Up and Down in the Mountains

Lest anyone might have the impression that long competitive days and weekends on the fells all have successful endings resulting in knackered yet elated runners returning with proud tales to tell, it might be pertinent here to redress the balance by referring to those occasions when this was clearly not the case. Only a fool would take the mountains, moors and fells lightly, even on days of fair summer weather. When the elements prove inclement and/or you are are clearly not up to the task for a host of reasons (fitness, illness, injury, inexperience, over-confidence etc) then is the time to withdraw gracefully. The fells deserve the greatest respect and and are quite capable of humbling the fittest and most capable of our fraternity.

This message was first pressed home to me when I was on a Welsh 3000s recce in wet conditions on the Glyders. I slipped and fell on the slippery rocks hurting my back in the process and was forced to beat a hasty retreat. In my first Lakeland Classic - the Ennerdale - I lost concentration thinking I had cracked the hardest part by reaching the summit of Pillar within checkpoint closing time....and then proceeded to go off piste in the general direction of Sellafield. I have since been back three times to put that right and the Wainwright sketch of Haystacks and Scarth Gap signed by the legendary Joss sit proudly on my wall. I passed my baptism in Mountain Marathons in bad weather on the Range of the Awful Hand in the 1986 Galloway KIMM but then hit trouble in the 1989 KIMM in the Howgills. I broke a bone in my ankle but still unwittingly and stupidly carried on to the end of the first day. Ending up in plaster for 6 weeks was a salutary lesson but I still retain fond memories in the rosy glow of retrospect. You need to keep a sense of black humour in these events and mine was tested to the full in my first SLMM when my partner went AWOL for an hour on Day 1! On another occasion I talked my partner into going up to the summit of Scafell Pike forgetting to go to an earlier control. At least these latter two tales had happy endings and eventually the SLMM proved to be a permanent fixture on my racing calendar. Call me a softy if you will, but long summer days in the Lakes in July with milk, beer and decent toilets at the overnight camp proved to be more popular with me than pitching a tent in the teeth of a storm in a bog at the back end of October. However, even the Lakes in summer can be testing............

In 1990, flushed by the success of finishing the previous event and fighting fit after recovering from my broken ankle, I cajoled Carl into doing the 1990 KIMM. Starting from Langdale, it soon became apparent that the incessant rain, wind and very poor visibility would be more than a match for all but the most seasoned of campaigners. After wandering like headless chickens all over the Crinkles, Esk Pike and Bowfell for a few hours, we reached Esk Hause and decided to call it a day. I was both embarrassed and disappointed as we slunk back down Mickleden in very low spirits. However, I took the decision to improve my bad weather compass work by entering events like the New Chew ‘O’, Tanky’s Trog and some LDWA events with my walking mate. Adversity can be a helpful tutor at times.

After successful SLMM completions in a range of classes over the next few years, everything was very upbeat. I will always remember long never-to-be forgotten weekends in the fells I love, with special like-minded friends who each contributed much to the different partnerships. Each successful completion was always hard fought for, with many gut-busting climbs and heart-stopping descents. It was becoming apparent to me that the standards set at the sharp end of mountain marathons had improved with the growth in lightweight equipment, dietary expertise, incredible fitness and technical know-how. What this meant for a veteran bog-standard punter like me was the knock-on effect as course-setters tried to set testing courses for elite competitors. Not once did I feel that any of the successful weekends with a range of partners came easy. If I ever had done so, the SLMMs of 97 and 98 would serve as reminder. The mountains sometimes win some too.

A series of long days out on the fells seemed to be giving me the fitness background I was seeking ; in the previous 2 years I had completed local anytime challenges like the 15 Dark Peak Trigs, the Tameside Trail and the Etherow Watershed. I tested myself in competitive races and in early 97 lasted well in the Wuthering Hike and was on course to attempt the challenging Fellsman event, only to be plagued by stomach problems which caused me to withdraw. However, with good mileage in my legs over winter and spring, I recovered sufficiently enough to declare myself fit for the Scafell class of the SLMM prior to the Tour of Tameside.

However, after two long days out on testing courses contouring seemingly vast distances on difficult terrain either side of the Dollywagon-Clough Head ridge from Grasmere, my lack of fitness finally caught up with me late on the second day when I reluctantly had to accept that I was moving too slowly to be inside the time set for the course. In the next year’s event I discovered what it was like to ‘bonk’ during the race. I had always been proud of my stamina and determination if nothing else, but here I was, nauseous, dizzy and almost incapable of walking up the slightest incline. How I eventually managed to walk the eight miles over three passes to get back I’ll never know! Such withdrawals have to be put into context because to pull out can be the hardest decision to make at times. However, it must always be remembered that the mountains are going nowhere in a hurry, they will still be here next year: what we must try to ensure is that we are also! More recently, this obvious but oft-forgotten thought was also a source of comfort to me when I had to be airlifted off Kinder in the 2010 Kinder Trial!

So there you have it then. The chapter that I was not going to write has been written and clearly puts into context other tales of epic adventures with more satisfactory conclusions. It has always been easy to produce accounts of long days on the fells which ended successfully but surprisingly not as traumatic as I thought to write about the ‘downs’. One thing is for sure:- if you succeeded every time you stepped out on the hill, the days would be too commonplace to recall. Occasional humility is good for us all and disappointments also serve to heighten the euphoria at the end of days when all has gone well. What was it that Kipling said about those twin imposters?