or
"How do you eat an elephant?"
Deadwater day 4....
https://www.strava.com/activities/1817497971
It's after midnight and having heard the cheery news at the last checkpoint near Hebden Bridge that I've only got 11.5 miles to go, I'm beginning to believe that this god-awful stage will end eventurally.
This stage was "the long one" at 59 miles and 11.5 miles sounds like such a small fraction so I set off up to Stoodley Pike with renewed determination. Things hadn't been going well or according to "plan", but if I'm honest there never had been a plan other than "left foot, right foot" and repeat.
I had recced none of the course, studied none of the maps and can honestly say that I was unfamiliar with all bar the first 15km from Deadwater to the lower end of Keider which I had run a couple of years ago as part of the North Tyne trail ultra. This might seem a crazy approach considering that navigation was an integral part of the challenge but I was enjoying the "freshness" of seeing the route for the first time ever and my Fenix 5X was doing a good job of keeping me right.
What I didn't know of course was the section beyond Stoodley Pike was going to be a total miseryfest with paths that were barely visible in the dark or multiple paths going off in all directions. There was no question of running, for me at least. Running had finished shortly after the start of this stage when an ankle strain acquired two days before (as I though at the time) became progressively more painful quickly precluding any running. I had woken tired that morning in Horton, the first time I'd felt that way since the start but the previous day had been a hard 46 miles over Wild Boar Fell and I put it down to that. If I walked the pain was tolerable but running caused the pain to rapidly ramp up. As I said, in real terms, 11.5 miles isn't that far but when you've been forced to walk the previous 45 miles it felt like forever.
It was somewhere around 7am before I finally stumbled across the stage finish and threw myself into my sleeping bag, trying hard not to think about having to be ready to cross next day's start line at 9 am...
But let's go back to the beginning...
Why did I want to enter this race? I've
been tiptoeing around the edge of doing something like this for years.
When you done many single stage ultra races you start to get curious as
to how you would manage a multiday event. It's hard to find events that qualify as "shallow water" so you more or less have to go "in at the deep end". Given
that, it was then a question of which "deep end" I wanted to jump in
at. The Marathon Des Sable is the one multi-day ultra that everyone has
heard of but it has a waiting list of years, is hugely expensive and is
a bit of a circus. Deadwater on the other hand is as cheap as chips in
comparison, takes place within our own fair shores, involves
navigation, has longer stages (every one an ultra) and had only been
completed by 12 people before the start of this year's race (which was,
admittedly only the second time the race had been run).
The event promised a mostly
off-road route down through the Keilder forests, the Penine way, canal
towpaths and other long off-road trails, all totally new to me. After
years of racing mostly in Scotland the prospect of following new paths
strongly appealed. A couple of my friends had run it in atrocious
weather last year and had been forced to stop on the third day so I was
keen to see if I could do better. There'd also not been any V60
finishers last year so I was very keen to be the first V60 finisher.
Myself on the left and Andy Cole on the right.
The race
Well it's a stage race, which means that the clock stops every day when you reach the end of that day's stage and you get the luxury of a lie down and some sleep between each stage. Yeah, right....The race has six stages and the stage lengths were 33, 36, 45, 60, 31 and 30 miles totalling 235 miles in all. No cut off times on any day, you just had to be ready to start the next day's stage each morning.
So, there you go, a six day stage race over 235 miles ending in, um, Chester, by the Welsh border.
Training wise, I could have done a lot better. I was totally unused to running with anything more that a few pounds in a backpack so I did load up a pack to six kg (which was lighter than my bag actually weighed at the start of the race) and ran a grand total of 8 miles. That was enough to demonstrate that firstly the pack that I'd been lent was comfortable, but it was still darned hard work!
I'd run Transvulcania, the West Highland Way race and followed this with a holiday in France where I had 5 days in Chamonix and spent the time cycling, walking and a bit of running. This was followed by the Lakeland 50. After that though, I was a bit like a deer caught in the headlights and regular training rather went out the window. I did have a cunning plan though. Shiny new walking poles!
Leki Micro Trail Pro poles
I convinced myself that armed with my new poles, I could do this. Sure, training would have helped but you can't beat some sexy new kit. ;-)Stage 0
The first stage of any multistage race is frantic packing and unpacking of your pack wondering how in the hell you're going to fit in all you essential gear and food. Then you have to get to the race start. For me this meant catching a train from Kilmarnock to Carlisle and then to Hexham where a minibus and taxi was arranged to take us to the first campsite in Keilder village. I arrived with over an hour to spare in Hexham and the other runners were arriving in dribs and drabs on various trains. I decided that the condemned man might as well enjoy a pub lunch and wanderd across the road for a final bit of "training".
At the appointed time a minibus and taxi arrived to ferry us all to the the campsite by Keilder castle where we would get out first taste of the balmy Keilder weather and meet Richard Weremiuk, the event organiser and his band of helpers.
First job for the evening after unpacking our sleeping bags etc was a trip to the local pub for dinner and this was followed by the first "pre-stage briefing". We all retired to bed pretty early knoing that we'd have and early start the nest moring but sleep didn't come easily, if at all, thanks to the plummeting overnight temperature. A "two seasons" sleeping bag starts to reveal it's limitations when the temperature drops to freezing!
Somehow during the night the GPS on my watch had got turned on and by the morning, the battery had significantly drained. I put it on charge in the buildinging being used as "race HQ" that day and repeated to myself "I must not forget my watch!". No prizes for guessing what I did when we got bussed to the race start on the border....
Ho hum... Fortunately the race starts just 2 miles north of the campsite and passes right through it on its way south so it was no problem to pick it up on the way through.
Waiting for the start
Stage 1 The Forest. Deadwater to Haltwhistle 33 miles
From Deadwater to Herding Hill campsite (near Haltwhistle)
https://www.strava.com/activities/1796598734
Ultimately there were just 18 of us at the race start, down from an original 40-odd applicants (or should that be "40 odd applicants"?). Many legitimate reasons no doubt why so many didn't make it to the start line but I think Richard is a little too generous in his refunds and deferment policy. All I'm going to say is that they missed out on an amazing experience.
It feels kind of surreal starting a 235 mile race. You really can't think about the enormity of the journey. Instead, all you worry about is running that day's stage. This is where the "How do you eat an elephant" riddle is apt. The answer is "one bite at a time". It's exactly the same for multi-stage races. You do need to keep in mind what lies ahead and you use that information to temper your pace but you just dont want to dwell on it.This stage consisted largely of rolling forest roads with some nice views over Kielder reservoir early on. Although we all had nice plasticised maps, compasses and GPS devices Richard had marked some of the course with chalk paint and bananas.
"Bananas?" Yep, biodegradable course markers, and potential food. ;-) Of course eating one would violate the "self-sufficiency" rule but that didn't stop at least one banana getting scoffed. I'm gonna assume that whoever did eat the banana was so consumed by guilt that they retired from the race. (In all 8 had retired by the end of the 3rd day. One retiral chose to carry on though (non-competitively) for the experience).
Ever conscious of the days ahead, an also strugging more than a bit with the weight of my pack, I took the first 33 miles steadily, just aiming to get to the finish feeling like I'd had a good day out walking rather than racing. It was already pretty clear that the runners were pretty well divided into two packs, racing snakes and then us. ;-)
The weather had been good and we'd all kept our feet dry right up to near the finish when the path took a diversion across some fields. Unlike at any point prior to this we were suddenly navigating "free-hand" across open fields and bogs. Given that we were only 1km from the camp this was a bit frustrating but we found our way across without getting wet feet eventually which was a bonus. The campsite was well equiped but we were sited a long way from the amenities. I shouldn't grumble really as I wasn't really expecting any but when they're there, you want them handy. ;-)
I finished the stage feeling that it had been a bit harder than it ought to have been but perhaps that's what you get for not doing any training with a backpack. It was also a very "runnable" stage so there was probably significantly more running than on later stages.
After some food and a shower it was off to an early bed to try and catch up on the minimal sleep that I'd had in Keilder.
Stage 2 The Pennine Way. 36 miles Haltwhistle to Dufton
https://www.strava.com/activities/1799282974
The stage started of with "railway hell", so called largely because it was flat and eminently runnable but all uphill for the first 19 miles. I teamed up with some of the others in a "walk/run" cycle which helped enormously to pass the time and to just get the distance done. I was gloriously ignorant of what lay ahead that day other than the words "Cross Fell" and "900 metres high". Didn't sound too bad to me so when we go to the Garrigill checkpoint and started climbing, it was just a huge relief to be off the flat stuff.We'd been warned about bad weather ahead so I'd pre-emptively donned my overtrousers. Sure enough, the rain got heavier, the wind stronger, the cloud lower and the landscape ever bleaker.
The track up was easy to follow but had been recently been resurfaced with new rock that wasn't bedded down. Consequently it was actually much more awkward that the un-restored sections to negotiate and I think we were all very relieved as when we eventually "ran out of" resorted road and got back to the old track to Greg's Hut. I'm not sure what I expected from a mountain bothy but it sure as hell didn't have any hot pies or sausage rolls which I would have killed for at that stage. There was at least a race helper there who had boiled up some water for anyone wanting to make up a hot drink.
I wasted about 10 minutes trying to get on my gloves for the last bit across Cross Fell and Great Dun fell but was totally defeated by swollen fingers and wet hands. Thankfully it wasn't *that* cold. Had it been I could have been in some trouble.
Visibility was down to about 50 metres and without my garmin navigation would have been a real challenge. It was impossible to see more than one cairn at a time and I was very thankful for the assistance of my watch. Having done some orienteeingr I like to think that I could have done it with map and compass but I was very glad that I didn't have to.
Up on Cross Fell the Pennine way has some slabbed sections that start and stop for no apparent reason. On minute you've jogging alone a great length of "pavement", the next you're looking at a trackless expanse disappearing into the low cloud. Still, I made my way across to Great Dun Fell where we'd been told to expect a huge radar dome. Well, if I hadn't known it was there I would have completely missed it. The path skirts closely round the perimeter fence and it was only by peering hard that I was able to discern the dimmest outline of the dome from no more than 50 metres away.
This marked the start of our descent to Dufton and I made good use of my poles to make a "relatively" speedy descent. Unfortunately the descent concealed many patches of grass with all the grip of greased banana skins and on one of my many slips and slides I managed to over-stretch the ligaments at the from of my ankle. This was to come back and haunt me later on.
Still, I felt like I had run/walked well and felt surprisingly good after my exertions. That night's camp was in a farmer's field but we did have the use of showers in a nearby campsite.
Stage 3 The Wild Boar. Dufton to Horton 46 miles
https://www.strava.com/activities/1816414008
My ankle seemed to have improved with a night's rest and despite the exersions of the day before my legs felt good. Mentally, the challenge was beginning to get a but serious now. The distances were increasing every day and it was going to get "worse" before it got better. I did my best to put it out of my mind however and just concentrated one getting the day done. From Duftown we headed to Appleby-in-Westmoreland and then on to Great Asby via paths and bridleways. Some of the paths were more "nominal" than actual and looked like they hadn't seen much traffic since the race last year. My walking poles came in handy to beat back the nettles at times!From Great Asby it was off through more remote wilderness to Ravenstonedale via Newbiggin on Lune. The road sections felt odd after so much wilderness but it didn't seem long before we were striking up into the hills again to ascent Wild Boar Fell. Abysmal weather last year meant that Wild Boar Fell was cut from last year's race. I'm not sure whether we were "lucky" or not, but we certainly weren't short changed. ;-)
From the top of Wild Boar Fell it should have been a fairly straightforward descent towards Swarf Fell and thence to Garsdale. It was here that I rather paid the price for my over-reliance on my GPX trace and it didn't seem to follow the best local paths accurately and more than once I found myself slavishly following the trace through bogs and marshes. Despite this, my spirits were good. My ankle hadn't really bothered me so far and what's the fun of a navigational challenge if you aren't challenged now and again? If I'd bothered to pull out the supplied maps I could have avoided quite a lot of bother and that's a lesson I'll remember for my next multi-day adventure.
From Garsdale to the end of that day's section was another 16 miles, most of which was fairly straightforward but now my ankle was getting sore again. I could still manage to walk and run though, it was just uncomfortable. During the last 5-6 km darkness fell and it was on with my headtorch. I found the navigation of this last section tricky, particularly as the GPX trace seemed at odds with structures on the ground. A bit of back-tracking and wall climbing ensued that was probably unnecessary. I dare say if I'd got there in daylight it would have been obvious. For reasons that no doubt made sense at the time I ended up running a lot of the downhill parts into Horton, for no other reason than "because I could" probably. I was going to regret that extra effort the next morning...
Stage 4 The Long Day. Horton to Hollingworth lake 59 miles
https://www.strava.com/activities/1817497971
For the first time in the race I awoke feeling tired and lethagic, my legs were heavy and my ankle/shin hurt. There was some discolouration over my lower leg and I took this to be a reaction to possible tendinitis. We were up packing our stuff and getting our breakfast down from 6am for a 7am start. Right from the beginning my legs just didn't want to know but I tried to run the easy downhill and the flat bits that weren't too long. Unfortunately the pain in my shin was becoming really quite bothersome now and I realised that as long as I walked, it was tolerable. The route took us through some amazing landscape, Malham Cove obviously standing out in my memory. I'd not seen the limestone pavement before and felt it was on a par with the Giants Causeway in terms of grandeur.
From Malham it was south to Gargrave and then... well, just a long fecking way, especially if you're limited to walking. There were some tricky bits of navigation, particularly at Colden where we crossed a river valley. We were supposedly "just following the Pennine Way" signposts today but the signposting is very inconsistent in its frequency. Some sections are well signposted, others are nearly invisible. It didn't help that I thought I was near Charlestown, our next checkpoint and had mixed my river valleys up. At last Charlestown/Hebden Bridge hove into view and it was an opportunity for some hot food before tackling the last 11.5 miles. You know the rest about day 4...
Day 5 Canal Hell. Hollingworth lake to Rixton 31 miles
https://www.strava.com/activities/1817521454
After finishing the previous section at around 7 am I had lain down for a bit but couldnt sleep. Just too much going on and runners were still arriving after me!
My shin was decidedly sore and red looking so after crossing the start line at 9am, I returned to sit down and have a bit of first aid from the race paramedics. An icepack provided a bit of comfort and this was followed with topical voltarol. There was the beginnings of a "red line" appearing on my skin and it was now looking like my initial diagnosis of a tendinitis was either wrong or now being surpassed by a new problem, namely cellulitis.
At thenext checkpoint it was clear that the red line was advancing up my leg and getting some antibiotics was now becoming an issue of some urgency. I was also getting more than a bit worried that if I couldn't get antibiotics and see some regression there might be a real risk of being pulled from the race. After 185 miles this was a very upsetting thought.
I exchanged a few ideas with the paramedics about how best to get some antibiotics and we decided that they would contact my GP for a prescription that could be emailed through to a surgery near the next checkpoint so that I could hopefully pick up some antibiotics. The plan however came unstuck over an apparently problem twist Scottish prescriptions and English ones. A new plan had been formulated however and after discussion with Richard, the race organiser, I turned off my tracker and was driven to a nearby walk-in centre/A&E unit.
My heart sank when I saw the crowds in the waiting room but fortunately I was seen by the triage nurse within 30 minutes and she was able to issue me with a prescription for some Flucloxacillin. Oh joy! Never have I been happier to have had a prescription.
I necked a gram of fluclox straight away and we drove back to the canal where I turned on my tracker again and resumed the last 10 miles of that day's trip. I must have been running on adrenaline because although I couldn't run, I did some very serious stomping making full use of my poles to get me to the finish. I hadn't slept since 6 am the previous day and more than anything, I wanted to crawl inside my sleeping bag (after swallowing another gram of fluclox).
Once again darkness fell long before I finished the short "fun run" day. The last 10K felt never ending, but in the end I made it. Can't remember the time but well after dark. At last, time for a lie down and hope that the antibiotics would do their trick. At least I had a 9am start to look forward to...
Day 6 Rush for the Castle. Rixton to Chester 30 miles
https://www.strava.com/activities/1808451601
It's 4 am and I'm visiting the loos for a call of nature that just won't wait. I limped and hobbled my way over to the toilets on blistered beet and after finish peeing I realised that my ankle was much less painful. next thing I know there are tears running down my cheeks as the nightmare of possibly being pulled from the race receeded. Maybe the risk wasn't as high as I imagined but it had being weighing heavily on my mind and I felt a huge sense of relief.I never got my lie-in though. As some of us had for various reasons been rather tardy the day before the start time for us slowcoaches was brought forward to 7am with a 6 am wake up (to ensure that we'd all finish in time for the post race dinner and prizegiving). Still, it was a good time to follow up with a 3rd gram of flucox and then stump along to wave my improved leg in front of Richard. I knew he wouldn't pull me from the race without a damn good reason but I still needed to hear it from him that I was okay to go.
With my blisters Compeeded up and a leg full of antibiotics I could run again! After two days of walking over 90 mile that just felt so good, if a bit painful. We passed through Frodsham and then over Foxhill on our way to Chester. A few minor roads were involved but by and large, the vast majority of the journey was done on public footpaths across and between fields.
In my haste I made a couple of minor navigational errors, at one point having to clamber down into and up out of a deep nettle infested ditch. By now I was long past caring about nettles and just wanted to get to the end. Eventually three of us reached the outskirts of Chester and we walk/jogged the last few miles, finishing off with a run down the High Street and under its famous clock, through rather bemused crowds and then to the Abode hotel by Chester Castle where the race finished.
Myself, Jo Kilkenny and Any Cole
It was a wonderful feeling to finish this race, having been tested physically and mentally like never before. It was an incredible journey that I shared with some incredible people and I learned so much. Richard had ordered some pizzas which were devoured at great speed. The odd beer might have been drunk too. ;-)
In the end just 10 of the 18 starters finished and I was hugely pleased to be one of them. For about 15 seconds I was the oldest ever person (61) to finish Deadwater but then my friend Andy Cole (70) crossed the line and stole that crown from me. ;-)
I had achieved what I had set out to do, overcoming the odd problem along the way. I'm hugely grateful to Beyond Marathon for creating an event that had tested me so thoroughly. It had been eveything I had hoped for and then some. I sincelely hope that this race has a great future and that many more ultra runners will have the chance to test themselves over this route.
I don't think I'll be back however. I think I've ticked that box now and whilst part of me is curious how I might have done without my bout of cellulitis and with better foot care, I'm not that curious, yet. Gimme a year or two and who knows. I might change my mind. Even if I don't come back to run it I'd love to be part of the support team next time.
If I've piqued your interest in the event don't forget to visit the Deadwater race website (and click on the "easy option"link for a laugh).
Equipment.
A couple of folk have asked about equipment for multi-day events. I'm happy to share what kit I used but these shouldn't necessairly be considered as reccomendations. I'm still learning by my mistakes.
Shoes.
Hoka Speedgoats for stages 1 to 4, Hoka Cliftons for 5 and 6. With hindsight I would have worn my Cliftons for stage 1 as well as it was nearly all smooth paths or forest roads.
Socks.
Two pairs of waterproof socks, one carried, one in my day three drop bag, two pairs coolmax socks and one pair of smartwool ones. I wish I had spent a bit more time trying different socks but I'm not sure it would have helped. I've run the West HIghland Way race many times now with no or at least minimal blistering but the demands of a multi-day stage race are very different and whilst I had no problems for the first three days, I started blistering on the 4th. Next time I'm definitely taking some lightweight fluffy bed socks though. Warm feet make such a difference!
Tops.
I wore a Kalenji sun protection top for all but the last day. This is a very soft material and I had no problem with abrasion from my pack straps which is pretty remarkable considering my lack of training. I would definitely use it again.
Backpack
The backpack that I used was very kindly lent to my by Andy O'Grady who had been unfortunate enough to have to pull out of the race last year. It was a WAA 20L Ultrabag with bottle holders on the chest straps. I couldn't fault the bag on the grounds of comfort and my lack of abrasions is testimony to that. I was less keen on the number of zips, which never actually failed but always worried me and the bottle storage. when using standardard bottles they tended to flop from side to side annoyingly so like Andy, I switched to using soft flasks which were a lot more comfortable. The holders arent designed to hold softflasks however so this was a cause of irritation at times when a flask would occasionaly launch itself out of the holder into the mud. Volume wise I struggled to get all my kit into it and ended up slinging my sleeping bag underneath it in a waterproof bag. This worked well and freed up a lot of internal storage space. It's not a bag I would recommend but as they say, beggars can't be choosers and I've learnt a lot about what to look out for in my next backpack.
Sleeping bag.
Depending on how seriously you want to get into multi-day racing you can spend a huge about on sleeping bags. As this was my first, and possibly last, I went for a price/performance compromise that I was comfortable with. To this end, I bought an AEGISMAX Ultra-compactable sleeping bag that weighed just over 400g. It's only a two-season bag and there's no doubt that without extra clothing there is no way it would keep you warm in cold weather but a combination of hat, duvet jacket, long pant and socks made like quite tolerable. I was happy with the bag and will use it again. If I do enough multi-day events I will consider upgrading but it'll do me for the moment.
Sleeping mat.
Possibly went a bit too minimalist with this bit of kit. I bought the Klymit Inertia X-frame mat. Light but a bit fiddly and not that comfortable. If you lie on you back in the right position it is actually surprisingly comfortably but of course you don't. You wriggle around in the night and because it's so narrow you almost inevitably end up half on, half off it during the night. Not sure it any other mat is better in this respect though.
Soft flasks
I hate sloshing bottles and like the comfort of soft flasks. Unfortunately I also hate the taste imparted to the water by 99% of the soft flasks on the market which are all made of the same Hydrapak material. Fortunately Camelbak make their own flasks from their own plastics and these are vastly better than any of the hydrapak models. Unfortunatly the bite valve isn't as well designed and is annoyingly directional. You have to rotate the flask to the right orientation to suck though the valve, unlike the Salomon ones which work in any orientation.
Watch
Garmin Fenix 5X. I used this thoughout for navigation and in this mode, battery life isn't great. I think the most I got was about 9 hours but I was able to top up on the go with a small rechargable battery stick. More battery life would have been nice and I dare say that if I hadn't been using it for navigation it would have lasted a lot longer but having maps and the course on my wrist made navigation easy on the whole.
Foot lube
I've
always relied on a good slathering of vaseline over and between my toes
and a good dollops under the balls of my feet. This regime wasn't
enough to stop problems though and it was very notable that Andy Cole,
the oldest finisher wasn't crippled with blisters at the end. He very
liberally coats the entire sole of his foot in Sudocrem and that seemed
to work for him to prevent the skin getting waterlogged. When you only
have a limited time at night for your feet to dry out and socks to dry
(if at all), preventing waterlogging/maceration becomes your number one
priority. Without a doubt I shall be trying this next time.
