“50 miles, 4000m ascent – a journey on foot from the very top of the Lake District at Caldbeck to the very bottom, at Cartmel, via the stunning Helvellyn Ridge and the western shoreline of Lake Windermere. It might not be the easiest traverse but it will be the most spectacular!”
Yeah… but why?
After completing Barcelona Ironman near the end of 2017, I felt like I needed a new challenge. I’d thoroughly enjoyed the whole Ironman experience but the amount of training required across all 3 disciplines was demanding to say the least and fitting that around work and family life (especially the cycling) was a big ask, plus by the end of the year I’d gotten tired of the monotony of Ironman training, structured workouts, set plans, chasing numbers etc was starting to feel more like a chore than an actual enjoyable past time. I’d really enjoyed the complete change in scenery/terrain/experience that my unplanned foray into Swimrun that Gower had given me so when James suggested I join him in doing Lakes in a Day in late 2018 he had my attention. After a bit of research I decided to take the plunge, I had zero navigation experience, zero familiarity with the Lake District and hadn’t been up a mountain, or even any significant time hiking in the hills since I was a kid but it certainly seemed like an adventure compared to what I was used to and would certainly involve a different sort of training regime, so (probably rather naively) I signed up – it was was just a matter of slowing down my marathon pace, doubling the distance and throwing in a few hills… right?
Doesn’t look so bad on the map!?
Training
I started the year by returning to Barcelona to do the Barcelona Marathon in March, I was targeting a PB at the distance and James joined me as an unofficial pacer. PB was achieved, great weekend was had, I returned tot he UK thinking I’d laid a really good base to crack on with the ultra training.
With the road marathon out of the way I switched my runs to mostly be off road, utilising as many local trails as possible and adding in hills wherever I could, while at the same time forgetting about trying to hit certain paces and just taking it easy and enjoying be out running in the countryside.
In April James and I had our (in my case very) first visit to the Lakes District to join a guided recce of the second half of the course from Ambleside to Cartmel, followed by a day in the mountain section from Helvellyn to Fairfield practicing our nav – this was really useful both in terms of getting to know the course and getting a taste for the conditions (Saturday on the guided recce was beautiful, mid 20s and sunny, Sunday on the mountains was freezing, rainy and blustery winds with almost no visibility).
All seemed to be going really well until early May when I started to get pain in my right knee, this slowly got worse until it was forcing me to stop runs early and would leave me hobbling around the house for a few days afterwards. I tried cutting down the runs, stretching, changing shoes etc but nothing was really helping. I eventually bit the bullet and went and saw a physio. After a thorough assessment it was decided that the cause of the paid was actually my ITB and was a result of weak glutes. I was signed off running completely for a couple of weeks and given a strict regime of S&C exercises aimed at strengthening my glutes and addressing any other imbalances causing the pain. By early June I was able to start running regularly again and start building my distance back up to wear it was. Frustratingly though this meant missing an event I had done as one of my key preparation races – a 30km orienteering race in the Surrey hills which would have been great both for the distance and the navigation practice. I was just able to been running enough to join James in Snowdonia for the Llanberris SwimRun (although in hindsight I really wasn’t ready fitness wise) but lack of training meant I also missed what was going to be my main warm up event of a 50km Ultra over the Chiltern Hills. Frustrating, but definitely a sensible decision.
From late July on-wards I started to have a really good run of training, a weeks holiday in the Lakes district in August allowed me to recce the entire first half of the course from Threlkeld to Ambleside over a few days which gave us both a lot more confidence in what lay ahead (although the thought of having to string it all together was pretty daunting). These recces really did prove invaluable, as my nav skills using a compass were still basic at best so having done the route already and knowing what to expect and look out for was a massive advantage.
By the time October rolled around I was feeling pretty good, I managed a really hilly marathon+ distance training run, was running at least 7 times a week and getting good mileage, I felt fitter than I’d been all year, and most importantly they’d been no recurrence of my ITB problem. I’d really been enjoying my training and felt as ready as I could be to take on whatever the Lake District could throw at me.
Race time
In the last couple of weeks prior to the race, the official Facebook group for participants started to go mad with activity, people were panicking about the kit list, was the mug they’d packed suitable, what sort of ‘fleece layer’ was required, what were the best shoes to wear, should they take hiking poles, what are the best socks…. you could really start to feel the nervous tension building. By the time it got 5 days out and a weather forecast was available things really went up a notch in the group. Compare to the previous 2 years which had great weather (and featured int he promo video!) the 2017 running of the event had had terrible weather resulting in a lot of people pulling out and returning in 2018 swearing that it couldn’t possibly be any worse than 2017. The forecast wasn’t great, 100kmph winds on the summits, heavy rain etc and by Friday it has officially been given a name – Storm Callum. The race director was adamant any decision on route changes etc would be left as late as possible and by Friday evening the forecast had calmed a little to just 75kmph winds and heavy rain so the race was going ahead unchanged.
I traveled up on the train on the Friday (via half of the north of England thanks to National Rails policy of never running on time meaning several un-planned journey alterations) and was picked up at the train station by James who’d come up the day before with his Dad. We went and got ourselves registered, picked up our trackers, did our final packing had a beer to calm the nerves then tried to get an early night, thankful that we weren’t one of the many participants trying to be double hard and camping in a flooded racecourse in the rain and wind!
We were up bright and early at 4:30am the next morning (although we both woke up long before that!) and made our way to Cartmel school to catch the bus at 5:45am to the start, a 90 minute drive away in Caldbeck.
With the forecast still looking pretty grim I’d decided to start in my waterproofs from the get go and had packed extra layers above and beyond the mandatory kit list into my pack until it was bursting (triple wrapped in individual zip lock bags) at the seams. Waiting for the bus I started to wonder if I was a bit soft, while there were others even more kitted out than me, the number of people whose bags looked next to empty and were in nothing but tiny shorts and what looked like barely waterproof nylon jackets was a bit disconcerting – was I just soft or had they just not thought things through!? Given how the day progressed I suspect it was the latter.
We arrived in Calbeck at 7:30am and the buses quickly emptied as several hundred over hydrated ultra runners all made a last dash for the 4 public toilets the small village had to offer. With that done we were ready to go. The terrible weather than had been forecast was nothing more than a light drizzle at this stage and wind was non-existent so things were looking good!
A short spiel from race director James Thurlow and we were sent on our way bang on 8am. Despite repeatedly telling ourselves we’d not rush off at the start we sound found ourselves overtaking lots of people and by the time were were a km in we were already going faster than we’d done on any of the recces! Once the groups thinned out a little we slowed and fell to and easy jog/walk rhythm as we were joined by another runner Kevin who we recognised from the two organised recces we’d been on. I was feeling good and we made it to the top of the first climb at High Pike bang on time according to James nicely laminated schedule that he’d produced.
In the build up the event James and I had discussed target times and based on the recces we’d done we thought that conditions dependent a time of around 14hrs should be achievable – giving us plenty of time to enjoy the Cartmel pubs before the closed for the night! I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep up with James the whole way but had said I’d try and stick with him as long as I could – hoepfully (optimistically!) as far as Ambleside.
I was feeling really good across High Pike and some fun descents down past Lingy Hut and towards the River Caldew. With all the rain the river which was only ankle deep when we went though it in August was now waist deep in places and flowing really fast. A rope had been installed by the organisers so we all carefully made our way across in single file clinging the rope.
Once across the river we crossed another stream before starting the long arduous ascent up Mungrisdale Common to the summit of Blencathra (868m, 13.5km in), the first of the major summits for the day. I stopped briefly to get my hiking poles out of my pack, it’s a real drag of a climb through horrible clumpy, boggy grass I wanted anything to make it a bit easier. By the time I got going again James was starting to get away from me, he’s always much stronger on the climbs so this was no big surprise, I didn’t want him waiting about for me and figured that if all went well I might catch him on his way out of the first aid station or something, I forged on into the clouds and made it to the top of Blencathra on target and feeling good.
From the top of Blencathra there was a choice to make, down the famous Halls Fell Ridge, a steep and rocky ridge line descent into Thelkeld without much margin for error or the longer safer route down Blease Fell. Halls Fell was the main route that we’d been encouraged to take in the build up yet it seemed like more people around me were opting for the Blease Fell option. The rain had picked up a little by now, but there still wasn’t much wind, I’d recced Halls Fell twice in the build up, one of those times in similar conditions so I opted for the more direct route. As it turned out Halls Fell was pretty straight forward, quite a few people around me were take the odd tumble and I passed one guy mopping up a very bloodied nose but I seemed to be over teh worst of it in no time and made it into Thelkeld only a couple of minutes slower then when I’d gone done in on a recce in the sunshine so entered the first checkpoint at Thelkeld bang on schedule 3 hours in.
Descending Halls Fell Ridge and loving life
I was feeling strong so tried not to spend too long in the checkout, grabbing a few pastries, re-filling my drink bottles and getting on my way, as I was filling up my bottles I caught up with Kevin who’d been with James as they left me going up Blencathra, he’d lost James by then (turns out he was about 15 minutes or so ahead by now) but said he’d been looking strong. I popped James and Emma a quick txt to let them know how I was going and headed out of the village.
The next few kms were fairly flat or only a gentle climb as the route crossed under the A66 and wound it’s way towards to foot of Clough Head. I was feeling good through this bit and passed a lot of people heading through the fields before the grind up Clough Head began.
While Clough Head is only about 726m high, it’s another real slog of a climb on tired legs and must have taken close to an hour, just to really toy with me there are also several false summits to keep teasing you each time you think you’ve reached the top. The weather hadn’t been too bad up to this point (it was raining but not much win to speak of) and I was really looking forward to reaching the summit and getting into a bit more runnable terrain as the route headed towards Helvellyn. Boy was I in for a nasty surprise. Pretty much as soon as I hit the summit the conditions changed, I was hit with a howling southerly head wind and within minutes this was joined by horizontal sleet. I tried to run but it just wasn’t happening, I was going straight into the wind and for every meter I went forward it knocked me back half. All I could do was get my head down and try and keep moving as best I could. When the route dropped below the ridge line a bit I was able to do some running but it was tough going with little respite from the steadily worsening weather.
As time went on I started to more and more hungry, the bars and gels I’d packed in the easy to reach external pockets of by bag just weren’t cutting it and I was starting to really crave some real food and I could feel my temperature starting to drop, poblem was there was absolutely no shelter and I was worried that if I stopped to open my bag I’d risk losing half it’s contents in the wind. I knew there was a cairn at the summit of Helvellyn where I could get some shelter so decided to push on until I got to there. Problem was although I recognised parts of the route I’d put by watch on Ultratrac mode to ensure it didn’t run out of battery and all the climbing seemed to have totally confused it and it was over reporting my distance traveled by about 10km by this stage so I was having a hard time trying to figure out exactly how much further away Helvellyn was. I eventually reached Helvellyn around 2:30pm, 3:16hrs after leaving Threlkeld and about 6 and half hours into the race. By this stage I was starting cold and tired so the shelter of the cairn was a very welcome site. I sat down next to another runner exchanged the best small talk my tired hungry body could muster (“nice day for it” “looking forward to some pizza”), then wolfed down a bag of dried apricots and mangoes, a handful of beef jerky, a pepperami and some pretzels and quickly added a fleece layer under my jacket before heading off again.
Despite having added a nice new thicker layer of clothing, stopped and even briefly taking off my coat and caused me to cool down quite a lot and my teeth were starting to chatter, luckily there was a gradual downhill for a bit and I was able to run for 15 minutes or so and get my temperature back up. The weather was pretty miserable by now with the wind really building in strength and the rain becoming quite incessant. I soon came to the descent down Dollywagon Pike towards Grisedale Tarn. While most people I could see were taking the main path zig zagging down the hill I decided I didn’t want to muck around and threw caution to wind and headed straight down the fell runners route. This was great fun and I gained a lot of places before rejoining the path as it flattened out just before the tarn.It was shortly after this I was captured on video by one of the event support team heading the other way – I don’t really look like I’m enjoying myself!! https://www.facebook.com/groups/runitinaday/permalink/2272567542971056/
For water for the run I was primary using two soft 500ml flasks which sat in pockets on the front straps of my running vest that I could easily refill at aid stations etc, however as I knew that the Threlkeld to Ambleside leg could well take 5+ hours between aid stations I had also had another 1l of water in a hydration bladder in my pack that I’d planned to use for this leg. As I soon discovered though something must have been blocking the hose for this and I just couldn’t seem to get any water out of it – trying to fix this would have meant completely unpacking my pack which in the winds I feared would result in my loosing half it’s contents so by the time I as approaching Grisedale Tarn I was almost completely out of accessible water. With all the rain Grisedale Tarn was looking more like the north sea and water was flowing quite quickly from it’s outlet stream so as I waded through the knee deep water to cross it I managed to fill up my soft flasks from it to replenish my supplies. The general consensus from everyone beforehand had been that this was the best place on the course to do it so I figured it’d be worth the risk.
From here began the ascent up Fairfield, by no means the biggest climb of the day but certainly one of the toughest. Conditions were getting pretty bad now, visibility was reduced to about 10m and a couple in front of me had obviously decided they’d had enough as they peeled off down an exit route towards the road below. The climb was utterly miserable, the wind must have been up around 100kmph now with the sleety rain lashing down into my face, the path (which by now resembled more of a steady stream/waterfall) zig zagged it’s way up upwards through the clouds and every time it turned to the right it sent me directly in the wind and rain, progress was painfully slow and I couldn’t look were I was going, forced to bow my head down and look at my toes to avoid a face lashing and I just concentrated on putting one foot in front of another. Strangely for me I actually overtook a few people on the climb but by the time I reached Fairfield summit (873m) I was knackered and decided to shelter in a cairn for a few minutes to take on some more food and have a short break from the wind.
After another handful of beef jerky and apricots I was feeling better and ready to go again. Visibility was terrible and even on a clear day Fairfield is an easy place to get lost (apart from a couple of spotters on Halls Fell Ridge the course is completely unmarshalled, and unmarked all the way to Ambleside, so you’e totally reliant on your own navigation skills), I could see a group in front heading off in what looked to be the wrong direction – heading off to the right down a different ridge line. So many people just seemed to be following whoever was in front of them trusting that they new the way. I was confident from my two recces that I needed to veer left from here so I set off on my own across the rocks.
From Fairfield to Ambleside is largely downhill, but the ground underfoot is horribly rocky so for at least a couple of km running wasn’t possible and it was just a case of carefully picking a path over the rocks and keeping moving so as not to get cold. After a while I came to a wall that follows the ridgeline more or less all the way into Ambleside, from here on there were sections that were quite runnable mixed in with more horrible rocky/boggy section. You could tell the tiredness and conditions were starting to affect peoples decision making a guy in front of me slipped over on some smooth stones and snapped his hiking poles in two, a bit further on I passed another running slump up against a wall all wrapped up in his emergency bivvy bag – he didn’t look great at all but there was a group of about 4 other runners with him who were phoning for help so I kept on moving.
Along this section most people were following the most obvious trail which ran right next to the stone wall, this was a more or less straight line but often involved clambering slowly over slippery rock sections which really slowed me down and disrupted my rythym. I’d noticed a women who while being a slower runner was constantly overtaking me by taking a lower route slightly further down the the slope and avoiding all the clambering, she looked to be making much easier work of it so I dropped down and started running with her. She seemed to welcome some company and after hours of slogging it out on my own it was nice to have someone to chat to for a bit. It turns out she (Olivia) was running the event for the third time so knew all the best lines to take. We dropped down the slope together and found our way onto a much flatter and more runnable 4wd track that made easy work of the remaining journey into Ambleside overtaking a lot of people on the way. On the way down we were passed by 3 mountain rescue ambulances heading back up, a grim reminder that as tough as I was finding it some people were having a much worse day!
I ran into the checkpoint in Ambleside with Olivia almost bang on 6pm – 10hrs after starting and a good hour behind schedule. The Ambleside aid station was amazing, I completely changed into fresh and dry top layers, put some dry socks on and wolfed down about 7 slices of pizza. There were a a lot of unhappy looking people sitting about, one Norwegian runner was going from person desperately looking for some Sudocreme because his “balls were chafed so bad” poor guy!
I left Ambleside around 6:20pm feeling great, the dry clothes had made a world of difference, I was well behind my planned schedule but the next 32km was a lot flatter and more runable so as long as i could do it in around 5 hours I should still make it to the finish in time to get some beers in. I called Emma as I was leaving town and it was great to chat to her and the kids for a bit plus speak to a normal person again and not some other rain soaked mountain nut job. Thankfully by now the rain and wind had eased off and although it was now completely dark and I’d donned my head torch to see where I was going, it was infinitely better to run in so I was feeling positive.
Shortly outside Ambleside a river had burst it’s banks and the road was completely flooded and had been closed to traffic – the dry socks must have lasted all of about 15 minutes! After wading through the water for 50m or so it was relatively straight forward for the next few km with a mixture of roads, graded paths and forest trails as the route wound it’s way up the hills above Lake Windermere. This section was way marked at each major turning point with bright glow int he dark arrows which was a major help in the dark. The field had really thinned out by now, a lot of people retired at Ambleside and those that were left were starting get get really spread out over the course. I passed a couple of guys coming out of Ambleside but it was probably a good 3 hours before I saw another human.
After a couple of hours the route dropped down to the Windermere lakeside, James had txt’d me to warn me it was pretty flooded but it was even worse than I was expecting. Pretty much the whole lakeside route was under at least a foot of water – rising to almost thigh deep in places with lots of hidden roots under water to make things that bit more hazardous. In the dark with my head torch I could only see maybe 10m in front of me and progress became very slow.
Ambleside to the last checkpoint at Finsthwaite was roughly 20km, we’d recced the entire 32km Ambleside to Cartmel section in good weather in April in roughly 4hrs so I had it in my head that I should be able to manage around 5 hours for it today – 3 and a bit hours to Finsthwaite and around 2 from there to the finish. Over hours after leaving Ambleside and still a long way to go to Finsthwaite I could see things weren’t going to plan. My legs were starting to feel it now, every time I stopped running my quads immediately cramped up and I was needed to eat and drink more frequently.
I eventually caught up with a group of about 6 other runners (including Olivia who I’d run with earlier) maybe 5 miles from Finsthwaite and after so long with just my own thoughts for company decided it would be nice to have some company for a bit. Together we slowly wound our way through a way and boggy trails, walking a bit, running a bit and up the last biggish climb of the day up to High Dam, from here there was quite a nice runable trail and we all started running for a bit as we made our way down the track to the checkpoint.
I got to the Finsthwaite a minute or so ahead of the group having passed another couple of runners on the way down but all the wading through the water had taken it’s toll and I was feeling pretty broken by the time I traipsed through the doors at about 10:50pm. It had taken almost 5 hours to get to Finsthwaite, and I was hungry, knackered and had finally realised I wasn’t making it to the pub tonight! The volunteers at Finsthwaite were great, I was handed a mug full of the most amazing potato and leek soup and I sat down to change teh battery in my head torch and called Emma to check in. I turns out people had been getting a bit panicky as my tracker had stopped working just before Ambleside showing my last known location as in a waterfall! Emma had been fields calls from my parents in NZ and other wondering if I was OK – she wasn’t too worried, having spoken to me at Ambleside and was confident I wouldn’t have quit but was glad to have official confirmation that I was indeed still alive and just about moving. Em was also able to tell me that she’d spoken to James who had finished by this point (in a bloody amazing time coming 19th overall – the freak!!). I was over the moon for James and the thought of him still waiting for me at the finish spurred me on. I told Em to tell James I’d be with him by 1pm and was out the door by 11:05pm.
Topping up my water on my way out of Finsthwaite
While still knackered I was determined not to keep James waiting too long and set off running, before too long I passed a a few others that had left the checkpoint before me and within an hour I caught up with Kevin who’d been running with myself and James earlier in the day and had passed me way back on the climb up Clough Head some 12 hours earlier. He was really struggling by now and after jogging with him for 10 minutes or so I left him and set off on my own again. I was starting to feel quite good and was overtaking lots of people. I felt like I was running well and enjoying myself again, I recognized landmarks and knew the end was in sight. Unfortunately I was getting a bit too confident. Going through one of the last fields I missed one of the way-marking arrows and headed off at right angles to the course. I’d probably gone almost a km off course before realising that things didn’t look right and stopping to check my phone. I was gutted, but I could see relatively simple way to get back on course so all wasn’t lost, after climbing a couple of walls and following some trails I rejoined the course just as it joined the road going to Cartmel, despite my big detour it didn’t look like I’d lost any places as I could see the last people I’d passed just coming out of the field as I went down the road.
I knew there must have only been about a mile to go now, it was just a matter off following the road tot he finish line. I took my phone out of airplane mode to ring James and saw a bunch of missed calls and txts from the race organise asking where I was as they’d realised there was a problem with my tracker. I called James let him know I was on track for 1am and headed to the finish. I passed the church in Cartmel just as it struck 1am, a solitary depressing ‘DONG’, rounded the corner to the school and trudged across the finish line after just over 17 hours and 2 minutes of what was easily the toughest event I’d ever done.
James was waiting at the finish, his video of me crossing the line says everything you need to know about how I was feeling! I was a wreck, absolutely shattered, physically, mentally, emotionally I was done.
James guided me inside the school hall, filled me up with cup fulls of Coke and got me a hotpot from the food van outside. I called Em to let her know I’d (finally) made it and was struggling to hold myself together. after collecting my dry clothes bag I struggled through a shower before we made our way back tot he holiday home. It took us both about 5 minutes just to get into the car, we both just kept cramping up as we bent down to get in – we must have looked a right pair! Back at the holiday home James’s Dad had an awesome stew waiting for us at 2am, chased that down with a good ale and we were both ready for bed by 3am – almost 23hrs after our day had started.
It was one hell of a day – I knew it was going to be tough going into it (you don’t enter these events because you want easy!) but it was far far tougher than I expected, and yet despite the weather, despite my aching body I absolutely loved it. I never felt like I wanted to quit, it was a brilliant challenge and the feeling of fighting against the distance and the elements was incredibly invigorating. I finished a good 3 hours later that I had targeted but couldn’t care less, of the 378 only 240 finished – a massive 37% DNF rate so just getting to the finish line felt like a huge achievement in itself. I can’t wait to do another.
More than anything though the whole experience of training for the event, doing the event, spending time out in the mountains and trails, away from roads, people was really quite therapeutic for me. I reminded me how much I love this sort of thing, no bells and whistles, very little health and safety nonsense and people making decisions for you, just you out in the fresh air enjoying the outdoors. I have a fair idea of my events will look like in 2019 now and it involves as little roads and as many trails as possible!