapjacks by that point, so I declined. Instead I took the opportunity to bash out my yoga pose in front on the docks. Woot!

Ilfracombe Dock

The van had an opportunity here to dash back to the house and drop off those people that had finished (Ben was also starting dinner, yum!). Back at the house, I cleaned and hung up my running gear, showered, then fell exhausted into bed. I set the alarm for a couple of hours hence so that I could partake in dinner (I wasn’t gonna miss that!). When I woke I was very fuzzy headed, and stumbled down the stairs in anticipation. The last three runners, Julie, Zoe and Paul had just arrived back at the house. They had completed the whole distance. Bloody hell. My hat was off to them.

It was still a bit to dinner, so I made myself some tea and wandered outside into the cool air and sat on the bench outside. The call of a nearby owl was regularly breaking the silence of the night, and a full moon solemnly illuminated the courtyard. It was bliss to sit out there hugging my tea, my legs aching from the hard work of the day. After finishing my tea I wandered around a bit, looked at the river and the graveyard (from afar), and poked my head outside the gates at the road. But I began to get kind of a creeped out feeling from the area (aka, the willies), so decided to withdraw back into the warmth of the house. I did a little bit of yoga self practice, and then dinner was up so we all dove in. It was fajitas with fillings, mmm. Guacamole has never made me so happy. During dinner someone mentioned that I had caught the sun pretty dramatically! Damn.

Sunday 16^th March 2014



Saunton Sands

This morning I was bloody knackered. I went to bed I think about 10pm, but the whole night I had really odd nightmares, one after another. They woke me up every hour, when I would stare at the clock and then curse the God of sleep/dreams/whoever was on God shift that evening. I finally rose at 6.30 am to have breakfast with more than a few bags under my eyes. I hobbled downstairs...Jesus, my legs hurt! My hip bones felt as if they were digging terminally upwards into the sockets. After eating, I did a few little stretches to try and ease myself out. My body was feeling its punishment.

About 8am we all went over to a little barn area called ‘The Hay Loft’ in order to get going on some strength and conditioning, plus yoga. The yoga was first, and quite an enjoyable mixture. Although in no particular order, I think we got all of the major areas stretched. Initially I was sure that Paul had said they had a yoga expert coming in to do that bit, but it was actually Ben leading it.  Post yoga, he set up about eight circuit stations and we each did a minute on every one until we were back round where we started. One of the stations was a barbell roll out, which I have seen online recently, but which turns out is quite hard. The main fear is your arms collapsing, and you clocking yourself on the barbell as you fall. Another one was with two suspended elastic loops...I was afraid to admit I wasn’t quite sure what I was doing here. Some kind of alternate leg hovering stomach crunch. I couldn’t quite achieve it anyway. The circuit bit was quite good, including some technique assistance and correction as we went!

Then, the final run of the whole camp (sniff). We went for a lovely, flat beach recovery run at Saunton Sands. Many of the runners went barefoot on the sands, but I know my technique is a bit too poor to countenance that – I kept my trainers on. The pack spread out quite a bit as we all ran, but I could still see the others alongside me in the distance. The sands were so effortless to run on, that I was determined to do a proper, nonstop run. Afterwards, someone said to me that I got faster the more I ran! Which I was chuffed at even if it was only because then I could go back and drink tea sooner! This whole run was only about forty minutes, and afterwards we went back for our final lunch together. We had a little get together in the lounge post lunch, and went through the camp and what we liked, disliked, etc. I tried to mention stretching sessions again, but this is definitely the wrong crowd for stretching talk. Their point was that they preferred standalone stretch sessions rather than stretching post run. Me, I like to do both. To each their own, I guess. Plus, I got a free t-shirt, which I really must heft in the wash now; it’s starting to run on its own!

There you have it! The amazing experience of the Devon Trail Ferret Camp. I genuinely love this sort of thing and was so glad that I went. They are holding another weekend in May, so check out their website http://www.trailferret.co.uk for more details on that. And, happy running all!

Flatt7



Group shot