tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14451479373223681872024-03-19T10:15:55.399+00:00Fidget's AdventuresA collection of trip reports and articles, detailing my adventures over the years. Comments and shared experiences always welcome, whether I know you or not.
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For my 2011 photography blog see <a href="http://amoodaday.blogspot.com">http://amoodaday.blogspot.com</a>Sarah Cloughhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03797857043816872742noreply@blogger.comBlogger35125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1445147937322368187.post-13284161255722968572023-01-08T22:02:00.031+00:002023-01-08T23:51:54.426+00:002022, a personal reviewGod where to start. I feel it’s useful to put this down on paper because if somebody asks me ‘how are you’ I get floored for several minutes thinking about an answer even on a good day, before I realise they were just greeting me. But when people are actually interested, where do I even start? It’s all so massive and interconnected. I never know how to indicate this to people without saying it all, so it’s likely nobody will know I feel. You certainly can’t tell by looking at me for a minute, and it’s currently very rare I have social interactions with people that last longer than that. If you looked at me for an hour you would – but nobody does that. This article is somewhat long, but no longer than if I'd actually replied to the 'hi how are yous' I got asked throughout the year, and hopefully it should flow well to get through.<br/><br/>
I started the year having had a tough, lonely <a href="https://fidgetsadventures.blogspot.com/2022/01/2021-review.html">2021</a> but optimistic that I had come out of it and formed the connections I needed for 2022 to not pan the same. <br/><br/>
<div style="display: inline-block; padding: 5px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4knWjFRSPD-O0Gu-YqLnxmha8Lbo0M0MBCsPds-XuMaNqHoIWAPwO21fdZGXRSROI3JgTPyaYwu1bg5cGa-eALYuwsHuBxsr2y0l5l1l7rr9b9Eqs-YAXpBFXnVwwSY7VxV4xatLBBFawggz6Na5V9wWs_jlW3Qqlha6W9wtW-oH-EvJ5ejcGoXWe/s4032/IMG_7483.HEIC" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" width="280" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4knWjFRSPD-O0Gu-YqLnxmha8Lbo0M0MBCsPds-XuMaNqHoIWAPwO21fdZGXRSROI3JgTPyaYwu1bg5cGa-eALYuwsHuBxsr2y0l5l1l7rr9b9Eqs-YAXpBFXnVwwSY7VxV4xatLBBFawggz6Na5V9wWs_jlW3Qqlha6W9wtW-oH-EvJ5ejcGoXWe/s320/IMG_7483.HEIC"/></a></div>
<div style="display: inline-block; padding: 5px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9DYrLS5xbt7zLI6bMyybhNoCOWIF9w-GdH86gb96lTkpiqJIKnNSclKR3JWbebOsQE1TDY3Yz66Dpg2DZ3NzN1hl9C20cvF6v-1lv4_qZZevxxazCOzrrqNsu0U2L0MOsRnwQAkqLmTU8YQMRXmrkH9qlMmJ28JtQWKWka42NX7IXqkUghf_vQXNL/s2048/IMG_7824.JPG" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" width="280" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9DYrLS5xbt7zLI6bMyybhNoCOWIF9w-GdH86gb96lTkpiqJIKnNSclKR3JWbebOsQE1TDY3Yz66Dpg2DZ3NzN1hl9C20cvF6v-1lv4_qZZevxxazCOzrrqNsu0U2L0MOsRnwQAkqLmTU8YQMRXmrkH9qlMmJ28JtQWKWka42NX7IXqkUghf_vQXNL/s320/IMG_7824.JPG"/></a></div><br/>
It certainly started okay. I even dated a couple of people, which satisfied one of my aims for the year; There was the Plymouth swimming community that I was excited to share more adventures with; I had a wonderful running holiday to Greece in May (see 4 photos), running in the mountains in the warmth with like-minded fellow runners, dipping straight in the sea in after with a pre-dinner beer; I had planned a string of 3 ultra marathons, each (ideally) with a full 16-week training plan and a 2 week taper, and 2 weeks recovery after. I did the first in April, and then the second was a 100-miler in July. I got injured so couldn’t complete it, but I did manage my second longest run ever (56 miles) and longest run in just under 3 years. <br/><br/>
<div style="display: inline-block; padding: 5px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0k2cw5TsnehNDzSET-yK6U1MKhNYyyQ0BbvjzZtw1Y1bXd4uBmtgL44PWG4cQ_bR3-AW2gE5WicyvcNT8rwy7seu3FCtyIzf3Jk3aLRZ59oEZnGMGmyAU2llJA2VFd5hXYNyBJYGKgHbtYAhh27vsSU4NwXwBceVtVogxRegSkL6IKClgUqI0RBVl/s4032/IMG_7759.HEIC" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" height="320" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0k2cw5TsnehNDzSET-yK6U1MKhNYyyQ0BbvjzZtw1Y1bXd4uBmtgL44PWG4cQ_bR3-AW2gE5WicyvcNT8rwy7seu3FCtyIzf3Jk3aLRZ59oEZnGMGmyAU2llJA2VFd5hXYNyBJYGKgHbtYAhh27vsSU4NwXwBceVtVogxRegSkL6IKClgUqI0RBVl/s320/IMG_7759.HEIC"/></a></div>
<div style="display: inline-block; padding = 5px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia2Z6mtJowteXTHB3e_B1MoXOJN-Bnqi62EDA15nHJnlAZ4eTpSPuFoh7QROAWAio6yDYn3cyK0zusmP3OSzMxYxgkpBgXuFhP_WawO9w1qKNIX9za0re9ePOhj2TJMAF1DVkT6FpG9ladNweGB7a2aaAx1ZiQz5VV-kfrH7j4ASlC45i75tU8qnel/s2048/IMG_7823.JPG" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" height="300" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia2Z6mtJowteXTHB3e_B1MoXOJN-Bnqi62EDA15nHJnlAZ4eTpSPuFoh7QROAWAio6yDYn3cyK0zusmP3OSzMxYxgkpBgXuFhP_WawO9w1qKNIX9za0re9ePOhj2TJMAF1DVkT6FpG9ladNweGB7a2aaAx1ZiQz5VV-kfrH7j4ASlC45i75tU8qnel/s320/IMG_7823.JPG"/></a></div><BR/><BR/>
But it’s always transient. Every time I meet somebody that I think will be a close friend to fill a gap in my life I get excited and expectant about it but it turns out they haven’t got that same need or space in their life. I find it really hard to turn encounters into functioning friendships. I’m not the most natural communicator in the ways that people usually expect, so I ensure to put in my side of the relationship as much as I can – I’ve messaged people, bought presents, organised activities, invited people for dinner, tried to do thoughtful acts, made sure I watch out for where people are struggling. I’m not doing these things because I'm expecting return, but to ensure I am keeping my end good by putting in what I want to get out. But for a friendship it's got to be two way, and I haven’t found that person with whom I can share that equality. <br/><br/>
It’s also important for me to have validation that it’s a two-way friendship: my character tends to disappoint people once they get to know me, and I hate to outstay my welcome, so I rely on somebody to use words or actions to indicate that they still like me. If those don’t come I lose faith as invariably what follows is one or the other getting upset, so I walk away to protect us, and await the next friendship prospect. <br/><br/>
So connections in my social life dropped away again, as they often do, back to zero. I’ve got plenty of friends, but non close or frequent, it’s the day-to-day type of rapport that has vanished. Please don’t feel like I’m blaming anyone – people all have their own things going on, and/or they’re busy, or they simply don’t see me as a friend, which is fine. But I really desperately needed these social connections this year after a build-up of loneliness to a really detrimental level, and try as I might I couldn’t find them. I reached out, asked people if they were free, told them I was lonely, told them I needed their help, planned things they could come to, but the months passed empty. There wasn’t a complete absence of connections - there was the occational, extremely valued invitation to the local pub, or a lunch invitation at work - just not enough, or none sustained enough to feel valid. It’s interesting coming back to the ‘how I you’ phrase I commented on at the top. I sometimes tell friends that question doesn’t work for me, and they’re okay with that but they assure me that they are asking because they’re genuinely interested. I have experimented with that this year – when people have asked me how I am I’ve often said ‘not good actually’, and people just don’t know how to answer. They often say ‘oh’ with a half smile and sidle away quietly. So I maintain my claim that the start of a conversation isn’t the time to go into that topic. <br/><br/>
Loneliness has bothered me for the past several years, but I’d found ways to cope: I’d distracted myself by my activities – running, swimming, mostly alone, ticking off targets and collecting achievements. Suddenly none of these were hitting the spot, I have been distracting myself too long that it was no longer working. The biological urge was also a big factor – I am desperate for a family, 3 years ago I set myself a 2 year target to make it happen, the whole of which was obliterated by the pandemic. This last year I just have no idea how to get there, my communication with people is so broken that I can’t even get to know anyone. But running, swimming, all those things I was doing alone as they’re what I *can* do when I don’t have anyone spend time with, were suddenly seeming hollow and pointless. When the thing you do as an escape loses its validity everything starts to fall apart. <br/><br/>
Work was also still a very disconnected, intangible place. I love the company I work for, the projects they do, their ethos, the support they provide. The ‘new normal’ working environment doesn’t work for me though, so many people are choosing to work from home as it fits in better with their family life, that the office is quiet and lacking in soul. The people that are there are hot desking, there’s no familiarity on entering the office - you can’t give a nod to a collection of familiar people as you walk down the aisle. Meetings are predominantly done on Microsoft Teams which has quite a different feel to it than an in-person one – people look different with the barrel distortion of the camera, they may or may not be looking at you on the screen regardless of whether their eyes are facing you, the conversation is more structured and turn-based meaning I have to turn on a sort of ‘forced’ mode which takes the personal element away. <br/><br/>
Without real people around me, at work and socially, I can’t get an idea of how to do things that most people find second-nature but I have to copy: for example when to stop for lunch; how to react to a comment from another person; how to know what other people find normal. I am neurodivergent, and to fit in with the world I copy/mimic everything, which is known as masking. Masking can be considered detrimental as it’s so tiring, you’re encourage to let the real you out, but if you’ve been masking without knowing it for so many years you don’t know who the real you is, and if you do let it out often the world isn’t ready for it, so for now masking is the way I cope. So without real-life people to feed off I revert to my own autopilot which is unknown and doesn’t enable me to fit in with the rest of the world, and I forget how to communicate and behave, it’s like the world is spinning and I’m looking down on it trying to work out whether I can run fast enough to get up to speed to jump back on, and while that happening I can’t see what’s going on down there. I become completely dysfunctional. From April I identified that if I can’t copy then I’ll have to find some other strategy to get things done, so I started a monthly todo list (a continuous one was only likely to work for a limited time as it would seem like there was no end point to reach, so a month at a time was a better plan). The problem was that I wasn’t remembering anything (out of sight out of mind) except perhaps at 2am when I was lying in bed about to go to sleep, so if I wrote it down on a list at least I only had to remember look in one place. This sort of worked, but it’s a bit like eating junkfood instead of your 5-a-day, you’ll survive but you won’t be healthy. Every time I target an item on the list I sort of shake in fear of the commitment of it, and take 3 days to build up to it, even if it’s just to email somebody. <br/><br/>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpg7b4qOkBDdGLe0MX6JOqqJ5mM8yD0KwUDKg1d9g5g2WYWfAw4iEdgYpUnGA7O1qVBeO_DwwwNyOWPFnWXz4pUVDZ6Y-Rb6MD_uSC03qfvjPoMOFcLuxFBu0B2gmbLlUfTil3wJiWnRXDErk91Z4mwv_BqftDUDf_FA1GeqxxYB5cvB0xh_KsSHBG/s4000/P7090457.JPG" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; clear: right; float: right; padding: 0px 0px 0px 3px"><img alt="" border="0" width="320" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpg7b4qOkBDdGLe0MX6JOqqJ5mM8yD0KwUDKg1d9g5g2WYWfAw4iEdgYpUnGA7O1qVBeO_DwwwNyOWPFnWXz4pUVDZ6Y-Rb6MD_uSC03qfvjPoMOFcLuxFBu0B2gmbLlUfTil3wJiWnRXDErk91Z4mwv_BqftDUDf_FA1GeqxxYB5cvB0xh_KsSHBG/s320/P7090457.JPG"/></a></div>In addtion to a lack of connections leading to a change in my wellbeing and a resultant change in my communications skills for the worse, something weird was happening with time too. In June, I had this strange sensation that it was about 3 years since I got back from Greece (only the month before) and those 3 years had all been empty. Normally by June I had done lots of adventure swims but for whatever reasons those hadn’t happened. I vowed to be more deliberately proactive in July but although I did some active stuff, including one adventure swim from Wadham to Bugle Hole (see photo) and one to see Juliet cave, the time still felt like it was largely empty. I also then suffered a string of health problems: when I got injured in my 100-miler run I then couldn’t run for a few weeks. I then got covid again, and when I went on swim camp to Scilly in August I realised I was still unwell from it as I didn’t feel like socialising or swimming while I was there. After covid my asthma and reflux were triggered which made running very difficult, and the breathing problems persisted so I consulted a doctor to try and work out whether the cause was physical or psychological. It wasn’t until November that I realised it was anxiety – there would be an initial trigger, a ‘demon’ in my head. There were two main demons, the first being the fact that I had put on enough weight to seriously impact the way I felt when I was running, making running difficult, and the demon was saying I couldn’t cope with that difficulty, and the other demon was if I was with a group and falling behind, the demon said that I was inadequate compared to them. Stupid statements from my ego that I can easily rationalise against on paper, but when you’re in the middle of battling to be in a better place and you already feel physically and mentally uncomfortable, one demon triggers up an attack of anxiety, my throat closes up, I can’t breathe, my body shuts down without oxygen and it’s game over. I ran through it one day and I felt like I’d been thoroughly beaten up when I finished, not the good kind of body fatigue you get from exercise and exertion. I just started to get on top of the anxiety once I realised what it was, and then I got hit by another bad cold in December which triggered my asthma and reflux again. Currently (2023 now) I don’t feel good when I run, I don’t get a lift from the endorphins. I’m much heavier than my comfort weight and due to that and the physical manifestation of prolonged stress my legs are swollen, my body is stiff, I feel genuinly uncomfortable when I sit down and my belly crushes the other bits of my body, I have had a phase of dizziness (related to some medication), and I’m still coughing and retching. <br/><br/>
My physical state is easier to describe, to cover how I was/am feeling mentally it’s hard enough to be clear about it in my head let alone put it into words. I wake up each day like the world doesn’t exist. I can’t remember what I value in life, I can’t remember the feeling of joy I get when I run, I can’t feel passion for ideas, work or activities. Waking up is the hardest thing I do each day, to get my brain to switch on when its claws are still in sleep and could perhaps stay there indefinitely – I believe this is a sleep disorder as I’ve had it my whole life, but it’s exacerbated by my state of mind. Then if I turn on the radio it seems weird to hear people talking about things where other people are involved, and to hear people laughing and being comfortable, being warm, and joyful and happy. If I see somebody walking towards me in the street I think they’ll be annoyed at me, or be ready to find any excuse to be. Everything feels really alien, I can’t see or imagine the type of life where people go to the cinema and bars, people meet up in groups, exchange banter and laughs, whether it’s me living it or others. It’s not in my head at all, even as a memory. Instead of having a baseline state of positive expectation and happiness I feel wariness and dread, I’m and low and entirely alone. <br/><br/>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgff0b0IbWxi0j56IlvkjckZQlKsGtR5kJtOoPGp5nWasGmBEUFQmE7BkMrTfsEWekDVYEkSuGHYBgSC63uAEeI1ETHiGz2C_Bg6AG32GngZ0DkIb8pTN6cYxsVi4mcfAvRhhKuazS_vOwUGTYwbzZPQZODfE2rfIfRgr7lByV2kQAf3IN7r3ELK0rz/s2048/IMG_1867.jpeg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; clear: left; float: left; padding: 0px 3px 0px 0px"><img alt="" border="0" width="320" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgff0b0IbWxi0j56IlvkjckZQlKsGtR5kJtOoPGp5nWasGmBEUFQmE7BkMrTfsEWekDVYEkSuGHYBgSC63uAEeI1ETHiGz2C_Bg6AG32GngZ0DkIb8pTN6cYxsVi4mcfAvRhhKuazS_vOwUGTYwbzZPQZODfE2rfIfRgr7lByV2kQAf3IN7r3ELK0rz/s320/IMG_1867.jpeg"/></a></div>The weirder it gets, the less I feel relief when I have a social event, and so the less able I am to take advantage of solutions that present themselves. I went to visit a friend in Barcelona for New Year, we watched the magic fountain display, hiked up a mountain to watch the fireworks, and swam in the sea on New Year’s day as part of a very well attended charity event. It was varied and exciting, and the perfect New Year for me, and yet it’s like I was autopiloting my body though it and waiting until I could get away from it and hide. <br/><br/>
People reading this will be spotting the tell-tale signs of depression. You’re not wrong of course, but I want to point out that (this kind of) depression is a symptom of an existing problem, not the problem itself nor the cause of it. Depression is just an added complication, most of what I've mentioned above came before it led to that, for example all the feelings of disconnect from the world. And one thing that really frustrates me is if you come to a friend for help and they say ‘have you sought professional help’? If they’re just asking that’s fine, but really they’re saying they won’t or can’t help, when you know they can, after all it's not like you need to point out that professional help is available as it's not something I'm not likely to know. Firstly, I feel you can break mental health help down into 3 steps: ‘understanding the problem, understanding the solution, and implementing the solution’. Professionals will help you with the first two, but they can’t do the last one for you. I’d already resolved the first two – loneliness is a disease and I was suffering from it, and I needed more connections, I just needed help creating them so I reached out to friends. If they then say ‘you need to see a professional’ it’s exasperating because it’s trying to send you into a loop that you can never break free from. There was already a bit of a catch-22 in me reaching out to friends, because it's not that I want them fix my mental health (steps 1 and 2), I just want to spend time with them as a friend doing normal friend things (step 3), but if I ask them to spend time with me they don’t realise how much I need it, and if I tell them I’m struggling they then think they’re not the person to help. Secondly, I've had friends suggest I'm depressed before when what they're actually seeing is just the fact that I'm autistic and function differently to what they're used to, and the best path there would be if they took time to understand that a bit more. Thirdly, getting professional help isn’t easy. At that point I slipped from being a natural problem solver to not wanting to solve anything I knew I was depressed and did seek help, but it’s not a quick process. I’d already been on one waiting list for counselling since January 2021, but as a result of my new enquiry I got added to a separate one, while being informed there was a 3 month wait for an initial assessment (which I have now had, but I have yet to discover whether the process will bear fruit). This wait will be too late for many, so if you’re somebody’s friend and they’re struggling, they need you more than you know, and they may not know how to ask clearly. <br/><br/>
Depression is a bit of a trickster and stops you taking advantage of the opportunities that do arise. If you plan something it’s hard to face actually doing it. Even small things in the evening: I get a huge sense of relief when I finish the work day and don’t have to do anything for the rest of the day - but that won’t fix my isolation and it won’t fix my health. But I want to leave the talk of depression aside now, as that’s only a progression of symptoms caused by the real problem which already existed, i.e. the loneliness and lack of day-to-day connection, and feeling closed off to opportunity. <br/><br/>
Occasionally there was a snippet of the solution I needed, for example, a conference or sports day at work, or somebody engaging me genuinely in the supermarket or street, or going to volunteer at an event run by my local trail running group and suddenly feeling like I'm among friend. These things surprise me as they’re at odds to my new world, it surprises me that normality still does exist, somewhere behind the veil. And I know it wouldn’t take much to recover, if the opportunities were there. <br/><br/>
There was one activity through work that really did work for me for the summer. Previously I had spoken to my boss about a way to resolve the new work environment for me, and he suggesting things like meeting other colleagues for a coffee but these didn’t appeal, although it made me cringe that he would think I was either ungrateful or resistant to finding a solution. Then on Tuesday lunchtime in the spring I saw an invitation to play volleyball so went to watch and got dragged in, and this was exactly what I needed! It was both sociable and active. I instantly realised that the reason the conversational solutions hadn’t appealed is because conversation is the main focus and I don’t enjoy small talk, to me talk has to have a purpose. Volleyball includes banter which gives a wonderful sense of having a shared connection, but it’s not mandatory, you can just play and feel part of something, and you then see those same people round the office too. The volleyball season lasted from June until October and was truly the highlight of my week, it gave me a reason to get out of bed and make it into the office which brings benefits of its own. In addition to the direct benefits of exercise and social connection, it made me realise there was actually nothing wrong with me: For the last year I thought my mental health problems has been because of the way my brain works and the resultant impacts when I can’t feed off other people, and although that’s all true I had an awakening that it was just an overly complicated way of explaining the reality – that I was simply lonely. Also I was relieved to see that the right kind of connections would very quickly help me. <br/><br/>
Other times I was unable to take advantage of opportunities that would have helped. Once a month or so there was an orienteering event with my club followed by a social gathering, and there are lot of people in my club who I like who seem to like me, so this would have been a valuable event. Only with my sleep inertia / waking difficulty, and the fact that each day I can’t remember the world that’s out there, I frequently arrived late, so that I would see people briefly in the car park and miss the whole post-run social. The frustration from being thwarted by something that would seem automatic to most – getting up and dressed and out the house - is immense, as you get the double hit of missing the opportunity as well as being mad at yourself, which overpowers being kind to yourself. The need to be productive triggers panic - while one part of my brain is guiding me through it, the louder part is sticking its fingers in its ears and saying 'la la la, not listening'.<br/><br/>
I have a philosophy that teaches you how to deal with stuff: The Warrior’s Way, to do with personal power, and awareness. It teaches you how to not squander thought power on negative processes such as wishing and hoping behaviour. It teaches you to properly analyse risk rather than shying away from it. To listen to your full range of emotions and to be able to be in chaos rather than being tricked by the many faces of the ego. However, there is sort of a flaw with this philoshopy. It is a journey that you embark on that you never complete. And it doesn’t tell you how to get help along the way for things that happen that you haven’t yet perfected how to deal with, because you maybe never will. You can only really handle things in an ideal world, and it’s not an ideal world, especially when you’re dealing with unusual stuff like working out your place in the world after learning you are autistic after all. In November I did a well-being course at work which said that good wellbeing comes from connections and hope, which gave me something to latch hold of. Hope is contradictory to the Warrior philosophy so there’s more thinking to do there, but connections – well there's the crux really. Mine had all vanished, and here I was feeling low. But if you’ve already tried to build those in many different ways and failed, what can you do? In September the impact of my difficult summer culminated in my mental health collapsing and me dropped off the radar a bit. I realised that if I was posting about my activities on strava and facebook people would think I was loving life, so I stopped. If I had written this review at that point, a thought which crossed my mind then, this review would have been a line long. A short one. And it wouldn’t have been happy. A couple of people noticed my absence – that saved me. I was only able to articulate how I’d been feeling once I was feeling a tiny smidgen better, and then more people asked how I was, but I am indebted to those four that noticed me vanish. After that I gained an invitation to a regular Friday swim - small lifts like that remind me of how it’s meant to be but it takes time to get back there. <br/><br/>
There’s definitely a suggestion that if you’re active that means you’re okay, but it’s not true. If I’m active it just means I’m still alive, I could have a mood of 1/10 and still go out for a hike. 0/10 and I wouldn’t be here any more. People often seem to think the fact that I do lots of stuff is something impressive or admirable. That’s nice of them, and it’s really special to think that I might inspire people, but to me it’s normal to get out there and do stuff, in fact it’s actually a comfort blanket. If I’m really, really struggling I usually ‘follow my nose’ as I call it, but actually I follow my feet, I’ll usually find myself walking somewhere, and I usually didn’t have much conscious say in the decision to do that. So what other people might admire in me, is my baseline. That doesn’t help me find my place in the world, as people assume I’m happy when I may be the polar opposite, and also the fact that I’m constantly active being unusual to them when to me it’s so innate, means they’ll never understand the rest of me. I’ve always said that the reason I do lots of stuff is because I’m inherently lazy and if I stop I won’t start again, and that pretty much what happened this year. <br/><br/>
In August I read something in a book that triggered a realisation in me that I have forgotten how to live in the moment, instead I was focussing on achievements and bounding from one milestone to the next. This lightbulb moment made it much easier to stay at home than before and my anxiety in this vanished. I re-gained a love of watching TV and I reactivated my Netflix subscription, and I started learning to play the concertina. But it’s a mixed blessing, it gives depression a safe path, means you don't have to face anything, and my running faltered, and that’s something I need for my physical health if not my mental. Which do I need to be, calm or active? Is it possible to be both? So even things that seem positive bring complications. I spent some time this year trying to bring my bedtime forward, it's something I've struggled with since I left home but with an average bedtime of 2:46 over 3 months it had got more out of hand. However, combining that with a more homely attitude meant lots of evenings getting into bed early to watch TV. Is that helping improve a routine, or exacerbating the isolation and lethargy? Again, it's complicated. <br/><br/>
Largely this write-up is talking about problems rather than solutions, but that’s because it’s a write-up of what happened. It’s easy to read it and think that I operating problem-based thinking, but I’m not someone who dwells on problems, I’m a problem solver and constantly think in solutions, any time my mood is above about 2/10. That’s why it was so frustrating that I couldn’t find what I needed, because I was trying and still failing (it’s immensely difficult when the solution is dependent on others and can’t do it yourself) and why I eventually fell apart. But I did at least recover enough to keep trying, especially over the last 3 months: They say if you help others you’ll help yourself, and I’ve raised money for charity, helped friends out financially and with support messages, donated to foodbanks; I spent a while pondering what to do with the work situation, and although it’s definitely not the right solution for me to leave the company, I did realise that an internal move could bring benefits. I was thwarted by certain processes with my first attempt and ended up feeling worse, but after a bit of recovery time I tried a different route and ended up being successful in my application for a new role that was also a career progression so I’m exited about that as it's part of my solution. I started the new role in the New Year; I started to get my enthusiasm back for activities - it’s not the solution as they’re still largely solo, but it helps me to be ‘me’, and being ‘me’ (at least this little I understand of it) is achieving stuff; I also identified that I didn't have any routine any more, I used to do things every night of the week and now I wasn't doing anything. Given how beneficial the volleyball had been I needed something similar, so I capitalised on a chance to spend friday evenings at the climbing wall with some runners I know; Regaining some of my former drive also makes me able to be reception to any opportunities that present themselves; I try to actively focus on seeing the positivies and trying not to add more weighting to equivalently-sized negatives - I recently heard unexpectedly from some friends I haven’t heard from for ages which means more than a new hill summit, so I consciously enjoy each of those moments. <br/><br/>
Aside from mental health, which most of this write-up is about, there were some other notable events throughout the year too. In October, after 3 ¼ years on the waiting list and 4 months working through the assessment process, I finally got my Autism diagnosis. That was the end of a chapter of investigation and uncertainty in my life, I can just get on with things now. I’m working on remembering who I am and acting on that without worrying how it comes across, then maybe others will know who I am too - even after knowing some of my friends many years they don’t know when I’m joking, and people aren’t able to communicate with me in the way that I would enjoy; I visited my family more than usual, because my dad had been quite unwell leading up to Christmas last year and was worried about not being around and I wanted to make sure I spent time with him, and he picked up and made another Christmas; the new room I moved into last November has panned out brilliant, as my landlady is wonderful and I can be me without judgement, we don't have many shared activities but our characters are a match. <br/><br/>
I had another realisation in the autumn, after something gave me a small lift, that confirms what I learnt in the wellbeing course. People think I’m independent, but I’m fuelled by connections: I love to be independent, but don’t have the power to do that if I’m alone, so it's not independence after all. My (fake) independence and well-being are linked - the independence comes from connections, so do ideas and inspiration, and the type of excitement that makes me implement them does too (if you know me you’ve seen this side of me). That’s me being me, and I can’t do it without you. <br/><br/>
Where am I at now? I still feel no purpose, no identity, no place in the world. Day to day still feels alien. There’s something odd about Devon – I feel completely at home here, it’s a haven for all my activites and the opportunities feel endless, but I haven’t felt happy since I got here. Every time I go away it’s like I wake up and can see clearly again. It could be that I used to travel more and now I don’t need to as it’s all on my doorstep, but travel gave me that something extra, that outside perspective… perhaps. Or it did just cross my mind that maybe Devon and me are so alike, that because I’ve lost sight of who I am I’m also lost when I’m in Devon too. <br/><br/>
<b>Achievements: </b> <br/><br/>
I did still achieve some stuff. I’m reticent to post these as I fear that despite what I have explained above, people will read them and think ‘well things can’t have been that bad if she did all that’. Remember, I just don’t function in the same way as you might think, and these are my survival strategy, that it’s pretty essential that I carry on with them unless I find another way to build up the dynamo. Also for me this is less than a standard year. But I shall post them here for posterity. And I am still proud of them. <br/><br/>
* I ran 3 ultras-marathons – the <a href="https://fidgetsadventures.blogspot.com/2022/04/trailevents-snowdon-spring-crossing.html">Snowdonia Spring Crossing in April</a> (33 miles, successful completion), the <a href="https://fidgetsadventures.blogspot.com/2022/07/the-dragon-100.html">Dragon 100 in June</a> (DNF at checkpoint 6, but still completed 56 miles), and the <a href="https://fidgetsadventures.blogspot.com/2022/11/climb-south-west-east-devon-8-trigs.html">8-Trigs in November</a> (34 miles, successful completion, last place!). I have planned 3-4 ultras through the year, so just about managed to claw this one back with a last minute entry into the 8-Trigs having just started to realise the anxiety issue. <br/><br/>
* I continued working my way through the (Dartmoor) D365 book, ticking 113 new squares (plus one of the 2 bonuses), bringing my total to 254/365, so I’m 69% of the way through. <br/><br/>
* I completed the remaining 132 miles of the coast path, and received my certificate of completion. <br/><br/>
* I ticked 146 hill summits (including a couple of repeats). 79 were only TUMPs though (a TUMP is a Thirty and Upward Metre Prominence, a hill so insignificant there are over 17,000 of them in the UK). My lifetime TUMP total now stands at 885. <br/><br/>
* I bagged 106 new Dartmoor Tors. My total now stands at 246/896, so I’m 27% of the way through the definitive list. <br/><br/>
* I did 48 swims, all outdoors, totalling a shade under 43km, in a mixture of wetsuit and skins. <br/><br/>
* My total running mileage for the year was 1,550 miles. This isn’t the 2022 miles I intended (an average of 170 miles a month) - it was achievable and I was on track for the first 6 month, but them lost it as explained above, as it’s had been very physically difficult to actually run. However, on a bit of analysis after the year was over I was surprised to find this was my biggest year yet, beating 2019 at 1,418 miles.<br/><br/>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4C-u5GfgxZXtCaGxENYrqYMzQpUC4xrFGs0k4rrKT8LVdfofQrrftbvdphbeViY8dtanzcGAf9VGYc_rPqP1s_Rf7Yf3F8eJuyL8Vn7KnlNzVHVSkvroyuNnmVLYsttckTHNzFijbNGDRU4A98coAjDlECysB7q1czFyr7FLxhgpf95damX0e_jCv/s2513/Running%20miles%20chart%202.png" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; clear: right; float: right;"><img alt="" border="0" width="320" data-original-height="990" data-original-width="2513" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4C-u5GfgxZXtCaGxENYrqYMzQpUC4xrFGs0k4rrKT8LVdfofQrrftbvdphbeViY8dtanzcGAf9VGYc_rPqP1s_Rf7Yf3F8eJuyL8Vn7KnlNzVHVSkvroyuNnmVLYsttckTHNzFijbNGDRU4A98coAjDlECysB7q1czFyr7FLxhgpf95damX0e_jCv/s320/Running%20miles%20chart%202.png"/></a></div>* Since March 2020 I have had a target to run 100 miles a month every month for a year. I set this as I was a very stop-start runner for ages, and even after my first big ultra in September 2019 that I’d trained for for a year I still stopped, so this was a target to turn me into a full-time runner. It has worked well! But I still haven’t completed it. In January 2021 I very badly sprained my ankle, I started the challenge again as soon as I could, which was March 2021. In September I fell 4.2 miles short as I’d accidentally double-entered a run into strava and I was already so tight at the end of the month after time out for hiking and swimming that I couldn’t make it up. In December 2021 I had covid when isolation was still mandated so I lost that month too so started again in January this year. But I lost July to the shin injury and as the summer unravelled I lost 3 more months without any of the prior passion for this and I didn’t start the challenge again until November. I maintained it in December by the skin of my teeth. <br/><br/>
<b>Non achievements:</b><br/><br/>
* I started the year a little overweight at 11 stone 9.5lb. I lost 1 stone 3lb up to mid March, then gained 2 stone 3lb, with a net gain of 1 stone. My weight always goes up and down as I can eat consistently, but it does have big impacts on my exercise. I start to notice the difference to my running when I go above 11 stone, finding I can’t hold a conversation with other runners who are going at a sociable pace. Above 12 stone I feel hugely uncomfortable, in running, and in everything else. At 12 1/2 I feel uncomfortable just sitting as I expand outwards immediately underneath my chest. And if one more person says to me "but surely you burn it off with all the exercise you do"...!!! Seriously, do you know how many calories there are in ice cream and chocolate?!<br/><br/>
* One of the several that didn’t happen - I only used my paddleboard twice, despite being very keen to do a lot more this year. Another one of those ideas that just dissolved in the ether when faced with a life where it no longer makes sense to even get out of bed. <br/><br/>
Sarah Cloughhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03797857043816872742noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1445147937322368187.post-4645835849827003312022-11-13T18:22:00.001+00:002022-11-13T18:22:38.130+00:00Climb South West, East Devon 8 TrigsI’ve had my eye on this event for months but the summer hasn’t worked out - I got injured in my last ultra in July, then had covid again in august, then I got breathing difficulties which interfered with my running and meant I couldn’t train and I’ve got increasingly out of shape. It’s only in the last fortnight that I realised those breathing difficulties are anxiety (I had thought it was more likely to be because I’m overweight!) brought on by the above combined with a summer of loneliness and low mental health resulting in feelings of inadequacy, but now I know what it is it’s easier to start to address it and push away the triggers. Due to not having trained (I’ve only run 200 miles in 17 weeks) I left my race entry to the last minute (Tuesday 8th was entry cutoff), only to find it had sold out, so I satisfied myself with 20 miles on Wednesday (which went reasonably well). Then on Thursday I got a last minute race entry!<BR/><BR/>
I’ve not done a Climb South West event before but they seem like a great bunch. The event was back to basics: completely unmarked - 8 trigs and 2 checkpoints as mandatory locations and everything else up to you, but they had shared a gpx of a suggested route you could take if you wanted to. I largely followed this, with two detours, one recommended by other runners and the other on an overheard tip.<BR/><BR/>
It was a staggered start so I set off early, 8:10, as I didn’t expect to move fast. The first 12 miles were pretty smooth and consistent, averaging 16 minute miles over the ups and downs. It was nice to have the trig points to tick off - I’m a trig fanatic anyway, but they came regularly so the miles flew by. <BR/><BR/>
For the middle third the hills got steeper, particularly Beacon Hill and Buckton Hill, but the views were good. Buckton trig was meant to be out of bounds but the landowner was present and was kind enough to let me visit the trig. My pace dropped a bit but I still focussed on that to keep my legs moving. I was really pleased to experience absolutely no anxiety today! The vibe of the event at the start held it off initially, then the other runners started to come pass me so there was that shared mentality. I did feel a bit lonely on the inland section as didn’t see anyone for ages, but my body was feeling good which gave me confidence and kept the triggers at bay. <BR/><BR/>
The second and final checkpoint was at Weston, and I came through just after 2pm, well inside the cutoff of 4pm. The flapjack there was amazing, best flapjack I’ve ever had! The penultimate trig, on West Cliff, brought me back to the coast path and from there it was 10 miles back to the finish on familiar ground, and I was still feeling good. As I came through Sidmouth I was really craving like an ice cream despite having a bag full of food, I think I needed to cool off, and I managed to grab the most delicious Malteser ice cream from the little kiosk, best ice cream I’ve ever had!!<BR/><BR/>
The sweepers caught up with me climbing the final big hill out of Sidmouth. We had a quick chat then they kindly hung back as I explained I was in the zone - I’m not used to running with company on ultras and I’d been on my own all day too, so my head was just in that solitary state. I could still hear them behind me which introduced a little pressure to my brain so I explained the anxiety situation and they said they’d run on ahead as they were happy I knew the route - which was lovely of them and kept the triggers away again. I finished in 9:35, the total distance about 33 miles. The winner did it in 5 hours (unimaginably fast to me!) but I’m happy with my time. I might have been last but apparently in previous years it’s taken people until 8pm to finish and I was back before 6. I absolutely loved it all, I felt like a runner again for the first time in 4 months. What’s more, my body was obviously plenty fit for it as I ran 9 miles the next day to lay a trail I’d already committed to!!<BR/><BR/>
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padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="295" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8LDnc3VSkkz-zK50l471JnleeGfUYHuUlhCTxtsnPX5ejSb2Psqa1sEmopN620_y7q3avNjk5YD4iU303UpxLgLwgtPRz_DBvHS9qcLXHiR4q7hKK86aeDTn1kpPndCQR6C7T-TpgblwzyACj4PSMd_ovgyYjaraDDdS6tbD1VZxmma11v7oQaDfl/s1600/18.png"/></a></div>Sarah Cloughhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03797857043816872742noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1445147937322368187.post-67048472727141605152022-07-22T01:43:00.019+01:002022-07-29T00:03:43.160+01:00RunWalkCrawl Dragon 100<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuVrr5ggjW8kF_ALzhtQ7COb0NHHM-aHZVHNVmvaGWx06haEEVM0tZX3jU5yiG7vXP-3EXgCqxeD2VNRHu0qg6QMuythuZQgHIwGvbg1FUOnDOGf-Bs5xGwOHvWd1mflLRBlkx4v2_IxM89IT09q1Jybq541H0U9pD9B0mHCyQQ0JSF-WgtglWaEyB/s2048/IMG_7324.jpeg" style="display: block; padding: 0px 0px 0px 5px; text-align: center; clear: right; float: right;"><img alt="" border="0" width="320" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuVrr5ggjW8kF_ALzhtQ7COb0NHHM-aHZVHNVmvaGWx06haEEVM0tZX3jU5yiG7vXP-3EXgCqxeD2VNRHu0qg6QMuythuZQgHIwGvbg1FUOnDOGf-Bs5xGwOHvWd1mflLRBlkx4v2_IxM89IT09q1Jybq541H0U9pD9B0mHCyQQ0JSF-WgtglWaEyB/s320/IMG_7324.jpeg"/></a></div>Pyramids are much used as a training strategy in sports, and it’s a good way to make sure you don’t overtrain or push yourself too far too fast. One application for this is for pushing the distance, and building a base to the pyramid of several shorter ultras before a longer one, and not entering a 100-miler straight after a 100-k. Over 3 1/3 years I have done 6 ultra distances of 31-37 miles, one 44, one 51 and one 62, so I was ready for the cap of the pyramid with the 100-miler. So it’s less that I really *wanted* to do one, and more the fact that a friend had planted the seed in my head many years ago and I was now ready to enter, but once the idea takes hold it becomes all encompassing. <br/><br/>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4VKtQYYBqjG2Xn6UjjxX2LdlG_wKBfY5oCw2tcOVnZ8WH3rpJKVcFxUETdZgfadfr9J05SlS9kcBGdxYafKeRR_6opuzZd_yYPC2yFQKHb-OT5P8pVwtWLenUq-p0rTS9SjiqZRT0wgPfDH6J8lVuEQxMXaA2W1oWDDODXhHb8oPSscJD_1Wjyu4I/s2048/294526965_5251725354922395_6507770697956043308_n.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 0px 0px 0px 5px; text-align: center; clear: right; float: right;"><img alt="" border="0" width="320" data-original-height="1365" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4VKtQYYBqjG2Xn6UjjxX2LdlG_wKBfY5oCw2tcOVnZ8WH3rpJKVcFxUETdZgfadfr9J05SlS9kcBGdxYafKeRR_6opuzZd_yYPC2yFQKHb-OT5P8pVwtWLenUq-p0rTS9SjiqZRT0wgPfDH6J8lVuEQxMXaA2W1oWDDODXhHb8oPSscJD_1Wjyu4I/s320/294526965_5251725354922395_6507770697956043308_n.jpg"/></a></div>Getting to the start line for these things is perhaps the biggest challenge. Whenever I’ve trained for an ultra something invariably happens to interrupt progress, usually an injury… best laid plans and all that. This time round I actually got through my full training plan, right until the final week when I was genuinely exhausted so I started my taper a little early. During the taper though, possibly because it was too long, I was full of aches and pains - I cricked my neck and my Achilles tightened up, and we also had a company sports day 5 days before the event and despite trying my best to take it easy I got a groin strain from the long jump. I was foam rollering and taking Epsom salt baths and sea soaks like a fiend while also trying to relax as much as I could, to ensure the many months of training hadn’t been in vain. My housemate also caught covid the week of the race so I had to try not to catch that too. I’d also put on weight and instead of the 10 stone I wanted to be, 11 at the outside, I was 11 stone 8 lbs. But make it to the start I did, and on Saturday lunchtime I got the race coach from Cardiff to the start at Rhossili with my two friends Sarah and Kelvin and the other runners, ready for the 4pm start against the backdrop of Worms Head. The coach itself took 2 hours, that's some distance! <br/><br/>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXi-JYIq0WolVa0nOkldv0Oyk26fyNylQ0BqXJZHMOWmB1YJLQW1X19UPDXYBNrFA_rRTbCu1TZackK3je4_Y8hguFD6WFW1Ex_3e82OYInwgCDKM4gv1Ta05_Nt8Rp3tt93YsS56xNkSsvrDyRHX7sI8lvKBRWM2qy0qN5iMFJFvA5usXzbRwpo2V/s2048/IMG_7365.jpeg" style="display: block; padding: 0px 0px 0px 5px; text-align: center; clear: right; float: right;"><img alt="" border="0" width="320" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXi-JYIq0WolVa0nOkldv0Oyk26fyNylQ0BqXJZHMOWmB1YJLQW1X19UPDXYBNrFA_rRTbCu1TZackK3je4_Y8hguFD6WFW1Ex_3e82OYInwgCDKM4gv1Ta05_Nt8Rp3tt93YsS56xNkSsvrDyRHX7sI8lvKBRWM2qy0qN5iMFJFvA5usXzbRwpo2V/s320/IMG_7365.jpeg"/></a></div>I don’t like to get drawn into the rush at the start of the race, so I stayed at the back and tried to keep my heart rate down to protect against injury and excessive carb burning. It was about 24 degrees so I couldn’t keep it as low as I wanted, but I managed to settle it at about 158 and stop it going above 160. Slightly awkwardly this put me practically shoulder to shoulder with another runner, both on the downhills and the up, and I really wanted to zone out and run my own race at least to start. I couldn’t speed up without spiking my heart rate and I couldn’t afford to slow down as the first checkpoint was the tightest cutoff (needing 16 minute miles over 7.5 miles with 250m ascent), but I was stressed out by visions of still running side by side with a stranger 100 miles later. It sounds really unsociable but these are such big undertakings you’ve got to run your own race in your own way. Thankfully after a couple of miles we caught up with two other runners then re-dispersed. I was trying not to follow my usual strategy of ‘find a runner and catch them’, as I’d calculated my timings for the whole race in advance. The information on the Run Walk Crawl website (the company that put on the race) says “the race is open to runners and walkers that can maintain the pace to reach the cut off times. The Dragon 100 mile course starts at 1600 on the Saturday evening and you have 32 hours to complete the course- that’s 3.2 mph. Please remember that you would also need to factor in any checkpoint stops so realistically you should aim to maintain 3.5mph to complete in exactly 32 hours” which sounded spot on for me, but they didn’t release the mid-route cut off times for the aid stations until 14 days before the event. There was a cutoff at every one of the 11 aid stations, starting at 16 min miles between the start and the first aid station and reducing down to 21 min miles between the last aid station and the finish. I was disappointed by this (especially not knowing until so close to the event), as I like to run at a consistent pace on my ultras, often running with negative splits so I can start with reserve energy and finish strong. That wasn’t going to happen here. Initially I’d carefully and accurately worked out my ideal timings along the route and using those I would miss the first 7 cutoffs and yet finish with 2 hours to spare, so I had to run to their tighter timings for the first 60 miles. <br/><br/>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCtm1IK9QrC90TdQrfykEk4ICTFoaNJ_2OldgMGtrJbdLi68JaoKbkjekqU7LJqoHoFeOGoT3b-v-GaF2j8YiZq5TfCcbgN7W6oJuQZlv_PpXuETj9L3jsh6baEPcPFeV3MUmj7HS5mEO_COLHCfgh00H7dc5WN_j3rdfk09ZqlK4o8wE_ubRKEBrl/s2048/IMG_7373.jpeg" style="display: block; padding: 0px 0px 0px 5px; text-align: center; clear: right; float: right;"><img alt="" border="0" width="320" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCtm1IK9QrC90TdQrfykEk4ICTFoaNJ_2OldgMGtrJbdLi68JaoKbkjekqU7LJqoHoFeOGoT3b-v-GaF2j8YiZq5TfCcbgN7W6oJuQZlv_PpXuETj9L3jsh6baEPcPFeV3MUmj7HS5mEO_COLHCfgh00H7dc5WN_j3rdfk09ZqlK4o8wE_ubRKEBrl/s320/IMG_7373.jpeg"/></a></div>As we traversed the Gower it struck me how beautiful the route was. When I’d checked out the route on Strava where you can see the breakdown of terrain types, it said it would be 29% paved, 40% dirt and 31% other, and with it passing several big urban areas I had kind of expected a lot of hard terrain. I was pleasantly surprised that the Gower section was much more akin to my beloved South West coast path and I was fully enjoying the views. <br/><br/>
I had a few technical and kit issues from early on. I’d had to make some kit changes a bit too close to the event - a new running pack as my old one ripped, and a new watch as the battery saver mode on my old one had a bug. With the pack I tried a few and by the time I settled on one I only had one chance to try it out and it felt okay, but you can’t know for sure until you run a fair distance and it turns out it was too tight on the shoulder webbing and was cutting in. Thankfully I had Vaseline to tide me over and my old pack in my drop bag at Mumbles, I just had to get there (we had access to our drop bag at every 3rd aid station along the route). The soft flasks the pack comes with didn’t have a straw tube so I had to contort my head to drink from them and kept choking on my squash. The watch I had also had only 9 days, after a 6 week conversation with the manufacturer about whether it was a software bug with my old one. I loved the new watch and had played around with all the settings, but I hadn’t configured the screens the same as my old one. I thought the default settings would be suitable but I was unable to see heart rate and pace on the same screen, and both were proving crucial so I had to keep flipping between them. In the end the pace screen became less useful anyway - I’d made a crib sheet of the average pace I needed for each checkpoint, but this was for the time you have to leave the checkpoint not arrive, and for the earlier ones 10 minutes makes quite a big difference to pace, so I couldn’t use my crib sheet as a guide and I changed my strategy accordingly. The new watch did have a funky nutrition reminder though which I'd set to remind me to take a salt tablet every 30 minutes, and I was trying to make sure I drank one full 500ml bottle every hour, although as I tired later it was hard to remember if I was keeping up to date with those and sometimes I didn't notice the buzzer.<br/><br/>
I made the first check point with 15 mins to spare, feeling really rushed. It was also disappointingly poorly stocked - one type of jelly sweet, two types of cheap crisp (salty spirals and chipsticks), water and electrolytes. Little variation and no food you could take with you. I went to the loo and lost the places as I’d gained which was a little disheartening. I wasn’t racing the other runners but it was nice to be near them. <br/><br/>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0KnK0VAOpytODU6hZYrQpKVoxq81STHmQR0LUEcDNrMduFkEIDR7NJFD3KLUQavmlYt8XyxPU1sta7E4i5tBk8i3SmBhwsmWRfAqhCeteXFE2NnG_AdYvYcUF8goVjepAxBR-G3YLLUATKejPRhOMcifDf1AhET3lF24RjfujLGapBHCd5s1cp7JA/s2048/IMG_7839.JPG" style="display: block; padding: 0px 0px 0px 5px; text-align: center; clear: right; float: right;"><img alt="" border="0" width="320" data-original-height="1365" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0KnK0VAOpytODU6hZYrQpKVoxq81STHmQR0LUEcDNrMduFkEIDR7NJFD3KLUQavmlYt8XyxPU1sta7E4i5tBk8i3SmBhwsmWRfAqhCeteXFE2NnG_AdYvYcUF8goVjepAxBR-G3YLLUATKejPRhOMcifDf1AhET3lF24RjfujLGapBHCd5s1cp7JA/s320/IMG_7839.JPG"/></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFIlPDzeSZMLIE-_kSw7b9DHzF2TE-YUXPMgvV_cmBwjWXSHR60oDDIMt7-DtD1q3ZAtbxXNygMcgGx3bXZV02u1S-z72bNPYUhRqqUp0dc_xN_nLuJFXZKZzQtAnB5FfLDGuF0hphBfsRm62pnBI0ArUMys5rWc7i_waVdDUgQ7nkfrzrXZBp4b-l/s2048/IMG_7414.jpeg" style="display: block; padding: 0px 0px 0px 5px; text-align: center; clear: right; float: right;"><img alt="" border="0" height="320" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFIlPDzeSZMLIE-_kSw7b9DHzF2TE-YUXPMgvV_cmBwjWXSHR60oDDIMt7-DtD1q3ZAtbxXNygMcgGx3bXZV02u1S-z72bNPYUhRqqUp0dc_xN_nLuJFXZKZzQtAnB5FfLDGuF0hphBfsRm62pnBI0ArUMys5rWc7i_waVdDUgQ7nkfrzrXZBp4b-l/s320/IMG_7414.jpeg"/></a></div>The route cut off the next headland then we were running across the long stretch of sand that is Oxwich Bay. There were camper vans lining the back of the beach and quite a party atmosphere, although we soon left that behind as we covered the full length of the bay, and I caught up with a group of runners near to the race photographer. To exit the beach there was a very narrow, steep path lined with tall ferns. It was quite overgrown and I kept checking the gps to ensure I was going the correct way. <br/><br/>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK8XJJ-oCgWdkASxjVHquHUjctZ5SxKWPFKro6VvMgnkJxxUBI6XKIn_E1rQFMhRogm4gSE_OUsAOq0HNtVywdP3zQtkJrlnf6yeBIR39GXX-2IR7luXsCy3y21FoU4DPMal78S-hVZ0EwG7PpCmmh5QH3vtqU2wO-fUVNvi_YTlvT78JtYy7MPfKS/s2048/IMG_7439.jpeg" style="display: block; padding: 0px 0px 0px 5px; text-align: center; clear: right; float: right;"><img alt="" border="0" height="320" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK8XJJ-oCgWdkASxjVHquHUjctZ5SxKWPFKro6VvMgnkJxxUBI6XKIn_E1rQFMhRogm4gSE_OUsAOq0HNtVywdP3zQtkJrlnf6yeBIR39GXX-2IR7luXsCy3y21FoU4DPMal78S-hVZ0EwG7PpCmmh5QH3vtqU2wO-fUVNvi_YTlvT78JtYy7MPfKS/s320/IMG_7439.jpeg"/></a></div>Having found my pace I caught up with my two friends near the first stepping stones at Three Cliffs Bay, then lost them as they stopped to empty shoes. The next section of sand dunes were even crazier, with quite a convoluted route through them. I called the directions over my shoulder to the runners behind me. It certainly kept the interest and there were some lovely views down to Three Cliffs bay which I had last visited as a rock climber back in about 2005. On the cliff top I sat to pour a gallon of sand out of my shoes, and shortly after that we reached the second aid station (with 5 minutes to spare) where there was a much better variety of snacks. <br/><br/>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3QNxCMM80hO4GL8M2mlraRu2OXf-wgG4RRWF2BWE69TGD0MiPL5Lj7Sa3E2SjsRwhjyf8iuKPztSMmCiucoURgPKlVf14k7JgFfYrRHGihfs-z7dlm1WNRaV6Yw5n1q_c98oDZkx-Drcae32ESUW9Q5yT2DdRtKilsSbr4eI2ZVA89vdEQ_FILy1T/s2048/IMG_7480.jpeg" style="display: block; padding: 0px 0px 0px 5px; text-align: center; clear: right; float: right;"><img alt="" border="0" height="320" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3QNxCMM80hO4GL8M2mlraRu2OXf-wgG4RRWF2BWE69TGD0MiPL5Lj7Sa3E2SjsRwhjyf8iuKPztSMmCiucoURgPKlVf14k7JgFfYrRHGihfs-z7dlm1WNRaV6Yw5n1q_c98oDZkx-Drcae32ESUW9Q5yT2DdRtKilsSbr4eI2ZVA89vdEQ_FILy1T/s320/IMG_7480.jpeg"/></a></div>Just after Brandy Cove at 17 miles I found a runner (Emma, no. 22) paused and unsure of whether to take the high tide route or low tide route up ahead. I remembered from the race briefing that the route took the high tide route at Caswell Bay anyway so I confidently encouraged her to run on with me, but the GPX took us along a private path right close to but high above the road we actually needed to be on. A friendly local helped us out and guided us down the steps to the beach where we had to climb round a railing then up over two fences to get to the road, so we lost a little time there. Emma and I ran together for a bit on the good tarmac path round Langland and past Snaple point, which was nice. My shoes were driving me mad though, I was only 1.5 miles from being able to change them but they were causing me heel pain so I had to slow a bit while Emma ran on, and they were still full of sand. I wanted to press on to the checkpoint but I followed Emma’s suggestion and emptied them again which gave some temporary respite. <br/><br/>
I reached the aid station with 15 minutes to spare having made good time on the last section, but I had so much to do. I needed to fill up my 3 water bottles. I needed to change my bag, and although everything in the main section was in a dry bag I could just move across there were about 6 extra pockets each with something in, which needed moving to a new home in the new pack, and I needed my tracker cutting off and taping on the new pack too. I’d also had to fully empty my 20l drop bag to get to the running pack so I was surrounded by the contents of that too. I also had to wash and dry my feet to remove the sand as the next section was tarmac, and change my socks and shoes. Plus go to the loo. I also needed to eat and drink, the race information said there was soup available but I was inside the hall and the marshals were outside so I had to ask a friend to fetch someone, who make me up soup and brought me tinned fruit salad too. That all took half an hour and was a really crazy multi-tasking rush which also put me at the back of the field again. <br/><br/>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhucnnIF72kP-NDCenlT_QB-7WXEFuSEg_Cs-HJmmiAH-2r-nrGjAaF4V95ZiL7ZQ01EO2ZXv2YWqS-NyLLpTItE-bZxhIlScBrNdO57qg2DJGlcR52sw1ov-DWMMw-A1I83O84AbGMNi5-5tBRUnFimP13S_1koPR3ubBER8U84yPBQL6p88C9WXb/s2048/IMG_7486.jpeg" style="display: block; padding: 0px 0px 0px 5px; text-align: center; clear: right; float: right;"><img alt="" border="0" width="320" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhucnnIF72kP-NDCenlT_QB-7WXEFuSEg_Cs-HJmmiAH-2r-nrGjAaF4V95ZiL7ZQ01EO2ZXv2YWqS-NyLLpTItE-bZxhIlScBrNdO57qg2DJGlcR52sw1ov-DWMMw-A1I83O84AbGMNi5-5tBRUnFimP13S_1koPR3ubBER8U84yPBQL6p88C9WXb/s320/IMG_7486.jpeg"/></a></div>By comparison the next section was reasonably comfortable, at least to start with. I had my familiar pack and comfy shoes and was pretty well fed. From Mumbles to the next cutoff at Baglan it was 10 miles. I wanted time to actually rest at Baglan which left me 2.5 hours which meant roughly 15 min miles. In theory I could walk parts of that but given it was flat tarmac seafront in the main, round Swansea bay and along the city sea front, I took it on at a slow run, if I could gain some extra time then so much the better. Darkness had fallen and I used to think it was crazy that people ran through the night and said I’d never do it, but it’s funny how the more an idea sinks into your head the more normal it seems, and having tried it in a training run I loved it. The night only lasts 5 hours at that time of year too. I maintained a shambling run pace, and happened across two other female runners that I yo-yo-ed with a lot from here on, Debbie and Sian. These two had a chap crewing them too who was very kind at sharing his time and supplies with other runners and I benefitted from that several times. Even though I don’t speak to other runners much on an ultra I still love that connection and solidarity you have with them. They’re the ones that understand the indescribable mental state that you’re in. Writing about it gives a kind of false impression - I describe a lot, but all of those things mean very little when you're actually experiencing them: all the issues you have you mentally dismiss as insignificant and peripheral, hardships that are just par for the course, so they don't have the impact that you might imagine from reading about it. <br/><br/>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEiWumtqle9pmNrqOi8cHDw9WNMIWh9Q1QTkVI0ioACB63MF-w167EhzClGxipiMUQSGvTu3v2Zv8G0uIbQ0XsWvMxXQAsXrsNGK8hybMMUOumUutvgrMx9SXG7QsnN8t7plJzhnQVZ2DPXVpdYNWnr6RBv2_ye9p4dVO_KDehOEwawPeJpVf0CE-d/s2048/IMG_7503.jpeg" style="display: block; padding: 0px 0px 0px 5px; text-align: center; clear: right; float: right;"><img alt="" border="0" width="320" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEiWumtqle9pmNrqOi8cHDw9WNMIWh9Q1QTkVI0ioACB63MF-w167EhzClGxipiMUQSGvTu3v2Zv8G0uIbQ0XsWvMxXQAsXrsNGK8hybMMUOumUutvgrMx9SXG7QsnN8t7plJzhnQVZ2DPXVpdYNWnr6RBv2_ye9p4dVO_KDehOEwawPeJpVf0CE-d/s320/IMG_7503.jpeg"/></a></div>Leaving Swansea we went slightly inland along the Tennant Canal. This seemed to be the one cool part of the entire course, but I felt like if I put my pack down to get a layer out I didn’t think I’d be able to bend down to pick it back up again - I was very stiff, partly due to the earlier heat and partly because when I’m heavier I feel inflamed and don’t move as well. I kept my eyes peeled for benches but there were none, but at the end of the canal I found crew-man again and he kindly held my pack while I put on my layer. Of course from then on it was warm again but I wasn’t stopping to take it back off! The next section was a cycle way alongside the A483, and I was desperately for a rest having not walked at all except for on the earlier uphills, and I’d been running since the last aid stop except a couple of toilet pauses, and I could feel a strain forming where the shin tendon inserts into the knee. Constantly chasing cut-offs gives the whole event a completely different emphasis, and not a good one. The two girls were doing run/walk so we were were never side by side long enough to chat, I didn’t feel I could do the same as I was looking forward to a sit down and a loo at the Baglan aid stop over the river. I reached it with 5 mins to spare, but there was no loo, and as I sank into a chair the marshal said ‘don’t you dare’, maybe he was joking but it wasn't clear and it was absolutely not what I wanted to hear. On an ultra you know what you need, and my body needed a pause. There was little food again, no support, no encouragement, no help to fill bottles, just an instruction to get up and carry on. They didn’t have any freeze spray for my knee either. I cut my much-needed rest short feeling wholly unwelcome, and left the aid station 2 minutes before it closed, and 50 yards up the road something separated in the shin muscles on my right leg, and I instinctively sat down on the curb. Crew-man was suddenly there and got me some freeze gel from his car. I had planned to walk a bit from here as the next section allowed for a slightly slower pace, and with this pain that idea was cemented, so I walked off into the woods and up the hill. My shin was very painful with every uphill step, I had definitely done something bad to it. I massaged it a bit and found the problem was down at the bottom, right at the front. In addition to my own issues I was concerned the two girls had gone the wrong way as I saw lights down below, and I was shouting and blowing my whistle to alert them. I walked as fast as a could, but the uphill gradient was causing me to call out in pain and I was losing more time. I called one of the race emergency numbers and asked for some first aid, and Ben said that he had some k-tape and could come and meet me at a village past the forest. The village was 3+ miles away, but he actually found me on a small section of road half way there just before I disappeared up another track, just after some angels in a van had passed and given me an apple just as I was craving fruit. I sat on the tailgate of Ben the superstar's van, rinsed my shin and applied k-tape, whilst drinking coke and red bull that he also supplied. The sit down alone was a godsend, but the sudden provision of medical and nutritional aid helped a great deal too and I left with my spirits much lifted. The girls caught up too, and I was pleased to hear that they had heard my shouts after all, although they were also tiring and had missed another turning after that. <br/><br/>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3azCjivpMn_CI4m1DbqdFmgeSdUIvF_7Pq5SDV2fPyc7d7wAnZVuPYU_W_XUShhRYh14sLmN-jf7ZoNh5hwOgvPAyjtrH4RxfOP1TWo8yhbaszBnZDgeYh8Ro6l6BePr6V5layCXQbYw6KbbwsEsKF_JF7iHbxwlYt9uBprCRr6ElX41AE6HBDlMl/s2048/IMG_7522.jpeg" style="display: block; padding: 0px 0px 0px 5px; text-align: center; clear: right; float: right;"><img alt="" border="0" width="320" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3azCjivpMn_CI4m1DbqdFmgeSdUIvF_7Pq5SDV2fPyc7d7wAnZVuPYU_W_XUShhRYh14sLmN-jf7ZoNh5hwOgvPAyjtrH4RxfOP1TWo8yhbaszBnZDgeYh8Ro6l6BePr6V5layCXQbYw6KbbwsEsKF_JF7iHbxwlYt9uBprCRr6ElX41AE6HBDlMl/s320/IMG_7522.jpeg"/></a></div>When I’d left Baglan checkpoint I’d only needed 19:21 minute miles to reach the next stop at Bryn, but now I’d walked and paused that had reduced drastically to 17:00 and there were a lot of hills to come, but I was prepared to do what I could. Ahead of me was a stony downhill which was even worse for my leg than the uphills as it jarred the damaged muscle. Past the village though there was a long flattish section on good forest tracks along the river Afan, where I was able to run again and started to pick up time. I kept constantly recalculating the pace required using my new strategy - the number of minutes to the cutoff, divided by the number of miles to the aid station as shown on my GPX, to give the pace needed. I felt optimistic that I could make it, but then there was a long uphill, and the next descent was also rocky which made me cry out. It started to get light at 4 but not fully until 5. Coming out of the trees just before the village of Bryn it was runnable again with a non-rocky descent and I passed a runner walking with poles (Andy) who asked me how far it was to the checkpoint. “Half a mile, 15-min-mile pace and we’ll do it”. I scraped in with one minute to spare to find myself in a group of 4 runners momentarily. I was in so much pain but I had made it. This aid station was manned by Ben and was better stocked, although I couldn’t persuade my body that the hot dog was good food, and I forgot to pick up my can of coke. I was looking forward to an easier ride from here as the next aid station was meant to be 9 miles away and we had 3 hours to get there, meaning 20 minute miles, a chance to walk at last! I voiced this out loud and Ben said ‘well, more like 10…’ and checking the map it was actually 11.3 miles away! Subtracting the 10 minutes we paused to eat, that’s 15 minute miles, a whole different mission. Well, nothing for it but to press on. There was one 3-mile long uphill to deal with, then the rest was down. I continued constantly recalculating the pace required, my phone gallery is full of screenshots of these numbers, I was running a mathematical race - I’d come this far and didn’t want to miss the deadlines. I had various motivations driving me on - the further I got the more it seemed to make it all worthwhile; I didn’t want my friends to wake up to find I’ve DNFd just after they went to bed; I didn’t want to let everyone down who had sponsored me; and I didn't want to stop now as I've run further than this before. On the downhill, a nice wide track on the outside edge of the forest, I started to pass people I hadn’t seen before but I was also suffering from increasing digestive distress so I was struggling to stay ahead of them all (it's not that I want to beat anyone or care about places, it just makes me feel like I'm making good progress). At the Baglan aid stop earlier I had said out loud ‘I need the loo’. The marshal told me to pee in a bush but they were missing the point. I’d already 💩 in several bushes and it wasn’t working properly at that angle, I needed to sit on a real seat. But through the woods there was nothing and I continued to have to squat down to poo at increasing intervals - it was not diarrhoea and not much, but it was always urgent. I was so uncomfortable with it all - the crouching was difficult and hindered the act, and the act itself was very uncomfortable, despite the small pot of moisturiser I learnt to carry long ago. <br/><br/>
People often cite than an ultra is 99% mental. I’ve always found that a strange statement as I find it all physical, and this is a good way to demonstrate that. My brain absolutely wants to carry on, no matter how I feel - that’s what I came for, it's not meant to be easy and I do not want to stop. I was fine with the sand dunes, the navigation, the heat - all things I heard other runners citing as things that broke them or sapped their resolve. The part of me saying stop because I'm physically hurt is so small I don’t know whether to listen to it. In a training run I’d have stopped the instant I did the damage as that way you can be okay again in 3 days, but when it comes to the main event a different mindset is needed: this is the exam, not the studying. It’s difficult because you can only complete an ultra if you do have that mental fortitude to carry on, that’s why people say it’s all mental, but if you’ve got that by default or by developing it how do you know how to turn it off, and how bad does an ache or pain or injury have to be for it to genuinely be worth stopping? It's an arbitrary line and one that's hard to draw. I was actually glad when I saw the state of my leg a day later as it validated my stopping decision. <br/><br/>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJocAPZTiv0u9uIPlWuRlINvEXaIGlHq1HxJpWLarRyblZzt99SnpKPGDW3-zdyu8IAEcNbzVVzlzFWl0gd1zWe1tDC6bhNuVtrzdImLozltWcKubKdIxtGMigkvKMf5ohlQO4bXH4ZCHlE_-w4Fx2iWS6aJD9EwapY-qvHIxT6s-cr7ydI4mHair6/s2048/IMG_7532.jpeg" style="display: block; padding: 0px 0px 0px 5px; text-align: center; clear: right; float: right;"><img alt="" border="0" height="320" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJocAPZTiv0u9uIPlWuRlINvEXaIGlHq1HxJpWLarRyblZzt99SnpKPGDW3-zdyu8IAEcNbzVVzlzFWl0gd1zWe1tDC6bhNuVtrzdImLozltWcKubKdIxtGMigkvKMf5ohlQO4bXH4ZCHlE_-w4Fx2iWS6aJD9EwapY-qvHIxT6s-cr7ydI4mHair6/s320/IMG_7532.jpeg"/></a></div>At 6:45am I had been running through the pain so long (5 1/2 hours) that my brain was now no longer able to ignore it and my shin was screaming at me and I simply couldn’t run any more, and I knew I wouldn’t make Kenfig in time. I had reached the flat of Margam country park and came across Emma again who was now running with Laura from the Three Cliffs sand dunes. I walked with them for a bit and we discussed the timings and inaccurate distances and the race organisation. We passed crew-man and and he encouraged a last ditch effort to run at 12-minute miles for the last 3 miles to the aid station at Kenfig and our drop bags. The other two switched back into a run but I knew it was a little more than 3 miles, and also that I was done for with running, so if the timings were tight before they were impossible now. So close and yet so far. Even then though I was still calculating whether I could still finish the rest of the race in case they let me carry at Kenfig despite having missed the cutoff, I only needed 18 minute miles for the next 47 miles which seemed possible since my walking pace was fluctuating between 16 and 24 minute miles, but I was so broken I was hoping that they’ll pull me from the race so that the decision was out of my hands. My friends had started to wake up and offer comments online but it was only days later that I worked out what I needed to say to them - I didn’t need encouragement in continuing, I needed help in deciding to stop. <br/><br/>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr0QCQTd-JEwUVQnLjpzJmYQwEij9KFNjC-6xj_g_xSL89VgR7-TW1laegv2McD6CYllVNLkJ9_mW5kqEFrmRCVjqEZ4TPDtri_lfIdQdx-S5O_YtMEnfYvnPmYexGbw_TKCM_L_fZrSdpCuXol2y4g3g-_iI0-uQONqY7luxBUexq_HQIWPR418iX/s2048/IMG_7535.jpeg" style="display: block; padding: 0px 0px 0px 5px; text-align: center; clear: right; float: right;"><img alt="" border="0" height="320" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr0QCQTd-JEwUVQnLjpzJmYQwEij9KFNjC-6xj_g_xSL89VgR7-TW1laegv2McD6CYllVNLkJ9_mW5kqEFrmRCVjqEZ4TPDtri_lfIdQdx-S5O_YtMEnfYvnPmYexGbw_TKCM_L_fZrSdpCuXol2y4g3g-_iI0-uQONqY7luxBUexq_HQIWPR418iX/s320/IMG_7535.jpeg"/></a></div>The A48 was soulless and desolate with no runners in sight now, in my zoned out state I forgot even that there was anyone behind me. My left heel was in agony from favouring that leg combined with running in my less cushioned shoes for the first few miles. I longed for a bench but there wasn’t one for another 1.5 miles behind a church in Pyle where I rested gratefully for a few seconds. At 8am, cutoff time, I rang in to say I wouldn’t make the cutoff, he asked what my plan was given they were too busy to fetch me and I said I could walk it in but wanted to know how I’d get back to Cardiff given the bus for the DNFers was due to leave Kenfig at 8am. He said he might hold the bus, or likely I’d have to get a lift with one of the marshals. I found myself walking slower and slower through the housing estates. A dog lumbered up to me and I lunged sideways into the road to avoid it. The lady following then offered ‘she won’t harm you’. At my wits end and not a fan of this oft-proffered-but-too-late statement anyway, I replied ‘she already has, I am injured and in pain just walking in a straight line, and she just made me stagger sideways into the road'. 1.2 miles from the checkpoint I turned into West street which led straight there and began to hitch. 300m, a lifetime, and many non-stopping cars later I gave up altogether and sunk to the ground outside a closed pub. Two concerned passers-by stopped to question me, and I was just about to contact the organisers to say I couldn’t walk it in after all, when to my surprise another runner appeared, Andy again, although I was a little confused why he was there, and he told me he was also retiring. He gave me his poles and walked me in the last 1 mile at my snail's pace, what a legend. It felt like an eternity but we finally arrived just after 9am. My first ultra DNF and it felt very strange to just finish without the ceremony of receiving a medal, almost like it had never happened. The bus had been waiting for me after all, and I was surprised to see my two friends on it too, they’d decided to retire too even though they’d made the cutoff. I snuck off to the loo, couldn’t pass up the opportunity of a real one after all that time, then joined the dozen or so people on the bus. I was in reasonable spirits despite what you may imagine and offered round the copious quantities of food and drink from my drop bag. <br/><br/>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCBF0befzGGBRXfw7cZg6ebKdVd9loNSCO-Q90ay7OqJg36lCyvHqbe_wcE3wkAVuMh8kytPPMmscIxRXCrZVeOXwgVgXLyj_gefAgqwmH0EdrWwwP6SFqWiIT8ElXQka0T6t3qkL_t4Ah8kkug5sNIRcAb_PcvDlGxjblk8AJLfURvxmQI3ZzixCL/s2048/IMG_7634.jpeg" style="display: block; padding: 0px 0px 0px 5px; text-align: center; clear: right; float: right;"><img alt="" border="0" height="320" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCBF0befzGGBRXfw7cZg6ebKdVd9loNSCO-Q90ay7OqJg36lCyvHqbe_wcE3wkAVuMh8kytPPMmscIxRXCrZVeOXwgVgXLyj_gefAgqwmH0EdrWwwP6SFqWiIT8ElXQka0T6t3qkL_t4Ah8kkug5sNIRcAb_PcvDlGxjblk8AJLfURvxmQI3ZzixCL/s320/IMG_7634.jpeg"/></a></div>The bus driver took us all to the nominated dropoff and then was kind enough to take my friends and our back to our hotel to save us waiting for a taxi, an act of kindness that meant a great deal to us. The hotel also found me a room where I could check in early (it was 10:15am and check in isn't usually until 3pm), which was also a godsend. I showered (sat down in the bath as standing seemed too much effort), and inspected the damage (my leg which was bright pink, plus some chafage on my chest), iced my leg, then slept for a bit to catch up for the missed night, then had dinner at the hotel and iced my leg again. I had no plans then but realised it was 7pm the runners were still reaching the finish line and I had an urge to go and be part of it. I found I could drive perfectly safely, so took myself down to the Norwegian church. Realising quite how red my leg was then I went into the finishers area to see if I could find some first aid. There weren't any ice packs anywhere, but there was a medic, one of the race directors I think. His first aid assessment was very competent but when I offered some feedback on the race, saying that I prefer to run a steady race and that it was rushing for the cutoffs that had led to my injury, he dragged me into an argument and told me that I got injured because I was under-conditioned for the race, and the other runners who had also found the initial cutoffs harsh simply weren't fast enough to finish. I walked away saying that I didn't feel he was treating his customers well and that he wasn't leave me with a good lasting impression from the event. I'm positive I could complete the 100 miles had I been able to take an average pace. I can't prove this, but I was determined - as evidenced by running on an injured leg for many hours - and I had trained well for it - as evidenced by the fact that after the run I didn't have one single muscle ache or blister except for my injury. None of the niggles I'd had beforehand came to anything, so I'd managed them all perfectly. <br/><br/>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcamnMNg8ah5IJ1bBhBeUNT9G2cDUkDbJkrH1M4HqSHJ-aeoI8f7W9janSfyQfGT9ipDQ3DWnNFGlernHHLeslxng-GHXR7uIBYijsiO7aftCTp6aAcE-243oMkAT_ZEF9Omsn3xyOOryHIP4iu9r8EMfSwxEucTD7WUAh1lNeWNmFpEwzqyPULqzm/s2048/IMG_7638.jpeg" style="display: block; padding: 0px 0px 0px 5px; text-align: center; clear: right; float: right;"><img alt="" border="0" width="320" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcamnMNg8ah5IJ1bBhBeUNT9G2cDUkDbJkrH1M4HqSHJ-aeoI8f7W9janSfyQfGT9ipDQ3DWnNFGlernHHLeslxng-GHXR7uIBYijsiO7aftCTp6aAcE-243oMkAT_ZEF9Omsn3xyOOryHIP4iu9r8EMfSwxEucTD7WUAh1lNeWNmFpEwzqyPULqzm/s320/IMG_7638.jpeg"/></a></div>I saw a few other places where runners were treated poorly during the race - I'm sure in the race information it says that if you stop to offer first aid that will be accounted for in your finish times. I heard two sets of runners tell marshals that they had helped other runners to a safe location to DNF, but they were refused the time adjustment. Also I had mentioned the error in the route GPX at Caswell Bay and told that I was incorrect. The race organisers seemed a bit military and ‘just get on with it’ in their attitude. There are more ways of dealing with endurance events than that, you can be an amazing runner without being a machine, and these are experienced ultra runners who know what they need and have valid opinions, but we weren’t respected. Ultras are hard, you’re pushing yourself to the limit, it’s not the time for someone to take the hard line with you. Add that to the limited food supplies and the lack of obvious medical availability at aid stations, and the fact they were also staffed by the race directors rather than volunteering runners so there wasn’t the cheering or encouragement that you generally expect, and I won't be entering another event by Run Walk Crawl again. As you can see from my report, my event was dominated by pace calculations, this isn't usual as you'll see from my previous race reports, and it wasn't fun. Looking at the finish line too (pictured) that was half-hearted and would have confused me had I reached it - there wasn't an archway and no timer. The race went very smoothly to the plans that the organisers had for it, but that plan seemed at odds to what I'm used to in many ways. Perhaps I'm deluded, maybe all 100-milers are tougher than I imagine. But the other ultras I've done are set up for you to succeed, this one seemed set up for you to fail. <br/><br/>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT-RtXMycz4wWzxUroTwjfhf8DtLhhRrktZJcSpEqOIUVrddIYuzdTco4qs-ghpnc42LCw9hyIAtwJTtTpZPTi5VGR7c8573EzFCk_D5xpZ-Se6KvcBi6NuTXdPBmDQvy33dDklzaxa1vsvZZAZwwLXCYGC5V2sgt7Rt2IwSyEB6ixoHnh3ZNDpTat/s2436/IMG_7641.PNG" style="display: block; padding: 0px 0px 0px 5px; text-align: center; clear: right; float: right;"><img alt="" border="0" height="320" data-original-height="2436" data-original-width="1125" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT-RtXMycz4wWzxUroTwjfhf8DtLhhRrktZJcSpEqOIUVrddIYuzdTco4qs-ghpnc42LCw9hyIAtwJTtTpZPTi5VGR7c8573EzFCk_D5xpZ-Se6KvcBi6NuTXdPBmDQvy33dDklzaxa1vsvZZAZwwLXCYGC5V2sgt7Rt2IwSyEB6ixoHnh3ZNDpTat/s320/IMG_7641.PNG"/></a></div>Nevertheless, I'm very proud of myself and the way that I dealt with everything, and it's still the second furthest distance I've ever run. I'm also proud that I have raised £1350 for my chosen charities: <br/>
<a href="https://gofund.me/a5320dd1">Project Kajsiab in Laos</a> <br/>
<a href="https://gofund.me/3f5d3b36">ME Research UK</a> <br/><br/>
My leg will take a while to recover. After 48 hours it was getting progressively more and more swollen, so I went to the minor injuries clinic. They said I've got tenosynovitis of the tibilialis anterior and I must elevate it get the weight off to get the swelling down, so I am currently working from my bed and hobbling around on crutches. I'm not sure how badly the muscle is damaged, there's a large lump at the injury site and I can't lift my toes, but I am seeing my physio tomorrow so she'll be able to shed more light on that.
Sarah Cloughhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03797857043816872742noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1445147937322368187.post-41610867739913724382022-04-04T16:02:00.004+01:002022-04-04T21:40:49.772+01:00TrailEvents Snowdon Spring Crossing<div class="separator" style="clear: both;padding: 0px 0px 0px 5px"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2PhwqwcFkDsrjH5YfeTiftX9BT1RqDFXzXJ2Z75ap9cWUbMOpZWANMU2AoYcdDH4cazxxg7mMpJKO3wvcVSL7qolskfgSji-03u8lXvcChlw0E-u1aeNHc9wovXpDim4OLFcRKN7l1eVi2ZVksiyHnXCZvXkiwcuLKJzAlprNsI08FSsB_XtYg7e-/s2048/IMG_3939.JPEG" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; clear: right; float: right;padding: 0px 0px 0px 5px"><img alt="" border="0" width="320" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2PhwqwcFkDsrjH5YfeTiftX9BT1RqDFXzXJ2Z75ap9cWUbMOpZWANMU2AoYcdDH4cazxxg7mMpJKO3wvcVSL7qolskfgSji-03u8lXvcChlw0E-u1aeNHc9wovXpDim4OLFcRKN7l1eVi2ZVksiyHnXCZvXkiwcuLKJzAlprNsI08FSsB_XtYg7e-/s320/IMG_3939.JPEG"/></a></div>This is the first of 3 or 4 ultras I have planned in for this year, as part of my prep for somewhat optimistically hoping to enter the Cape Wrath ultra in 2023 or 2024. For once I had actually tried to follow a proper training plan, with speedwork and everything, rather than just setting monthly mileage targets. I had created an 18 week plan, with 4x 4-week phases and a 2 week taper. The moment I start it I came down with a cold then covid so lost about 4 weeks, then 5 weeks before the event I picked up a couple of injuries so my mileage dropped gradually down to nothing. But I was optimistic that the 9 weeks I had managed would see me through, it's more than I managed for my last 2 ultras!<BR/><BR/>
Driving to the event I felt really underprepared, perhaps because it was the first race of the year, or perhaps my extra long taper had messed with my drive and motivation. Also, although it's an area I'm fairly familiar with, I was 6 hours from home and felt quite alone. I had a good deal of trepidation over the snow dusting on Snowdon, the forecast (likely dry but possible hail showers, snow, and thunderstorm, with wind chill of up to -10•C on the summit), and the resultant question of how many layers to pack. I decided I had the right amount for my top half (vest, super lightweight soft shell, lightweight waterproof, and a spare lightweight long-sleeved baselayer in the pack), but <div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr5co3vH-bB8ssnRnknCWbLy0gKzGukMvkVe2dztJu6m7Toi--zVLbmFll5UBaC0dt5_dOIXoxQ4Ll89TfcWLL8HaAvcwH7ixnAU9xw7RzzyCL0GMMaR2-utJfc9n_KKpTkBWAnowoW0hXAVv2dhmBfXpeiz-aYhZ0L14YGM5lWL-9s_ka8zBg3oUd/s2048/IMG_3963.JPEG" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; clear: left; float: right;padding: 0px 0px 0px 5px"><img alt="" border="0" width="320" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr5co3vH-bB8ssnRnknCWbLy0gKzGukMvkVe2dztJu6m7Toi--zVLbmFll5UBaC0dt5_dOIXoxQ4Ll89TfcWLL8HaAvcwH7ixnAU9xw7RzzyCL0GMMaR2-utJfc9n_KKpTkBWAnowoW0hXAVv2dhmBfXpeiz-aYhZ0L14YGM5lWL-9s_ka8zBg3oUd/s320/IMG_3963.JPEG"/></a></div>I donned my calf sleeves under my leggings, and my shorts over them, to effectively double the layers on my bottom half. At kit check I was all ready to empty out the contents of my bag for inspection, when the lady said ‘we’re only doing random kit checks, and it looks like you’ve got all of it in there!’ clearly having spotted the size of my bulging pack as I approached. <BR/><BR/>
The race started as it meant to go on - having to climb awkwardly over a series of locked gates to reach the Ranger Path. Later it was granite wall stiles. And many fallen trees. We had 885m ascent straight out of the gate, over 3.8 miles, so gained height quickly and were soon at the snow line. Around here it started snowing lightly, and we were on Snowdon, on snow and in snow! Now what I’d expected what I entered the race. I don’t really like snow. I certainly didn’t think I’d enjoy it. But by god it was beautiful, heavenly. I was quite moved by the experienced and I wouldn’t change it for the world, It felt like how it was meant to be. <div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj79xIr2Awu9dBLGaWltbrXF_yPgD4SYKBSldYFLD7gAB41VFJDYm1YD73Rjn_kCMH7GyT_nLIjwzZnuTSy_E29sRKv7Hs7vpmhjid32PkjRID8j90CKhIZvz5SJn3UzHLdOhIBcqXpx8kYjNlNikuko3R82RwlvocjSdbvAJhpTt6aZI7n0CN7FSXm/s2048/IMG_3981.JPEG" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; clear: right; float: right;padding: 0px 0px 0px 5px"><img alt="" border="0" height="320" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj79xIr2Awu9dBLGaWltbrXF_yPgD4SYKBSldYFLD7gAB41VFJDYm1YD73Rjn_kCMH7GyT_nLIjwzZnuTSy_E29sRKv7Hs7vpmhjid32PkjRID8j90CKhIZvz5SJn3UzHLdOhIBcqXpx8kYjNlNikuko3R82RwlvocjSdbvAJhpTt6aZI7n0CN7FSXm/s320/IMG_3981.JPEG"/></a></div>I summited in 1:15, and along with most of the other competitors I took a small detour to reach the summit toposcope.<BR/><BR/><BR/>
Descending the Rhyd Ddu path was a different story, it was rocky and icy, and I didn’t have poles or spikes and I’ve never been super confident on my feet despite plenty of mountain experience. I have never used poles when running but I always used to use them when hiking, which this was more akin to, and my muscle memory was craving the control of them. Instead I squatted on my heels and slid down the initial steepest sections. Then I just took it carefully.
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimvXcedeGHgFhlacHP7bW7Uu7PnBpbgT85xvQ03RUvluCI4GZMkVZRIgjG_tu3kh6OaR7n5U-UnI4DQhb7CR9qlUsWQfxk_1pwnMx6xlU-n9zxPppzQe2-vYmOBFq_reromww2dCpCtM7IsXSjZwgfr8q3KeMi6RPijoo59neCgypVPkuo1w2eO9Qj/s2048/IMG_3991.JPEG" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; clear: left; float: right;padding: 50px 0px 0px 5px"><img alt="" border="0" width="320" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimvXcedeGHgFhlacHP7bW7Uu7PnBpbgT85xvQ03RUvluCI4GZMkVZRIgjG_tu3kh6OaR7n5U-UnI4DQhb7CR9qlUsWQfxk_1pwnMx6xlU-n9zxPppzQe2-vYmOBFq_reromww2dCpCtM7IsXSjZwgfr8q3KeMi6RPijoo59neCgypVPkuo1w2eO9Qj/s320/IMG_3991.JPEG"/></a></div>I had tried to gain places on the ascent where I am relatively stronger (an advantage of long legs!!) because I knew I’d lose them on the descent, and I did, dozens of them. My average pace dropped to 22 minutes per mile, a far cry from the 15min/mi I wanted to aim for, but it wasn’t possible to go faster safely, and I was quite accepting of that, it would be fun trying to make it back on the flatter terrain. We descended out of the snow line then there was a long section of rocky slabs which were thankfully not slippery, then it started to level off. Here I was at 21:22 min/mi, 6.7miles in, time to pick the pace up. I was pleased with how my legs had fared, with two injuries leading up to the event. My calf must be better as didn’t hurt on the ascent. My left ankle was not too bad, in fact any pain was on the inside not the outside. <BR/><BR/><BR/>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnrfIUH6V5Rs9VuE9F-z-hPOVD3mQMwmJod4TdsE_T90OrZJ3qfnsKCa-hCYGllbeG3Swye1IesWRv6NB12O9-rvQoK8mGwH4apsMKrfqorbHa2Kwl_F48W2kR1Nm1tQBo6WciOA5XzljdSFnfDyv7BgtmoYlEc0ulpl13BI4Ph3Jz4l8nQuJgnczL/s2048/IMG_4027.JPEG" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; clear: right; float: right;padding: 0px 0px 0px 5px"><img alt="" border="0" width="320" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnrfIUH6V5Rs9VuE9F-z-hPOVD3mQMwmJod4TdsE_T90OrZJ3qfnsKCa-hCYGllbeG3Swye1IesWRv6NB12O9-rvQoK8mGwH4apsMKrfqorbHa2Kwl_F48W2kR1Nm1tQBo6WciOA5XzljdSFnfDyv7BgtmoYlEc0ulpl13BI4Ph3Jz4l8nQuJgnczL/s320/IMG_4027.JPEG"/></a></div>We crossed the road and headed into the forest. The route gpx had been updated 2 days before the event and we had been told to follow that not the map, but it wasn’t quite right in places. I missed a turning as it was sooner than shown, and was then worried about missing the checkpoint which means a DNF, and I’d already failed to find CP1 on the summit of Snowdon although everyone else had too. Thankfully I came into the check from the other side, and after that I was more alert to the signs, although still had occasional sign blindness and was called back on route by others! I’m more used to navigating myself, so paying attention to signs is a skill I seem to be partly deficient in. The next section took us along tracks with nice views down to Beddgelert with the white clouds of a steam train rising above the trees, the toots of which followed us for some time, then there was a whole section of marsh. I didn’t mind this as it was very much like my home territory of Dartmoor, and not as squelchy as it could have been. The route was very unusual though… as well as all the clambering over objects involved, large sections of the route didn’t follow any recognised footpath, just took an arbitrary direction across tussocks and between low gorse, where you had to try and spot the next route marker as there wasn’t an obvious way on. Although they were many markers, there were still times when you wanted more. <BR/><BR/><BR/>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaTAJ_esXViqWw7ib9znn6NuTGyEUpqBc_d51PXHxXZvarK4wFf2oXqDcFmwbJ_F4SzeDYIFPrdymsdwgongitLY4nYtacpvLkGMuTVqlvhoqwN8Gi_I_F7Sh7coW59DW5a3-Ovtj4GgWP4R935VXcyy8x99wETaWD31wP7S3RnrPFFoeUUj_9lXcx/s2048/IMG_4085.JPEG" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; clear: right; float: right;padding: 0px 0px 0px 5px"><img alt="" border="0" width="400" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaTAJ_esXViqWw7ib9znn6NuTGyEUpqBc_d51PXHxXZvarK4wFf2oXqDcFmwbJ_F4SzeDYIFPrdymsdwgongitLY4nYtacpvLkGMuTVqlvhoqwN8Gi_I_F7Sh7coW59DW5a3-Ovtj4GgWP4R935VXcyy8x99wETaWD31wP7S3RnrPFFoeUUj_9lXcx/s400/IMG_4085.JPEG"/></a></div>My focus was on catching people up one by one and passing them, this is usually my focus in a race, not because I care a lot my finish position but to keep me motivated and keep my pace up. It does, however, mean I am always running alone because as soon as I reach someone I try to leave them behind. I don’t mind that in general, but I had a lot of personal stuff on my mind which was giving me some anxiety which threatened to rise up and give me trouble breathing, so I spent some time pushing it back down inside, but that’s quite hard to do when you’re working hard which is already emotional. I had support coming in from a couple of friends on my phone which helped. <BR/><BR/><BR/>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzHNfxv7JrN_Ixipv9dCqWqIxb017071FkQcfmiJ71Vc9RVpZm2E21BMexNXpqPoNJ-WV0hdLv_ScnRLAFJ0W74QuNazMcMGKrotDZfZGDUehywLSGi2caOlj0bjK435iQ48HlQ3jcTXmfZ7RXci4oemAE0OvqW9AFus7nI4RZOwfHTx_PgXyknyRx/s2048/IMG_4052.JPEG" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; clear: right; float: right;padding: 0px 0px 0px 5px"><img alt="" border="0" width="320" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzHNfxv7JrN_Ixipv9dCqWqIxb017071FkQcfmiJ71Vc9RVpZm2E21BMexNXpqPoNJ-WV0hdLv_ScnRLAFJ0W74QuNazMcMGKrotDZfZGDUehywLSGi2caOlj0bjK435iQ48HlQ3jcTXmfZ7RXci4oemAE0OvqW9AFus7nI4RZOwfHTx_PgXyknyRx/s320/IMG_4052.JPEG"/></a></div>The marsh became more complicated, with vague, narrow, tramped paths with bramble trip-wires, which took us into a difficult section section with fallen trees and peaty moss. I tripped a couple of times. CP3 at 16 miles wasn’t far ahead though. After CP3 my legs were very tight and fatigued, feeling the effects of trying harder than normal. I normally race to a heart rate cap of 158 but usually finish strong feeling like I haven’t tried hard enough, so this time I wanted to see what I was capable of, and while trying to catch people it had been been reaching 178. That had clearly been too high as I was very fatigued now, so I abandoned any thought of places for a bit and just ran what I could, while the food I’d eaten worked to re-energise me. It took a little while, as the food sat heavy on my stomach at first, making me feel bloated. I had to charge my watch anyway, so put it in my bag and plodded along a long section of road, which is one of the course alterations that they’d had to make due to a recent fire. I managed to hop into a field at some point too to relieve some of the bloat 😉<BR/><BR/><BR/>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBPgUq3M7-yQReDzwIqsnoosD3EHYoJGxnrwegIQY6RGRQLHiH9QW2gSE56ugwhbXJYW1AySZhOUupvlo9sJBtHxLlS66n-k2C7yNTO--3Y6l1g5k3zaA-POwoOuvsVIJUhoyUKKT19H-Y3QpGm9zqRwPtvql_OQt3i2FHsMJcQlPL247CIexm91CD/s2048/IMG_4110.JPEG" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; clear: right; float: right;padding: 0px 0px 0px 5px"><img alt="" border="0" width="320" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBPgUq3M7-yQReDzwIqsnoosD3EHYoJGxnrwegIQY6RGRQLHiH9QW2gSE56ugwhbXJYW1AySZhOUupvlo9sJBtHxLlS66n-k2C7yNTO--3Y6l1g5k3zaA-POwoOuvsVIJUhoyUKKT19H-Y3QpGm9zqRwPtvql_OQt3i2FHsMJcQlPL247CIexm91CD/s320/IMG_4110.JPEG"/></a></div>At 20 miles the watch went back on and I did a bit of shoe re-tying as they were starting to chafe under the laces. I don’t remember CP4 but it was somewhere after this. At 23.5 miles my leg finally recovered and I could change from a shuffle run back into a proper running gait. I could feel how strained my tendons were though so had to be careful not to do an injury. Thankfully the next section was really beautiful and engaging. We turned North East up the Cwm Pennant valley past many signs of its industrial past - ruined ruined slate houses and quarry buildings; a old tramway now grass-covered and great for running; a dam with reservoir; and a mine.<BR/><BR/> <BR/>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6Y_Vi4obVZypWbi0XUys-mZ_HM6w22lVGgseIbvDXp6sGJXxx6ufwbUxxPpKlPXqXF5h9UmmQxU0cK5XMtSvf1eEFPQ5eDf1Xofs9LE8mXiZfVDUEfXujPWs7kGJWNPCscZ4C38Bz7lfu2D5AvQCu6n3F9IMZXYXWgEjpmYpUiElwmr0XOuP0_y2M/s2048/IMG_4105.JPEG" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; clear: right; float: right;padding: 0px 0px 0px 5px"><img alt="" border="0" width="320" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6Y_Vi4obVZypWbi0XUys-mZ_HM6w22lVGgseIbvDXp6sGJXxx6ufwbUxxPpKlPXqXF5h9UmmQxU0cK5XMtSvf1eEFPQ5eDf1Xofs9LE8mXiZfVDUEfXujPWs7kGJWNPCscZ4C38Bz7lfu2D5AvQCu6n3F9IMZXYXWgEjpmYpUiElwmr0XOuP0_y2M/s320/IMG_4105.JPEG"/></a></div>I was finding it really hard to keep pushing to stay ahead of people, but I guess that’s the case when each person you pass is faster than the last. Two lads re-passed me just before mile 25 and I slowed to walked a bit, feeling a bit jaded. It occurred to me that I didn’t actually have to pass anyone else, if I settled down down a bit I’d probably still maintain my position, and that gave me some peace. The sun came out too, and I was then running in just a vest and arm warmers, a far cry from the ice from earlier. I re-passed the two guys, and they cheered me on and commented that I was faster on the rough ground whereas they were faster on the roads. I knew I'd see them again, because picking my way down to CP5 I could feel a strain in my left lower leg where the shin tendon comes up into the knee. There wasn’t any water left at the checkpoint so I topped up with coke to get away fast without being caught up. I wasn’t bothered about my overall place, but I had set an arbitrary aim of being in the top-10 women, so the most people I stayed ahead of the closer I was to the next woman! There wasn’t any ibuprofen at the checkpoint either, and I was in increasing amounts of pain gently descending the now-good paths through Beddgelert forest, from my foot and also where the tracker was bruising my shoulder (I grew a big lump on my collarbone the day after). I crouched down hanging into a pole and begged ibuprofen from another passing runner who was kind enough to extract some from the bottom of his bag for me. I took my tracker from my bag and held it in my hand too to relieve that pain also, and kept pushing, not long now, only a couple of miles. <BR/><BR/><BR/>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUx7JG4sRHvGSjLF5kriEQNf-upr5dR_-SKT6rrnEGSS4iWCOSiQZqs4mFTbTaNeuKF_xY0v87KFUWhvGRBmyaexhCNHNYZRLuwV02PGwEI3w2-dCJikfzO2exspteicCNb40sf2GelVVmPBp9KMiL2fIiXfgy5SX7rpiUriRJ_JnjPDC7WSWyUCBj/s2048/IMG_4126.JPEG" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; clear: right; float: right;padding: 0px 0px 0px 5px"><img alt="" border="0" height="320" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUx7JG4sRHvGSjLF5kriEQNf-upr5dR_-SKT6rrnEGSS4iWCOSiQZqs4mFTbTaNeuKF_xY0v87KFUWhvGRBmyaexhCNHNYZRLuwV02PGwEI3w2-dCJikfzO2exspteicCNb40sf2GelVVmPBp9KMiL2fIiXfgy5SX7rpiUriRJ_JnjPDC7WSWyUCBj/s320/IMG_4126.JPEG"/></a></div>On the good, flat, gravel track past Llyn y Gadair the two chaps from earlier caught me again, so I cheered them past. As we left the lake though they were still in sight and had stopped at a car, they flagged me down and said the water had arrived. I squeezed my bottles… ‘hmmm… I’m still full with coke’. Then brightened and cheekily said ‘ah well, later then guys!!’ and shot off, taking that as a challenge to race them the 1.4 miles to the finish which I could soon see off to my side. There was another good forestry track, followed eventually (past the point the gpx said) by a switchback down a narrow path with many fallen trees I had to climb right over, but the boys were still not in sight. I crossed the road as they came out of trees and waved back, then ran up the stream and round the event field and over the finish line, 9:21:04 on my watch. I waited to cheer Aaron and George across the line, and we met properly with a big hug. <BR/><BR/><BR/>
I came in at 7th lady (out of 52 entrants and 13 finishers), and 48 overall (out of 241 entrants and 74 starters). And two days later I still can't walk down the stairs!
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</div>Sarah Cloughhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03797857043816872742noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1445147937322368187.post-23323422022979317012022-01-03T23:03:00.009+00:002022-03-04T15:59:51.478+00:002021, a personal review2020 was one of the <a href="https://fidgetsadventures.blogspot.com/2021/03/my-2020-in-review.html">best years of my life</a>. This year has been one of the worst (along with 1996, 2006, 2012!). I’ve been in places that I’ve never been in before, and the triggers that caused them were impossible to remove so it’s been almost impossible to recover, in fact I’m still working on it.
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What happened?
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Firstly, I was back to being alone. The thing that made 2020 so special was having a best friend to share in activities with, but by the spring I’d realised that, despite me prompting, it always seemed to be me planning things and putting the thought in, and when I tried to talk about my concerns and when I had tough times where I needed my friend to do be there for me, there was silence. So I returned to my state of aloneness, which was tough after a glimpse of something wonderful that I’d been without for about 12 years.
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I had other local friends but I wasn’t hearing from them so I wasn’t getting what I needed from the friendship. I am looking for friendships not just activity buddies, so I am looking for more than for them to be open to me inviting myself to spend time with them, I need them to act first sometimes. I tried to tell them, but they got upset with me so those friendships died a death too. I’m not very good at keeping a dialogue going to maintain a traditional friendship (because it’s something I have to ‘work out’ rather than something that comes naturally, and also because I am in a permanent mindset of ‘moving on’ until I find my life partner which is hard to override), so I contribute in the way I know (organising things and being constantly alert to where I can be helpful if my skills and means allow), but I need it to be two sided and I need to know that I am useful to someone and cared for by them. Sometimes it’s easier just to go back to my solo endeavours. I still have many other friends I could call up and chat with should I desire, and I do value their friendship, so why did I still feel alone? I’m not quite sure, but this year the impacts of loneliness really hit me. There was nobody to laugh off my woes with, which can go a long way in fostering happiness.
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This aloneness was exacerbated by working from home, alone, for a large portion of the year. As wonderful and supportive as my company is, they will never be able to make working from home work for me, I need people to bounce off. I take my inspiration and motivation from others. I do spend some time in the office, but it’s like sticking a plaster on to a gaping wound, it doesn’t really work without other people being there and without the main focus of the company being at the office, it felt empty (not constantly, but largely). I’m also still playing catch-up with my technical knowledge so have little opportunity to feel useful in work, much like in my social life. Thankfully at work there is help and support, but at times when things were difficult I needed to fall back on a social life outside work, and without that I fell down holes that I was trying to build ladders out of but the rungs were flimsy and would break so I'd fall hard and I'd need to rest before starting again.
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgoOD2I0a3X786vFRIpc9YYAx_97yj4mr64GBDzAX4sqvLpQBVTwpYmNmhXUcaGRJOWpP6L4EpRBXdlL6YRjubREvQScPUV4Yydepv8GNJhajDh9_uk6V9WrYhqAQfGAoGBRcHu_LQfUxOF-4olPRQy0pDYCiJc67OLfgkShi61FJD8WRcIDvEFFY_l=s1080" style="display: block; padding: 0 0 1em 1em; text-align: center; clear: right; float: right;"><img alt="" border="0" width="320" data-original-height="634" data-original-width="1080" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgoOD2I0a3X786vFRIpc9YYAx_97yj4mr64GBDzAX4sqvLpQBVTwpYmNmhXUcaGRJOWpP6L4EpRBXdlL6YRjubREvQScPUV4Yydepv8GNJhajDh9_uk6V9WrYhqAQfGAoGBRcHu_LQfUxOF-4olPRQy0pDYCiJc67OLfgkShi61FJD8WRcIDvEFFY_l=s320"/></a></div>Another factor contributing to my struggles was autism. I have suspected I’m autistic for some time, but never publicised it because autism is still quite misunderstood and I'm not ready yet to be the person that batters down the prejudices (I'm getting there). I don’t want people to use autism to absolve themselves of responsibility in any communication issues with me. I mentioned it to one person before and the paraphrased response was ‘so that’s why you’re weird, it’s you not us’, or ‘she’s just autistic, don’t worry about it’. Females with autism are very likely to mask, which means we are constantly adapting ourselves to fit in, which is exhausting, but people don't like it when I unmask, so I long for greater understanding (of us being 'different' not 'weird') and for non-autistic people to have empathy for me rather than me being expected to adapt to the 'norm', so that I can be a bit more 'me'. I attended an excellent course at work where I felt a strong sense of belonging as it was describing me 100%. The reason the course was excellent, is that the aim was to promote acceptance or neurodiversities (and it mentioned several celebrities with autism, ADHD, dyslexia and dispraxia), and it highlighted the strengths of people with neurodiversities as well as the weaknesses (saying that everybody who has changed the world is likely to have had a neurodiversity), because often (especially when it comes to diagnosis) only the negative aspects of autism are focussed on. The course talked about us having a ‘spiky skills profile’ with peaks and troughs, as opposed to a relatively flat skills profile that a neurotypical person has. I remembered that as a child I was very confident in my strengths, and that I have lost that over the years, lost faith in myself. Time and again I have been met by negativity and a lack of acceptance, been thrown out of groups, and I have become wary and defensive - I now second guess that negativity coming so I can protect myself. It upset me greatly to realise this, to realise how much I have changed without meaning to or noticing. I want to reclaim my strengths, and I want to not get upset when I am misunderstood (being misunderstood which is something that currently affects me greatly), but I don’t know how. I haven’t managed to find the right help, you can’t get professional help for autism without a diagnosis, and in Devon the waiting list for assessment is 3 ½ years, and I’m only half way through. A private company was recommended to me but the cost was prohibitive. I tried to explain my situation to various friends myself with mixed reactions. At least at work they encourage you to self-identify (which I have) and provide useful support.
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So due to these reasons, in 2021 I didn’t feel part of the world, and it’s hard to explain what I mean by that. I mean it feels like it’s not for me, as if people (organisers and rulers) aren’t meaning me when they make plans. Which is a strange thing to think and must be my own construction, but how do I smash it? I feel a bit like everybody else fits together, which also doesn’t make sense as there are people a lot more unusual than me (including those that were unusual-nasty rather than unusual-unobtrusive so they stand out more and become part of history), so it’s not as if weird isn’t part of life. So why do I feel so detached? I have to fit my weird into the world, but I don’t know how. I’ve actually always felt like like I'm not really part of things, but this feeling collided with the struggles of 2021 to drive me into an unhappy place. The tiny things that used to get me through each day were gone, but I couldn’t explain what they even were, just that their absence broke me. I was a bit like a robot, I was just going through the day to day motions. I didn’t feel depressed, just disconnected and broken. As you read this you may think I’m trying to say that life feel soulless, or emotionless, or pointless, but that’s not quite it. It’s more that those emotions didn't even exist and life felt like something for other people. I felt like I was spinning off into orbit; without other people to feed off and connect to I drift off in my own world but it's a world that I never get to spend long in so it's never been given an opportunity to make any sense. When you're in a place like this, it’s hard to describe what’s wrong, because if you can do that you’ve probably mostly solved it just by realising. But every day felt not right. I also felt confused, not just about technical stuff at work but about nearly everything, down to what to take to go for a swim. By the time it got to about October, every tiny issue would make me feel small and I'd go to pieces, I wasn’t handling it. I had also become wholly wary of all people, especially new people, expecting them to be negative or unpleasant, and I developed a disbelief in friendship. This really struck me when I went to Scotland in August, when I'd arrive at a car park the same time as some other walkers and for some reason I was expecting them to be unhappy with me, but at the same time memories stirred in me from former trips where both I and they would say a happy 'hello' without expecting otherwise, this Scotland trip really woke me up to the fact that something had really gone wrong for me.
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiG83nOD3vuTPRWjS9VOTDyLmZulWVywEB5eS-q4H5FxKjTBoFFNTvBZa2c83N2KenVbDjBEMVxp1X6tz_ZalAThWhk0xFPj_7snKWEG_FgmVh3lvNlpDHZGu9dPckE1z_g2sPm3PnHkRbgbpzDysifONoSuRkWwyrkW0Huv4hqRXt2R2R5RAOLkOcJ=s4000" style="display: block; padding: 0 1em 1em 0; text-align: center; clear: left; float: left;"><img alt="" border="0" width="320" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiG83nOD3vuTPRWjS9VOTDyLmZulWVywEB5eS-q4H5FxKjTBoFFNTvBZa2c83N2KenVbDjBEMVxp1X6tz_ZalAThWhk0xFPj_7snKWEG_FgmVh3lvNlpDHZGu9dPckE1z_g2sPm3PnHkRbgbpzDysifONoSuRkWwyrkW0Huv4hqRXt2R2R5RAOLkOcJ=s320"/></a></div>I needed to somehow fix just one aspect of belonging or feeling needed but that usually comes from other people, not from yourself, and I was beyond helping myself anyway. My salvage came from a bunch of swimmers from Plymouth, and from a few running friends. In July I went to the Scilly Isles with the swimmers and had some of my best adventures ever (and there have been a few), doing swim/runs round the islands. The thing that made this stand out over previous adventures is that I was part of a like-minded group, and swim/running is just so wild and free but also hard to do alone, that to have such epic adventures but sharing it with other similarly adventurous souls was quite magical. There were other adventures throughout the summer and autumn with the same group – swimming round St. Michael's Mount, descending a giant slip-n-slide with a pile of 7 people on two inflatable flamingos, watching a fireworks competition from the sea of Tinside Bay at night swimming with glowsticks and a foating bar, snorkelling and seeing a starfish, and participating in a rude panto, to name a few. The gains from Scilly were gradual at first because friendships take a while to form, and my worst times were still after that, but progress did happen, it's the first time I've felt connected to people as friends rather than just activity partners since I stopped climbing in 2010. One day in mid-November, shortly after I'd moved house which also helped, I woke up and felt a warm glow of optimism and hope and belonging in my soul that had been missing for so long.
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Even when I started to feel better in November, I still struggled with remembering what normality is, and eating / exercising at the correct times, and remembering to reply to messages, and finishing tasks, and general day-to-day function so I still have a way to go. But it’s something to build on.
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To sum everything else up, some of it integral with the above:
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Health-wise, I badly sprained my ankle at the end of January, 2 months before I completed my ‘run at least 100 miles every month for a year’ mission. I didn’t really mind that but it did throw me off my routine (loose as it was) so with that alongside the other challenges my mental health suffered, and my routine never recovered. I told myself that it’s okay to not be okay, but I’m not sure if this is the best approach as it doesn’t target the root of the problem, and 2 months later I burnt out. During the summer, my poor mental health started to affect my body and for a large part of the autumn I was in near-constant pain, with my back or my feet or my teeth. I had a lot of sick days. In December I had a cold, then covid, then a stomach bug in quick succession, followed by Christmas bloat which this year was more than just a bit of excess, I’m in discomfort simply sitting down.
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Home-wise I still don’t really have a home life, I’m only at ease when I’m active. I am still renting and I’ve had to move twice this year. The first two places started okay but had their difficulties and I didn’t feel like they were home. Thankfully I have ended up in a place that does have the homely feeling that I am usually missing, and that is lovely.
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Adventure-wise I still got stuff done,because that is my way of dealing with it all. I was active for 311 days and ran 1888 miles (over 100 miles up on 2020). I ran three ultra marathons – one was a 37 mile race with 7,812m ascent from Westward Ho! to Bude, the second was a solo challenge North to South across Dartmoor, and the third was a 50 mile race half way round the perimeter of Dartmoor. I also won the women's summer MapRun league that my orienteering club put on (this was notable since I usually come last in their events). I did some of my longest swims too – 7 km straight across Torbay in one go, and 11km round Torbay with 3 breaks. Although I am at my current limit with running and am training and pushing to achieve more, I haven’t reached my limit with swimming yet – my fear of living things under the surface is my biggest drawback and in physical terms so far everything has been relatively straightforward, so I'm looking forward to attempting some longer swims in 2022.
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Love-life has been non existent, a total 2021 drought. I am desparate for (the right) partner and a family as the body clock is ticking, and a year ago I said I’d give myself 3 solid years of trying to make that happen by which time I’ll be 43, but the pandemic has wiped out half of that time.
Sarah Cloughhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03797857043816872742noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1445147937322368187.post-14592980647411428622021-11-15T09:48:00.048+00:002021-11-15T17:50:02.517+00:00PureTrail Dartmoor Way 50This race was a bit of a last minute thought, I was taking to the race organisers 4 weeks ago after their last race saying I was considering entering, and only submitted my entry a fortnight ago. I was heavier than is comfortable for me, at 11 1/2 stone, I’d like to be at least a stone less as my body finds it especially hard above about 11, and I’ve been feeling sluggish and uncoordinated lately from excess stress. But I’d like to do a multi-day event in a couple of years, and this would be a good test of what happens if I attempt a long distance when not quite in shape, so that seemed a good enough reason to give it a go, plus this was their inaugural 100-mile event so it felt good to be a part of (even though I was doing the 50 mile option). <br/><br/>
We assembled in the dark at Okehampton and saw the stunning dawn from the bus on the way to the start. It was full daylight when we started which was good for the soul, and having seen the dawn we knew we had the full amount of daylight ahead of us. Last weekend I’d realised that my trail shoes have done 650 miles and started to go through at the heel and rub my skin, so I panic-bought a new pair, and standing at the start they were bright and shiny. Although they were the same as the old ones so I knew they’d be comfortable, they were thick and puffy with their new-ness, and I spent the first hour constantly re-tying the laces. If they were too loose they slipped, but if I have laces just a fraction too tight I get shooting pains across my foot. <br/><br/>
My aim for the day was to get round with as little muscle fatigue as possible, as close to the cutoffs as possible, but it was quite hard to run that slowly on the road sections at the start, and it only took me 1:19 to do 10k, which felt a bit fast given I was going to be running all day. So I just continued went as slow as I could, as I already felt a wreck. I already had aches and pains too - my right hamstring felt tight, as did my left calf (where I had had an overnight cramp the week before), and I had an intense pain between my shoulder blades which has been building for a fortnight. This didn’t really matter though, I knew I wasn’t super fit, and yet I had still been really looking forward to the event, and it was so beautiful in all the autumnal colours, with so much of the route being along tree-lined tracks or along stream valleys. And the curious cow field at Ashburton was empty to boot! We were blessed with a good day too - the sky cloudy but bright, no rain, and a balmy 9 degrees before dawn rising to about 13 degrees in the afternoon.<br/><br/>
There was a steep hill just before the first checkpoint. I had only seen 1 or 2 others at this point, bringing up the rear, but I bumped into two more who had taken a wrong turning and had to backtrack, and we stomped up the hill together. I was surprised to bump into a few other runners at the checkpoint too. I was very well looked after at the checkpoint, I was so incredibly hungry due to limited fat-burn training and carrying more weight, and things appeared without me having to ask for them - a sausage roll, hot soup, a plaster for two of my toes that were running together. I left feeling fit, then the second I started running I got stabbing pains on my foot under the laces, and intermittent problem I’ve had before that no physio can seem to diagnose. Sometimes I can walk it off, sometimes I can’t, but thankfully it was manageable as I walk up to Haytor, then along to Yarner woods, and eventually eased off. This section of the path, all the way to Bovey and then on to the next checkpoint at Manaton was familiar to me, and it was nice to be able to switch off and not have to navigate, through more stunning tracks lined with yellow trees and fallen leaves. It was all too easy to speed up here (about 19 miles in), so I just tried to keep my heart rate under 160 (I would prefer it lower still, but it’s always higher than normal on a race with an early morning start). <br/><br/>
I was having some technical issues as well as body aches. My watch has a ‘low power’ setting where it only samples the gps every minute, but there’s a bug with it where it keeps losing gps (it works fine on full power mode) and after a while it fails to find it again altogether. I kept having to stop the track and start a new one, which meant I lost my average pace, which I had planned to use to time my arrival at each aid station. I had anticipated this and was running a second log on Strava on my phone, but my phone tends to zig zag around and log extra mileage, so the pace wasn’t correct there either. I could calculate it from the map against elapsed time if needs be, but I was about an hour inside the cutoff anyway so didn’t really have to worry. <br/><br/>
At the second aid station there were even more people, and I stuffed my face as much as I could and set off again. There was a chill in the air so I put on my long sleeved baselayer (having been in a vest and shorts up to now, despite it being mid November), and typically after a few minutes I was roasted again but decided to take the sweaty body over cold skin. I had a company on the next sections, briefly with Claire, then yo-yoing with a chap called Antti who’d left me behind at the start when I re-tied my laces, and running a stretch with another chap called Alan. My GPS went haywire on some shapeless, dark bracken-fields just before Cranbrook rendering my navigation useless, but Alan’s was co-operating, so it was reassuring to have his company then. My left knee started to hurt at the shin tendon on the downhills, but Alan had some aches too so we ran/walked a stretch together, approaching Fingle bridge. We had passed the Bude crowd too - an energetic bunch of 6 or 8 all running as a group, although they passed us again here, then we passed again as they met their support crew for snacks. It was 3.9 miles to the Chagford aid station as I pushed on up the hill taking me high above the Teign gorge. Darkness has fallen now so I couldn’t see the stunning view, but I knew this section and even in the blackness I could sense the deep, v-shaped valley on my left down to the tree-lined river below. <br/><br/>
As I descended to the river I began to feel a bit weak and shaky, even though I had just had a cereal bar, and pushing on took a lot of effort here, it was the actual motion of running and bouncing up and down that was making me feel nauseous. As I ran the flat stretch along the river my right quadricep suddenly developed some pain, and I slowed to a walk, which was heartbreaking on such runnable ground, but I didn’t want to sustain an injury that would prevent me from finishing. The remaining 2 miles to the aid station felt like it took 2 hours. I walked in in a state but body seemed to notice, I guess that’s par for the course after 40 miles. This was already the second furthest I’ve ever run and on my longest ultra I also got injured on route and yet finished running strong with no lasting damage, so I didn’t see how this should be any different. I was waited on again, with coke and soup and sandwiches and freeze spray. It was 7pm and the cutoff was quarter past midnight so I had time to walk the rest, but I got going again as soon as I could just in case, although I think I was there for longer than I imagined. After half a mile of walking I was bored of that, especially as I’d looking at the tracker to pass the time while on a road stretch and seen the people I’d passed gradually getting further and further ahead. So I tried a slow shuffle-run and it felt okay, and there weren’t any steep downhills to test my knee, and that was it, suddenly I was fine all the way to the finish, more than fine in fact. I still felt destroyed, and it sounded like somebody was talking to me quietly as I was wheezing on every breathe, but somehow I felt strong at the same time - I was able to dodge rocks and mud. I genuinely raced the last 10 miles, although my pace graph shows I wasn’t any faster than I was at the start, but my pace was incredibly consistent throughout which I guess is a feat when you’re getting progressively more tired. I had no targets regarding finish time or table position, so I set myself an arbitrary aim to catch up with the Bude group again. As we left the road for the trail section I passed the two guys I’d seen before the first checkpoint, then somebody else alongside the roaring river Taw just past Sticklepath. Last time I had looked at the tracker I saw Bude were still 0.36 miles ahead, but I knew they might stop again at one of their popup aid stations, so I kept pushing, even though I felt shaky again now and I couldn’t get any food in this time. I finally saw them just as we reached the hill up to Belstone village, and thankfully accepted a Jaffa cake from their support crew who I passed just before they did. The next section of the route was glorious solo running - first over the final hill with a steepish ascent and a steepish descent that didn’t flare up my knee as it was on grippy grass, then a good track that gradually descended then zagged back to cross the East Okement river, followed by a hellish river track over slippery rock slabs. I am fairly comfortable on rock, and my legs were still pretty mobile, and I passed another small group of runners here who were being more careful. It was pretty much all over then. A friend messaged me to say there was no-one else between me and the finish as I couldn’t check the tracker on this terrain, so all I had to do was run it in, about ready to collapse but ecstatic with my achievement. In the end I finished 34th out of 57, and 9th out of 21 women, despite aiming to plod round, with a finish time of 14:12:44. <br/><br/>
I knew I needed to eat then, and was so thankful to find the cafe at the finish line still open, doing chill and rice, it was hard to get down me but I managed the lot before driving myself home.<br/><br/>
I couldn’t walk the next day (today), but don’t believe I have hurt anything, just general fatigue and stiffness. I couldn’t sleep well, I had a stomach ache and a sore knee, despite propping it up on the pillow. I had 8 hours of sleep, of which just 2:40 were restful, 1:24 restless and 4 hours awake. There’s time for that though. Second furthest I've ever run, my 9th ultra (6 in events and 3 in personal challenges), and one that went from a real ‘can I even finish?’ to a ‘wow, look what my body did!’
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Sarah Cloughhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03797857043816872742noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1445147937322368187.post-25233183917733982872021-08-29T22:58:00.001+01:002021-08-29T23:20:21.300+01:00A last minute ultra: Dartmoor North to South via the Two Moors Way, Unsupported
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<div class="column" style="float: left;width: 50%">What do you do if you haven’t done much running lately? Call it a taper and go for a long one 😄 I wanted to do a long run today so make up for little running in August but I was thinking more of 18 miles, not double that. On Thursday though, just two days ago, someone posted on the South West Trail Runners group looking for a lift from Ivybridge to Okehampton so they could run across Dartmoor. I had previously plotted a route across Dartmoor on the Two Moors Way, one that I didn’t mind how fast I did it, so despite being a bit out of shape, I figured we could both help each other out, and it worked out well.
We met at Ivybridge, I drove David to his start at Okehampton, then found a place to leave my car just north of the A30 near Drewsteignton so I could head into the National park on the Two Moors way. Thankfully it was downhill to start. <br/><br/>
It was due to be a warm day so I’d brought 3 litres of drink and my pack was uncomfortably heavy and hurting my back, I felt a small niggle in my knee too from the weight. After just 1 mile I realised this may scupper my plan to go running in Scotland in a week time, even if it did fix the deficit in my August mileage.<br/><br/>
The trail passes through Drewsteignton, ascends Piddledown Common then heads west towards Castle Drogo, high above the Teign river with a wonderful view down the valley. After 1 hour I’d done 3.82 miles, giving an Estimated Time to Completion of 9:25. This is a pace I continued. <br/><br/>
The path then drops down to the Teign and follows the river for some way, another pretty section, and cooler in the shade too. I saw a chap with secateurs pruning back the nettles by a stile, very socially minded and earned a thank you from me. In the second hour I covered another 3.8 miles. There was then an overgrown section with a narrow boardwalk, which required some care not to fall off the edges; half an hour of that and some fields and I was out onto the heat of the moor. <br/><br/>
I had been keeping my heart rate to about 158 max, but I let it rise to 167 here as I was following the right hand side of a nice, broad, gently rising whaleback ridge that was comfortable to run along. Nearing the top there was a group of cows, the first of many, but there were two people sat at a boundary stone by the edge of the group and the cows didn’t seem at all bothered so I decided they were friendly.
After 3:12 I was a third of the way in. The route descended the broad, gentle hill, and swung east to head past Birch Tor and over to Hookney Tor. I developed serious stomach cramps here due to the unavoidable time of the month. I took some ibuprofen which usually helps but it made no difference whatsoever. Heading south to Grimspound I had a welcome distraction from 7 or 8 hang-g
liders swooping and turning over King Tor. The sun was out and the multicoloured wings looked fantastic against the blue sky. <br/><br/>
4 hours had passed now and I’d done an additional 3.65 miles. I wasn’t in good shape: I was heavy (just bordering on overweight again having put a bit back on) and stiff, but I was getting on okay. Next came the familiar Hameldown hill, another broad whaleback ridge. The mainTwo Moors Way does a detour over to Widecombe in the Moor after this but I think this is optional and you can carry straight on and cut the corner off. Unfortunately though the path on the OS map doesn’t exist on the ground and I swing away by accident, so I went back thinking I’d missed it to find it not there, before picking my way through the gorse to reach the road to Jordan. Passing Dockwell farm they were just about to move the cattle but I got lucky and passed through just before. <br/><br/>
At 4:46 I was half way through, and after 5 hours I’ve done another 3.85 miles, faster due to the downhill off Hameldown. Out of Ponsworthy there was a steep uphill. I started to get a hotspot on the inside of the ball of my right foot. At least my stomachache had finally gone. I was taking salt tablets every 45 minutes using a countdown timer on my phone, I’m not sure how much they help but they always feel like magic little sweet.
From here the route follows the good track of Dr. Blackall’s drive, high above another river valley, the Dart this time, then drops down to Spitchwick where there were two ice cream vans, but despite a sudden craving could not partake if I wanted to claim this as an unsupported FKT. It wouldn’t be a fast time but if I got in first it would still count!<br/><br/>
At 16:03, after 6:28 of running I was 2/3 of the way through. The second third has been longer than the first, so I predicted that the final third would be 4 minutes longer again which meant I would finish at 19:23, which was inside 10 hours and well before sunset. I worked this out whilst dropping down into Holne, then oddly I quite enjoyed the big uphill track out of Scorriton. I’d missed the 6 hour stats, but after 7 hours I’d done 25.77 miles, an additional 3.45 miles for each of the last 2 hours. The track led up onto Scorriton Down, a quiet bit of moor. The trail here was really confusing to follow. It was crisscrossed with other tracks that converged and diverged, none of which were on the map, and the correct one was very nondescript and at times overgrown, but I just followed the gps and it was easy enough to head the correct way. Then it flattened off over a featureless stretch of more then along the river Avon. Here I feel like I kept walking when I could have run, I was tired and my head was completely elsewhere, not really aware. I noticed absentmindedly that my hands were swollen and my rings were really tight.<br/><br/>
The ground was a little boggy in places for the first time, but it was good to be near water as I had run out of liquid so I filled up with another litre and treated it with some old chlorine tablets. I crossed the Avon on a clapper bridge, said hi to some wild campers, then began the final steep uphill to the Red Lake Tramway, otherwise known at the Puffing Billy. 8 hours came around and I had only added an extra 2.69 miles, very slow but there had been a lot of up, and at 8:04 I reached the Puffing Billy and there was no more up and only 7.7 miles to go. My watch had partly given up here as well as my body and it would no longer tell me my heart rate, but I was relatively steaming along the tramway at 12 minute miles. And I could see the sea from here too! I stopped for the loo with just 3.2 miles to go, and crouching down seemed to be a huge mistake as when I stood back up again the back of my right leg had gone ‘ping’ and I couldn’t straighten it. Could it be all over, this close to the end? I hobbled for a bit and it was really painful, but I soon discovered I could actually still run if I adopted a bent-leg hobble, and I staggered down the final track and road to cross the railway at Ivybridge, arriving at the Dartmoor National Park sign dead on 19:23 as predicted.<br/><br/>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; float: left; margin-bottom: 0px"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhSp2azYg5lR6r8iLGTmBmLZGlyG8vS8jcZgUxybx3sRjGDSticr9zgplR_LTjGmvJsfs7coY33HfzgT0BSDoEIcAY5Ora7HT0ZdgyuUhHVI7aVDB90srf_IUISbti2MLeQdaUDkc2z4s/s2048/IMG_8204.jpeg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; clear: right; float: right;"><img alt="" border="0" width="280" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhSp2azYg5lR6r8iLGTmBmLZGlyG8vS8jcZgUxybx3sRjGDSticr9zgplR_LTjGmvJsfs7coY33HfzgT0BSDoEIcAY5Ora7HT0ZdgyuUhHVI7aVDB90srf_IUISbti2MLeQdaUDkc2z4s/s320/IMG_8204.jpeg"/></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; float: left; margin-bottom: 10px;"><i style="font-size: small;">Dr. Blackall's Drive</i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; float: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPRanRehsyVi5YH3hb1KjuUVEp9Jh86aD5lM4J-cwevjAYrqcGVdZ_luEJmTlPmt92iwJXlUNai4MPt5RLADA3FjtvwbkMNstBDnVtJTkF89prHX0Xjm71VP3ZkZ1g0hpqgcP7S9GGmG8/s2048/IMG_8237.jpeg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; clear: right; float: right;"><img alt="" border="0" height="320" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPRanRehsyVi5YH3hb1KjuUVEp9Jh86aD5lM4J-cwevjAYrqcGVdZ_luEJmTlPmt92iwJXlUNai4MPt5RLADA3FjtvwbkMNstBDnVtJTkF89prHX0Xjm71VP3ZkZ1g0hpqgcP7S9GGmG8/s320/IMG_8237.jpeg"/></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 10px;"><i style="font-size: small;">Swollen hands</i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; float: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9LBzEbN3GHlA3XYVVHSkPRvlk6H6QJb0pSuRqmMWLK5-TCpoWvOollMAk3nP_JFamKbS_8fPPozHfdRlszPz626uuP91I99zCNF3M4uKSqYjX83-1ljmpRjUJMaV18WYiIzrFiUfncyI/s2048/IMG_8240.jpeg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; clear: right; float: right;"><img alt="" border="0" height="320" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9LBzEbN3GHlA3XYVVHSkPRvlk6H6QJb0pSuRqmMWLK5-TCpoWvOollMAk3nP_JFamKbS_8fPPozHfdRlszPz626uuP91I99zCNF3M4uKSqYjX83-1ljmpRjUJMaV18WYiIzrFiUfncyI/s320/IMG_8240.jpeg"/></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 10px"><i style="font-size: small;">Sweating at the Avon</i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; float: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3hr1XvXajFgzjgcdd_13gNB8hjpiRlGAnxbirxn11i4do5sB4Whv5VqcQ0NQhKhUanxi_pVfvpUtmBuf1H_Fh2RDQcpYAZIBi1LjUqsvc8m6nFgCZGY5-jhuDOlrY5TDnru8MmmnHPaU/s2048/IMG_8284.jpeg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; clear: right; float: right;"><img alt="" border="0" width="280" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3hr1XvXajFgzjgcdd_13gNB8hjpiRlGAnxbirxn11i4do5sB4Whv5VqcQ0NQhKhUanxi_pVfvpUtmBuf1H_Fh2RDQcpYAZIBi1LjUqsvc8m6nFgCZGY5-jhuDOlrY5TDnru8MmmnHPaU/s320/IMG_8284.jpeg"/></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 10px"><i style="font-size: small;">My bovine compatriots</i></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; float: right; margin-top: -10px;"><i style="font-size: small;">Ponies leading me to Castle Drogo</i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitXw0SONJpemAmGYC0osW3RnJy69Ldy2lamnCIzAC8Gdo2EogqBaayInF2BuRoeFozm4cgU-qtPgZoXHldhZtxSi0FhCRsN0deNNrklmQG3iMdpMa4L3flsQCc99Z1MRx5cS1bbklBJi0/s2048/IMG_8087.jpeg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; clear: right; float: right;"><img alt="" border="0" height="320" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitXw0SONJpemAmGYC0osW3RnJy69Ldy2lamnCIzAC8Gdo2EogqBaayInF2BuRoeFozm4cgU-qtPgZoXHldhZtxSi0FhCRsN0deNNrklmQG3iMdpMa4L3flsQCc99Z1MRx5cS1bbklBJi0/s320/IMG_8087.jpeg"/></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; float: right; margin-top: -10px;"><i style="font-size: small;">Near the South Teign</i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbqCif2MFE3-0iIMN9pPJJyN_kQqk24PaPxqo5rDe8jL_81LnPAxwBbB-iaRJvqnsSI036PgQaJwBKEum9hk47YUGFjAnMZVk9bmgOWOtd9HTg8R6Azsfjp_dUn2w313Wv2t8GTBReHpo/s480/IMG_8095.jpeg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; clear: right; float: right;"><img alt="" border="0" height="320" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbqCif2MFE3-0iIMN9pPJJyN_kQqk24PaPxqo5rDe8jL_81LnPAxwBbB-iaRJvqnsSI036PgQaJwBKEum9hk47YUGFjAnMZVk9bmgOWOtd9HTg8R6Azsfjp_dUn2w313Wv2t8GTBReHpo/s320/IMG_8095.jpeg"/></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; float: right; margin-top: -10px;"><i style="font-size: small;">The overgrown boardwalk</i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5Re2eTUDRupdTySspQEKlcdrbcVslxUNd_rLXYwxoaUNehrMveF2xdWuHbqfQsmVYkuUv6qzHfV6KvhILp_vnIYalr-XQg9W0xTiP-1eQnOyRyGK7-XBB6jVoEsWNewA8tcXPB1wXWcE/s2048/IMG_8124.JPG" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; clear: right; float: right;"><img alt="" border="0" width="280" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5Re2eTUDRupdTySspQEKlcdrbcVslxUNd_rLXYwxoaUNehrMveF2xdWuHbqfQsmVYkuUv6qzHfV6KvhILp_vnIYalr-XQg9W0xTiP-1eQnOyRyGK7-XBB6jVoEsWNewA8tcXPB1wXWcE/s320/IMG_8124.JPG"/></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; float: right; margin-top: -10px;"><i style="font-size: small;">Me</i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG_Qrpyx-USN1gjm9LKd6Y1s8eD4vr6nF5Hr6arIPq0FbPpII_KCRHYRXWS1gjWIoOX1ku4M85XkpLqwasSlMRSsn8PN52QuvLphk78i6M2HNR50fu8pz7ZkfsejWSGQCctZB3WbzIbhU/s2048/IMG_8148.jpeg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; clear: right; float: right;"><img alt="" border="0" width="280" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG_Qrpyx-USN1gjm9LKd6Y1s8eD4vr6nF5Hr6arIPq0FbPpII_KCRHYRXWS1gjWIoOX1ku4M85XkpLqwasSlMRSsn8PN52QuvLphk78i6M2HNR50fu8pz7ZkfsejWSGQCctZB3WbzIbhU/s320/IMG_8148.jpeg"/></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; float: right; margin-top: -10px;"><i style="font-size: small;">Bennett's Cross and Birch Tor</i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPawhdMB6D3IkE7l7uEvQeqJH91jMCTZ-zsM3GZOK8paMFhZPVRgc3bcZNVVwMVwsEACCVifGaGDFMb6dkyQjf3HpHsOFuuibIwryMdVU9HRdhjCBcLxIw8fuhUh8X_XFFD9Nz1nkUoPQ/s2048/IMG_8169.jpeg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; clear: right; float: right;"><img alt="" border="0" width="280" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPawhdMB6D3IkE7l7uEvQeqJH91jMCTZ-zsM3GZOK8paMFhZPVRgc3bcZNVVwMVwsEACCVifGaGDFMb6dkyQjf3HpHsOFuuibIwryMdVU9HRdhjCBcLxIw8fuhUh8X_XFFD9Nz1nkUoPQ/s320/IMG_8169.jpeg"/></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; float: right; margin-top: -10px;"><i style="font-size: small;">Hang-gliders</i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhTipxv7S_L_NKsvZHxR5MbD8SNrssjeNKnKQYgaAfkWYS1ajFb-ZMFp5TH2Rv0lms1CQRMUDkoMbbTmGDgMnbuvjLwnCknIId0-fDMRTgvefKwzAMpp8GXKe4CWcq6-qZC53B-bQQ8oE/s2048/IMG_8173.jpeg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; clear: right; float: right;"><img alt="" border="0" width="280" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhTipxv7S_L_NKsvZHxR5MbD8SNrssjeNKnKQYgaAfkWYS1ajFb-ZMFp5TH2Rv0lms1CQRMUDkoMbbTmGDgMnbuvjLwnCknIId0-fDMRTgvefKwzAMpp8GXKe4CWcq6-qZC53B-bQQ8oE/s320/IMG_8173.jpeg"/></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; float: right; margin-top: -10px;"><i style="font-size: small;">Grimspound Prehistoric Settlement</i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVywxodNHppLfnHL8iNtLkXldbO8rWeu9ay-xb-3prc9RIlyjiq1yCKXan147DVr7Fj38K9eXxsveEFksy-w7BJXZOIL9roJ7WZE_cSp-Huiy34WGSDDsNhyphenhyphenfq26y2QYrKZ5fitHuP22o/s2048/IMG_8182.jpeg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; clear: right; float: right;"><img alt="" border="0" height="320" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVywxodNHppLfnHL8iNtLkXldbO8rWeu9ay-xb-3prc9RIlyjiq1yCKXan147DVr7Fj38K9eXxsveEFksy-w7BJXZOIL9roJ7WZE_cSp-Huiy34WGSDDsNhyphenhyphenfq26y2QYrKZ5fitHuP22o/s320/IMG_8182.jpeg"/></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; float: right; margin-top: -10px;"><i style="font-size: small;">Summit of Hameldown</i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuRRgUE0-PvodGmCQlqrsV7HxoY08EU_dgGBUCUVBPf_QrreM_IJcpLcJ6BVNLOE3raBTD2oao74rYl-oVJfTse1Kch2gYVcq6wHc_qMJpJtZlN1KxXDv5Pe6i6u9aWIV_VOPUECJfztU/s2048/IMG_8192.jpeg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; clear: right; float: right;"><img alt="" border="0" height="320" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuRRgUE0-PvodGmCQlqrsV7HxoY08EU_dgGBUCUVBPf_QrreM_IJcpLcJ6BVNLOE3raBTD2oao74rYl-oVJfTse1Kch2gYVcq6wHc_qMJpJtZlN1KxXDv5Pe6i6u9aWIV_VOPUECJfztU/s320/IMG_8192.jpeg"/></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; float: right; margin-top: -10px;"><i style="font-size: small;">Nearing Jordan</i></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; float: right; margin-top: -10px;"><i style="font-size: small;">West Webburn River</i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWteDQWRYaDh3aLh4pAADzynPOHpk5TAK-xAr_o-2cXw2qz0hGXvUb70vyWUoTY_3jt_PkoWFFe5xmUfghJ5D8DrZUA93-QefnQ-yIj8nu1eLhxPDuZxPy7YT5mXtJy7XdCg1qUIWD6Gc/s2048/IMG_8218.jpeg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; clear: right; float: right;"><img alt="" border="0" height="320" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWteDQWRYaDh3aLh4pAADzynPOHpk5TAK-xAr_o-2cXw2qz0hGXvUb70vyWUoTY_3jt_PkoWFFe5xmUfghJ5D8DrZUA93-QefnQ-yIj8nu1eLhxPDuZxPy7YT5mXtJy7XdCg1qUIWD6Gc/s320/IMG_8218.jpeg"/></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; float: right; margin-top: -10px;"><i style="font-size: small;">Many signs, including the relevant 'MW'</i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzwzt4Jvh_6JqrnOwI1uBaXg74Gk6L3E6QCsoEInpPvVgyhCzLrcq8BuXJ6qInKa6sXDDLy7g5GVtzV2_zDeg7W3HKytWUGJ0lc66_C59djPOGzee_jYfcXzxG6NY6oE8B8jxCeYtIK70/s2048/IMG_8239.jpeg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; clear: right; float: right;"><img alt="" border="0" width="280" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzwzt4Jvh_6JqrnOwI1uBaXg74Gk6L3E6QCsoEInpPvVgyhCzLrcq8BuXJ6qInKa6sXDDLy7g5GVtzV2_zDeg7W3HKytWUGJ0lc66_C59djPOGzee_jYfcXzxG6NY6oE8B8jxCeYtIK70/s320/IMG_8239.jpeg"/></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; float: right; margin-top: -10px;"><i style="font-size: small;">The Avon clapper bridge</i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYonIMyFzNnD3EGEDFriVxpKx1eYYtasftKTd0RPrbg28gJOzuMkWaVlhA2TSYutVCi8gfqXDQ7x_EleMT1EPQYccaMHVL2vGd1HAE6nrDfSIY4DmDadTLFdscxfBkY3qDjTBpnJAz9SY/s2048/IMG_8257.jpeg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; clear: right; float: right;"><img alt="" border="0" width="280" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYonIMyFzNnD3EGEDFriVxpKx1eYYtasftKTd0RPrbg28gJOzuMkWaVlhA2TSYutVCi8gfqXDQ7x_EleMT1EPQYccaMHVL2vGd1HAE6nrDfSIY4DmDadTLFdscxfBkY3qDjTBpnJAz9SY/s320/IMG_8257.jpeg"/></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; float: right; margin-top: -10px;"><i style="font-size: small;">The Puffing Billy</i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCI9vJSnYWF-mg4iwA-i-ienIhft8Rvi_bV3cYrS7uvZ03E0Piuf_JIz6JnF5EmZs9Qxww7wmpqp1v1jmBYbvAvrB3OwsnS_SHRtkTDAyWgzjVXdAWbcc4HiP9wgUtyZkND5R1tRs2h8w/s2436/IMG_8343.PNG" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" height="320" data-original-height="2436" data-original-width="1125" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCI9vJSnYWF-mg4iwA-i-ienIhft8Rvi_bV3cYrS7uvZ03E0Piuf_JIz6JnF5EmZs9Qxww7wmpqp1v1jmBYbvAvrB3OwsnS_SHRtkTDAyWgzjVXdAWbcc4HiP9wgUtyZkND5R1tRs2h8w/s320/IMG_8343.PNG"/></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; float: right; margin-top: -10px;"><i style="font-size: small;">Strava stats</i></div>
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</div>Sarah Cloughhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03797857043816872742noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1445147937322368187.post-29108808806828571822021-08-19T23:59:00.000+01:002021-08-21T12:58:17.614+01:0019th August 2021, Swim Around Torbay with friends.<div style="clear: both; display: table">
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<div style="float: left">(before and after photos)</div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">(Rocky coastline)</span>
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A year and a day ago, on 18 August 2020 I did my longest sea swim so far, 4.5km from Paignton to Torquay, a distance I didn’t surpass until earlier this month, with a 5km swoosh on 7th August 2021 and a 7km adventure swim (LINK) last Sunday 15th. I barely had time to revel in these though before I found myself swimming 11km all the way round the bay today, from Brixham harbour to Torquay harbour! There is a nice symmetry in that I swam the direct route across the bay on Sunday, then the longer way hugging the coastline 4 days later – past Elberry cove, Broadsands, Goodrington, Paignton Sands, Preston Sands, Hollicombe, Livermead and Torre Abbey Sands.
This swim came about quite unexpectedly. I met a lovely bunch of swim/runners when I went to the Scilly isles in June, who were both welcoming and adventurous, and I liked them straight away. We have carried on the adventures since we got back, and I found myself invited on an annual swim-round-the-bay by Sue and Pauline – I didn’t need asking twice! In terms of physical effort I have been capable of swimming these distances for some time, I enjoyed distance swimming at a young age and I had kept up my stamina, but the sea has taken me a long time to get used to, and finding people to include me in their adventures is the eternal elusive element, so I was overjoyed to be partaking in this. It was billed as a fun day with café and chip stops, although not without a risk element, given the harbours and jet ski lanes. We would stop at Broadsands and Paignton Sands, breaking the swim into three roughly equal segments. The night beforehand I didn’t feel nervous at all, just excited to have the day off work doing something so epic, although a few nerves crept in once we were sitting in our wetsuits on the 10am ferry from Torquay to Brixham, with unknown sea wildlife imminent. We had an enjoyable wildlife moment on the ferry, with a pod of dolphins right off the bow.<br/><br/>
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<span style="font-size: small;">(Dead man's rope)</span></div>
We walked together round Brixham harbour to the final slipway that is clear of all the boats. This was a slipway that really lived up to its name, and we had to be careful walking down the carpet of bladderwrack and gutweek. The tide was fully out, with the aim that the incoming tide would help push us across to Torbay. The water was much calmer today than Sunday, both on the surface and underneath, and much clearer too, with the potential for seeing all sorts down below, and I was wary at first, but that quite quickly turned to enjoyment of the challenge, in fact it was such an apparent transition that I even clocked the time: 13 minutes! This is the life or wild adventures that I want to be living, 5 years ago I didn't even know it was possible. We were swimming close to the shore but it is all towering cliffs here and the sea is deep even close in, so there was an occasional glimpse of some yellowy rocks but mostly the water was a gorgeous, calm, deep blue. A wildlife cruise boat went pass, giving us a wide berth, and we paused for a moment to be tourist attractions and wave at the passengers as we heard the tannoy announce ‘and here you can see a paddleboard, and a pod of swimmers…’<br/><br/>
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<span style="font-size: small;">(Checking for boats at Elberry)</span></div>I was still feeling the after effects of Sunday, with a widely chafed neck and a sore left shoulder, so I had decided to swim breaststroke today, thankfully that is my strongest stroke and I can keep up with others doing crawl. I was keeping time with Pete and Sue, swimming behind them to utilise a draft effect and save my energy, but Pauline in her new wetsuit was super speedy and kept having to wait for us. We joked that she had channelled the spirit of Karen, another friend who had been due to join us but unfortunately couldn’t come. We would pause often to re-group, and every time we did I had another pee. There is something about open water swimmers that it seems to be a mark of honour to not only pee, but to announce it too. I managed 15 pees on that first leg, the winner by far.<br/><br/>
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<span style="font-size: small;">(Relative safety)</span></p>
The water intrigued us. The tidal flow was meant to be heading NNE, the wind was heading NE, the tide was coming in so should be pushing towards Torquay, so we expected the water to be heading across the bay the same as us (for the most part we would be heading NNE), yet if we paused it was evident we were getting pushed gently back the way we had come, and the occasional strands of seaweed were bending towards us too. On this first leg we were actually heading West, with the cliffs to our south against which the flood tide would be pushing, so it is understandable that here we wouldn’t get a full assist, but even further out the cruise ships were facing to the West. <br/><br/>
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<span style="font-size: small;">(Urban coastline at Paignton)</span></div>Approaching Elberry there were some large patches of Dead man’s rope seaweed. I was really pleased that during my week on the Scilly isles my new companions had spent some time providing me with aversion therapy for my fear of seaweek. Namely taking me on a swim/run tour of an island where the only option was to swim through many forests of it! I took the opportunity to look for seahorses hiding within it, as I know this is a known habitat for them, but they were too elusive. We stayed close to the shore, not cutting across Elberry cove until the last minute, as this is one of the two places locally with a jetski lane enabling them to come all the way into the shore with unrestricted speed, and we didn’t want to meet one of those. From there it was only about 1km round the rocks to Broadsands, where we had our first stop at the café, we’d swum roughly 3.5km on the first leg. <br/><br/>
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<span style="font-size: small;">(Big buoy!)</span></div>Typically the clouds lowered just as we arrived, bringing mist and rain, but we found a large umbrella to sit under, and enjoyed homemade lamb and pistachios patties along with shop-bought hot drinks, and laughed and joked and shivered. Where was the bright sunshine that the forecast had promised for today? It seemed that all the predictions had been wrong. We had all felt quite cold on the last stretch. The mist lifted a little and we watched the cruise ships re-appear out in the bay, and somebody noticed that they had now swung round and were now facing the way we expected. That boded well for speeding us along but didn’t make us any warmer. We walked along the stretch of beach to warm up before re-entering, but I was really struggling with the motivation to get back in. The thing that drove me on was that I hadn’t swum the next section before, whereas I had previously swum the third leg. Plus the fact that the other were neck deep now and about to swim off, so I swum on to follow them, but kept my head out until the warm blood started pumping again. My neck had started to ache from swimming breaststroke so I invented a hybrid leg kick where I could do the breaststroke kick followed by a bit of a futter kick, to keep my head in for longer. This section was really pretty. There was a low, rocky coastline to our left, and interesting seaweed in the shallows below us. There was a rock fin with a notch that we swum through, gliding over rocks and weed that were just inches below our faces. Somehow Pete managed to miss the gap and swim headfirst into the rock to the left, but maybe hopefully some sense back in!<br/><br/>
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<span style="font-size: small;">(Drippy in the chippy)</span></div> So far I hadn’t seen a single jellyfish, but on the second leg I counted 5 compasses and 3 crystals. And had 5 more pees. And a steam train chugging out of Paignton. We spotted the marker than identified the exit of Paignton harbour, then from there it was another careful, speedy dash over to the large red buoy for a photo opportunity. Then it was just a short distance in to Paignton pier. I had actually been warm enough for this whole leg, right up to now, but the chill was starting to set in again and I was keen to exit the water and enjoy some chips. Peter, never having swum this far, was ready for another break too, forgetting about his sighting and deviating off in leftwards zig before a returning zag. In the chippy on the pier we sat straight down at a conveniently empty table, then got prompty evicted to an outdoor table as we were dripping on the seats.<br/><br/>
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<span style="font-size: small;">(Secret door at the Redcliff)</span></div>It was easier to get back in for the last leg. We were tired but our spirits were still high. We passed a cool little door set into the sea wall at the top of some steps, under the Redcliffe hotel. Something weird had happened to the sea though! It was calm still until after Paignton sands, then all of a sudden we passed some caves and two sizable waves came past in quick succession, like the wake of a boat, or splashback off a cliff. There was no boat in sight though. There was a brief pause, then suddenly the whole sea was like it, waves coming from the open bay, and coming back at us off the cliffs, at least a foot high with a 1 second repeat. I’ve swum in waves plenty of times but these were quite unusual, a wake-without-a-cause, rather than surf or swell. There were a lot more jellyfish here too, on this section I counted 18 compasses, 9 crystals. And I had 4 more pees. Front crawl was more effective in this sea, so I tried a bit of that. I could avoid chafing my neck by doing a whole body roll, which can be an effective stroke anyway. I could only go so far though before my left shoulder would twinge, and I would have to switch back to breaststroke, then I would do that until my knees or neck hurt, and switch back. It got to the point I was in pain on every stroke, but the neck was worst, it felt like my spinal discs were about to pop. Here it might sound like I wasn’t enjoying myself, but it was still feeling great. This was always going to be a big swim, but we were doing it, and it was manageable. <br/><br/>
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<span style="font-size: small;">(Compass jelly)</span></div>We were taking a direct line to Torquay harbour here rather than following the coast, being tossed and turned by the sea, we hadn't bothered stopping to explore the caves either. A high performance rib went pass, fast and noisy, and jet black, and we kept our ears keenly turned to the air inbetween strokes to listen for its return. We figured it was probably on a 30 minute tourist trip so we should have time to reach the 5 knot buoy and be safe beyond it, but just in case we stuck close together ready to raise out towfloats to increase our visibility, and we made it without mishap. <br/><br/><br/>
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<span style="font-size: small;">(Finished!)</span></div>Then it was all over! We had made it, all four of us as a wonderful unit, 11km total, although my strava had to go one better and say 14km. 6:38 elapsed time, and 5 hours of that in the water. There was only time for a quick hug before we had to rush off, as three of us had committed to be in Plymouth for the firework championships. This would mean yet another swim to watch the fireworks from a prime spot in Tinside East bay, with about 40 other swimmers and a floating bar, for which Peter was one of the two barman. I definitely won’t have another day like this in a hurry, one for the memory banks!<br/><br/>
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<span style="font-size: small;">(GPS track)</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0Nrd1__n7PuJzf71niQxnloqmOixRAE5E8YAj98eLaXif-gBwFq0DRBWLCJ1UhFCcs-pemc4oMvsOcVUrVWBNxY_psYNbVuFId4fP44lKhFY8PA3gbcErij2yNcAJU8-AwLM2EyRiSjA/s1000/P8191350.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; clear: left; float: left;"><img alt="" border="0" width="320" data-original-height="750" data-original-width="1000" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0Nrd1__n7PuJzf71niQxnloqmOixRAE5E8YAj98eLaXif-gBwFq0DRBWLCJ1UhFCcs-pemc4oMvsOcVUrVWBNxY_psYNbVuFId4fP44lKhFY8PA3gbcErij2yNcAJU8-AwLM2EyRiSjA/s320/P8191350.jpg"/></a><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">(The floating bar at the fireworks)</span>
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Sarah Cloughhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03797857043816872742noreply@blogger.com0Torquay, UK50.4619209 -3.52531522.151687063821157 -38.681565 78.772154736178848 31.630935tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1445147937322368187.post-90691065516136857632021-08-16T02:24:00.072+01:002021-08-20T13:07:37.523+01:00Across Torbay, Pete Wilby adventure swim<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj19OJLa3F_J1cPzanlZXWedp4_Jhye-pBAtB1qXTMclhuNNTCGlEpAEoWreI5A0f8JcF3FKjMksekSnBqHslRz7pvrrYkHNctUKu5pnVXv2Mz4fhJ7ghiIGeBoaqNVZ3CyXJeSwlM_mPs/s2016/P1.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0 1em 1em; text-align: center; clear: right; float: right;"><img alt="" border="0" width="320" data-original-height="1512" data-original-width="2016" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj19OJLa3F_J1cPzanlZXWedp4_Jhye-pBAtB1qXTMclhuNNTCGlEpAEoWreI5A0f8JcF3FKjMksekSnBqHslRz7pvrrYkHNctUKu5pnVXv2Mz4fhJ7ghiIGeBoaqNVZ3CyXJeSwlM_mPs/s320/P1.jpg"/></a></div>My alarm went at 6:30 after 5 hours sleep, so I could get down to Meadfoot to meet the boat to Churston Cove for the start of a 6.5km adventure swim (see photo showing Churston from Meadfoot, way across the bay beyond the cruise liners). Thankfully, despite a couple of snoozes, I arrived in good time to make somehow pay for the toilets three times, systematically work through all my swim kit to check I had everything I needed, and change. I needn’t have worried as the boats were running late… an hour late as it turned out, an inauspicious start, given that we assumed the timings had been carefully chosen so we could swim on the slack tide. Then the motor of the first boat cut out three times inbetween its approach to the slipway and actually reaching it, also concerning. The boat journey across the bay was an event in itself – this was a small rib (see photo), with a skipper and 5 people crammed into it, in a feisty sea and force 4 wind, heading directly into all the face of the choppy waves which came thick and fast. There was a lot of spray, and I was repeatedly soaked. I didn’t really expect this, and in my shortie wetsuit I got quite cold. The pre-event briefing we had been sent said not to bring any clothes into the boat, just swim kit, so I had followed this although everybody else had brought warmer layers on with them. About half way over I idly asked the skipper how rough a sea he could take the boat out in. He replied with “shouldn’t even be out in this”, to which I clung onto the ropes a bit tighter and my hands got frozen into claws. <br/><br/>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCdwr7d4m4hgvrb3gY-KlhN7O4vpJcI1nUboxRt4PrJRfrA4qnfby7aDzWX5L5ydYCwwoi5_odPf78fIjNQZT09XfdJ4vrnzv6Hbe5zytPUEgINtroEjpgLg5sbeIDUCDRLo6pw8JHRlw/s2000/P2.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 1em 1em 0; text-align: center; clear: left; float: left;"><img alt="" border="0" width="320" data-original-height="1500" data-original-width="2000" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCdwr7d4m4hgvrb3gY-KlhN7O4vpJcI1nUboxRt4PrJRfrA4qnfby7aDzWX5L5ydYCwwoi5_odPf78fIjNQZT09XfdJ4vrnzv6Hbe5zytPUEgINtroEjpgLg5sbeIDUCDRLo6pw8JHRlw/s320/P2.jpg"/></a></div>Standing on the beach at Churston cove I was shivering, everyone else had full length suits and I was the only one in a shortie. We had to wait a bit longer as the other boat had broken down again and my boat had to go out and pick up the other swimmers. Before we began the swim, Pete briefed us on the safety – there would be one rib leading the way with a flag; two prone rescue boards flanking the swimmers; one boarder bringing up the rear; one spare boarder for general support; and the other rib moving between everyone overseeing it all and bringing our nutrition. This was different to the impression that I got from the original brief, which was that there would be a craft with each swim pod of similar speed swimmers, rather than the crew surrounding the whole group which could possibly get very spread out if the swimmers were of different speeds. I like to know and fully understand what I am getting into, especially with new and intense situations, and what with the safety system and the clothing on the boats already being different to expected my levels of distress were rising. To some of us that is how our brains work, we think a lot and gather information so it’s hard to then change tack, and that’s a perfectly valid way to be, but often not understood by others. The distress coupled with already being cold meant I wasn’t in the mood to even start. I wasn't worried about the distance - I hadn't trained much as I'd been out of the water between March and July but I've put plenty of time into swim and stamina training over the years - this was all about the mental side which for me is the biggie. And my brain was struggling. But I had paid and I had got that far, so I begun.<br/><br/>
Most swimmers surged off straight away, I needed to acclimatise and a friend hung back for me as we’d agreed to swim together. I was concerned that I wouldn’t make the whole swim and she’d end up on her own far from anyone else, which was a good incentive to get going. As we started to swim I was actually moving a little faster and having to switch to breaststroke to stay with her, which meant I wasn’t warming up, so we agreed to separate. I could just see a bunch of towfloats in the distance, thankfully in a group making them easier to spot (and alarmingly off route a bit to the left) so I struck out for them. At this point I was totally on my own, and crossing a bit of sea that while on the boat had had a string of jetskis passing at high speed in quick succession. Thankfully they didn’t come back past then, I don’t think they would have seen me in time. There were a couple of yachts though, keeling over impressively. I passed one of our support crew on a board, he was going the other way but paused for me to say that my friend was also swimming alone and he checked that he could see her which made me feel less guilty about splitting up. After a while I realised I wasn’t going to catch the group up, they were swimming at the same speed. I kept thinking I was, but it’s just that I had crested a wave so they looked closer. I didn’t feel too bad about swimming alone behind the pod. I normally freak out when I swim in the sea as the ocean is always changing – dark one minute, light the next, here a sudden patch of weed, there a jellyfish that appeared out of nowhere, but today it was reassuringly consistent. With the sea being so choppy the sediment was disturbed so I could only see down a little way, and it was a bright day despite being overcast so the water was yellow all round, hiding the fact that it is up to 17m deep across the bay at high tide. But my calm didn’t last as my neoprene sleeve popped out of the shoulder of my wetsuit (the sleeves are separate items that you tuck in), and I started to think I wouldn’t be able to attract the attention of any staff, and what if something more serious went wrong? I waved a few times with a quiet call but nobody saw. Thankfully when I shouted louder somebody heard and came back to help – unfortunately I couldn’t do it myself as I was wearing neoprene gloves, rendering me helpless.<br/><br/>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL9V3D0Iw14PXZL-pvnn4XEldn4wlxssaLtlYa6NwP5UXvXjPNRuXyn8dNyuSh49Y-nHBF-erxrlv0ZATUt6KPhLytJFh1oTD6zfHXcIlxXagVBsqtZ4Bhs3eg2gp2bXFNvO1JObRLlYM/s2000/P3.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0 1em 1em; text-align: center; clear: right; float: right;"><img alt="" border="0" width="320" data-original-height="1500" data-original-width="2000" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL9V3D0Iw14PXZL-pvnn4XEldn4wlxssaLtlYa6NwP5UXvXjPNRuXyn8dNyuSh49Y-nHBF-erxrlv0ZATUt6KPhLytJFh1oTD6zfHXcIlxXagVBsqtZ4Bhs3eg2gp2bXFNvO1JObRLlYM/s320/P3.jpg"/></a></div>A little while later the group ahead paused to re-group and I caught them up. I said “thank god I caught you, I thought there would be a boat”, meaning a craft of some sort near me while I was my own pod. The other crew said “so did we”. “Wait”, I said, “is there no boat at all?” “There’s meant to be, but we don’t know where it is”. This was alarming, the main safety boat has gone AWOL and the other crew aren’t in communication with it? I was surprised they didn’t have radios, I had done a relay race in Budleigh the Sunday before and there were three kayaks out all with their own radios, and that was just a 400m course. My distress levels were topped back up, but I carried on as the swimming itself was going just fine, and sometimes you just need waves smashing in your face to being you back to life, and other general life worries began to dissolve away. Whilst in the pod my friend re-materialised having got into her pace, caught me up and continued on ahead faster than I could keep up with along with the others, I was pleased she wasn’t alone, even though she is an extremely competent swimmer and has done may of these events before. <br/><br/>
After an hour I started to feel the first hint that I was cooling down. For the second time today I thought I wouldn’t finish the swim, since it was due to be 3 to 3 ½ hours in total. Thankfully, very soon after that, the rib appeared – hoorah! And a little while later came back bringing our nutrition supplies for a mid-way feed. Eating mid-swim was a strange feeling but I think it helped give my body an energy boost. For liquid I was using a bottle attached to my tow float, and I was convinced that the level in it was actually going up, but it still tasted of lush squash, so if any salt water had seeped in it was still less salty than the sea, which was shockingly salty when I put my face back in. <br/><br/>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKarGiTN34KHTYGFqMnBj1nRzY9gSddhX1spwKpoEK0bhdvAsVo_eyIBeetdNtbN7c6FIFP5_c6KRtwbyKaR70zxQSv8O2aWmPvntsRpNxPrMnMGXW1CzcybXw6HxVrXTpFC-xBCXSnFU/s2000/P5.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 1em 1em 0; text-align: center; clear: left; float: left;"><img alt="" border="0" width="320" data-original-height="1500" data-original-width="2000" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKarGiTN34KHTYGFqMnBj1nRzY9gSddhX1spwKpoEK0bhdvAsVo_eyIBeetdNtbN7c6FIFP5_c6KRtwbyKaR70zxQSv8O2aWmPvntsRpNxPrMnMGXW1CzcybXw6HxVrXTpFC-xBCXSnFU/s320/P5.jpg"/></a></div>I just continued pressing on, in a flow now. A toot from Marella Discovery, one of the cruise ships in the bay (see photo), seeped into my consciousness as the main pod of swimmers went past it. ‘Ooh that’s a nice gesture’ I thought, shortly followed by ‘unless it’s warning us of a shark’. It occurred to me that while I was cold and shivering (and it was my core rather than my legs), I wasn’t getting any worse and I wasn’t in any trouble, unlike my experiences over the recent winter. I had been wet and cold up on mountains but wasn’t worried then, so this was no different, and I started chanting to myself “just got to get off this mountain”. The waves had picked up a bit. Occasionally one broke over me and when I swung my arm forward it never breached the surface, but I actually really enjoy swimming in a proper sea. There is a limit of course, when you can’t rise and fall with the swell and are unable to breathe, but with a lower level of swell or chop it actually feels like the sea is doing what it’s meant to be doing, and it’s nice to be at one with that rhythm. I was looking straight down and not seeing anything, which pleased me. There was the odd scrap of weed that whizzed past on one stroke and was entirely gone the next, and the same with some compass jellyfish – one near Churston and a few more nearer Meadfoot, but there were so few that they didn’t faze me, even though I had to dodge a particularly large one. Although there was nothing notable beneath me, at the same time there was everything – a swirling, shifting mass of one-dimensional colour. It occurred to me that it was like blinking inside a whirlwind, everything churning around and different on each stroke.<br/><br/>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLsmquT1dB4oWCWUFauqAsO91dSQNJRahbFejV6QAT_6rygm-ZhQ37wE5ZuI5xYD4R2840HA_coh662k9eAd_OblnFIhr6c88ajGtzS1Y51vS1aHx00l3YjNr0vPqDjFo0SN_-BmObCrY/s2436/swim+track.png" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; clear: right; float: right;"><img alt="" border="0" height="320" data-original-height="2436" data-original-width="1125" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLsmquT1dB4oWCWUFauqAsO91dSQNJRahbFejV6QAT_6rygm-ZhQ37wE5ZuI5xYD4R2840HA_coh662k9eAd_OblnFIhr6c88ajGtzS1Y51vS1aHx00l3YjNr0vPqDjFo0SN_-BmObCrY/s320/swim+track.png"/></a></div>Slowly Meadfoot crept closer. The sun came out a little too, which lightened the lively waters beneath me and warmed my arms and shoulders, and I knew I would finish then. At this point I had dropped so far behind the main pod that I had my own prone board as support, she was getting blown by the wind so we were never side by side but I was pleased to have a companion. I had to make a couple of stops to adjust my kit. My sleeves popped out a couple of times, and also my suit sometimes started flushing water which cooled me down too much. I was wearing a buff to prevent chafing, and somehow, despite the gloves, I managed to push it down the back of the suit just pulling a little bit back up to minimise the chafe, which worked well to stop the water invading, and I managed to maintain my remaining warmth. Inbetween those pauses I had a really good stroke going. I was breathing every fourth stroke which was really unlike me, I’m usually every two when there are waves, and bilateral otherwise, but that was too much oxygen today so I dropped the frequency. It was easy to relax here as I no longer needed constant mental awareness, sighting was easy as the cliff was closer and much more prominent up ahead, and oceanic wildlife was reassuringly absent. I did a mental assessment at this point: sea conditions – perfect; fear - none; energy levels – fine, both shoulders starting to ache but otherwise good; distress and unhappiness – high. But the reasons for the distress were behind me and suddenly I realised the rest was great and I was enjoying myself for the first time<br/><br/>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVirFxDha3AGRv47eK44xtzTVsTbEUGk4dtf1i5t0P_Y5eUQ2EsOfVtq24gNiMcxoqHN1TxWGGIb9SsAN4c4fJz2d4zHyyKtn4plrp3bZLkqpF8jpPgZijrnwFWiTT_n2m2HpheO-b784/s2000/P6.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 1em 1em 0; text-align: center; clear: left; float: left;"><img alt="" border="0" height="320" data-original-height="2000" data-original-width="1500" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVirFxDha3AGRv47eK44xtzTVsTbEUGk4dtf1i5t0P_Y5eUQ2EsOfVtq24gNiMcxoqHN1TxWGGIb9SsAN4c4fJz2d4zHyyKtn4plrp3bZLkqpF8jpPgZijrnwFWiTT_n2m2HpheO-b784/s320/P6.jpg"/></a></div>My support pointed out the main pod way ahead, barely visible from my low position in the water, and said to aim for them, this was a little off my original track so I picked a suitable tree on the cliff above them and struck for that. But some time later she said that they weren’t in the right place after all so gave me a new heading to Meadfoot slipway, which was actually where I had been heading in the first place. Now though we had moved in line with it and I had to swim across the current to get to it, and it was hard work. In fact, after a bit of strong pulling I was suddenly alarmed that I might have been swimming in the same spot for quite some time so I looked around me for some features to take reference off. I wondered if I would have to be picked up tantalisingly close to the finish line. I spotted a buoy nearby, and although I was, thankfully, progressing past it toward the shore, I was also getting swept north east. My crew and I hatched a plan where she would go and hang on to the buoy, then the next one, and I would aim west and gradually creep closer to her, and that worked. With this greater effort I was definitely warmer, and it didn’t matter that the sun had gone again and it had started to rain. I heard a strange unidentified tinkling noise in the water that I have heard before, and thought my tinnitus was playing up, but a moment later a boat appeared from my rear flank and cut across me so close I was instantly bouncing in its wake. My support had tried to attract their attention to tell them to be careful to no avail. Thankfully though I was one buoy away from the shore now, and this one was the 5 knot buoy (see photo) beyond which no boats can go faster than this. My slow creep forward against the current eventually paid off and I was at the slipway, crawling up on all fours as I couldn’t seem to find my feet and operate my land legs. I was given a chocolate muffin which I practically inhaled, then went to the car to get dry and warm, before returning to the slip to soak up the atmosphere of the finish. A little stock check revealed some chafed patches on my neck despite k-tape, luub AND the buff; my tongue was sore and I looked really strange (see photo); I couldn't lift my arms very high; and the contents of my dry bag that had my nutrition in had been stood on and the satsuma obliterated leaving a juicy orange coating over all the other items, but apart from that all was good and I had made it! It had been just the right level of challenge to feel like I was doing something quite special. I’d swum the distance – 7370m in the end with the course adjustments - total time in water 3:19 (see strava track), I actually wasn’t shivering, and it was time to celebrate in the café with a hot chocolate. And a halloumi salad. And a chocolate bar. And a cider. Well, that’s what we do all this for, isn’t it? 😊
Sarah Cloughhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03797857043816872742noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1445147937322368187.post-14129037230225210142021-06-20T12:00:00.030+01:002022-05-09T11:05:43.648+01:00PureTrail Tsunami<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWN_e9OwfShHzTeWTeCFVJMjjjXsyfVPb65Ts5DYFhPCjqNuVEzlsZgzDFKtmEi0AQtbsYqV5kFGUCcapE5fHGAHjIkmT0LrKxugEjxD3gQFZHFoIF4dPhQmi7FgKHBwS0zsNQxCD5PL4/s2048/IMG_1760.HEIC" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; clear: right; float: right;"><img alt="" border="0" width="320" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWN_e9OwfShHzTeWTeCFVJMjjjXsyfVPb65Ts5DYFhPCjqNuVEzlsZgzDFKtmEi0AQtbsYqV5kFGUCcapE5fHGAHjIkmT0LrKxugEjxD3gQFZHFoIF4dPhQmi7FgKHBwS0zsNQxCD5PL4/s320/IMG_1760.HEIC"/></a></div>I love it when a race *feels* good. That's why I train, it feels awful if your body is sluggish and your muscles are undertrained and you're in pain on the way round. I used to feel that for a 6 mile cross country race 13 years ago, I've come a long way since then! Not that all the prep went well for this. I badly sprained my ankle at the end of January, taking me out of full training for 12 weeks which left 5 weeks to train and 2 weeks to taper, and I picked up another 3 calf strains in that time. Then the night before the race I was in a strange town packed full of football supporters making queues outside each eatery and I couldn't find anywhere to get a substantial meal, I eventually had to go for a tandoori (which I'd been trying to avoid). I also couldn't sleep that night - my usually comfortable car was roasting hot and seemed shorter than usual and at a funny angle. On race day morning I couldn't poop, and in running round the registration field to try to expedite that I found I'd wrenched my knee from an uncomfortable sleeping position. Thankfully a combination of ibuprofen and light wiggles on the race bus to the start line sorted that out, and the poo would have to wait!!<BR/><BR/>
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In anticipating the race, I knew I could do the distance, but there were four cutoffs which worried me, especially the first - 11 miles to Clovelly in 3.5 hours. It doesn't sound too bad, but this a notoriously hilly route, 7,800 feet of ascent over the whole thing, and over a long run without even that much ascent I am often close to that speed so I felt like it would be a tight thing. I also heard that it may be closer to 12 miles to Clovelly in reality, which threw my calculated needed-pace out of the window so I did a quick recalculation. I set off trying to maintain 16 minute miles and settled at about 15:30 which gave me a good buffer against any steep hills. I was actually running to heart rate - with a cap of 158... if it went over this (which was anything above a light uphill) I switched to speed-hiking until it came down again. This cap stopped me going crazy at the start on the flats, as my legs felt full of beans for the first few miles.<BR/><BR/>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgObQPpmLub63ZTBf5ZyCNkAoRUVrB-Yn80CVNnT363a1PFZwzWPyxCr4PVYx_3YKZx6W0yp2KkH1xAUnqMmv1wD606J25ijoUdUBSJHboGake32DuKMC_MJjkuRFvQ0Or-a5nXWjxUGm8/s2048/IMG_1806.HEIC" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; clear: right; float: right;"><img alt="" border="0" width="320" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgObQPpmLub63ZTBf5ZyCNkAoRUVrB-Yn80CVNnT363a1PFZwzWPyxCr4PVYx_3YKZx6W0yp2KkH1xAUnqMmv1wD606J25ijoUdUBSJHboGake32DuKMC_MJjkuRFvQ0Or-a5nXWjxUGm8/s320/IMG_1806.HEIC"/></a></div>The route to Clovelly was mostly in woodland and it was so pretty with the dappled lights and the foxgloves nicely complementing the pink PureTrail route marking flags. A couple of other runners commented how you could see the town of Clovelly in the distance round the sweep of the bay but it never seemed to get any closer, but that didn't bother me, I wasn't think of the race as a series of points that I needed to reach, just an amazing stretch of coast path to enjoy along the way. The first few miles were up and down and then it levelled off after about 8 miles. I reached Clovelly after 2:37, 38 minutes before the cutoff, and the panic was over then. In fact, I felt really good so I carried on at the same pace.<BR/><BR/>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCycDCfnRr4aecSm25jdyQp70vH6zYA3DQlj7LrhFYk3TDLP9AXFjKJy_lGqNDIGw9eZn_DNIUYNAT02rGyc0T8bQzAculNRf3SAp3UiXTopE3-xvbmFf0tKzm3zGucj1k60eoCZTJmaw/s2048/IMG_1862.HEIC" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; clear: right; float: right;"><img alt="" border="0" height="320" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCycDCfnRr4aecSm25jdyQp70vH6zYA3DQlj7LrhFYk3TDLP9AXFjKJy_lGqNDIGw9eZn_DNIUYNAT02rGyc0T8bQzAculNRf3SAp3UiXTopE3-xvbmFf0tKzm3zGucj1k60eoCZTJmaw/s320/IMG_1862.HEIC"/></a></div>I started to get a rub on my left heel - I was wearing Injinji socks with the individual toe compartments to try and stop my toes running together which usually causes me big problems with blisters, but I haven't used these socks much and it turns out there is a ridge where the material goes from thin to thick, which sat right where the back of the shoe meets my heel. Thankfully I had brought a change of socks, my beloved low cut balegas, so I changed the left one which felt great so a couple of miles later I changed the other one. Thankfully that did the job and the blister that had already been appearing settled down and I had very few other foot problems, they started rubbing towards the end but much less than I am used to - that's down to a recent change to 361 Taroki 2 shoes which are very soft.<BR/><BR/>
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Once I'd found my rhythm I used my usual motivational tactic - to spot the next runner ahead of me and try to slowly catch up with them. In a race I usually start slow and gradually speed up once I get an idea of how I'm feeling (I don't find I get caught up in the vibe too much and start too fast), but I thought that wouldn't happen this time with the faster start due to the harder first cutoff, however I still managed to find a bit of extra oomph and actually I was feeling thankful of that faster start to get me going as obviously I was capable of it after all.<BR/><BR/>
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All the other runners I met before the race were talking about the hills - there are certainly a lot of hills, with steep ups and steep downs, but I've got to admit I didn't mind them one bit. I spend a lot of time on the South West Coast path, and I have now completed 70% of it, and hills are just par for the course. There was no one hill where I started to think 'blimey this one goes on a bit', unlike when hiking up mountains in Scotland, I guess the time I have spent ticking relentless mountain summits has helped me here.<BR/><BR/>
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The second aid stop came at 21 miles at Hartland Quay, there were lots of marathon runners here which was a shock after the quiet trails so far, they'd even drunk all the coke 😉 The aid stations after this came more frequently, every 4-5 miles instead of every 10-11, which was really great as it was a warm day and I could have coke in one bottle and squash in the other without having to worry about running out. The aid stop staff were all wonderful too, all making you feel like you were doing great. All the snacks were individually wrapped due to covid regulations, so after I'd filled up my bottles I pocketed a pack of crisps and two sweet items and ate on the move. I was so hungry around lunchtime I was craving sandwiches (and beer and gin!) but between aid stations and my own snacks I managed to get enough down me to stave off the hunger. Speaking of food.. and thinking of the tandoori the night before... I still hadn't had my morning poo! At some point I squatted down for my third wee and I realised that it was ready, but I was in an exposed spot so couldn't go there. I ran on trying to find somewhere to stop but it was a narrow path fully all hemmed in by prickly undergrowth. Finally at 26.6 miles we ran past a quarry and just after there was the perfect spot to be out of sight and go. Ooh that was a relief!<BR/><BR/>
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The views kept coming and were all amazing. I have't run any of this stretch previously as I was saving it for this race, but I had been rock climbing at a few points along the coast in 2006, and there were certainly a few areas that looked familar - Backchurch rock, Vicarage cliff and Dyers Lookout among them. I took lots of photos but my phone was easy to get in and out and each only required a split second pause for the photo itself.<BR/><BR/>
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One of the other runners doing the ultra is somebody I know from wednesday night runs - they were near to me for the first few miles, then went ahead at Clovelly. For motivation, I had been trying to catch back up with them since then, but as I came into each aid station they were just leaving - I finally managed it at Morwenstow but was sad to hear they were having knee pain, it's always a struggle completing a race if you're suffering in pain. I was thankful that my own legs were still feeling amazingly good - three years ago I had done as similar length hilly ultra and a series of stiles near the end had nearly killed me, here there were stiles too but although my muscles were tight everything was still working. So just before Morwenstow I hatched a new plan. At some point my average pace has slipped from 17:30 to 17:45 to 16:20 minutes per mile. I worked out that if I picked things up a bit back to 16 minute miles I could finish in 10 hours. I tried my best to keep pushing, not being too strict on my heart rate cap now I had just 7 miles to go. But there was then a series of steep hills and my average pace slipped further, to 16:29. I was still running the flats and the downhills and now the light uphills, but with the steeper uphills only a plodding hike was possible. There was a glimmer of hope though - the Morwenstow aid station was listed as being at 30.5 miles but on my watch it had appeared at 28.5. That could mean that my watch gps had gone a little strange and maybe I didn't have as far to go as I thought. I checked the map track I had saved, and sure enough it said I had 1.3 miles less to go than I thought, which meant I only needed an average of 16:29 minute miles, so I was dead on! I just had to push on and hope. Nearer to Bude, there were more downhills and some flat bits, then suddenly I could see all the way to the finish line. My pace came down and down until I had 20 minutes to travel 1.2 miles, I would definitely do it now unless I hurt something. I picked up as much as I could, trying to spot the flags through the town, and was reassured to spot some marshalls in high vis waving me on towards the line. I crossed the line in 9:47:32, I couldn't believe it! What a race, I was jumping with joy!<BR/><BR/>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBhcpCG9j5mB__VjoKWih1WxfaKe8-y2RQNd6hb685rw9y-i6p95MJNG9NjIg1S20OvmEHz2uxCUifY_tV8IsJ10jd7m-5tggPlHqcIobxu4Ekh0OetfCsvVi6ftjcrOVgkYY2k7ll0b0/s2048/IMG_1933.HEIC" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; clear: right; float: right;"><img alt="" border="0" width="320" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBhcpCG9j5mB__VjoKWih1WxfaKe8-y2RQNd6hb685rw9y-i6p95MJNG9NjIg1S20OvmEHz2uxCUifY_tV8IsJ10jd7m-5tggPlHqcIobxu4Ekh0OetfCsvVi6ftjcrOVgkYY2k7ll0b0/s320/IMG_1933.HEIC"/></a></div>
I really, genuinely, loved the whole day. The course was perfect, the setup was great, and we were incredibly lucky with the weather - dry and warm with mixed sunshine and cloud just when you needed it. I am writing this the next day - I am very stiff, particularly glutes, lower back and abs, but no injuries and only one blister, I'd say that was a success.<BR/><BR/>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWtLon2x7V40idYFCHrlTpdwGb4zrycRJOPc6vvmmMdCj5-6x5kot-mkg6y01smXCg4Y9T3VS9MIEe7NAfwYKrJpr9PoSYHQFjI27kk_FQtNnDcDtwt2T6zWKXEvw3EGSVBCba1ae3_gw/s2048/IMG_1983.HEIC" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; clear: right; float: right;"><img alt="" border="0" height="320" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWtLon2x7V40idYFCHrlTpdwGb4zrycRJOPc6vvmmMdCj5-6x5kot-mkg6y01smXCg4Y9T3VS9MIEe7NAfwYKrJpr9PoSYHQFjI27kk_FQtNnDcDtwt2T6zWKXEvw3EGSVBCba1ae3_gw/s320/IMG_1983.HEIC"/></a></div>Official results - 30th place out of 52 (including 4 DNF). 6th woman out of 7.Sarah Cloughhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03797857043816872742noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1445147937322368187.post-65525958797934078952021-03-23T12:53:00.002+00:002021-03-23T13:34:40.691+00:00My 2020 in reviewI meant to write a summary of my 2020 for New Year but didn’t reserve the time to sit down and turn my notes into sentences. Then I thought I could finish it for my birthday in February – but that still didn’t happen. So the anniversary of lockdown will have to do instead, before the whole thing is out of date.
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieJc6WGnSVM5Rj4SpsQQSKztB2NDZe6Y4xQ9d7seUIvib7A1hxb-MZmYvKaZmMKNHbdpue69HiqGHBMtKzxXdF1nTrVMHQFVSWs1muAswjstXhbJYOFvPPSzDgEJKbJdSVa3GquUS0PkI/s2048/P3280044.JPG" style="display: block; padding: 1em 20px; text-align: center; clear: right; float: right;"><img alt="" border="0" width="200" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieJc6WGnSVM5Rj4SpsQQSKztB2NDZe6Y4xQ9d7seUIvib7A1hxb-MZmYvKaZmMKNHbdpue69HiqGHBMtKzxXdF1nTrVMHQFVSWs1muAswjstXhbJYOFvPPSzDgEJKbJdSVa3GquUS0PkI/s200/P3280044.JPG"/></a></div>This probably won’t be what you expect to hear, but I actually had a really good year, one of my best years in a long time. It had its fair share of stress but in general the pandemic didn’t cause me any noticeable upheaval, if anything it was good for me. So why was that? I’ve thought about it and identified four reasons. Firstly – the areas where other people struggled, aside from financial impacts, seemed to be mainly because they couldn’t see their friends and if they could they weren’t allowed to go anywhere with them. This is my life on a normal day, pandemic or not! I don’t have friends that I meet up with, and I rarely go out socially. So my life was poo anyway in that sense! This causes me anxiety and stress and unhappiness and has done for about 10 years, so the pandemic didn’t introduce anything new there, it’s tough but it’s also what I’m used to, and for once everyone else was in the same boat so my issues seemed less dramatic and I was less isolated. The second reason, is that I applied the same approach to the pandemic that I apply to when things are poo anyway, and that is to try and live the best life I can. I consciously decided to live out my life in spite of the changes, rather than to wait until things were back to ‘normal’, because I had heard knowledgeable talk early on that we were in this for the long haul. Thirdly, I never expect things to be a certain way (or perhaps the only way that I expect never happens so I'm used to expecting the unexpected), so even if something really unusual happens I tend to just accept that and get on with it. Finally the fact that our lives suddenly shrunk, was actually beneficial to me. I finally realised that the on-edge feeling that I’ve been experiencing for many years was anxiety, and it came from not having an anchor (for me that would be a family or a best friend or some close friends) and without this I didn’t know how to focus my time, and I would spend all my time searching for that missing link, and my search would take me further and longer and wider each time to maximise every opportunity available. When the pandemic hit, you may think that my anxiety would increase as I could no longer go in search of this missing link, but actually the fact that all options were entirely taken away meant that I was forced to relax and slow down. To simplify my life. To sit in the garden. To run the same running route as yesterday. To meet the neighbours and talk to passers by in the park, and develop friendships from this. To get fish and chips from the van every Friday. To do all the normal, local, sedentary things that I once did but had become so detached from when instead I started responding to each and every stimulus the world offered me. I wouldn’t have been able to make a conscious decision to stop, but when the world’s stimuluses were taken away, that decision was made for me. And my anxiety completely went away.
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It sounds fairly blissful and in terms of a reassuring and limited routine and lack of anxiety it was, but there were still large periods of extreme unhappiness. I started a career change on the 30th March, one week into lockdown, and I was really out of my depth. And there were personal difficulties too, so it wasn’t all rosy. But actually, these also taught me more about myself as a person, I learnt a lot there.
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRJ6m3wJCJ8GbR1Xo7ShtEJ2CLcoiL3NLbQseKDRb90y2YITTwyUReXQQdS2vpwnHyFKz1VgZPvWVwrRGmtu-__x5IFPQrrYA1VdsiYonqwx6-nqzW1x6niNNHH2TFwlxiUqZJBf0vRGU/s1000/P9080721+North+side+of+Chapel+Porth+%255Bfrom+raw%255D.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 20px; text-align: center; clear: left; float: left;"><img alt="" border="0" width="200" data-original-height="750" data-original-width="1000" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRJ6m3wJCJ8GbR1Xo7ShtEJ2CLcoiL3NLbQseKDRb90y2YITTwyUReXQQdS2vpwnHyFKz1VgZPvWVwrRGmtu-__x5IFPQrrYA1VdsiYonqwx6-nqzW1x6niNNHH2TFwlxiUqZJBf0vRGU/s200/P9080721+North+side+of+Chapel+Porth+%255Bfrom+raw%255D.jpg"/></a></div>But back to the good stuff. What did I do that made it such a great year, what was it that I did regardless of the restrictions? Exercise was a large part of it. I started training again in March after a break over the winter, and set myself a challenge to run at least 100 miles a month which I met (at least until I borked my ankle on 24th January 2021), totalling 1190 miles over the year. I took on some big personal challenges too - a multi-day self-supported trip on the north Cornish coast in September totalling 100 miles in a week when I slept half of the nights in B&Bs and half in a bivvy bag on the trail. In October I also ran 35 miles coast to coast across Cornwall to get an FKT (‘Fastest Known Time’ – all the rage for runners with events being cancelled, and good for me as I prefer challenges to races anyway). I gave myself full potential to enjoy the value of the outdoors by cutting out digital time sinks – I gave up Hollyoaks and Pokemon Go for lent and didn’t take them up again, and in June when I moved houses to rent a little space mostly to myself, I stopped watching TV for the rest of the summer.
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRKVBdPrgie1A9AZL7tpO_LqXPe6-RWPWtKgIT_dbELzQsoagPM9Bvnr7ioLzek-n4fhwoq-VW9wOK59Q6yN3umvdjl5v-PgAJyMUtyq4ph1O0RMTSxaNRXoF7dmP8wsP0jy8X1ptdMiE/s2048/P5310009.JPG" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; clear: right; float: right;"><img alt="" border="0" width="200" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRKVBdPrgie1A9AZL7tpO_LqXPe6-RWPWtKgIT_dbELzQsoagPM9Bvnr7ioLzek-n4fhwoq-VW9wOK59Q6yN3umvdjl5v-PgAJyMUtyq4ph1O0RMTSxaNRXoF7dmP8wsP0jy8X1ptdMiE/s200/P5310009.JPG"/></a></div>As well as the running there was much swimming too, 54.4 miles swum in total over the year, up 12 miles on 2019, and every stroke of it was in open water. The mileage was less of note than the swims themselves – I thankfully realised quite early on that swimming was something that could still be done inside the restrictions, and I could enact my mental wishlist of particular swims that I wanted to do. I did a linear 4km swim from Paignton to Torbay, swum through the arch of London Bridge, circumnavigated Burgh Island, and much more. A lot of that was with a wonderful, fun, friendly group of 4 other swimmers, who are my mermaid pod and became good friends. It has been 10 years since I had a regular group of people that I met up with for activities. From 2004 to 2009 I went rock climbing every weekend, met hundreds of climbers many of whom knew each other in overlapping circles, and ended up part of a close knit group of like-minded friends. When I stopped climbing I lost that feeling of belonging and nothing has ever filled its place – until now, and I am very thankful for the development.
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There were a few notable other things that passed the time. One was bird watching, and thanks to living in a new part of the country I ticked off some more firsts there, with my first sightings of Dartford warblers, avocets, cirl buntings, lesser spotted woodpeckers and crossbills. There was also Topsham folk club, I participated in this before lockdown but sometimes I found it hard to leave the house and go there – with it moving online it was much easier to engage reliably, and my guitar playing has improved when I was forced to accompany myself rather than co-opting others in. I also got to try new things such as sailing, and paddleboarding on the sea.
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAndYNo8yuH6kByNEb65ASiel93j9JYw7Mz96E-KO8kmu6sBrvzjebUTwnqGWnsQj97ZjrL80Q0No5StcVZVgz4KtB7KPAEYrRLyXIOXYJ0JXW-xWqWyC80KqBt2Xf7JV0uLARUp0Pn20/s1280/IMG_4822.JPG" style="display: block; padding: 1em 20px; text-align: center; clear: left; float: left;"><img alt="" border="0" width="200" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAndYNo8yuH6kByNEb65ASiel93j9JYw7Mz96E-KO8kmu6sBrvzjebUTwnqGWnsQj97ZjrL80Q0No5StcVZVgz4KtB7KPAEYrRLyXIOXYJ0JXW-xWqWyC80KqBt2Xf7JV0uLARUp0Pn20/s200/IMG_4822.JPG"/></a></div>All of these achievements alone don’t account for my happiness, I know that in the past when I have posted about my runs and swims on facebook people believe that I am happy and fulfilled but that’s far from the truth, filling my time with achievements is something I do as focus to keep my head straight, and a distraction from not having what I really want. So the big thing that made 2020 special was having a companion. In addition to my new found mermaid swim pod, I gained a valuable friend - for 4 months of the summer as a boyfriend, but when that wasn’t quite the right option I gained a best friend instead. Someone who understood the value of a shared experience and how it surpasses two individual ones. We ran various stretches of coast path in Cornwall, slept out in the car, had parties in the garden, went on various wildlife trips, some more successful than others, cut each other’s hair, had a tomato growing competition, made wine and cider, and I even got to try my hand at giving swimming lessons. We even established ourselves as locals at the nearby woodland cafe, it's decades since I was a regular at a pub, and is quite a special pub in the woods, with with an outdoor kitchen and seating and half price cocktails. This companionship has brought me a contentedness that I have been lost without, and helped prevent my anxiety from coming back as the restrictions eased in the summer and our worlds expanded.
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjey6uE1GcYvR4MelHKAtv91SDdaF2ObQ_bEvjfDMFBYAGJnISH_Vkjc8RIVHIIytUeggCVkZFjoRfASNDyudUUgAPDTsRmeMS3DofJ9WjOZWNaAPbncUq35K5IzV6sEtlKtt7UzKDIIAA/s1280/IMG_2810.JPG" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; clear: right; float: right;"><img alt="" border="0" width="200" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjey6uE1GcYvR4MelHKAtv91SDdaF2ObQ_bEvjfDMFBYAGJnISH_Vkjc8RIVHIIytUeggCVkZFjoRfASNDyudUUgAPDTsRmeMS3DofJ9WjOZWNaAPbncUq35K5IzV6sEtlKtt7UzKDIIAA/s200/IMG_2810.JPG"/></a></div>There was an element of luck too. I got to celebrate my 40th birthday with a group of friends in February, I was lucky to see my parents in March just before lockdown started, and in June before further restrictions. The timing of my September running trip was also spot on, thanks to a prudent punt by my aunt which I would have missed otherwise.
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I was conscious of this luck, and also that I was in a great position with a good job and good health, and I tried my best to not take anything for granted, and to be aware of the situations of others. It was important to make the most of things for my own health and wellbeing, but this didn’t mean I couldn’t think of others so I tried to help wherever I could. I started donating regularly to a charity in Laos, as well one-off donations to local charities and I started putting an item into the food bank every time I went to the supermarket. I made an effort to support local shops and quiet pubs. I bought things for friends where I could, and put out intermittent offers to help in any way feasible, whether that be a phone-call or a purchase or support of a business. I hope my friends know that this offer of help still stands, any time. And I hope my story of having a good year doesn’t make anybody feel sad that they didn’t, we all have different stories to tell and they're all valid.
Sarah Cloughhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03797857043816872742noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1445147937322368187.post-10450780960083719262020-10-11T12:00:00.039+01:002021-11-15T21:22:17.929+00:00Smugglers Way<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgazFzZgjPP6ow6q5UwTLDqjheF3PxGkrNaNRRX3vvkLB-c3jqqplVkl2askF0zfEy2u94XpO1lonfByLAeTfwEITBR_LoQV4y5BZ1E_23yYlcIunMHHjpRKOdsaYJup_0noctqW-w_QXs/s2048/PA100018+Me+at+Boscastle+harbour+to+start.JPG" style="display: block; padding: 0 1em 1em 0; text-align: center; clear: left; float: left;"><img alt="" border="0" width="320" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgazFzZgjPP6ow6q5UwTLDqjheF3PxGkrNaNRRX3vvkLB-c3jqqplVkl2askF0zfEy2u94XpO1lonfByLAeTfwEITBR_LoQV4y5BZ1E_23yYlcIunMHHjpRKOdsaYJup_0noctqW-w_QXs/s320/PA100018+Me+at+Boscastle+harbour+to+start.JPG"/></a></div>I was inspired to look into an FKT due some friends submitting FKTs, which is how I found the website for it. I’m not fast, probably never will be, but I can run long. I had a look at the routes on the page and found one that really appealed to me – the Smuggler’s Way – and it didn’t have any submissions either. I later read that you can submit your own route, but it couldn’t get better than this: a) it’s in Cornwall, where I have spent so much of my summer, b) it’s a Coast to Coast, which makes a change to the Coast Path, c) it’s not a waymarked route and requires navigation, d) there is a variety of terrain, e) it summits Brown Willy, the highest point in Cornwall.<br/><br/>
I wanted to attempt it Saturday 3rd October before the days got too short, but I wasn’t very well and there were very strong winds forecast so I postponed it a week. That gave me a change to do more prep too, as I’ve never felt so under-prepared for a route. I was following the route as given in the gpx on the FKT website, but I found a detailed trip report by a guy who had walked it following the instructions in the original Smugglers’ Way booklet, so I used this to re-plot the route in more detail, and to familiarise myself with all the sections. I decided to go unsupported, carrying all my food and drink in my pack. My pack was 6.3kg starting weight, and 3kg finishing weight by the time I had drunk all my water and eaten my snacks. I wouldn’t say all my prep went perfectly – my printer ran out of ink and yellow/pink OS maps aren’t so easy to see on route. I printed a mixture of 1:25k maps for the moorland sections and 1:50 for the road section, but I missed a section of moor so navigated off my phone for that. I also forgot to take chlorine tablets but it turned out I had enough water. I also wasn’t 100% fit and well yet, I had constipation after a week of diarrhoea – that sorted itself out on route though!!<br/><br/>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_eXG9K8KE8uIag5O4Bj_vfHRU2zUj4BaZdTtM_CDBX5VJU2BF5CptRD6L9pwhBXYBg-l-Aq2bjKVfBHX3GLKgEn9ufTD1mg9nq0mXTbTHF-SQYsSayhMv-LhuCkjcVVNpWnXY6_xtQiQ/s2048/PA100050+Cows+I+wasn%2527t+even+meant+to+go+past%252C+including+bull.JPG" style="display: block; padding: 0 0 1em 1em; text-align: center; clear: right; float: right;"><img alt="" border="0" width="320" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_eXG9K8KE8uIag5O4Bj_vfHRU2zUj4BaZdTtM_CDBX5VJU2BF5CptRD6L9pwhBXYBg-l-Aq2bjKVfBHX3GLKgEn9ufTD1mg9nq0mXTbTHF-SQYsSayhMv-LhuCkjcVVNpWnXY6_xtQiQ/s320/PA100050+Cows+I+wasn%2527t+even+meant+to+go+past%252C+including+bull.JPG"/></a></div>The route itself was fantastic, if tough. I ate my first sweet chestnuts of the year, picking a couple of up before I squashed them underfoot. I surprised a deer on a quiet, overgrown footpath, and later a buzzard. I saw the lake where King Arthur was supposedly given Excalibur by the Lady of the Lake. I went the wrong way through a field, following the perimeter rather than cutting straight across, and walked past a bull I could have avoided. There were a lot more cows after that, but I used my 2020-learnt cow whispering skills and all was fine there. I was glad I thought to pack gloves, I wore them for most of the first half, but the weather was pretty kind, there were several patches of light rain but nothing that made me hide my phone in my dry bag. I initially tried to keep a heart rate cap of 153, but it kept creeping up to 160 and later on I could only go at one speed so I didn’t bother looking.<br/><br/>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidjHegkitHvv_2fbsKPlC1tWmIcAuulXnQA3zxcap-Mdb5SOo3DtGQGOBEemnnjrb4s_Bvmpkdi7g9Pp8W9KJgFh7EVntDgqomYpDxwTqyU0zAt5oMX9dxIBIap15sIyz-tR2IrbtWjf4/s2048/PA100078+Showery+Tor.JPG" style="display: block; padding: 0 1em 1em 0; text-align: center; clear: left; float: left;"><img alt="" border="0" width="320" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidjHegkitHvv_2fbsKPlC1tWmIcAuulXnQA3zxcap-Mdb5SOo3DtGQGOBEemnnjrb4s_Bvmpkdi7g9Pp8W9KJgFh7EVntDgqomYpDxwTqyU0zAt5oMX9dxIBIap15sIyz-tR2IrbtWjf4/s320/PA100078+Showery+Tor.JPG"/></a></div>I’m not sure why the route takes such a convoluted zig zag path between the disused Davidstow airport and Rough Tor, there didn’t seem to be any point for the zig zags down to the plantation but I followed the route, not wanting to cut corners. I hadn’t been looking forward to the moorland bit since this was the one part of the route I had been to before – we’d set off for Brown Willy and given up at Rough Tor, and now I had to do both, but the sun came out for that bit and lifted my spirits. Only for a moment though – on the way down Rough Tor I twisted my knee on one of the loose boulders and wrench a tendon at the top of my calf which was excruciating. Gutted – just over 21km into a 58 k route (I usually work in miles but I had my watch set on km still from a recent 5k). I took ibuprofen and stretched it out. I had to walk all the steep descents but thankfully it was fine on most other terrain, and got better the further I went. It still caught me out unexpectedly on some later descents leaving me hopping around and yelling in agony, but there was no way I was giving up, and mostly it behaved.<br/><br/>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijydGlw5hGtcms9O50_3_u6HgYybX-Zl1viuqf3qhlG-siUBQTy3oyEmMhme-YJ3JHJ0iSr-rn77BK1W57HY9S2da6Ym96jeYkbitd3jm4xw5_ZejtKjJYitsKnJ9ZuLAE_GpMIeArv40/s2048/PA100094+Horse+and+Brown+Willy.JPG" style="display: block; padding: 0 0 1em 1em; text-align: center; clear: right; float: right;"><img alt="" border="0" width="320" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijydGlw5hGtcms9O50_3_u6HgYybX-Zl1viuqf3qhlG-siUBQTy3oyEmMhme-YJ3JHJ0iSr-rn77BK1W57HY9S2da6Ym96jeYkbitd3jm4xw5_ZejtKjJYitsKnJ9ZuLAE_GpMIeArv40/s320/PA100094+Horse+and+Brown+Willy.JPG"/></a></div>What didn’t behave was my watch. Firstly, it gave me the ‘one hour to go’ warning twice as quicky as usual, so I plugged it in, and it took a full 10km to charge. Then - I had a lift arranged at the other end and I used my quarter times to work out what time to ask them to collect me. I then realised that when my watch said I was 3/4 of the way (43.5km) I’d actually only run 38km. It’s because I had my watch on medium gps accuracy (and the FKT website says powersave gps mode is fine), but I forgot how unrealiable it is then, it’s been a while since I ran an ultra distance). It’s supposed to only sample less often, but it seems to lose the gps too. In the Kilminorth woods towards Looe there were huge stretches where it lost GPS, although this has the silver lining that it offset against the longer mileage from before, and when I finished the total distance exactly correlated to that from the route that I had plotted.<br/><br/>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4ghkuYHWRuO3jyrweoANXKBSj4pI9y_Wt68DNVaRd0ObVG2MacS7KzG_Fh71RJ2ULFXrAIqmi60JGKpovqGzsCGcGCyo0QjW8amZk7ksMloeB0fH-D2wJsbR6aBjjzT9XmE33xtJcArw/s2048/PA100109+Summit+of+Brown+Willy.JPG" style="display: block; padding: 0 1em 1em 0; text-align: center; clear: left; float: left;"><img alt="" border="0" width="320" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4ghkuYHWRuO3jyrweoANXKBSj4pI9y_Wt68DNVaRd0ObVG2MacS7KzG_Fh71RJ2ULFXrAIqmi60JGKpovqGzsCGcGCyo0QjW8amZk7ksMloeB0fH-D2wJsbR6aBjjzT9XmE33xtJcArw/s320/PA100109+Summit+of+Brown+Willy.JPG"/></a></div>My watch issues and my knee pain made me quite dejected for the second half of the route, but I still enjoyed the scenery. My favourite part was the West Looe river higher up, around Herodsfoot I think, but I was still using my phone to navigate from here and it didn’t show me the town names and it all passed in a bit of a blur. There were all sorts of interesting steps and staircases taking you up to a higher path whenever the lower one was about to run out in the water. I also enjoyed the road sections – I am not normally a road runner, but it was so much easier on my knee. There were so many sections of this route that were rough underfoot, usually with an obvious route along a channel between two walls, but through grass with no track, usually I’d relish this but today it was just painful. The final hill was a killer and quite unexpected too – why doesn’t the path take the lower route by the river?? It would be more consistent, and flatter! That part really dragged. I was thankful when I came out of the trees and could see Looe ahead and the concrete walkway. The section through town down to the Pier was familiar as I’d done that on a coast path run. And there it was – the pier. I couldn’t believe I had done it, harbour to harbour all the way across Cornwall from coast to coast! When I reached the first quarter point in 2:25 I hoped I could finished in under 10 hours, a nice round number. Due to my knee and the terrain this gradually slipped and my final time was 10:37:03 (strava elapsed time. My watch said 10:34:48 but I am not sure this is genuine elapsed time, as I paused and (very quickly) resumed twice to try and force is to look for the gps again when I came out of the woods)). The time didn’t matter though – that was just an secondary aim set as I run to keep my motivation up – the main challenge was just to complete it, and I had!<br/><br/>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSLAGf5z-Oa6Gm-qL2OxTSwsIde3WA2oFFVX1Iv7lG66GYCXne8n38XKlf-Lx6uVsBeE5yKWxXerTzJtFE7MpY521tnjBCED5_L3bBjYF3cpd_C507YOimw3W8pjhNsJe_yvtoPAno4xY/s2048/PA100140+Dozmary+Pool%252C+home+of+the+lady+of+the+lake+and+Excalibur.JPG" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; clear: left; float: left;"><img alt="" border="0" width="320" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSLAGf5z-Oa6Gm-qL2OxTSwsIde3WA2oFFVX1Iv7lG66GYCXne8n38XKlf-Lx6uVsBeE5yKWxXerTzJtFE7MpY521tnjBCED5_L3bBjYF3cpd_C507YOimw3W8pjhNsJe_yvtoPAno4xY/s320/PA100140+Dozmary+Pool%252C+home+of+the+lady+of+the+lake+and+Excalibur.JPG"/></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6tL9TqtIEp9xo6RhGES5EAf1gnnsz3V2mdN0Gv8L19HGIfZAMk_InSkopRjgX29eZLWnmMI24zFYAuS6x42L32iFVpKvB3UYciMao-Cl7v0FwjtOUfQp7jpcs2jVv3MgcVG8SzdKLSWo/s2048/PA100170+Riverside+Path.JPG" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; clear: right; float: right;"><img alt="" border="0" width="320" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6tL9TqtIEp9xo6RhGES5EAf1gnnsz3V2mdN0Gv8L19HGIfZAMk_InSkopRjgX29eZLWnmMI24zFYAuS6x42L32iFVpKvB3UYciMao-Cl7v0FwjtOUfQp7jpcs2jVv3MgcVG8SzdKLSWo/s320/PA100170+Riverside+Path.JPG"/></a></div><br/><br/>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYZEQAtgw208BS1VFLsJjvIfotMoRSe6VkpLOfyWIA5F-TnalNBY3qQEhOswKMTEc_9s1vHVb7Tj7WNBx2_2qTKIJjO5U69ZyH06pyL51MIPeeBT6pZAlD2pNTF4a-VjM1L-TwFx2AhIs/s2048/PA100176+Old+and+new+Treverbyn+Bridge.JPG" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; clear: left; float: left;"><img alt="" border="0" width="320" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYZEQAtgw208BS1VFLsJjvIfotMoRSe6VkpLOfyWIA5F-TnalNBY3qQEhOswKMTEc_9s1vHVb7Tj7WNBx2_2qTKIJjO5U69ZyH06pyL51MIPeeBT6pZAlD2pNTF4a-VjM1L-TwFx2AhIs/s320/PA100176+Old+and+new+Treverbyn+Bridge.JPG"/></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRs_dMEuntZaN9R3B1L7UtKJtstFIJV6a_g0ukuS0qcAcBPWxTj4JJ-Vd7olCl1HqWtjt3cE8-2-_lh63Rlpieso6AH-cJg9F4yHRodqGJdjWpng140b6m0GASy6I-xuysvFR2V1Q4-zc/s2048/PA100215+On+Looe+the+pier.JPG" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; clear: right; float: right;"><img alt="" border="0" width="320" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRs_dMEuntZaN9R3B1L7UtKJtstFIJV6a_g0ukuS0qcAcBPWxTj4JJ-Vd7olCl1HqWtjt3cE8-2-_lh63Rlpieso6AH-cJg9F4yHRodqGJdjWpng140b6m0GASy6I-xuysvFR2V1Q4-zc/s320/PA100215+On+Looe+the+pier.JPG"/></a></div>
Sarah Cloughhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03797857043816872742noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1445147937322368187.post-85197734245210590392020-08-26T23:29:00.007+01:002020-08-27T14:07:24.973+01:004 years as an open water swimmer<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCuQ9yJ3W9o7tKMTfhrNidhfA7Gryq2j5lsmJlrj59IOE0CWmcMYs18pU3n6KMjbxKNY_36jVS_jPYtCis7iu8P2F54i5IK5JJslMcqpP_dSpIaSNjmAyRCjmAURzwvExVdiIZr3-6OdI/s1200/Swim+awards.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: right;"><img alt="" border="0" width="320" data-original-height="603" data-original-width="1200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCuQ9yJ3W9o7tKMTfhrNidhfA7Gryq2j5lsmJlrj59IOE0CWmcMYs18pU3n6KMjbxKNY_36jVS_jPYtCis7iu8P2F54i5IK5JJslMcqpP_dSpIaSNjmAyRCjmAURzwvExVdiIZr3-6OdI/s320/Swim+awards.jpg"/></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Early swim awards. 3km and 5km age 9, 8.8km age 15<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></div>
<div class="separator"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2j7ykXeMxkJec7bX7tLI8MeYne-BW0vXwqbFDlx-A44WPX5O57d30i4_NwReCZAm-b6E55K0qsTv4YoarMawrotRvZvgHy59ydQQ9ZLRMgUBFoEdEY7wBrvJz-a_HmXIAEM7W2yPFkb0/s1200/1990+Reading+Newspaper+print.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="833" data-original-width="1200" height="227" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2j7ykXeMxkJec7bX7tLI8MeYne-BW0vXwqbFDlx-A44WPX5O57d30i4_NwReCZAm-b6E55K0qsTv4YoarMawrotRvZvgHy59ydQQ9ZLRMgUBFoEdEY7wBrvJz-a_HmXIAEM7W2yPFkb0/w328-h227/1990+Reading+Newspaper+print.jpg" width="328" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Synchro squad 1990<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table>
<i>(Click on the photos to enlarge them)</i><BR>I did my first open water swim on 18<sup>th</sup> August
2016, at Astbury Mere in Cheshire. That’s not to say I hadn’t thought about it
before – I have always been a bit of a waterbaby, first synchronised swimming
ages 9 to 12, then lifesaving. In 1994 aged 14 I went to lifesaving classes
every week and almost went to an open water swim in Poole harbour but it never
came off. I also looked at swimming in local gravel pits but that never
happened either. So, now 36, I was standing in a borrowed wetsuit on the shore
of the mere as a guest of the local tri club NTC who I later joined. On entry I
was encouraged to take a few moments to get water down my wetsuit to
acclimatise, then I was off, with some companions to guide me round. The lap
was marked out by buoys and was 400m, and I was surprised by how hard it was.
Until then I’ve never found it a struggle to swim, I get bored way before I get
tired (and I once swam 5.5 miles in 4.5 hours as a child for a sponsored pool
swim), but here I was constricted by a the too-small wetsuit and my goggles
steamed up. I managed three individual laps then I was knackered, but at the
same time I really relished the experience of swimming without touching
anything but water, with no walls to turnaround at.</div><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmY-EcXJcBVQqWLRUH9XeJQvYqCoWeHXx5hwQ6L79BPCoRATF74YCtXOo5lpwZld6MKuuX4MQb5nILuEPn_uC_pEpQD0dCeO7YXWyxHop-08P8mpdmVarzrYuRawpVJcA6IrNnOz86v44/s750/open-water-750.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="364" data-original-width="750" height="159" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmY-EcXJcBVQqWLRUH9XeJQvYqCoWeHXx5hwQ6L79BPCoRATF74YCtXOo5lpwZld6MKuuX4MQb5nILuEPn_uC_pEpQD0dCeO7YXWyxHop-08P8mpdmVarzrYuRawpVJcA6IrNnOz86v44/w328-h159/open-water-750.jpg" width="328" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Astbury Mere with Newcastle Tri Club<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table>Due to other commitments I only went once that summer, and
just twice the next year as I still didn’t have my own wetsuit and didn’t
get on with the loan suits, but that year at least I got to go to the beginner sessions where I benefited from the entry and familiarisation techniques
taught by the tri club. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">In early 2018 I bought my own wetsuit and made one session
at the mere with the tri club where it all finally started to click (see separate article here: <a href="https://newcastletriclub.co.uk/?p=4732">https://newcastletriclub.co.uk/?p=4732</a>), but
shortly after, I fairly unexpectedly moved across the country for work and
started again in Pembrokeshire. I joined a new tri club but they didn’t do
regular open water sessions, so it was just down to individual inspiration to
arrange get-togethers. Keen to make the most of the sea being on my doorstep,
one day I met up with one of the club members at Broadhaven West. We swam out
into the bay then turned parallel to the shore to swim to a rock at the far
side. It was quite the experience. There was a sizeable swell with accompanying
surf, which I wasn’t used to at all. I was too alarmed to swim crawl and breathe
facing the shore, as then I wouldn’t be able to see the waves coming towards
me, so I swam breaststroke to start, in order to be aware of the surf before it
hit me. The trouble with breaststroke though is that you don’t go up and down
with the swell like you do with crawl, and every wave hit me in the face,
making it pretty hard to breathe. I eventually talked myself into swimming
crawl, facing away from the waves and going with the swell and trying not to
panic that I would get engulged by an early-breaking wave, and we swam about 1
mile, but it was quite the eye-opener, and a useful baseline to refer back to later. It was also the first time I had seen a
tow float, although I didn’t get my own for a few more months.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihZrhq6Dx0VssSwyODLVMMddPlMxKrpLcWXH74bnU-UstASQqvCqIryjeoEdAEyvKDbyvAmq3gGWPRJsnGQ3VHX59e39vNIdrFunMLiIXA39op9uotIVGIk1lSGdXaEAilzyoGRY4ZPtI/s1200/IMG_6277.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1200" height="246" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihZrhq6Dx0VssSwyODLVMMddPlMxKrpLcWXH74bnU-UstASQqvCqIryjeoEdAEyvKDbyvAmq3gGWPRJsnGQ3VHX59e39vNIdrFunMLiIXA39op9uotIVGIk1lSGdXaEAilzyoGRY4ZPtI/w328-h246/IMG_6277.JPG" width="328" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Abereiddy Blue Lagoon<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table>That summer I came across a group called the Bluetits who
swim all year round in skins (swimsuit only, no wetsuit), and in Sept 2018 I
did my first skins swim in the beautiful Blue Lagoon at Abereiddy, an old
quarry pool connected to the sea by a slit between two rocks. My summary of the
swim w<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">as:</span> “First I was like ice then I was on fire!”, the stages of my body and skin reacting to the temperature. I remember
one moment just after swimming out, where one of the experienced swimmers
swimming nearby asked me if I wanted warming up. I said that would be good,
thinking she would come and give me a hug. She moved towards me, smirking
gleefully, saying “I’m peeing!!”</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Later that month we swam in Solva harbour by the light of
the full moon, my first introduction to full moon swimming (an interest I have
continued since), and the Bluetits used the emotive Turkisk word Yakamoz
(moonlight on water) to title the swims. The cold was a massive obstacle for me
that evening, I already felt cold and getting into icy water was a hurdle my
brain just wouldn’t surmount in any particularly useful way. The entry to the
harbour was down a slipway, and I walked at a constant yet glacially slow snail’s
pace into the water, getting gradually deeper over the course of maybe 15 minutes,
while the rest of the group swam out and round one of the boats two or three
times. If you filmed it as a timelapse and sped it up so I was walking normal
speed, the rest of the swimmers would have been flitting around the harbour in jerky
high-speed motion. I finally got my shoulders under and swam round the boat,
keen to see the bioluminescence that many swimmers mentioned as they passed me
on their way back in, but I just couldn’t seem to see it. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The Bluetits host a chill swim challenge over the winter
months, to swim in skins for 10 minutes twice a month from November to March,
and on 1<sup>st</sup> November I was at Tenby beach with them, at night, ready for
my first chill swim tick. Stood on the beach I couldn’t visualise getting into
the water and swimming, how can you do something if you can’t even picture it? All
I could do was walk forward into the unknown and see what happened. It’s a flat,
shallow beach, meaning the entry was nearly as slow as at Solva as we waded
out, and I screamed at the cold on each part of me. Really screamed. It took me
more than 10 minutes to get my shoulders under and by then everybody else was
heading back in, I had only just begun swimming. As we left, a boat arrived with
a searchlight blaring – drawn by my screams, how embarrassing. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh68eMaeJkEcOVlBkFI-sCm-U_gYh_mfAedP3XYTkAXg0Olsmj3JVtMk8edRtvS47eYUwbh7GuD-Ibi34RNan1fRrByBsBVxGUVMfPwUFbHIukuIOZV9wX_AtVh_mELcswN1BCUsPwoxI8/s1200/IMG_6939+2019-04-08+First+sea+swim+of+2019.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1200" height="246" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh68eMaeJkEcOVlBkFI-sCm-U_gYh_mfAedP3XYTkAXg0Olsmj3JVtMk8edRtvS47eYUwbh7GuD-Ibi34RNan1fRrByBsBVxGUVMfPwUFbHIukuIOZV9wX_AtVh_mELcswN1BCUsPwoxI8/w328-h246/IMG_6939+2019-04-08+First+sea+swim+of+2019.JPG" width="328" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">First sea swim of 2019<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table>I didn’t complete the chill swim that year, not even close.
In December I moved to Devon, which brought many of its own challenges, and the
cold water wasn’t really something I handled well, so open water swimming took
a back seat entirely, and I went pool training with a new tri club. The moment
the clocks changed though I was there on the beach, 8<sup>th</sup> April 2019
at Jacobs Ladder, Sidmouth, with a group called the TEDs (Team East Devon). My
new tri club hosted organised weekly sea swims too, which started up their
sessions in June. I was still struggling with the cold, and the jellies, and my
wetsuit (chafing and coming undone and getting holes in), but I was determined,
and I was swimming at least once a week. I was also in the perfect location for
it – Pembrokeshire, while peppered with sheltered coves good for swimming,
often has a large swell and is even better for surfing. South Devon, on the
other hand, is largely calm in its entirety and is an open-water swimmer’s
heaven. I was so taken with the challenge of open water swimming that I haven’t
swum in a pool since the middle of May 2019.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">On the 24<sup>th</sup> June with TEDs, encouraged by some of
the other swimmers, I did my first skins swim of the year. The screaming was
back! It took me 12 full minutes to get my shoulders in even though the water
was 15 degrees, and then I swam for 12 minutes. But looking back, this was the proper
start of my progression to skins and was probably the making of me. In July, the
main Devon Wild Swimming group was hosting a Unicorn challenge to swim for so
many hours in skins, and on the 14<sup>th</sup> I earnt my 1 hour Unicorn badge,
repeating it the week after.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The tri club only ran their open water sessions until September,
and there are so many swim and run groups in the South West providing opportunities
to partake in the individual disciplines that I gave up the triathlons as I don’t
particularly enjoy cycling anyway. I do, however, prefer to swim for distance
rather than just for the experience and the feeling of the water, which is why for
me I call it “open water swimming”, rather than the currently popular term “wild
swimming”, although that’s not to say I don’t value the environment I am
swimming in. In Devon there are a mix of swimmers, some who dip for the
cold-water immersive benefits, and others who swim for distance. I found two groups
of swimmers in my area that do longer swims – the TEDs, and a group of mermaid
friends that are an offshoot of the Torbay Shoal group.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdIyiU6C7sFUDhYXu7E_xItTrUIOdte6sBFFS4PORNt_d6MK7SRAPyykf1y4V54snbXuLbbr_Jw-5bph4-eQw2ItoMEJC0JpDRlyZq9b6l2V1GpFiyHiojDCXS-fjVeB2YJV5HXeue7vM/s1200/P8040050+%255Bweb2%255D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1200" height="246" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdIyiU6C7sFUDhYXu7E_xItTrUIOdte6sBFFS4PORNt_d6MK7SRAPyykf1y4V54snbXuLbbr_Jw-5bph4-eQw2ItoMEJC0JpDRlyZq9b6l2V1GpFiyHiojDCXS-fjVeB2YJV5HXeue7vM/w328-h246/P8040050+%255Bweb2%255D.jpg" width="328" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Breakwater swim, leaving the boats<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table>Throughout 2019 I swam in a variety of different locations with these groups, and encountered many jellyfish, there seemed to be at least one every time I went in! In July I swam on 13 different days, although I dropped off in August and September as I had a couple of large running events that I had been training for all year, as running is still my main activity. With the swimming I engaged in a niche sub-activity of drawing shapes in the sea – I swam in the shape of a jellyfish, a shark, an octopus, a hedgehog, and wrote various phrases such as “Happy Birthday”. There were events too: in August, just before flying to the states to run a marathon, I swam with the Chestnut Appeal, 3.5km from Plymouth breakwater into Tinside beach. It was quite fantastic - boated out to the centre of the Plymouth sound and jumping into a bit of open water far from land with a bunch of other keen entrants, barely able to see the finish point at that time.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWOmbWC6EpUkeyVF_j7yft89Nu7hKIE5mMw14J7RkQiVjXs57WNOsOCZaHuCcn9adT5JBdQ5BxLkqVoMiYYDrDeR3PV3FaKeeq_cRGr_dlDdp4IE-dHfH__mhtsFt-7ghZdGRbrcR-qtc/s1200/PC220184.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="677" height="328" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWOmbWC6EpUkeyVF_j7yft89Nu7hKIE5mMw14J7RkQiVjXs57WNOsOCZaHuCcn9adT5JBdQ5BxLkqVoMiYYDrDeR3PV3FaKeeq_cRGr_dlDdp4IE-dHfH__mhtsFt-7ghZdGRbrcR-qtc/w185-h328/PC220184.jpg" width="185" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Polar Bear<br />December solstice swim<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal">Winter brought a new challenge, or at least a second bash at
a familiar one. Mama Bear, the lady that runs the Devon Wild Swimming group, runs
a Polar Bear challenge which is similar to the chill swim challenge that the
Bluetits ran, but has a massive uptake nationally and beyond. There are different
levels, but I ended up entering gold: swim 250m twice a month from November to
march, and a total of 5km over that time period, with just a swimming costume
and standard swim hat - no wetsuit, no neoprene, no woolly hat, no gloves. I
thought it would be really hard due to my persistent inability to get into the
water. Well what do you know, it wasn’t! Firstly I was very lucky and we had a
mild winter, but the rivers and lidos did go down to about 6-7 degrees at times.
Secondly, I still got in gradually, but it wasn’t all that much harder to get
in than any other day throughout the summer, and I’d had enough practise at
that by now. My lovely mermaid friends and I met regularly at Torbay and
occasionally elsewhere and enjoyed the camaraderie of the challenge.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Sometimes got the old fire in my body that I felt that first
time back in the Blue Lagoon in Pembrokeshire. I found that for me there were
stages of a cold swim – for the first couple of minutes you’re cold and it
feels insane to be doing what you’re doing); then you’re in and swimming around
and you know that at the very least you can do what you came to do (if the fire
is to come, it precedes this stage); then after 10-15 minutes (depending on how
cold it really is) you feel warm, honest to god genuine warmth, and it’s lovely
- to have defeated that miserable day to be able to experience something
incredible, with all the walkers in their woolly hats and duffel coats looking
at you from the promenade as if you’re mad. The stage after that is that you
get cold again, and that’s when you get out, because nobody wants to find out what
the stage is after that! I really did love this challenge, despite it being
hard and me questioning my sanity at times. I’ve suffered from winter blues all
my life in various intensities, and tried various things to fight it, but most
of the time you just feel like you’re doing something that would be much more
fun if the weather was sunny. This was different, this was an experience that
was solely for the cold days, embracing them rather than fighting them, and I
was living it. The shivers afterwards and inability to speak due to a frozen
jaw quickly became normal and each time I went I seemed to have a new piece of
kit in my after-swim arsenal to be better prepared – woolly hat, snowboarding trousers,
flask of hot squash, mesh to stand on, knitted foot wraps to wear until I could
get my feet dry.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8hJfdfN-jwpf4Ji-BggSSO8aGSszJR6qqnNxFBg8uXggbwy6Ifz2qfxMtsLeUS9Dy_HacD8BsXYgfgH7tF3_B6mTo6DB0s5yOgmeL2oVauvFYYOCQwouMPztPs3HXAycvghXLcrsuknU/s1200/P2290292.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1200" height="328" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8hJfdfN-jwpf4Ji-BggSSO8aGSszJR6qqnNxFBg8uXggbwy6Ifz2qfxMtsLeUS9Dy_HacD8BsXYgfgH7tF3_B6mTo6DB0s5yOgmeL2oVauvFYYOCQwouMPztPs3HXAycvghXLcrsuknU/w328-h328/P2290292.jpg" width="328" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"BIG5", Leap-day Hares<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table>I even revolved my Christmas plans around partaking in the Lyme Regis New Year's Day dip, that I'd been disapponited to miss the year before. Another great event in the winter months was the <span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Buckfastleigh Ice Gala (BIG),
where we got to swim in a frosty, unheated lido, with other swimmers, AND dress
up in fancy dress, wonderful. Then the next event was the coronavirus lockdown!
Okay this was an event of a totally different type, but it definitely impacted
all our swimming, although we had just completed our Polar Bear challenge
before being confined to our own neighbourhoods. I don’t live near enough to
the sea to visit during the most restrictive part of lockdown, but I managed to
get out for a dip in the local river every Sunday to keep my acclimatisation
up, swimming in the shallows against the current for just 15 minutes, keeping
my head out to avoid risk of Weil’s disease. Towards the end of May I was back at
my local swim spot, Torquay steps, for a half hour swim which I kept up at
least once a week. Seeing my first jellyfish of the year was a bit of a shock,
it takes a while to get used to those again!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">As
the restrictions eased swimming opportunities started to increase, before I
knew it I was accidentally achieving my aims for the year despite the pandemic,
so once I realised this I started to focus on them consciously and swam more
often. I s</span>wam at many different bays that I had not previous visited – Meadfoot,
the salmon leaps on the Teign, the Exe in the city, the Dart at Totnes and
Dartmoor, at Budleigh, the London Bridge arch near Torquay, and other places
beyond. I also swam over a school of dogfish which count as sharks and wasn’t
freaked out by those either – mostly because I didn’t realise what they are
until afterwards! I made my peace with crystal jellyfish and compasses, after
an initially freak-out when I saw my first of the former and didn’t know what
it was. I touched my first ever jellyfish in July (accidentally of course),
followed by 2 more in the dark on a full moon swim, which actually helped loads
and they’re surprisingly firm and I stopped thinking of them as the slugs of
the sea. I still haven’t been stung though, at least not knowingly, but my
hands are so numb when I swim and my skin so prickly I’m not sure I’d ever
notice.<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> For some time I
was feeling the cold, and only lasting 35 minutes before my hands went numb,
but on a swoosh (one way with the current) down the Dart at Totnes, I went past
35 minutes, then 45, then pushed on to pass the hour mark, equalling last year’s
best effort. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGqBwR6sTcJwNY2ZIQm-7chQzmn-l-Oweo46mVmw1Czh6aCpEiYx0OWiRukAfehcb6GDYoEwcvfgvIlRNrBjEaqLQb7hKvL7hCA_ay_B8eicvvbABXbdYOK5tsWKnaNAyuK8xy3aBJR0Q/s1200/P8090337.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1200" height="246" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGqBwR6sTcJwNY2ZIQm-7chQzmn-l-Oweo46mVmw1Czh6aCpEiYx0OWiRukAfehcb6GDYoEwcvfgvIlRNrBjEaqLQb7hKvL7hCA_ay_B8eicvvbABXbdYOK5tsWKnaNAyuK8xy3aBJR0Q/w328-h246/P8090337.jpg" width="328" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Compass jellyfish<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table>Something
started to niggle me though, and that was my speed of entry. My usual approach
was to creep in, allowing each sensitive body part to warm up before
introducing the next - feet, groin, boobs, armpits, shoulders. It was usually
3-5 minutes to complete this process before I could lift my feet up to swim,
which was starting to hinder me on group swims. People had proffered all sorts
of tips - blowing bubbles, splashing the back of the neck - but nothing helped,
it was a mental block from the sensory overload of the cold. I had only managed
an immediate entry 5 times - once in large waves breaking on a beach shelf
where you couldn’t hang about or you’d get tumbled, twice in the lido training
for the ice gala, and twice for the gala itself, but without these rare motivators
it was the usual slow creep. However, one day it dawned on me that I was no better
at getting in water of 16 degrees than I had been of 6 degrees, when all round
me there were non-acclimatised holiday makers splashing around like it was a
heated pool. And what’s more I had once been one of those holidaymakers. So I
started to work on some visualisation - a powerful tool employed in coaching
for various sports, and I had a hunch it would be helpful as even when imagining
it in my mind I could never get in the water fast. I also identified that as my
brain couldn’t visualise me getting in the water, the expectation of the future
stopped at that point and my brain therefore no longer knew that I actually
enjoy being in the water when I am in, so I fed it that information
consciously, to bypass the block. On 28th July, standing </span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHuBJ-VoZefEPmcUiQEaLf1HaUbVMowxMPI-02HNxU42twHc_nmXfoS9M21f1CftexWhWPVvKMvfl-RmHqJ60_q7V6-zjDj70iD3xz_xCwg9MtsSu049NaHWRxSmo6cJA1EjptorF9378/s1200/P8180498.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1200" height="246" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHuBJ-VoZefEPmcUiQEaLf1HaUbVMowxMPI-02HNxU42twHc_nmXfoS9M21f1CftexWhWPVvKMvfl-RmHqJ60_q7V6-zjDj70iD3xz_xCwg9MtsSu049NaHWRxSmo6cJA1EjptorF9378/w328-h246/P8180498.jpg" width="328" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Synchro memories in Torbay<br /></td></tr></tbody></table>at Torquay steps for
the second time that day after having failed to get in at all that morning, I
stood with my toes clear of the water, psyching myself up. Having the toes out
was important, as I had to break the chain reaction cycle of needing to pause
for each part to warm up, and that meant no parts getting cold on their own.
Then bang I went for it - one step, two steps, and launch off up to my
shoulders before the cold sensors sent the information back to the brain. I was
in! And I was happy! Amazingly it wasn’t 5 times as challenging due to 5
sensitive body parts hitting the cold in one go, it was only the same as one.
What a feeling, to be in the water and afloat, without all that faff. You may
think that I was a changed woman after that, but there’s a reason it took me
over a year of skims swimming to get to that point, and that’s because I find
the initial cold shock supremely hard to handle. I could, however, see that it
was a better way of getting in, and once I had done it once I knew I could do
it again, so it has been my method of entry ever since. I even stopped
screaming so much. Lately I have even managed to get my legs in first and pause
before the rest of me goes in, without allowing my brain a matching pause,
which would be fateful.<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">With
this new entry method, and surpassing an hour in the water, I felt much happier
planning distance swims with mermaid friends as they no longer need to wait for
me at the start, and I have, with relish, completed some of my other objectives
for this year - a swim round Burgh island, a 4km linear coastline swim, and swimming for over an hour in skins.</span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWBlIBeWwKHeLAg9ymHFaKVBrDkqiW6ojq-lmz7aU66PJBntZU8r35NUsupixsszKWsZd7lWfKJ-zc4Lmp4-B8uM-U7-2S5MYy6sGjG94-CuR6g5dFo62HhMG4u9Jp_3IIHI-n8noQoa0/s1200/P8150052+Endurance+badges.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1200" height="246" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWBlIBeWwKHeLAg9ymHFaKVBrDkqiW6ojq-lmz7aU66PJBntZU8r35NUsupixsszKWsZd7lWfKJ-zc4Lmp4-B8uM-U7-2S5MYy6sGjG94-CuR6g5dFo62HhMG4u9Jp_3IIHI-n8noQoa0/w328-h246/P8150052+Endurance+badges.jpg" width="328" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Endurance badges with mermaid friends<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The
journey is far from over, I have way more I want to achieve. Running is still
my main activity but open water swimming is a very close second. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now it’s nearly polar bear season again, and
this year I have my sights set on Jedi, where you actively have to seek out
water down to 5 degrees in addition to the other requirements. Will I manage it? I don’t mind if I don’t, because my
target is not the achievement I get at the end, but the learning I experience
along the way. I do this because it’s hard and it challenges me, not because it’s
easy. Open-water swimming, to me, is way more than just swimming. </span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>Sarah Cloughhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03797857043816872742noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1445147937322368187.post-73168201719196974622019-09-14T15:08:00.003+01:002019-09-14T15:31:38.042+01:00<br />
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<h2 style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">
Thames Path Challenge 100km Continuous</span></h2>
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<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6AlbTD5NC5ifCixENN9hNcE17v3tRJc4muYiR85St51VzknCWhXI3N3Cq_pwq09GW99EmlMmKJ5WQ7g079iDRcrX0T0aBj2KMU1J5s5UfK8tJ_TmPr3agO92cJUBRF2JNDzXC-IBIi6o/s1600/DSC00084%255B5322%255D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6AlbTD5NC5ifCixENN9hNcE17v3tRJc4muYiR85St51VzknCWhXI3N3Cq_pwq09GW99EmlMmKJ5WQ7g079iDRcrX0T0aBj2KMU1J5s5UfK8tJ_TmPr3agO92cJUBRF2JNDzXC-IBIi6o/s320/DSC00084%255B5322%255D.JPG" width="240" /></a><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Saturday
7th September, I was finally standing in Bishops Park, near Putney Bridge,
about to start my challenge of running 100km continuously along the River
Thames path. This is not just a day that I had been looking forward to since
November when I entered the event, but for the last 4 years since I first
learnt about it. That year (2015) I ran my first marathon and was looking for
something else to take on while I was fit. Over the last few years I had taken
to running a little stretch of the Thames Path every time I went to visit my
parents (from the midlands to Berkshire), and it had become a little bit of a
tradition for me to piece the segments together. One day I‘d seen a sign for a
race on the path and looked it up, and the top results on Google was the Thames
Path Challenge, a 100km event from Putney Bridge to Henley, which you could do
as the full challenge or in half or quarters. The Thames Path Challenge is
predominantly run as a charity event though and I had just done one of those so
it wasn’t fair to ask friends for sponsorship again so soon and I left it to
the next year. The next 2 years though I was overweight and under-trained and it
simply wasn’t an option. In 2018 I spent the summer living in Pembrokeshire
which inspired me to run regularly on the coastal path and I started to get
back in shape again but not in time to train and enter. By November I was as
fit as I ever had been so at long last I submitted my entry for 2019. When I
first discovered the race I had considered perhaps the 50km, but over the 4
years my sights had widened. I have a couple of friends who are ultra runners
who run 100 mile events, and although I have never been a good runner I do
enjoy it, and distances suit me much more than speed, so the seed was planted
in my brain and it grew. This wasn’t 100 miles, but it was 100 something! I
threw myself into my training: I moved to Devon in December, keeping up a base
level of running over the winter and as soon as the evenings got lighter I
realised what a fantastic part of the world this was for running so I explored
the coast path, the estuaries and the moors as often as I could (sometimes when
I couldn't too). Now here I was at the start line!<br />
<br />
Action challenge make a big deal of you at the start, and actually throughout the
entire event. There are dozens of banners; plenty of smiling, attentive staff
that process you through the registration quickly; tea coffee and snacks to get
you started; a charismatic compere; a keep fit warm-up; and a spacious starting
pen full of other participants in varying states of enthusiasm. I was in the
first start wave with the other runners, there is one wave every 10 minutes
without about 150 in each one – there were 3000 people doing the event in
total!<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNE5cKB330H6PPbVgniJWdgFQ8fn6SZd67ixVI8jKC5ypupTg1tXgVbxqc8RWwfGGqnQSuv66LmzyqfLLSwymiQMTvxUbkqJbw209cW_2Epdv__GtM-L7Ep0ocfkEDOZHTOEJKqcjAR6s/s1600/IMG_7704%255B6116%255D+park.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNE5cKB330H6PPbVgniJWdgFQ8fn6SZd67ixVI8jKC5ypupTg1tXgVbxqc8RWwfGGqnQSuv66LmzyqfLLSwymiQMTvxUbkqJbw209cW_2Epdv__GtM-L7Ep0ocfkEDOZHTOEJKqcjAR6s/s320/IMG_7704%255B6116%255D+park.JPG" width="320" /></a>All this meant the start was far from an anti-climax, not that it would have
been when I’d been waiting so long for it. I love running along the Thames,
it’s so majestic. I spent the first several miles with a big grin on my face,
enjoying the views and unable to believe what I was doing. I’m not even sure
when I stopped smiling, it definitely faded later on but the novelty never wore
off and I loved it all. As well as the man-made sights nearly the whole way was
accompanied by the squawks of parakeets, and I caught the bright blue flash of
two kingfishers too. I made sure to remember my grandparents while enjoying the views, since I was fundraising for Royal Osteopororis which my grandma had suffered from. She really enjoyed hiking with my grandad, so I wanted to remember all my grandparents on this journey.</div>
<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">
<br />
Despite the wonder I was still concentrating on the running mechanics. There
are many strategies you can employ for an ultra: one is to walk the uphills and
run the downs, but that was no good here as it’s pretty flat the whole way! Another
is to do a run/walk combination and I had tried various of these in training
but they are a bit intense and I a more relaxed approach on event day. Another
is to run to heart-rate which is the one I decided on. Since it’s a flat route
I wanted to try to stick to a heart rate cap of 141 which is what I’d done a
large portion of my training WG, especially for the first half but I couldn’t
bring my blasted heartrate down, it was sticking around the 160 mark even after
testing a walking break. I wasn’t running fast, so I put this down to the
energetic Action Challenge warmup, the early start, and the excitement of the
event... but it’s important to not set off too fast in long races, and even
more so since my right calf (which I have previously had problems with)
tightened right up after only the first 100 yards. I figured I would give my
heart rate 12 minutes to settle down which is the time I usually give my body
to warm up… I looked at my watch and 32 minutes had passed already, wow! It
makes such a different when you’re caught up in race-day vibe in a throng of
runners. Just in case I didn’t believe it, I passed the 4km sign a moment
later. I forced myself to try and get it down then, losing the people around me
who I had been speaking to. I went slower and slower until it dropped below 150
but I couldn’t comfortably run any slower without walking, so I settled at
that. Most of the 6:50 start group had passed me by this point but I ended up
running next to a girl called Laura, who I stayed alongside for a good while
and we had a nice chat. She had entered as a jogger (same as a runner but not
expecting to finish within 16 hours) and had just done one marathon before.
Unfortunately I didn’t get her surname so I can’t look her up to see how she
got on. It was nice to have company, we only parted because I needed to go to
the loo. This, as ever, was the theme of the early part of the race for me, I
had to go for a no. 2 7 times by the time I got to the second rest stop
including begging the use of the facilities at one of the numerous rowing club
that line the river! Thankfully it settled down after that. Apart from the
bowels I’m usually okay with eating on a race, but I’ve never run more than
58km before so this is new territory for me. I ate way too much at the first
rest stop, which was breakfast pastries and snacks, as I hadn’t realise they
had my favourite pastry so I went back for seconds. This wasn’t really
something to worry about though, I can eat if I feel sick, I am a chocolate
addict and I love eating whether I’m hungry or not!</span><br />
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<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">
At 9:23, 18km in, we merged with a steady stream of runners coming in from a
track on the left – Kingston Parkrun! It amused me that I’ve only ever been to
12 park runs as I never get up in time on a Saturday, and yet here I was
already 2 ½ hours into a race after a 1 hour drive and a warm up. Shortly after
that was the first rest stop, then we passed Richmond, on the edge of which we
passed a field of Belted Galloways – cows, right into the centre of London! We
ran right past Hampton Court Palace too which was impressive with its golden
gates round the gardens. So many sights one after another. A friend of mine
Debbie had entered the challenge on the 2-day walkers’ version and started half
an hour after me, and was taking time to photograph all the sites so it was
interesting to see her facebook posts as she followed along in my footsteps, it
felt like we were sharing the experience though not actually side by side. The
second rest stop came quickly - sandwiches, cookies and snacks - and I indulged
myself with a sock change - not something I usually do but everybody seems to
recommend it and it seemed like sage advice.<br />
<br />
There was a certain amount of distance-watching going on for me, I was
conscious that my calf was still tight and I hadn’t even covered a marathon
yet, and there were still so many unknowns given this was my first 100km event.
I noticed that I reached the 30km marker exactly 5 hours after the starting
countdown, my watch showed time on feet as 4:22 so I was spending about 20
minutes at each rest stop. 4km later I was still enjoying the scenery and all
was going well except for my tight calf, but I had a sudden flare up of my SI
joint problem. My left hip joint is locked back from two falls (1999 and 2011)
and in runs of over 10 miles the muscle above it (the pirofirmis) tires, and
impinges on my sciatic nerve, which causes shooting pain and a lottery of
issues down my left side. Half way into my training I had had a problem with my
left foot, which I strengthened. Then my hamstring, then my glute. My sports
therapist got to the route of the problem, my SI joint, but although I sorted
the subsidiary issues I didn’t managed to solve the root problem and it has got
worse of late, so I saw a chiropractor twice just before event day and went
armed with ibuprofen for the race. It got the better of me though and here at
34km it hit me in my left knee via my back. I could only run for 30 seconds at
a time before the knee twinged, thankfully I only had to walk it off for 10 seconds
before I could repeat the process. Not planned for, and very short repeats, but
it was still forward progress. The third rest stop was at 37km and I took
the opportunity to visit the medic tent and take advantage of all they had to
offer – freeze spray, paracetamol and more ibuprofen to replace some I had
lost, and I stretched out and taped up my knee. The medics said the only thing
I could do was to keep it mobilised so every few walks I also held onto
something and swung my leg side to side in front of my body, which definitely
hit the spot. Every time I did this I had a few sweeties to keep my fuel up –
the third rest stop was pic’n’mix only which I usually love but wasn’t ready
for as I was still feeling sick from over-eating earlier, so I had pocketed
them to take with me. Between all of those treatments something started to work
as about 43km I was able to run for longer stretches before my knee twinged,
and soon after I was running properly again.<br />
<br />
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<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRRQYHlTMbZVTtj7iL3LLK98rW0T51_cvE3l2JjlcvyjQM9VOwhoIrLDCehn5UZwExLx33bW5eMqUcCYd0Mu2ctBC-iRJKxSaXiHGKXaT2hld5o-rI1CfvqZCKme1e4XdJDzcG7RJvbZ4/s1600/Half+way.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRRQYHlTMbZVTtj7iL3LLK98rW0T51_cvE3l2JjlcvyjQM9VOwhoIrLDCehn5UZwExLx33bW5eMqUcCYd0Mu2ctBC-iRJKxSaXiHGKXaT2hld5o-rI1CfvqZCKme1e4XdJDzcG7RJvbZ4/s320/Half+way.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">
We were leaving the grandeur of London now but there were still plenty of
sights – Chertsey Weir where I went kayaking age 19, sculptures in Staines,
passing the M25 (although I didn’t twig what the big bridges were until later),
and finally Runnymede of Magna Carta fame where the half way rest stop was.
Half way, wow! There was a good party vibe going on here as this was the finish
for those doing the first half. I had left a shoe change here which I was
looking forward to trying as I think the extra cushioning in my road shoes may
have contributed to my sciatica problems. My trail shoes felt really clunky
though and I really wasn’t sure, so I decided to try them but cram my road
shoes in my pack as my parents were meeting me a little way on at Windsor
Bridge and I could give them whichever pair I didn’t want.<br />
</span><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br />
After the half way point I got into a rhythm. I didn't have to worry about
pacing as I couldn’t go fast, as fast as I could go was as fast as I needed to.
The pain had also totally gone and I was niggle-free. Phase one had been
finding the pace, phase two the injury phase, and phases three here was the
sweet spot. I caught up with Laura again who had hit the wall and was walking
though it, it was nice to say hi again then I pressed on. This stretch wound
across fields and commons, not so much to see, but still notable as before I
got to Windsor I went past 58k which is the furthest I’ve ever run before –
into new territory now! I was passed by two pairs of joggers, who were doing a
bit of a walk-run and I started playing yo-yo with them as they shot past on a
run and I swung back past every time they had a walking phase. I discovered
that all 4 of them were together - one had moved away to Australia, decided to
take on an ultra this year and had roped some friends into doing it with him.
It was lovely that they were all running together and supporting each other,
and when they did running phases they were quick!</span><br />
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<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">
I</span><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">t was a great to see my parents on the bridge, to get a hug, a photo and some
trousers for my pack, change back into my road shoes and lighten my load. My
parents had given me wonderful support for this, not least of which getting up
at 4am to drive Debbie and I to the event, whi</span>ch involved driving in central
London which is never fun, and here they were again... just for me. As I sat
changing my shoes my new friends ran past and heckled about my extra
provisions! Then it was only 3km to the next rest stop, a fairly quiet section
through urban fields. I caught up with the group of 4 about half a km before
and we all ran in together and chatted over the ubiquitous Freddos. Sitting at
a chair I looked at my timings to see if I could make it to the finish in under
16 hours now I was running well. I hadn’t set myself a time objective knowing
that that was just tempting fate and injury, I just knew that my total running
time was likely to be about 12 hours and with rest stops I could be up to 16.
Action Challenge request that if you enter as a runner you should be able to
complete within 16 hours otherwise it’s best to enter as a jogger. Due to my injury
I was behind pace for 16 hours and I felt guilty that I wasn't meeting their
recommendation. I worked out that if I carried on as I had been doing I would
be 40-50 minutes over, so it didn’t seem too difficult to shave that off now I
was moving well again. I waved adieu to the 4 and set off with renewed vigour.
I felt better about my progress as I started to pass the joggers again, not
because I was competing with them but because I didn't have to feel guity about
the free bag transfer that is afforded to runners but not joggers.</div>
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I was really in a sweet spot now, no longer taking so many photos, purely
absorbed in the running. I ran the 15km to the 78km rest stop without a pause,
and not only that it was at a pace the same if not faster than I would do on a
regular training run (11 minute miles), and it felt great. I started to tire at
74km but I kept on pushing as I wanted to see if I could do it, really
challenging myself and my body here but in a good way. What's more is that just
before 40 miles/64km I had a realisation that I would definitely finish no
matter what. Some kind of subconscious assessment had processed all the
parameters - the journey so far, the section left, and the motion of my legs -
and told me that beyond all doubt I could continue putting one foot in front of
another to get to the end. (Incidentally I think the part of me that did that
calculation is the same part of me that, when the alarm goes off in the
morning, knows that I can put my alarm on snooze one more time and still *just*
be on time, despite me being convinced the night before that I had to be up 10
minutes earlier. It's the in-the-moment-necessity calculator!). The part of the
river after Maidenhead was really beautiful too, even more so as it was the
golden hour with the sun sinking towards the horizon – it was very quiet, tree
lined on both sides, with single boats on the far bank giving a splash of
colour to the stunning reflections of the near-autumnal trees in the water. I
could see a National Trust sign on an island on the far bank but I couldn’t
make out the name, only that it started with ‘C’. I thought it might be Cookham
as we weren’t far from there but the day after I realised it was Cliveden which
is where I was born! How delightful to get that experience of it. I came out of
the trees to run across a field that was open to my left just as the sun set,
and I got to see a vivid band of red at the bottom of the darkened sky, another
sight to remember. I arrived at the rest stop just before I needed to get my headtorch
out, perfectly timed.<br />
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Here was the moment of truth – 22km to go, it was just after 8pm, could I
finish before 22:50? Instead of working out what time I would get there from
existing average pace I needed to know what pace I would now need to keep up to
make it, but I didn’t have the time or the mental capacity to calculate it, so
I sent the maths request out to a friend on facebook and got the feet moving
ASAP. I had read that after dark on a Action Challenge event you’re not allowed
to leave the rest stops without being in a group led by a Trek Master, and I
was wondering how this would work for the runners. It’s a nice idea for safety
but not something I would benefit from as I needed to be able to go at my own
pace. Thankfully they had a different system for us, they gave us a glow torch
each and we were allowed to go!<br />
<br />
I was surprised and even gleeful by how well the route was lit up for us in the
dark. There were flashing lights on gate posts, glowtorches on every marker,
and the text on all of the pink-arrow markers (of which there is always one in
sight anyway) was glowing in the dark! There was no worry about getting lost, I
was following a line of beacons of which I could see at least 3 at any one
time. My friend replied to say I would need to maintain just under 11 minute
miles to finish within 16 hours. This was a lot faster than I had previously
calculated. I was a little dissapointed as I knew I couldn't maintain the pace
I had just done, but as I ran on from the rest stop I was actually making this
pace and I had a burst of optimism. I felt really at one with the moment
running in the dark. There were bats flitting around me and the river was at
ground level to my right, wisps of mist laying on it in a regular pattern -
long, low walls of mist in a grid, lit by my head torch. On my own running
across a field I saw a couple of mice, less than an inch wide: one of them
bounded away from me in arcs as high as they were tall and many times taller
than the mouse was, I didn't know they could do that. The wonders of the night.
I caught up with some people at a gate, one lady had white-reflective flashes
on her jacket, pack and trousers that in the day wouldn't have stood out at all
but in the dark made her look like Tron. I also passed a man in army green
shorts and jumper who had started the same time as me and walked the whole way,
he said that I looked like a Christmas tree from the back, at the time I
couldn't process that but I guess my pack had reflectors on too.<br />
<br />
Pain started to return, but these were normal pains brought on by the simple
repetitive impact of running such a long distance, and I didn't have the brain
capacity to acknowledge them so they weren't a problem. This was a fourth and
final phase - the just-keep-going phase. I know the top of my quads were
tight; my was left knee was sore too as I had strapped up my left arch as it
was fatiguing and hurting - that helped the arch, but I had done it too tight
and my knee was taking the brunt. I didn't have time to stop to fix it so I just
tried to over-pronate as I landed to squash the tape. I'm not really sure what
else was hurting but in hindsight it was the outside edge of my right foot.
This is where it might have been an idea to pay more attention, as the day
after this pain was quite crippling. Or maybe not. Depends on whether I wanted
to finish at all costs. In second hindsight I think that I experienced what you
are meant to experience, a mind-numbed determination to continue, and I am glad
that I succumbed to it.<br />
<br />
At 20:42 I messaged my parents to say I expected to finish about 22:50. Just 10
minutes later I messaged again to say my legs were slowing, and I realised I
wouldn't make the 16 hour target. It didn't mean I gave up, that wasn't an
option that even crossed my mind in this phase, it just meant I reassessed my
objective to maybe finish in 17 hours instead. I would just keep trying and see
how it went.<br />
<br />
At 21:05 I went over a little humpback bridge and in the dark I didn't see how
steep the ramp down was and I stumbled suddenly and pulled my groin. I didn't
think much of it, I just wanted to carry on but over the next few steps I
realised how bad it was - agonisingly painful. I couldn't walk. I hobbled on
and looked at my new pace on my watch and worked out it would now take me 3 1/2
hours to finish, double ouch. A couple of people passed me and kindly stopped
to see if they could help but there wasn't much they could do so I sent them
on, and the green man passed too. I was less worried about me, these things
happen and I would be happy to just finish, but I was worried about
inconveniencing my parents. They had had a really early start that morning to
take me and Debbie to the start in London, they'd also driven back to Windsor
later to see me, and this meant they would have to come and pick me up in the
early hours of the morning, and I felt really guilty. I desperately wanted to
pick up the pace again although I knew I shouldn’t. A couple of friends online
shared some stretches with me and these really helped. I was nearly due another
dose of ibuprofen so I took one and this helped too. By half past I was running
again (of a sort), the last couple of km to the final rest stop where I went
straight to the medic tent and lay down, doing stretches and putting freeze gel
down my shorts.<br />
<br />
On the next stretch I was able to run on the grass and gravel but not on the
tarmac, and there was quite a lot of that here. After a while we passed back
into a large park slightly away from the river, with a flat field to a gate and
then a grass path leading off left through the centre of another field which
was on a a slight incline. I wondered if this was the one hill that was shown
on the route elevation - not really a hill at all, the elevation of the whole
100km is only 100m so the smallest rise stands out as a big blip. I hadn't seen
anybody for ages but there were two people glowing up ahead and I slowly gained
and then passed. There was some incongruously loud music pervading across the
field and they didn't know what it was either, we all commented it would be
nice if that was the finish but we doubted it given we still had 9km to go. It
took me ages to discover what it was but eventually I turned right onto Aston
Ferry Road and it was just some people having a party in a posh house, unaware
of me passing by them. There was a slight downhill here after the up, and the
tarmac combined with the gradient was very hard on my sore feet so I slowed
back to a walk. There were three people standing by a white van up ahead and
they definitely weren't unaware of me, they started whooping and cheering and I
felt quite emotional. I was no idea who they were, they weren't in high-vis or
Action Challenge livery, and I walked up to the first one and fell onto her
with a hug. The other two came over and hugged me too, while I blinded them
with my torch. They enthusiastically willed me on my way and asked if I could
run again so I did, away to the left on another footpath. I was immensely
grateful for their support at the toughest point.</span></span><br />
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I hadn't been paying attention to the km markers for a while but they suddenly
seemed important now I was inside the last 10km. I saw the 92km marker but
didn't see 93km even when I was really sure I had been more than 1km and I was
going to be seriously sad if it suddenly appeared but thankfully I saw the 94km
sign next. I can't remember the next 3 but rounding the corner I could see
lights up ahead - Henley, wow. </span></span><br />
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<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Suddenly my gut turned and I felt sick, maybe because my brain knew it was
nearly over, I'm not sure. I checked the last party hadn't caught me up - no I
was safe behind and up ahead, alone in the dark. I went into a field by a sole
tree, I just had to go. Back on the path I got a sudden build up of acid in my
throat and threw up too, just a little but it got it out of my system and I was
ready for the last 3km. Then the last 2km. I can't remember if was before or
after being sick but I remember that I ought to eat to stop my body aching, I
had spent more time in the medic tent than the snack bar at the last stop but I
had pocketed some items. I had tried the peanuts earlier and they didn't taste
right for the moment so I tucked into a box of toffee poppets. Another bad
choice, far too hard, and in my effort to chomp down on them my teeth clashed
and I chipped my bottom tooth. This hurt a surprising amount but it probably
distracted me from my other pains.</span><br />
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<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I was so close to Henley now I could see the bridge, beautifully lit up across
the arches. Mum met me on the bridge. As with all the other slight inclined I
walked up it but ran down, a lady in a car stopped for me to cross and the guy
behind got annoyed and overtook and nearly mowed down mum behind me. I ran to
the finish, Mum ran with me for a bit. As I saw the finish banner I checked my
watch and it was 2 minutes to midnight, I crossed the line at 23:59. Despite my
recent troubles with food there was one thing I knew I wanted - the promised
prosecco! This was the fourth of the finish lines, the quarter and half
finishers had their prosecco at the earlier ones and now it was my turn.
</span></span><br />
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<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">My official time 17:09:28. I spent 2:24:24 at the 7 rest stops, that’s a known
value as I stopped my watch at each one to charge it. Strava says I spent an
additional 3:28:36 resting which means 11:16:28 total running time but Strava is
known to be a little funny with moving time due to GPS glitches, and I had my
GPS accuracy turned right down to save battery so I don’t trust this so much.
<br />
</span></span><br />
The results are done by challenge (the 100km continuous is different to the
100km 2 day) but combine the walkers, joggers and runners together. Overall I
came 194/794, and I was 52nd woman out of 352.<br />
<br />
Neither the results nor the time matter to me though, it was all about the
distance. I’m not fast, worse than that every time I do any speedwork I get injured,
it took me many years to realise this and I couldn’t even do a half marathon
until I made up my own training plan and ignored much of the common advice. I
don’t find running easy and due to mild hypermobility I get inquired easily
too. Over the years I have grown to love it though, and I really wanted to take
on this distance challenge - and now I have achieved it. The fundraising was another feel-good result, I have raised over £1400 for Royal Osteoporosis, way more than I expected.</span><br />
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I am very keen to do another 100km run in the future, it was the perfect level of
challenge for me to push myself to my limits. I still need to recover first though, it’s now a week later
and I still have pains, although they have subsided to dull aches.<br />
<br />
Well done to all the other challenges, there were a lot of personal journeys
being developed that day, and thank you to all the wonderful staff who were
full or support the whole way.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
</span></span></div>
Sarah Cloughhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03797857043816872742noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1445147937322368187.post-20017287508824463332017-06-08T20:19:00.000+01:002017-06-08T20:29:18.132+01:00Why I don't vote<br />
<br />
People are usually aghast when they discover that I don't vote. It doesn't come up in conversation much as people rarely ask directly, but I'm not ashamed so am not hiding it on purpose and do occasionally mention it.<br />
<br />
I get three very common responses to my not voting. The main one is 'people died for you right to vote'. Good for them, I respect people who get stuff done and stand up for what they believe in. I do no, however, believe that they would expect me to vote when I do not wish to. I expect they would be much more passionate that I stand up for things that *I* believe in, which I try to do.<br />
<br />
I also get people saying it’s my age. While I am young to some (I’m 37), I’m certainly not a fresh faced 18 year old, that was half my life ago. In the main my peers are really quite passionate about politics, so I do not approve of people throwing the age card, when I am really an exception. It is not because I am an idiot either though, with a university Masters degree behind me.<br />
<br />
The other common response I get is 'well don't complain about policies then' – I absolutely won’t, as the policies hold the same interest for me as voting, in fact it’s those that don’t interest me, which is why I don’t vote, rather than vice versa. I’ve only ever voted once, when a respected friend told me to and said friend never tells me to do anything, but at the time the BNP was popular in my local area and she was worried by this. Instead of just marking a random party I looked into it properly, doing questionnaires online on who to vote for based on which policies I agreed with. Nearly every question that popped up I answered “this is not important to me”. This should now all become clear below.<br />
<br />
I've never been able say very clearly why I don’t vote (even to myself), there is a reason but the reason is due to how I differ from other people, so I've had to figure out how I differ before I can explain why, and that is a mammoth task (as this who know me may agree!!! :-)). I am becoming a little clearer on it though, enough to be able to write this to point people at next time they look at me in shock because of it.<br />
<br />
It comes down to two things, 1) subjectivity and 2) insignificance…<br />
<br />
1)<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I have an analytical type personality, people throughout the years have told me I think too much, but I don’t, to me it’s not too much and I don’t even do it consciously, it just happens and it works for me. I have an engineering degree and I’ve always enjoyed puzzles or maths, as it’s interesting to work problems through to a definite answer. Subjective topics are interesting too, but just from a point of curiosity, they don’t have answers, so have no interesting in finding answers, and politics is inherently subjective.<br />
<br />
The black and white aspect of mathematics couldn’t be more hidden in matters of opinion – even if a decision was made conclusively, as an outsider we can never fully know the thoughts and discussions that led up to it being made so I would never judge a anything subjective in objective terms as it would be impossible to have all the facts.<br />
<br />
In terms of life experience, I’ve tried a lot of things from clubbing to mountaineering, from knitting to motorbike riding, been in a lot of situations, met a lot of people and had a lot of conversations. It is integral to the way I view stuff to always mind that: there are at least two sides to everything (and one is nearly always unknown, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t there); there aren’t any rights or wrongs; and one situation, ‘good’ or ‘bad’, is a result of many that went before it which could individually have been ‘good’ or ‘bad’. Likewise any voting decision is not right or wrong, and the results cannot be conclusively predicted and may not go where we expect. Which means to me it just doesn’t matter who is chosen. Say a party has a policy that 49% of people are against, and 51% of people vote them in, the offensive policy could (and quite likely would) prompt the 49% into action and changes could happen anyway. It’s the same principle as ‘any publicity is bad publicity’, and the unknowns like this would have AT LEAST as big an impact as the knowns, as far as I’m concerned. In the same way, if someone starts a war, which is generally a ‘bad’ thing, it’s going to reduce population density which is its own problem, which will be beneficial for humans (as a whole, obviously not those who perished) as well as the planet, so was the decision that bad after all? There is just never a definitive answer.<br />
<br />
Further to my lack of an opinion or judgement on subjective matters, I’m also quite happy for decisions to be made for me for the same reasons – people in charge of things like education are (in theory) going to be chosen because they are interested or skilled, which is more than I can say for me, so let them do it, what does my opinion matter when I don’t have all the facts or haven’t seen how hard changes are to effect. People are unlikely to end up in that role just because they want to sabotage it, they’re at least going to try their best, and that’s good enough for me. If it all goes ‘wrong’, so be it, then the outfall gets dealt with instead, I wouldn’t hold it against anyone, as (coming back to this) nothing is ever black and white. Because of all this I have never even paid attention to politics, the news, and current affairs. I don’t mind what happens, because it just does, so I just am simply not interested in the majority of it, and my knowledge as a result declines which further leaves me out of the loop. I know the terms right wing and left wing, but not which political party falls into each. I’m not sure I even know who is in power in my area. What I do know is just because I listen to the radio for music and the news pops up, or from social media, rather than because I’ve sought it out.<br />
<br />
There is a slight potential exception to whether I care or not about what the politicians are saying, which is if humanity started to be questioned. Most policies don’t challenge our humanity, just our money and education etc. If they did start to question our humanity, like some of Trumps statements in the US election campaign (albeit still taken semi-seriously by me because I don’t know both sides) I might at least stand up for those beliefs.<br />
<br />
I must say I find one of the outstanding traits of humans is selfishness, and the balance of negative and positive swings somewhere around the middle. This *is* human nature and won’t change, let’s call that one a definite objective fact, so there’s no point getting upset about it, it’s better just to carry on my own life and do the best I can.<br />
<br />
To me it is really very strange that nearly everyone else is so interested in voting, and how so many are so definite about their answer. I can easily speak to one kind, intelligent friend who supports one party for reasons which are perfectly sensible and valid, and the next kind, intelligent friend I speak to supports another for equally sensible, valid reasons. So it boggles my mind a little who so many people are so interested in voting at all, when this alone is reason enough to not be bothered about it.<br />
<br />
I don’t see my lack of ability to judge on subjective matters as a negative trait. I have had friends approach me to tell them a secret about themselves that they have no told others, even if the first friends doesn’t know me so well, as they know I won’t judge them. This is a positive result of the very same trait. I’m happy with this part of me.<br />
<br />
So that’s reason #1, but this characteristic is of mine is more of a reason why I wouldn’t reach a voting conclusion, and less about why I don’t vote at all. The other issue concretes why I don’t vote at all.<br />
<br />
2)<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>My brain seems to work from a more distant viewpoint. If you look at the lifetime of our planet, of which we are just one species: “Science tells us the earth is over 4.7 billion years old, with all of modern history and human civilization only occurring within the last 5,000 to 10,000 years. Said differently, if all of time were compared to a 12 month calendar, all of mankind’s recorded history would have occurred on the last second, of the last minute, of the last day of that year.” (http://www.huffingtonpost.com/al-petrone/one-second-before-midnigh_b_175989.html). Voting in the UK (and even then only for some) has been happening for less than 800 years, which is a tenth of that final second. So I just can’t get excited about it in the grand scheme of the universe. Ants form highly organised colonies, but if we look at them we just see a few insects milling around or walking in a line, we don’t get involved in the finer intricacies because to use they just don’t matter. This is kind of how I see humans – a small blip on the cosmic scale, insignificant in the grand scheme of things, and quite self-important that we think otherwise.<br />
<br />
3)<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Even if I did have an interesting in voting, what little I do see of it by accident doesn’t remotely draw me in. The entire basis of it seems to be of one party trying to outdo another by promising what they thing people want to hear, which isn’t actually what they believe in themselves, which often results in making promises they can’t keep or have no intention of doing so. It’s also down to the person way more than the party, but we are voting for the party. Then once the election is done they all stand up and shout at each other in a big old fashioned hall far removed from our day to day lives. Why on earth would I want to get involved in this?<br />
<br />
This is a moot point really due to 1 and 2 existing. I’m just adding it to show that if 1 and 2 didn’t exist, I may vote but I’d probably just go and spoil my ballot.<br />
<br />
I hope that helps to explain how the world looks to me. There may be some things that appear as contradictions but that is probably because I haven’t not explained things clearly or not emphasised the important bits well. I tried to explain this all to someone as a precursor to writing it out, but before I'd got very far they got quite irate with me and call me plain selfish for not voting. Externally I laughed it off but actually I thought that was quite rude. If anything it's voting that's inherently selfish because it's judged on your personal standpoint. It's also quite disrespectful to not acknowledge that there is an alternative way of looking at it all which is perfectly valid.<br />
<br />
<br />
Just as a little exercise, to further show how I view all this, I thought for a little while about what I would do if suddenly someone put me in power. My two main (equally important) policies would be: 1) Do what we can as a nation to prevent harm to the natural world. 2) Encourage a sense of community and pleasantness amongst everyone in our country. EVERYTHING else would take a back seat.<br />
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#1 would cover things like limiting human effects on climate change, preserving animal habitats, reducing use of non-biodegradable waste, seeing if we can make a positive effect to the planet rather than everything we do being a case of undoing damage we’ve already done etc.<br />
#2 looks at the essence of what I think is wrong with this country, which is that on the whole people seem to have become quite selfish and disrespectful. If I visit other countries I see a greater sense of national identity (here we just seem to take pride in the pub and football), and a greater respect for the country’s heritage. In my experience in the UK people will barge past you in the supermarket or the street, drive like loons, and generally fit the world around them rather than fit themselves into the world. It’s a consequence of being able to do so much more than we used to (with the world having shrunk as a result of internet interactions) and being in a position of advantage (due to human rights), these are good things but I feel we’ve just taken it too far – I am guilty of this too. This isn’t to say we should stop people being in a rush or not wanting to be sociable, just looking at encouraging them to be more considerate. So what to do to change this? I would dedicate a half day a week, perhaps Monday mornings, to community projects instead of work, compulsory for employees and employers alike, and everyone would still get paid. Everyone can apply for helpers, whether businesses or individuals, and people could sign up to those schemes, or just take the initiative to find some other way to be helpful. Businesses could take helpers if they don’t want to lose business for a day, the employers would still be contributing as they’d be sharing their skills and training people up, and the temporary labour would gain extra skills. Production would be slower but that would be the same for the whole country and would be offset by the direct skills benefits and the less tangible community benefits – Community-wise people would be getting stuff done around the house, raising money for local causes, setting up schemes for schools. People would be happier as life would be at a slower pace, with more focus on enjoyment and personal development, and the potential would be opened up of utilising the therapeutic benefits of nature, the outdoors, animals, exercise and companionship. Participation is compulsory and of course would have to be monitored, this could involve the homeless so they would learn data processing skills. I would also reassess prisons, anyone that could even potentially benefit from re-education would be put through an education scheme linked in with community Mondays, I’ve always felt that locking people up with only the company of others whose string of decision had also led them the wrong side of cultural acceptance isn’t going to help anyone. I’d also openly destroy all our nuclear weapons, and our military would be a peacekeeping force if used at all.<br />
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I just had to have a look at the policies of the main parties to see what their policies actually are: education; tax; the health service; carers; school meals: I would not change any of these at all for at least 2 years. The theory being that if you put a sense of community, sharing and helpfulness back in place, even those that didn’t believe in those things before will see the advantages, and the issue with education, the health services and money will start to fall into place.<br />
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That was quite a long explanation, but there wasn't really anything to leave out. Welcome to my world, please keep an open mind 😊 I respect other people's views and the fact that they do vote, hopefully the same can be offered for the fact that I don't.<br />
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<br />Sarah Cloughhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03797857043816872742noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1445147937322368187.post-85463716167126449272013-03-14T20:02:00.000+00:002013-03-15T10:42:32.639+00:00Feb/Mar 2013 - Holiday - South East Asia Part 1, Thailand<br />
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I'm aware haven't updated this blog lately. I've still been out and about, but although I've started writing reports here and there I haven't felt inspired to finish them. I've just got back from a 3 week holiday to South East Asia though, and that's definitely worth recording. We covered a lot of ground, and took a LOT of photos, so I'll write it up one country at a time. Click on the photos for a larger view.<br />
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Part 1 - journey and Thailand.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhXNsI8ojZr3Y-aChTcmjBGj3CDJTo4kkkalWAYQdDLTjy_V70JW3HTNLb1EUHsLWriVc40DrZjLiefsbTrBRdSpoPsB90hZSZrzBtLanj8Le2Jl0MSayQpthWRLCpp92tMspmc1wlcYw/s1600/IMG_3723+Part+0+-+Voyage.+Our+plane+at+Heathrow+%5Bweb%5D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhXNsI8ojZr3Y-aChTcmjBGj3CDJTo4kkkalWAYQdDLTjy_V70JW3HTNLb1EUHsLWriVc40DrZjLiefsbTrBRdSpoPsB90hZSZrzBtLanj8Le2Jl0MSayQpthWRLCpp92tMspmc1wlcYw/s320/IMG_3723+Part+0+-+Voyage.+Our+plane+at+Heathrow+%5Bweb%5D.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our plane awaiting</td></tr>
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Saturday 16th February saw Hazel and I departing Heathrow at 10:30am bound for Bangkok via Kuwait. I entertained myself entertaining a cute 3 year old Indian boy sitting next to me who had nothing to do, by digging out some paper and pencils and jointly creating a picture with flying aeroplanes (me), crashing aeroplanes (him) and an assortment of sealife below. Kuwait airport was a mixed experience - we were provided with free food while we waited for our connecting flight, but said flight ended up 1.5 hour delayed with no information at all barring the new gate number given by one staff member, until the plane actually arrived and the cabin crew trooped on.<br />
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We landed in Bangkok around noon, and took the skytrain from the airport to the Phaya Thai station in the city proper, first buying a ticket for the wrong line (the express line being more expensive, and with a long wait than the city) as I thought it would be straightforward having done this before. At the other end came our first tuk tuk ride of the trip (I really love tuk tuks, such a great way to travel in a hot, slow-traffic city) took us to Hua Lamphong station to reserve our tickets for the night train to the walled city of Chiang Mai in the North. The 19:35 train we wanted (which supposedly has the best views coming in to Chiang Mai) didn't have any seats next to each other but we managed to get tickets for the 18:10 one.<br />
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We then had half a day to kill before the train, but were feeling rather hot and bothered after a day of travelling, so instead of exploring the city and the markets we looked for a guesthouse for a few hours for a shower and a snooze. We'd both been to Bangkok before so figured this was a more productive use of our time. We found a place near the station, just a single bed and the communal sinks were lacking water, but the showers worked and so did the fan. Semi-refreshed, we had a meal at a convenient restaurant, then walked back over the road to the station where the train was waiting.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sleeper train to Chiang Mai</td></tr>
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We made stilted conversation with the Italian lady sharing our section of the train who claimed she had poor English but which was much better than our Italian. A couple of beers and a 'clink' to celebrate that section of our travels was language mutually understood anyway. When dark fell and the beds came down, Hazel and I finished the books we'd been reading on the plane, and swapped. We were asleep by 9:30, I woke frequently but slept very deeply, so every time I woke it felt like I'd had another 10 hours.<br />
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We awoke at 6 hoping to relish the mountain scenery much lauded by the seat61.com travel website, we didn't want to miss any as this train was due to get in an hour earlier than the one we'd originally intended so the remaining views should be valued - as it happened we needn't have worried as it arrive an hour and a half late. The sun hadn't actually risen at 6 but soon there were misty valleys, hanging creepers and sand banks supporting the railway track, not the rocky mountainous land I'd anticipated but enough to absorb.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Sculpture</td></tr>
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We had breakfast in the restaurant carriage (comically named 'bogey'), and failed amusingly to make conversation with the cute French guy on the table next to us. In Chiang Mai we chose a songthaew (shared red-bus, more of a truck where you sit in the back) to take us to the accommodation we'd earmarked in the lonely planet. We completely failed to bargain a good price for the bus, but it's hardly worth trying as everything there is so cheap. Well, except the accommodation we were heading for, the 'Tamarind village' - which was like a luxury spa resort, very beautiful and appealing, and it's a good thing it was fully booked as we didn't notice the price until consulted the book again later on. The place we ended up in, the much more reasonably priced 'The Sculpture', was still rather plush, probably the nicest place we stayed in our trip. It had artwork on all the walls both internal and external, and our twin room with air-con still only cost under £15 a night (most places we stayed were £5-£10).<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Turtle at Wat U-Mong</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tunnels at Wat U-Mong</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chedi at Wat U-Mong</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chicken at Wat U-Mong</td></tr>
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Once checked in it was time to explore the city, as we'd only be here for one day as a stop on our way to the Bokeo jungle near Huay Xai in Laos - this was our real first destination but there was time for a little sighseeing on the way. After a fruit shake in town we took a tuk tuk to a temple out of town called Wat U-Mong. Here there were brick lined tunnels to explore, supposedly built in the 13th century to stop a clairvoyant monk wandering off into the bush, which were nice and cool on a hot day, especially on the feet since at temples and a lot of restaurants and guesthouses you're asked to take your shoes off. We wandered up to the Chedi (a Buddhist stupa / mound-like structure containing relics), then over to the lake where there was a giant turtle and a series of catfish hanging lazily in the water. We also took lots of photos of chickens, as they were wandering about everywhere looking colourful with adorable little chicks in cheeping tow. We contrasted Wat U-Mong with a couple of temples in town: Wat Chang Taem with its intricate decorated window shutters, the eastern temple of Wat Chedi Luang with its huge buddhas and Wat Phan Tao with its teak roof and offering jars.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTRwgw3tOiDZOv8eEdqHEiVqGoaUF7dIPukChZmWXEbNypafrea8ZvAHa3ySf2V48e8myZy3CDtI-w53PQbzDK9Q-ebY0c_q93Ws78gY6zHx_YrYehktZdjC-3lejgyIwxykkfkog5dhE/s1600/IMG_3986+%5Bweb%5D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTRwgw3tOiDZOv8eEdqHEiVqGoaUF7dIPukChZmWXEbNypafrea8ZvAHa3ySf2V48e8myZy3CDtI-w53PQbzDK9Q-ebY0c_q93Ws78gY6zHx_YrYehktZdjC-3lejgyIwxykkfkog5dhE/s200/IMG_3986+%5Bweb%5D.jpg" width="133" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> Wat Chang Taem</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnb0mK-IWC3g1WDO6dxXHGo7wCqpJxAETtLQudEftRGFoehyuZOl9m5zGD41nuHAToEq5O96zXYnpPyD3E7YoFCwrEhtvsy5t-GO0Oyunet6nm9C5Gcg_2SwyjRU2eZIGZKi5zc1UNPm8/s1600/IMG_4006+Hangings+%5Bweb%5D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnb0mK-IWC3g1WDO6dxXHGo7wCqpJxAETtLQudEftRGFoehyuZOl9m5zGD41nuHAToEq5O96zXYnpPyD3E7YoFCwrEhtvsy5t-GO0Oyunet6nm9C5Gcg_2SwyjRU2eZIGZKi5zc1UNPm8/s200/IMG_4006+Hangings+%5Bweb%5D.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wat Chedi Luang</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wat Phan Tao</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMPojg4iWodHQ4xGtJ9z0M91JeETb_LdITIX_a1EhxDIM4YZzVpNZkNtYutwIcMjGrYBgZgzcruKAqRHl87sVogA48-rKGXRfN9IK1wRgbRYHuvnE-4aEbSsnqo8EktpV4gLdyYuFELSo/s1600/IMG_4054+AEB_5_6_fused+Auto+%5Bweb%5D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMPojg4iWodHQ4xGtJ9z0M91JeETb_LdITIX_a1EhxDIM4YZzVpNZkNtYutwIcMjGrYBgZgzcruKAqRHl87sVogA48-rKGXRfN9IK1wRgbRYHuvnE-4aEbSsnqo8EktpV4gLdyYuFELSo/s320/IMG_4054+AEB_5_6_fused+Auto+%5Bweb%5D.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Riverside restaurant in Chiang Mai</td></tr>
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After this we returned to the Sculpture for a snooze, then took a tuk tuk to a lovely riverside restaurant also picked from the lonely planet where we sat on overlooking the Ping river and the lanterns of the lower decking and dock for the dinner boat. We really lucked out with this place - great view, friendly staff, great food where I chose my all-time Thai favourite a Massaman curry, and live music which, although Western based, contained some of my favourites with Simon and Garfunkel classics and a Jason Mraz track.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Boat across the Mekong</td></tr>
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In the morning we took a taxi to a very normal looking bus which, over the course of a few hours, transported us to Chiang Khong and the Thailand / Laos land border (actually more of a water border). Here the queue to exit Thailand was short, and after passing we paid a negligable fee for the boat to carry us the short distance over the Mekong into the port border-town of Huay Xai, Laos.<br />
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Sarah Cloughhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03797857043816872742noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1445147937322368187.post-62992727381131569832011-09-28T12:28:00.001+01:002011-10-06T09:49:42.653+01:00September 2011 - Walking - Munro review (Click the photos to enlarge).<br />
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I've just got back from another Munro trip to Scotland, to the east where the forecast was better. On the Saturday we did the six to the east of the Glenshee ski centre, and on the sunday we did the two above the Dalmunzie hotel. The last time I attempted the Glenshee eastern 6 the conditions were incredibly challenging - awkward iced turf and then thigh deep snow, strong winds, driving hail and a white-out on top, so we only managed one hill in I'm-not-sure-how-many hours. On this trip we managed all 6 in 8.5 hours. Sunday went pretty successfully too, although the predicted storm rolled in and we finished a little wet with an even wetter drive home through much standing water. <br />
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There isn't much to write about for these hills really, so instead I've decided to do a little review of the 63 Munros I've done so far. My ticking year runs from February to February (except year 1, which started in January) and I need to complete an average of 29 Munros a year to get them done before I'm 40 as planned. I'm well on track now, and I intended this to be my last trip of the year as over winter I plan to stay more local where the hills are less terrifying in winter conditions, which makes this effectively the end of year 2, so it seems an appropriate time to take stock of what I've done in that time. So in some kind of order of favouritism with my over-riding memories of each. I just want to add that the ordering has no bearing on the company, which was excellent at all times:<br />
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1 = Southern Cairngorms (Beinn Bhrotain, Monadh Mor, Braeriach, Sgorr an Lochain Uaine, Cairn Toul, The Devil's Point) 48km in 2 days.<br />
This trip comes top because it's just a stunning area to walk in. I hadn't previously warmed to the Cairngorms (fnar...) probably because I associated it with winter trips which I never got my head round. My two climbing visits there were much enjoyable, but this was another level again. Approaching from the South gave it a new, more natural, feel (forested and no ski centre). Both Glen Dee and (inward route) Gleann Laoigh Bheag (outward route) are beautiful river valleys with turquiose waters and plenty of greenery, then the mountains are abrupt and dramatic. Sgorr and Lochain Uaine and the Devil's Point in-particular offer amazing viewpoints with steep drops below where you can sit down and drink in the situation, and the weather was stunning to match, one of only two times I've walked a Munro in shorts (well, trousers with zip off legs before I start sounding irresponsible). Unfortunately, for some reason my photos mostly show mist and snow. I also did my highest wild camp at that point at 880m.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvQiC_4JBrXFmXMurIJT14Ez5qckOrdC3wvDPf4nK-D55qcbsqkdEp5amdHZgAia_0xXHjovjfNgaG4ofTf4zLtcT49Uy_OBO6XeibpPYdxnIrZqjRi2m5Rqs2iUlZLeDWGnn993QjkgE/s1600/279232_10150306264850498_618910497_9518965_5847147_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvQiC_4JBrXFmXMurIJT14Ez5qckOrdC3wvDPf4nK-D55qcbsqkdEp5amdHZgAia_0xXHjovjfNgaG4ofTf4zLtcT49Uy_OBO6XeibpPYdxnIrZqjRi2m5Rqs2iUlZLeDWGnn993QjkgE/s200/279232_10150306264850498_618910497_9518965_5847147_o.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mini-planet of the Cuillin ridge</td></tr>
</tbody></table>2 = Skye Cuillin (Sgurr nan Eag, Sgurr Dubh Mor, Sgurr Alasdair, Sgurr Mhic Choinnich, Sgurr Dearg, Sgurr na Banachdich, Sgurr a'Ghreadaidh, Sgurr a'Mhadaidh).<br />
A big tick, although unfortunately not complete (although it's no hardship to go back!), and one I wanted to do before I forgot how to climb. Every Munro or Munro group has its own feel, but The Cuillin has a really distinctive one. It's not that remote, nor as serious as some reports would have you believe, and from various points you can see down to a town or boats or road, but no matter how close they are you feel a long way away metaphorically. The ridge is obvious, continuous and lilting, and that gives the impression of being a tangible thing, a special world, with the valley below being another world away.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyFDM69bFEoLRRAl_frGMyZzTMYyPODwQ6Fm2UL7D8gB_PtK9yuQPOKqqnWAmUER7YuV_DsKLH1uUI18Mj_nWIz_FvmJUWhQ8VDa7mXR8hYwFeYU_mBtWnHBL_9x3XH51PH2HvUNUT9bQ/s1600/295701_10150354400625498_618910497_10021035_1075345_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyFDM69bFEoLRRAl_frGMyZzTMYyPODwQ6Fm2UL7D8gB_PtK9yuQPOKqqnWAmUER7YuV_DsKLH1uUI18Mj_nWIz_FvmJUWhQ8VDa7mXR8hYwFeYU_mBtWnHBL_9x3XH51PH2HvUNUT9bQ/s200/295701_10150354400625498_618910497_10021035_1075345_n.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cloudless Ben Nevis summit</td></tr>
</tbody></table>3 = Mamores (Mullach nan Coirean, Stob Ban, Sgurr a'Mhaim, Am Bodach, Stob Coire a'Chairn, An Gearanach, Na Gruaichean, Binnein Mor, Sgurr Eilde Mor, Binnein Beag) 34km in 2 days.<br />
It's possibly telling that the long circuits are my favourites, but the weather has a lot to do with it to, although if the weather had been poor we would have cut down the circuit anyway. This was my most challenging trip in terms of distance, the last stretch along the road was excrutiating (at which point I would have cried if someone had suggested I do another Munro before I had recovered), but it was the most rewarding. The distance was less than the Cairngorms but there was 1.7 times as much ascent (2.5 Ben Nevisses). We were treated with lovely weather and views, just what you want on these hills. Stob Ban is probaby my favourite Munro to look at now, lovely aesthetic rounded white buttresses from the east. <br />
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The next three trips are difficult to put in order. <br />
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4 = Torridon (Sgorr Ruadh, Beinn Liath Mhor)<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ5WpYsgUQCER_mb-gS9pqIArsqoZ_zD0zMQPHt_yyBqPBsZsLU6QorvL7qeAIG8NRZR_roVzAkVWei7BkWrWK3nWMFE2EgXRA_0LumtcmjtX3nokQVqxdc7GRKHbjp872VVSwSdbNftE/s1600/IMG_1341+Poss+%255Bzen%255D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ5WpYsgUQCER_mb-gS9pqIArsqoZ_zD0zMQPHt_yyBqPBsZsLU6QorvL7qeAIG8NRZR_roVzAkVWei7BkWrWK3nWMFE2EgXRA_0LumtcmjtX3nokQVqxdc7GRKHbjp872VVSwSdbNftE/s200/IMG_1341+Poss+%255Bzen%255D.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">'Sea fire'</td></tr>
</tbody></table>The most well known hills in Torridon are Liathach, Beinn Alligin and Beinn Eighe, and with due cause, as they dominate the view and rise straight from sea level, looking knife edge, rocky and inpenetrable. These two to the South don't really get a mention and aren't visible from the road, but they're aesthetic too, the former steep and stony and the latter more rounded and craggy, the terrain on both exposed but amenable. Their other appeal is that from them you get amazing views, north to the big trio, west over to Skye and the ocean beyond, and South to a mass of other peaks. I remember standing on the top of Beinn Liath Mhor as the sun was setting, turning round to see every part of the 360 degree view, before reluctantly descending as far as our wild camp, from where we also watched the dawn. The weather when I did these was unbelievable for Scotland, sunshine the whole way and shorts to match. We still managed to head up the wrong hill first, but until you're on the upper levels it isn't too clear which lump is which. <br />
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4 = Ben Nevis & Carn Mor Dearg<br />
Tower Ridge has been on my wishlist for ages as it's a 'through route' (i.e. in the course of the route you pass through a fully enclosed hole). When I stopped climbing my list became somewhat abandoned, but I knew I'd probably still do Tower Ridge as I could tick Ben Nevis by that route. I was very keen to link it to the CMD arete, as I'd seen it from the top of Aonach Mor (a Munro I have yet to walk up, rather than ride up!) and loved the aesthetics of its Northern backbone. I didn't realise that the actual CMD arete was the other side of the summit, but it's no fun knowing it all before you go. My memories of this trip, were that the weather was poor with no views but it didn't affect the enjoyment; Tower Ridge was pleasingly non-terrifying; and the summit plateau was wonderfully eerie, with its sudden mass of people passing in every which direction and artefacts such as ruins, memorials, elevated trig points and shelters rising out of the mist.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHTt5IJ4_oZpstdx386J3DsZC-F0e-qCSO-RljEio_d49_zhUaZdRT-v0ar5-N_5cLKaFLIuVPYsNnR7V5BLSFAwaHRw0-DKU2oQDjs8wG313-82P2DfbBVLbpk13TdY9Mv7kdgfD02-M/s1600/IMG_9047.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHTt5IJ4_oZpstdx386J3DsZC-F0e-qCSO-RljEio_d49_zhUaZdRT-v0ar5-N_5cLKaFLIuVPYsNnR7V5BLSFAwaHRw0-DKU2oQDjs8wG313-82P2DfbBVLbpk13TdY9Mv7kdgfD02-M/s200/IMG_9047.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">SE Top of Meall nan Tarmachan</td></tr>
</tbody></table>4 = Tarmachan Ridge (Meall nan Tarmachan)<br />
The Tarmachan Ridge only contains one Munro but it's best done in its entirety as the 5 tops all have their own character and distinctive shapes. They were all the more beautiful cloaked in a layer of frost. There was a real camaraderie amongst the various groups of walkers as they passed on the message to avoid a particularly icy descent, although I'm sure they all thought I'd fallen to my death as I let out a might scream when a fat mouse ran out from behind a rock I was stood on, which echoed around all the peaks.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Crazy bridge on the walk in to Culra bothy (Ben Alder group)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>7 = Ben Alder group (Geal-Charn, Aonach Beag, Beinn Eibhinn, Carn Dearg, Ben Alder, Beinn Bheoil)<br />
This is a series of nice steep, shapely hills. It was my first big trip, and was quite an undertaking although didn't seem so as everything went to plan. Smooth journey up on a Friday afternoon and a cycle in to Culra bothy, 4 Munros the first day, 2 the next (we could have linked them together in one big day - you actually cover a lot more distance splitting it up - but you learn as you go), then cycle out and drive home early on Monday. I had expected to go on my own but found a partner last minute. The reason this is fairly high up in my list is was the first time that I knew that Munro bagging was for me - on the Sunday morning I awoke with an array of aches and pains and the weather wasn't exactly encouraging, but I didn't have a doubt that I wanted to stick to the plan - something I never experienced with rock climbing. It's a shame the cloud (and rain with it) was down each morning as I think the trip could have been a lot more memorable (and more deserving of this position in the list) with the potential views, but this is Scotland after all! I also encountered my first crazy bridge, there seems to a mental river crossing on each Munro trip.<br />
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It's VERY hard to order the next 11. After deciding on an ordering I notice rain features highly in 6 of the bottom 7.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cloud inversion from Ben Chronzie</td></tr>
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8 = Ben Chronzie<br />
This was my first Munro in January 2008, and it was so amenable that despite a reasonable covering of snow we didn't need to don our crampons. It's billed as a boring hill, but it was pretty with ice encrusted fence posts and cairns, and we had crisp, clear views to the Ben Lawers groups and beyond to Ben Nevis and Aonach Mor. Plus we saw many mountain hares on the way back down.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beautiful sunrise taken with iPhone</td></tr>
</tbody></table>8 = Beinn Narnain & Beinn Ime<br />
I did these two in winter and was almost out of my comfort zone. They weren't too hard, but although I have a little winter experience I don't have much winter confidence as I don't enjoy it much for the sake of it (only because it's still Munro bagging) so on the crux of this route I really could have done with a helmet and rope. Still, it worked, and although I had to leave my partner lagging behind I managed to run up and back the second Munro within the available time. More importantly, we saw the most amazing pink sunrise on the walk in.<br />
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8 = Carn Mairg group (Carn Gorm, Meall Garbh, Carn Mairg, Meall na Aighean)<br />
This was a nice, complete day, pleasant in its average-ness - the hills neither boring nor awesome, the terrain was varied, and it makes a good circular route. It wasn't overly taxing in terms of distance, but given the available daylight in November we had to get a shift on.<br />
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8 = Ben Vorlich <br />
I'm not sure why I have tweaked this above the others. I'm not sure my memories are representative of how I felt at the time! There was a whiteout and a bit of a blizzard, and I completely failed to manage the descent over to Stuc a'Chroin so had to send half our party on ahead as they were moving faster. Nevertheless, looking back I enjoyed it, perhaps because it was new to me (my second Munro) and I felt quite empowered - I didn't meet the challenge but I learnt what the challenge WAS (even if I then decided I preferred to walk in summer). The ridge up Ben Vorlich is quite a striking feature too, especially looking at it on the aproach, covered in snow with people glissading down it.<br />
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8 = Dalmunzie (Glas Tulaichean & Carn an Righ)<br />
There is no real reason this one comes next. It's only because it's the one I did yesterday, and the wind blasting we got on the top of Carn an Righ made me feel really alive and I'm still buoyed up by it. And the finishing cake and hot chocolate in the Dalmunzie hotel afterwards was a suitable congratulation after a damp finish.<br />
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8 = Glenshee western 3 (The Cairnwell, Carn a'Gheoidh, Carn Aosda)<br />
These is billed as the easiest circuit of three you can do as you start fairly high up and there isn't much ascent after the first summit. The wind had been forecast to be rather intense, but the direction wasn't quite as predicted so were were hit by it on the first hill but avoided it on the second and third. The descent was very rapid, the snow was such that we could run down and we made it to the ski centre in time for a hot chocolate. I did a few Munros in the snow in the winter of 2010/2011, not because I wanted to (I'd previously decided I'd tried winter climbing enough to learn I didn't like it, then ended up donning crampons and an axe more than ever before), but because I'd had a few cancelled trips during the summer and was quite short of my target. I still didn't quite hit it, but more than made up for it this summer.<br />
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8 = Loch Monar (Bidein a'Choire Sheasgaich, Lugh Mhor)<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Bridge of Instability</td></tr>
</tbody></table>These are by far the most remote hills I've done. We walked for three days - one to a bothy, one over the Munros, and one back to the car - and saw one other party on the hill, two single houses. Ben Alder was a similar outline but Culra bothy was packed to the rafters, we were the only ones at Bearnais, identified with previous explorers via a visitors book reporting a wild moose. The weather was dreadful nearly the whole time, first we were blown over and then we were soaked from all angles, but we were treated to a beautiful double rainbow as a reward. We would have done an extra day over 2 or 3 more Munros, but the warning of lightning and horizontal hail sent us walking sodden homewards, back over the (cable) Bridge of Instability. Changing into jeans felt surreal, as if I'd been away for a lifetime rather than just a weekend. The sun came out just before we got back to the car, and we drove home under clear blue skies. Most odd.<br />
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8 = Glenshee eastern 6 (Carn an Tuirc, Carn of Claise, Tom Buidhe, Tolmount, Glas Maol, Creag Leachach)<br />
My first, abortive attempt at these hills was memorable due to the inclemency of the weather (wind, sleet, low cloud - we got it all). The second attempt was successful. Not perfect, as we accidentally took in Tolmount and Tom Buidhe in the wrong order despite having faultless visibility, but it wasn't a drama. The hills themselves aren't very distinctive, but it was a productive day and we could see up to the Cairngorms, and we saw more hares that I've seen on any hill before.<br />
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8 = Ben More & Stobb Binnein<br />
Ben More was steep and relentless but I enjoyed that kind of thing, feel like I'm really working.<br />
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8 = Rannoch Mor (Beinn a'Chreachain, Beinn Achaladair, Beinn Mhanach)<br />
This was another rather damp day but satisfyingly arduous.<br />
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8 = Beinn Dubhchraig <br />
Another winter walk that was cut short, but useful for confidence building. We ascended via the North East shoulder which was mixed terrain and quite hard going. We descended straight down the corrie bowl once we established the avalanche risk was acceptable. <br />
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19 = An Socach<br />
The peak was a little boring, the weather was very damp, and I don't remember much about it at all!Sarah Cloughhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03797857043816872742noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1445147937322368187.post-15672024341911286032011-08-31T15:45:00.001+01:002011-08-31T15:48:41.569+01:00August 2011 - Walking - Public transport antics and Mamore magicIt's a long write-up (as usual), but it's a report for me as much as anybody so I have a full account of what I've been up to, and it may be of interest to reader that want a little more detail than is usually found online! Click the photos to enlarge, the full set can be found at <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;">http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10150354386845498.394069.618910497&l=ae2aff5eb3&type=1</span><br />
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TRAVELLING DAY<br />
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I don't recall why I decided it was time to do the Mamores, possibly because it seemed like a suitably arduous achievement to fit into a bank holiday weekend. I do know that I thought my friend Vicky might be a suitable partner as we discovered at Easter that we're pretty equally matched in terms of stamina and speed both up and downhill, and I thought she might not have done the Mamores yet living over in Aberdeen. It turns out she's already done two of them, but didn't mind doing them again and having a go at the whole circuit, as per <a href="http://www.stevenfallon.co.uk/mamores.html">this link</a>. She also pointed me in the direction of Megabus with the help of which I managed to plot an entire round trip including a bit of beautiful train line, for only £56 (and it is possible to do it cheaper still), compared to £120 or thereabouts by car.<br />
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On the morning of Friday 26th August I packed, dealt with the garden and chickens, and drove over to Stoke all to a finely tuned schedule, and still managed to have to run for the train just catching the one later than planned, which I would also have missed if it wasn't running late. Thankfully a swift walk across Manchester with my various bags saw me on time for my Megabus at 12:40. There was a bit of chaos when it came to actually boarding the bus, but I manage to squeeze onto the front bus that was going direct to Glasgow, rather than the one that was stopping on route. The guy taking tickets assured me the coach had all mod cons, and it wasn't until we were about to pull away that the driver informed me the brand new toilet was out of action as someone had managed to lock the handle before closing the door. I was dismayed as I quite needed it after all my dashing about, but the driver was a nice chap and we made a stop at a service station up the motorway so those of us with weak bladders could run in and out. Nice, but not a push over as he (quite righly) chided the passengers who didn't re-board the bus after the alloted 5-10 minutes, which I was pleased about as I only had an hour in Glasgow to make my train connection. The next area of excitement was a 3 hour traffic jam near Carlisle. Thanks to phone calls, maps, iphones, and some banter, we took a couple of detours and after a bit of traffic but nothing like 3 hours of delay we were flying Northwards again. The coach journey felt like something out of a film, I got to know a couple of my fellow passengers and the drivers, and it felt like a little community on there everyone rallying together to get us to Glasgow on time, I'd happily travel to Scotland that way again in future.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmg6Cjl388p8DWqNj8S1fNX-QBtb6eNIHGPaj05BwhRWBFZqbOlSi9C7cNy7MtVT9kXll8QwQLg4PM9OGD0gN8oUdXgHiAwcKnq12VHbpl-rp28dAyRsyy4Gx0wcM0eu5ebrG3SIDZOb4/s1600/311717_10150354387605498_618910497_10020914_7481404_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmg6Cjl388p8DWqNj8S1fNX-QBtb6eNIHGPaj05BwhRWBFZqbOlSi9C7cNy7MtVT9kXll8QwQLg4PM9OGD0gN8oUdXgHiAwcKnq12VHbpl-rp28dAyRsyy4Gx0wcM0eu5ebrG3SIDZOb4/s200/311717_10150354387605498_618910497_10020914_7481404_n.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Damp start but high spirits</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
At Glasgow I walked the short distance to Queen Street station and found they hadn't even put up the platform number yet, so I treated myself to Burger King and got chatted to a cyclist who it turned out had the seat opposite me on the train. I had been looking forward to taking this journey, part of the whole point of planning the trip the way I had, as it would give a different perspective of the mountains. It's a shame darkness had fallen by the time we diverted from the road and went across the wilderness of Rannoch Mor (my planning had various holes in it) but for the bits I did see it was nice to share it with someone who also had a passion for the outdoors. I'm keen to re-do that part of the journey another time and extend it to enjoy the Fort William to Mallaig section, which is meant to be one of the most beautiful train journeys you can do in the UK. The long journey becomes a lot less tedious if it becomes part of the adventure. I noticed quite late on that the train went through Roy Bridge, where we were staying for the night, before it got to Fort William, and I managed to get hold of Vicky just in time to divert her to meet me there instead. That saved us about 40 minutes which we made the most of by having a pint in the Stronlossit Inn, before retiring for a not-so-early night. <br />
<br />
HILL DAY 1<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFKFcWC2XKnZk0oAMvcFQpnd3cFZELOc1vvLgnLlFepHIA5JIKut4Vx1_vTabdvFUgxcdY5AA6Y-zHNJaS507_JfPJtCgHi9UgXZy5sWoA4wQ-6W5ycKZQengbVFBP1PFTdfq1XHJvJX4/s1600/312653_10150354395190498_618910497_10020983_1883151_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFKFcWC2XKnZk0oAMvcFQpnd3cFZELOc1vvLgnLlFepHIA5JIKut4Vx1_vTabdvFUgxcdY5AA6Y-zHNJaS507_JfPJtCgHi9UgXZy5sWoA4wQ-6W5ycKZQengbVFBP1PFTdfq1XHJvJX4/s200/312653_10150354395190498_618910497_10020983_1883151_n.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ridge from Stob Ban towards Sgorr an Iubhair </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjosHwywXAbEcx3ZSHJsdNmSb_A-VmTGWCIY3Cecps6OHgvrbG0DvL0JdHD7Sa71kIrbTX4KqBAeOtj1SFH7FSnhO4vFiIfgVH-zEOAHHRCXhlbVgVLmpsODYc6cK-gIN8dOOp-KQlO13I/s1600/306963_10150354393785498_618910497_10020971_3455899_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjosHwywXAbEcx3ZSHJsdNmSb_A-VmTGWCIY3Cecps6OHgvrbG0DvL0JdHD7Sa71kIrbTX4KqBAeOtj1SFH7FSnhO4vFiIfgVH-zEOAHHRCXhlbVgVLmpsODYc6cK-gIN8dOOp-KQlO13I/s200/306963_10150354393785498_618910497_10020971_3455899_n.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Path to Stob Ban</td></tr>
</tbody></table>We managed about 6 1/2 hours sleep before our alarms went off at 6am. We had a quick breakfast and packed and were out of the hut by 7:10, drove round to Glen Nevis, and started walking by 7:45. The day was looking overcast and discouraging and it promptly started raining, but we donned waterproofs and pressed on regardless. I had a couple of minor issues, my right achilles was complaining whenever the ground got steep, and I seemed to have acquired a minor sprain in my right wrist, but I assessed them and decided that neither were critical, and although they didn't improve much over the weekend they didn't get much worse either. We walked up through a felled forest, then up onto the ridge of Mullach nan Coirean. We were getting pretty toasty with all the uphill exertion so stripped off the waterproofs but thankfully it seemed to have stopped raining, we could even see above half of Ben Nevis behind us with a patchwork of small fluffy clouds over it. The longer we walked, the nicer the weather seemed to become. The clouds, where they weren't fluffy, were like a light lace shroud being wafted up and down over the summits, occasionally giving you views and keeping you guessing the rest of the time. There was something odd about the moments of visibility too - they seemed to happen just after we'd looked at the map or directions and worked out which direction we were heading in next, almost as if the weather was rewarding us for our navigation skills, and showing us we were right before we actually started onwards. At one point we felt a bit of warmth and looked up to see a hazy yellow disk burning a hole in the clouds until the sun appeared for real. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZcBAvCyHc4P2TcfCnBhYxWslATb7hxP_lMZb1GTHH4bXs6_GXzDh-41Z1xDKUdxe41qYNyGeo9JLcRY75ioj7lC6Vghxp93dKEIqWcZ9BuNvl2hxj_p2__TXSLksbVLqZOS4G3-oTxew/s1600/303272_10150354396045498_618910497_10020987_973840_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-size: 11px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="66" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZcBAvCyHc4P2TcfCnBhYxWslATb7hxP_lMZb1GTHH4bXs6_GXzDh-41Z1xDKUdxe41qYNyGeo9JLcRY75ioj7lC6Vghxp93dKEIqWcZ9BuNvl2hxj_p2__TXSLksbVLqZOS4G3-oTxew/s200/303272_10150354396045498_618910497_10020987_973840_n.jpg" width="200" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-size: 11px;">Stob Ban (left) from Lochan Coire nam Miseach </span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>We took a photo at the first summit and continued, on towards the aesthetic hill of Stob Ban. The rock changes noticeably from red granite to pale grey quartzite between these two and the path and ridges become more defined. Near the summit we were passed by two friendly RAF lads doing the Ramsay round who we had a chat with when we all paused at the cairn for a quick bite to eat. They headed on first and we followed a little later, only we hadnít gone very far when I noticed the way ahead was descending to the valley floor. A quick halt and a check of the route description told us weíd missed a turning, so we turned round and walked the other way a little so we could take stock of our bearings. Something about doing that made the entire world flip 180 degrees in my head, and itís quite an odd sensation not being able to marry up a single item between the view and the map. Suddenly the reality dawned on my, just as Vicky pointed out we were facing the way weíd come up, and I righted myself ñ weíd been going the correct way in the first place, just forgot to hook a sharp left down a shapely ridge that in fact Iíd already paused to take a photo of! After a little way we dropped off the ridge and descended gradually to lochan coire nam miseach, then zigzagged up the other side, dumping our bags at the top so we could travel lightly out and back along the spur of the Devil's Ridge. This is billed as both exposed and scrambly - we found it neither, but nevertheless it was lovely, a flat path on a pointed ridge, which crosses over a couple of rocky bits then ascends steeply up the grass flanks of Sgurr a' Mhaim. The views now were becoming more impressive, with the shapely peak of Stob Ban above the green lochan the most dominant. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRnhPS4kecROjkye5zjU7QCaYqsg53P_ZHjTsxDPfjrHuThMs7eHr-AMURR2DSecSfeCU-gnxhAhJTrcStJgG4HdwcfTa4FmvS_v0KeoLcFu-Tci1ozk1oFfxepIlufEm6XIRDJm3yny4/s1600/320083_10150354397120498_618910497_10020995_6987644_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="176" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRnhPS4kecROjkye5zjU7QCaYqsg53P_ZHjTsxDPfjrHuThMs7eHr-AMURR2DSecSfeCU-gnxhAhJTrcStJgG4HdwcfTa4FmvS_v0KeoLcFu-Tci1ozk1oFfxepIlufEm6XIRDJm3yny4/s400/320083_10150354397120498_618910497_10020995_6987644_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Munros ahead from the Devil's Ridge. Sgorr an Iubhair (ex Munro on right), Am Bodach (pointy one against sky), Stob Coire a' Chairn (pointy one against black), An Gearanach (left), Na Gruagaichean (black peaks back right) and Binnien Mor (black peak back left)</td></tr>
</tbody></table><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA6a9t0aQaHWkOhqgycSTAexDMAZKAG-8FQzKkvYPgbVQntFbo2d-CwFp8yH0lOhWVt5PMH8W7ed51paTzMjYtq71QDFyK0XZhVZG0GRrPAijThIOcLZQnYgML-cmcl50_xl7RnPJHDxE/s1600/309812_10150354399400498_618910497_10021016_7661014_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA6a9t0aQaHWkOhqgycSTAexDMAZKAG-8FQzKkvYPgbVQntFbo2d-CwFp8yH0lOhWVt5PMH8W7ed51paTzMjYtq71QDFyK0XZhVZG0GRrPAijThIOcLZQnYgML-cmcl50_xl7RnPJHDxE/s200/309812_10150354399400498_618910497_10021016_7661014_n.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Vicky against the backdrop of the Devil's Ridge</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Back at the bags we had a quick lunch, then summited Sgorr Iubhair which used to be a Munro but got demoted in 1997. The short stretch over to Am Bodach was pretty straighforward. At the top rain threatened again, and a chap that was travelling in the other direction looked a little harried after the ascent he'd just done that we were about to go down, saying it would be even worse in the wet, so we were a little nervous about it. It was actually completely fine, the ground was steep but it wasn't overly loose, foot placements were flat and on an obvious path and there were always things to hold on to. After this little blip in the weather we had the best weather so far, blue skies with puffy clouds passing over the summits, some appearing to emanated straight from the Ben Nevis summit, and elsewhere suns rays picking out various features on the hills' flanks and on the valley floor. I'm not sure that I appreciated them enough as I'd just realised that I'd mis-counted and we'd only done 4 Munros not 5, so I was feeling a bit dejected. Thankfully though it wasn't far to Stob Coire a' Chairn, which was the real number 5 and I perked up a bit.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9C3wKEqyHqCwv5OqutSf6WIqllojX9_rcEODucXCIoDgXGEehRZiddC_ZMPXAQUwdLPc6H006-JrWjsHvi2Mlaq8M5bP9XpPDjmUzql7JxvzIiMf2ktaUitOiCRn0Tiqiu8GH16NiPGo/s1600/295701_10150354400625498_618910497_10021035_1075345_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9C3wKEqyHqCwv5OqutSf6WIqllojX9_rcEODucXCIoDgXGEehRZiddC_ZMPXAQUwdLPc6H006-JrWjsHvi2Mlaq8M5bP9XpPDjmUzql7JxvzIiMf2ktaUitOiCRn0Tiqiu8GH16NiPGo/s200/295701_10150354400625498_618910497_10021035_1075345_n.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Clouds over Ben Nevis</td></tr>
</tbody></table><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT2TiMPnXShAJg-Ip59TJIf9MhvbPk5zSBRAkooQPYnuxytDq7MM3rJDt7VG87vhjOvyBE3XLM8tdzY49pSHfu7Oxc00aohwKONYfDjjSi-KSWl52D_A0pUKp0OsKW-X6dvDz3aCeGojM/s1600/308761_10150354400490498_618910497_10021034_7613961_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT2TiMPnXShAJg-Ip59TJIf9MhvbPk5zSBRAkooQPYnuxytDq7MM3rJDt7VG87vhjOvyBE3XLM8tdzY49pSHfu7Oxc00aohwKONYfDjjSi-KSWl52D_A0pUKp0OsKW-X6dvDz3aCeGojM/s200/308761_10150354400490498_618910497_10021034_7613961_n.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Steep but reasonable descent off Am Bodach</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Next up was the second spur out to An Gearanach via An Garbhanach. This was also billed as being scrambly, and this time it was. From afar it looked reasonably tricky but as we neared we noticed a path up the side of rocky triangle outlining the initial ascent up. The path then continued along the righthandside of the crest, but we followed the rocks in the purest line straight along the needle edge of the crest, which was reminscent of the Cuillin with its pointed rocks which sloped away to either side. After An Garbhanach the terrain was grassy again, and took us onto our sixth summit of the route, we were really making progress now. The route description said this was an excellent viewpoint so we rested for a minute or two to take in our surroundings, Ben Nevis right in front of us. We returned directly along the path for the sake of speed, starting to become aware of the time, we no longer had seemingly endless daylight to play with. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1I2zsBuTJ50U8AvmFefUheiXN3rHU7w12KcsGIOGk6Z1oCZnl64ex2-0ldbLJ4AxLEsLZ3XvG0dMbCvguqp-yIjIWg6xZqpmz0WoxfEr6eld4MnVJs8MaeV4NTuy9MR3oDx7BlyArfJY/s1600/291948_10150354401280498_618910497_10021041_3400661_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1I2zsBuTJ50U8AvmFefUheiXN3rHU7w12KcsGIOGk6Z1oCZnl64ex2-0ldbLJ4AxLEsLZ3XvG0dMbCvguqp-yIjIWg6xZqpmz0WoxfEr6eld4MnVJs8MaeV4NTuy9MR3oDx7BlyArfJY/s200/291948_10150354401280498_618910497_10021041_3400661_n.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">An Garbhanach (front) and An Gearanach (back)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHZzmAPZbSj7gYQOvUTFigSc1clCC9nXrdypQOsct5Ff-kR8jVAZlwMHeKgSJ4GOE16tYugNhRmxtEtniR6Izcnc1NpvL2C-__ZRlPRxO129Ydumsv19BZp9ivLYijm_r5QNlw1wCIn0U/s1600/296922_10150354401940498_618910497_10021051_6674339_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-size: 11px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHZzmAPZbSj7gYQOvUTFigSc1clCC9nXrdypQOsct5Ff-kR8jVAZlwMHeKgSJ4GOE16tYugNhRmxtEtniR6Izcnc1NpvL2C-__ZRlPRxO129Ydumsv19BZp9ivLYijm_r5QNlw1wCIn0U/s200/296922_10150354401940498_618910497_10021051_6674339_n.jpg" width="150" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-size: 11px;">Scrambling on An Garbhanach</span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>Back at the bags we sat for a little more food and to come up with a plan. The route here contoured round Stob Coire a' Chairn that we'd already done, rose just a little and rejoined the ridge heading to Na Gruagaichean. This section was about 1km so we decided to time it to see what kind of speed we were currently walking at. Then we'd know what we could achieve in the remaining daylight. It took us 35 minutes from 6pm to 6:35, rather slow, but it wasn't exactly representative as first we'd had to find the path, and then I'd stopped to fill my waterbottle up in the stream - it's very unusual for me to run out of water, especially when the amount I was carrying normally lasts me a full weekend, but it had been a hot day. Ideally we'd hoped to manage 8 Munros and camp down by Coire an Lochain but this was now looking a bit ambituous. That aim was more so that we could make the most of the better weather and have less to do in the forecasted rain the next day, rather than because we actually needed to split it up that way to achieve the full set, so it didn't matter if we camped elsewhere. We picked out a couple of other options from the map, all places with the necessary running water for cooking. We eliminated the coire bowl to the north of Na Gruagaichean as it was directly in the wind, and instead decided to bag that summit, head past it to the bealach then drop down to the South to the streams there. And this we did, despite the weather worsening - the wind was picking up and the rain forced us to stop to don waterproofs again. We practically flew over Na Gruagaichean's top and the summit itself. Between the two there was a little unpleasant ground across a little notch - steep and loose - but it was soon over. As we scrambled up the last bit of ascent, zigzagging up boulders on an indistinct path, the light was noticeably fading and I was panicking a little. I was encouraging Vicky to move faster as time was against us and was aghast when at the summit she said she was hungry and wanted to stop to make a sandwich. I plied her full of dried apricots which I had to hand and after the essential photo I shood her off down the crest towards the bealach. The path down looked fine and the rain had lifted again, but our intended camping spot was still hidden behind out of sight and I didn't feel I could relax until I knew the terrain. As we descended there was a beautiful sight to my left. The area was darkening except for a single, wide, bold, orange sunbeam passing from the northern flank of Na Griagaichan in a gradual diagonal down to the ground. It was so long you had to move your head to see the whole thing. There wasn't time to stop and take a photo so I committed it to memory and I think the sight is now permanently ingrained in my head, not something I'll not forget for a while! <br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBiqDn2_1u320wHmhC0qgk3ZXF3d3CvSTvSZYR-xbl0r0MOoeKLWvmF5uMs_xwb521AlW-PchXRT8gUOoq9njc49H9WVLtXZw7NhSObnBl3vEEeBQryuP3KN6s_wu5ZXyb_yneKqXALpE/s1600/320668_10150354403060498_618910497_10021084_7855589_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-size: 11px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBiqDn2_1u320wHmhC0qgk3ZXF3d3CvSTvSZYR-xbl0r0MOoeKLWvmF5uMs_xwb521AlW-PchXRT8gUOoq9njc49H9WVLtXZw7NhSObnBl3vEEeBQryuP3KN6s_wu5ZXyb_yneKqXALpE/s200/320668_10150354403060498_618910497_10021084_7855589_n.jpg" width="200" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-size: 11px;">Catching breath on An Gearanach, Grey Corries in background</span></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5Xf3tkP2HlknOXGycCTytiaQa37_u3bk_xMN45i8LFe76Kvq8TXlff5ZMViGhy40abHxsldHRn3EdJ3VEaHMbpC2eUd5UzvaCwYwTojSmxKh3KlnuuQSDbX3GVvGtNSrbLHR9ia8de80/s1600/304180_10150354402710498_618910497_10021073_5823372_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5Xf3tkP2HlknOXGycCTytiaQa37_u3bk_xMN45i8LFe76Kvq8TXlff5ZMViGhy40abHxsldHRn3EdJ3VEaHMbpC2eUd5UzvaCwYwTojSmxKh3KlnuuQSDbX3GVvGtNSrbLHR9ia8de80/s200/304180_10150354402710498_618910497_10021073_5823372_n.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> Munro no. 6 An Gearanach in front of Ben Nevis</td></tr>
</tbody></table>We reached the bealach thankfully quickly as the path was good, and there on our right we could see, as hoped, some flat ground with a couple of streams, and also a little lochan. My spirits lifted, then I relaxed almost entirely when we were looking for a nice way to descend and Vicky spotted a zigzag path taking us down. The last of the light seemed to linger and we actually had plenty of time to pitch the tent exactly 12 hours after setting off, and start cooking. The highs and lows continued though, as the rain started for real causing us to huddle with the stove in the not-very-sheltered open porch, and the dinner was disgusting. So disgusting that it turned Vicky's stomach and she was poorly for a few hours. We kind of took it all in our stride though, as you don't really have much choice in that situation. Vicky eventually managed to crawl into bed, and eventually we both managed to fall asleep, although I keep waking with an unexplained pain below my right knee - it seems I'd bumped it earlier in the day and it didn't like lying down. Despite finding a sheltered spot to camp the wind must have turned because occasionally a significant gust shook the tent. It held up surprisingly well though considering how lightweight it is, and we remained in relative comfort. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipKj9hUgHpIejfG2vVihJZJbE1tSRqzH9yWvoZG6Qb1HXsMtMPsGXUcrPxoMq-_rkNnzSoBdADlS8ctkG4HSFhOcJwuG2qb2FNAd_b89n83z0TQQZBVAdOZTYbf23NhRaw22qXiEvqLnE/s1600/302030_10150354403995498_618910497_10021113_5938158_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="94" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipKj9hUgHpIejfG2vVihJZJbE1tSRqzH9yWvoZG6Qb1HXsMtMPsGXUcrPxoMq-_rkNnzSoBdADlS8ctkG4HSFhOcJwuG2qb2FNAd_b89n83z0TQQZBVAdOZTYbf23NhRaw22qXiEvqLnE/s200/302030_10150354403995498_618910497_10021113_5938158_n.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sun beam into Kinlochleven</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLwlvit5hvuSFWBqqPCNwR9XWY26F1zL-b8g0hQ01wD7JYDUSHoSPMr5IAkjmTYdLnRJIroJ7gGD9Rkhu9Y4vbiYos8l8FjnNnaSoXsloH0PctfQPSTDItm_e7sH9_5xAOziGwCyfLmyI/s1600/304487_10150354404460498_618910497_10021126_1030548_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLwlvit5hvuSFWBqqPCNwR9XWY26F1zL-b8g0hQ01wD7JYDUSHoSPMr5IAkjmTYdLnRJIroJ7gGD9Rkhu9Y4vbiYos8l8FjnNnaSoXsloH0PctfQPSTDItm_e7sH9_5xAOziGwCyfLmyI/s200/304487_10150354404460498_618910497_10021126_1030548_n.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wild camp</td></tr>
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HILL DAY 2<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4V8RRUcVJP-VdqhVkirMA88vHC19RmG-rTlsRv4OpoGsvVxNrvHqfra3NH_9cd_UsLRsMdl_F9kg3Ytzyfp3ITwVMDBMFn2tySew4TaMBnv7blIq67y0sG8aqB1PllFak7qNJ9hPb_-Y/s1600/313323_10150354404750498_618910497_10021135_7811279_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4V8RRUcVJP-VdqhVkirMA88vHC19RmG-rTlsRv4OpoGsvVxNrvHqfra3NH_9cd_UsLRsMdl_F9kg3Ytzyfp3ITwVMDBMFn2tySew4TaMBnv7blIq67y0sG8aqB1PllFak7qNJ9hPb_-Y/s200/313323_10150354404750498_618910497_10021135_7811279_n.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Munro no. 8 Binnein Mor</td></tr>
</tbody></table>We had plenty of hours in the tent but it wasn't all relaxing so we didn't make a particularly early start. We started rising at around 7, and didn't start walking until 8:45. My knee was causing me a little trouble but eased off after some ibuprofen. First stop was Binnein Mor's south top, then the rocky path to the main summit. Binnein Mor is the highest Mamore but there isn't actually much height gain to it as you're already pretty high. Still, it seemed to take forever to get to, but thankfully much quicker to return from. As we conginued to Sgurr Eilde Beag, Sgurr Eilde Mor's south west top, we noticed that the mist was lifting and the day proved to be better than we'd expected, although it was cool enough and damp enough that we left our waterproofs on all day. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_gB1EBU5WY3pAjLHbGqlCevZMiooQhysFlrRlwUd5ZNnBEwmtHesGkJXlUC-wl4-TdqnSGP8FyhcX_V6aYafgPBmQfDspTHd24kDSCUGoPqzGOLLTkdZqAgKKNOlii1DuePpvpZli6YY/s1600/312173_10150354405540498_618910497_10021150_6227746_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_gB1EBU5WY3pAjLHbGqlCevZMiooQhysFlrRlwUd5ZNnBEwmtHesGkJXlUC-wl4-TdqnSGP8FyhcX_V6aYafgPBmQfDspTHd24kDSCUGoPqzGOLLTkdZqAgKKNOlii1DuePpvpZli6YY/s200/312173_10150354405540498_618910497_10021150_6227746_n.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On the scree up Sgurr Eilde Mor </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwD2tR4voTH-sr_taF4ajB_cCAkUrxW9vHVYVrYn53M9bMNuEcKiLjzDZ9623gcauRZj3Oy90JbBHkMTjH1R0dpOFo6G44wJAcnypowigHzJYXSUTKxtJMN-JeeoY-mozwX-WvOkVMiXk/s1600/312481_10150354405720498_618910497_10021152_4331606_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwD2tR4voTH-sr_taF4ajB_cCAkUrxW9vHVYVrYn53M9bMNuEcKiLjzDZ9623gcauRZj3Oy90JbBHkMTjH1R0dpOFo6G44wJAcnypowigHzJYXSUTKxtJMN-JeeoY-mozwX-WvOkVMiXk/s200/312481_10150354405720498_618910497_10021152_4331606_n.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Where I got blown over on Sgurr Eilde Mor</td></tr>
</tbody></table>The route description we were following said to descend this top direct, down the steep rib to the lochan below, but I had a go at the start of it twice and really didn't like it - it was steep, loose and there wasn't anything to hold on to. Of course Vicky just waltzed down it, but I called her back and we decided to take an easier but longer descent, a sweeping path that also led to the lochan. I felt a bit uncomfortable about having avoided that descent, as I previously believed that I can manage any summer walker's ascent of a Scottish mountain (it's a whole different thing in winter, even an easy slope can stop me in my tracks, even with crampons on), but I consoled myself by reminding myself that this is only one man's suggestion and not an accepted route. Sgurr Eilde Mor proved to be reasonably challenging mountain. We followed a path that zigzagged up from the lochan, taking us first over scree on a reasonable path, then up steepening red dirt and pebbles to a high ridge. It was never certain whether we had enough purchase on the gravel to move up more than we moved down, and I wasn't looking foward to coming back down it afterwards. I was pleased when we reached the rocky path on the final narrow ridge to the summit, but the wind had picked up even more and was gusting across us. I had a real heart in mouth moment when I was blown off the side of the path and fell backwards over the rocks. It was a real out of control moment where I knew I was at the mercy of fate. As I was falling I remember spotting a particular rock that I thought I could grab hold of to stop me falling off the back of the mountain, but thankfully I stopped before needing to grab it. I held on to steady myself before standing up, and flashed Vicky a look of stunned, terrified relief. We carried on carefully up and back down, not stopping at the summit except for the obligatory photo. The descent of the loose ground was actually way better than expected, and easier than the ascent had been. The wind was blowing into our faces and kept us upright, which made us feel a lot more stable. Also I employed a technique I'd learnt on the descent down An Dorus on the Cuillin Ridge, of keeping my back and body upright and straight, and driving my heels into the loose ground on each step. For the first time ever I felt like I'd improved at going down hills, something I've always been slow at, as I experienced the new sensation of placing a second foot while the first was still moving, usually I won't move a foot until the one I've just placed is solid. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNVw40UCARevBF9aC80fBlLuLqYE-dc9A4KWWUCpK0CSqfGsYq8roRbf7i6d9pW6SHd59QpGP0bPLmWUTGN47BR4mPeVWJ134tEPNun3Jr1Zj_NnTXHS4iTZGxGX49k8k8TF9wPTWNtKI/s1600/305899_10150354405315498_618910497_10021146_3326160_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNVw40UCARevBF9aC80fBlLuLqYE-dc9A4KWWUCpK0CSqfGsYq8roRbf7i6d9pW6SHd59QpGP0bPLmWUTGN47BR4mPeVWJ134tEPNun3Jr1Zj_NnTXHS4iTZGxGX49k8k8TF9wPTWNtKI/s200/305899_10150354405315498_618910497_10021146_3326160_n.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The descent I didn't do and Coire an Lochain</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVHkV1yxy8PhqbuTiOyzazhIWPD5TpFg0M1TgKvgEENY-bW0o0m87C7qFJdqlIMGpWZ1phPYLF5HOY0sqUZYX6VtC3g5YRts4JihH7KcvmWxO8IZ-E20h51wQTiCOl-LkoJwAwe1VVZKM/s1600/297216_10150354406420498_618910497_10021156_1326699_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVHkV1yxy8PhqbuTiOyzazhIWPD5TpFg0M1TgKvgEENY-bW0o0m87C7qFJdqlIMGpWZ1phPYLF5HOY0sqUZYX6VtC3g5YRts4JihH7KcvmWxO8IZ-E20h51wQTiCOl-LkoJwAwe1VVZKM/s200/297216_10150354406420498_618910497_10021156_1326699_n.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Munro no. 10 Binnein Beag</td></tr>
</tbody></table>We branched off the path just before the lochan and took a shortcut over to the good path which lead round the flanks of Binnein Mor and over to the little lochan in the col between that and Binnein Beag. This was easy going and was a welcome relief, and I felt like we were on the path home now, even though we still had one Munro left to bag. Binnein Beag is the smallest Munro on the route but you start from quite low so it has the second most ascent on the circuit. We followed a path all the way up though, which made the passage through the boulders trivial. It wasn't the most obvious of paths but I seemed to have a sixth sense in finding it, a subconscious assessment off logical line, lighter rocks with signs of wear, different kind of rocks imported in or moved and levelled ground on scree, all observations made experience in the hills. The descent after summitting was rather exciting though. Straight down the west rib, which looked, and was, just a loose red gully. At one point it steepend more but Vicky led us left down grassy ledges and we reached the plateau to a tiny lochan. From here we tramped the heathery, boggy ground north west for some distance to the Water of Nevis, thanfully not stranding ourselves on any of the small rocky cliffs that were scattered about along the edge of the river. We looked for a crossing point, first going upstream then deciding to follow some trodden ground downsteam a bit. This led us to a shallower section and we waded across. Amazingly I only received a tiny trickly of water down each boot, probably because I was still wearing my waterproof trousers which created a seal, I'd expected to get totally swamped.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNlNqaaRx0JXQU39W0kRVTa_2-gV2TO42BnnYBDV9Ogy_c6Rz_in1DmBEOzk-BdHLoibSK3idA1TmWLyE7JT-A-Y29WpPXufYIBTHJvSxBaAJ7sTEncrUOjTuqXMZQCNcqvKTIpINcACg/s1600/316370_10150354408575498_618910497_10021179_3418638_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNlNqaaRx0JXQU39W0kRVTa_2-gV2TO42BnnYBDV9Ogy_c6Rz_in1DmBEOzk-BdHLoibSK3idA1TmWLyE7JT-A-Y29WpPXufYIBTHJvSxBaAJ7sTEncrUOjTuqXMZQCNcqvKTIpINcACg/s200/316370_10150354408575498_618910497_10021179_3418638_n.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Overjoyed to be back at the car</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5QJpbyot8PmXXBriW6pg5DtFTv7hbszaAqjkGHFQWlcpzimqDwzFbnDzrPYVnnM_kzZmcZjoqbKLqlhNcxWMNZFx8XeComyATGWgQQ9CN93BHvA4tpBtRY1-D5lGsVDXYfd7tXnfSRGw/s1600/321607_10150354406970498_618910497_10021161_6568250_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5QJpbyot8PmXXBriW6pg5DtFTv7hbszaAqjkGHFQWlcpzimqDwzFbnDzrPYVnnM_kzZmcZjoqbKLqlhNcxWMNZFx8XeComyATGWgQQ9CN93BHvA4tpBtRY1-D5lGsVDXYfd7tXnfSRGw/s200/321607_10150354406970498_618910497_10021161_6568250_n.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Crossing the Water of Nevis</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Following the Water of Nevis the views were quite varied so that kept us entertained but it still seemed to take an age just to reach the Steall bridge. We started to encounter other people so we knew we were nearing civilisation again, but perhaps due to the harder ground my feet were starting to hurt and the going was getting tough. As we walked along the tourist track past the pretty cascades of Glen Nevis that I'd last seen in the snow 5 years ago the achilles of my right leg, blister on my left instep, and squashed heels of both feet were vying for the title of most painful injury. There was then nearly 3km of road which I just knew would go on forever. I stuck my thumb out whenever a car past but nobody seemed inclined to stop so we accepted our fate and trudged along, struggling to speak. As we travelled I reflected that it was only experience that told me I would do another Munro, because at that precise moment it wasn't a concept I could even consider, I was all Munro-ed out. We'd done 10 Munros and 7 Tops over 22 hours with a wild camp, covering 34km with 2.5x Ben Nevisses in ascent (3400m). Desperation made me pick up the pace, and finally the car suddenly appeared closer than I'd expected, and 9:45 after setting off. With deep joy I pulled off my boots, to find, with less joy, the soles of my feet were white, wrinkly and hard - the onset of trenchfoot? Who knows. A baby wipe and some clean socks and they started to feel better already. We drove back to Aberdeen via Aviemore where we stopped off at an Australian restaurant, where Vicky had an American dish and I had a Chinese one. Very Scottish. Then we snatched a few hours kip at Vicky's before she took me to the bus station for 7am. I slept for the first half, pretty soundly considering the transport, then a nice lad from Bangladesh sat next to me and offered me a headphone so I could watch 'Seven Years in Tibet' with him. I gratefully accepted and was in Manchester before I knew it. I didn't have to rush this time, so sat down for a pizza before I boarded my train. The walk back to my car at the other end was uphill and difficult and I was dying for a wee, so I experienced all kinds of relief when I got home, and the chickens seemed to be getting on better too! A memorable trip, for sure.Sarah Cloughhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03797857043816872742noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1445147937322368187.post-69360659529982119572011-08-02T22:27:00.000+01:002011-08-02T22:27:06.894+01:00July 2011 - Walking/Climbing - Ben Nevis<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlGS02qfvR3k7wpNfjpCtdcZR9RP4Int6D32-HIP-rTwiz4Yz8jsK_p2Ybj77jaAPYwPCeNVViHStrMo6_sq93L0V1wywK18hLpJShMYU6dfDWE__LjiGTD4dAKF169VxWVwlsc8ipY4E/s1600/IMG_0683+Poss+%255Bzen%255D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlGS02qfvR3k7wpNfjpCtdcZR9RP4Int6D32-HIP-rTwiz4Yz8jsK_p2Ybj77jaAPYwPCeNVViHStrMo6_sq93L0V1wywK18hLpJShMYU6dfDWE__LjiGTD4dAKF169VxWVwlsc8ipY4E/s320/IMG_0683+Poss+%255Bzen%255D.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Skimming stones behind the CC hut</td></tr>
</tbody></table>This trip was many things to me. It was the highest Munro, not to mention the highest mountain in the UK (Ben Nevis); it was a route that has been on my wishlist for ages not least because it counts as a through route, i.e. going through a fully enclosed hole (Tower Ridge); it was the neighbouring Munro that I'd wanted to do since I saw its aesthetic profile when I stood on top of Aonach Mor in winter a few years ago (Carn Mor Dearg arete), it was a trip with two friends I no longer see as often as I'd like to, and it was another step closer in achieving my aim of ticking all the Munros before I'm 40. Simon and Claire arrived at mine on the Friday evening, and we enjoyed some of my home-made alcohol beverages and discussed the route. On Saturday morning I attempted to prep us for the long drive with butcher's bacon and home-made tiger bread, then we began the drive up to Fort William. We arrived at a reasonable time, did a bit of shopping, moved up to the hut at Roy Bridge, Si and Claire whipped us up a tasty curry, then we had a wander along the river, and were in bed by 9 without getting too badly devoured by midges.<br />
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Things had gone well so far, but that was the easy bit. Sunday morning started early, but inauspiciously. We woke just after 5, and got to the Nevis Range ski centre car park to find I'd left my hiking socks in the hut. Secondly, we had the Climbers' Club key for the forest gate and higher car park, but according to a chap in the hut the foresty commission had changed the locks the previous week without letting the Climbers' Cub know, and on top of that we couldn't even get to the gate to check as we found there was a motorbike world championships being held in the Leanachan forest and their fences in the car park were blocking access to the forest track. Thirdly, while we were considering these problems some night security came over and told us only event VIPs could park in the car park, although as it was so early there were no staff there that knew where we *could* park. Also, despite the weather having been nice all week by all accounts, today the forecast was for showers and low cloud, and sure enough it was pretty overcast with a certain amount of dampness in the air. Nevertheless, none of these things were enough to cause us to change our plans, so we went back to the hut for me to pick up some more socks (I later found the others had rolled under the bed), and parked in the North Face car park instead. We began our walk in at 7 to 7, at first steeply through the forest then a more relaxed ascent up the banks of the Allt a' Mhuilinn to the CIC hut (altitude 680m), which we reached after an hour an a half. It was a little surreal to pass a 'digging in progress' sign along with two wheelbarrows and the digger itself under the cliffs of Ben Nevis 5km from the road, but it seems they are improving the path by the hut. Another half an hour later and we were at the start of the route.<br />
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We decided to miss out the Douglas boulder to save time, and went round the back via East Gully instead. I went first, and followed a little path which first went up easy grass and rock, and then steepened up a loose, muddy scree gully. I steadily picked my way up not yet sure of the friction on this terrain, at times having to bridge on holds that weren't quite big enough to inspire confidence in big boots, and holding onto rock that was clearly not well attached. I found it unpleasantly loose and was fervently hoping the rest of the route would not be like this. This gully took us to the Douglas gap, from which an open chimney left up onto the ridge proper. Claire took over here and carefully explored the holds and made progress up to safety. Thankfully the rock here was much more solid, but this meant we had to start from scratch 'finding our feet'. It was pretty steep, and I was glad that Claire could remember the moves she'd just made and pass the knowledge on to me to aid my upwards progress. We didn't get a rope out, but made a mental note not to feel ashamed to request one if we met another such obstable.<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-U4qZZDs6HpXRU3Ri44pMholjnHDInAh36XipbKK8Cb4rN9EPea7FsY6Pta2C1GvWtW7Fhb6MXqgcPELgFFguvOUfj8CUeKhxs0ZwtXWrCnoMt9jEGY2mj6fIGGhnjXwvaAIYpLxtZP4/s1600/IMG_0731+Walk+in+to+Ben+Nevis+%255Bweb%255D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-U4qZZDs6HpXRU3Ri44pMholjnHDInAh36XipbKK8Cb4rN9EPea7FsY6Pta2C1GvWtW7Fhb6MXqgcPELgFFguvOUfj8CUeKhxs0ZwtXWrCnoMt9jEGY2mj6fIGGhnjXwvaAIYpLxtZP4/s320/IMG_0731+Walk+in+to+Ben+Nevis+%255Bweb%255D.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">North Face of Ben Nevis</td></tr>
</tbody></table>The information we had with us said that the next section was easy going, and indeed it was, and we made fairly rapid progress. Claire carried on picking the way upwards, and at some point I took over being in front. The scrambling was luxurious and despite the complete lack of views due to the lowe cloud I was really enjoying the gorilla like movement over the rock now. We kept our eye out for the Little Tower, which one description said was inconspicuous but another had some advice on how to tackle. We reach a little steeping that may have been it, but couldn't work out the advised approach of starting on the left and trending right up an awkward ramp to a corner, so instead took it straight on which was given as an alternative, since this way seemed worn and was marked with crampon scratches. I decided to be brave and stay in the lead, despite my climbing skills have falled into disuse, and although a little harder than the previous section it was never hard or scary and still fun.<br />
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This easy section of the ridge seemed to go on forwever, but after eventually we reached an area where the crampon scratches ran out, and there were several options, none of which seeming that likely. The left hand flank seemed most amenable so I tried a couple of grooves but although each led up a little, the slab above them looked like it would repel further progress. Claire retreated a metre or two and found a stepped groove that I'd missed, so we went up that. Then came an akward bit on a par with the earlier chimney, and decided that this was probably the Little Tower, as a ramp led righwards. Claire teetered across it, and gave us some feedback, before pulling stylishly over a steep block onto easier ground again. I approached the ramp in a different way, staying lower so that I was more in balance and not pushed backwards by my rucksack. That bit was okay, but I didn't like the feel of the move over the block so remembered my previous mental note about gear, and got Claire to pass me down a couple of slings that I attached to myself for safety for that one move, which I then made much more happily. I'm well aware that slings don't have any 'give' and if you fall on them you can generate a lot of force, both on your body and on the sling and rock, but in this situation the speed advantage overweighed all that, all that was needed was a little backup.<br />
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We carried on on more easier ground, until we reach the unmistakeable Great Tower, a vertical wall which could have been climbed but was of a quite different level of difficulty to the route so far. We had been expecting to summit the Great Tower direct since the route description had said to climb to its 'very ramparts', but reading further we realised that we were already at the ramparts, and it was here that the Eastern Traverse led off to the left to avoid this difficulty. Claire spotted the traverse and it was reassuringly wide, albeit in a fantastic position on the edge of the cliff and I'm sure it would be vertigo-inducing for many. At about this point some eerie whoops and cheers reached us through the mist, other people on the mountain somewhere, and we whooped back. The Eastern Traverse led us straight to the tunnel, which was my 'through route' section, and I dived eagerly ahead to thrutch myself up the inside of the fallen block and out of the hole at the top. It wasn't greasy as one description had warned, just fabulous. With the other two still engaged in this bit, I explored the next section which was described as steep with good holds. Steep it was, climbing the broken left wall of the Great Tower with triangular blocks jutting out so your body was always pushed outwards even if your hands and feet were in the niches above and below. It was reasonably okay though, no need for a rope although I did thread a sling through a hole and attach it to myself while I figured out the steepest move, and then all three of us were at the cairn on the tower.<br />
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We knew we were nearing the summit now, but still had to face the infamous Tower Gap, and were feeling a little jittery at the prospect. We first paused off the back of the Great Tower for a replenishing snack, then it was Simon's turn to be the intrepid explorer at the front so we sent him off across the next obstacle - between the Great Tower and Tower Gap the ridge narrows into a metre wide gendarme with vertical sides dropping into gullies that lead down to the coire floors. This bit in itself is particularly memorable, carefully sliding on your bum over the gendarme which a kind of rock gangway, the exposure from the sheer drops each side causing you to shrink down onto the rock and pray for high friction to hold you there. Simon investigated Tower Gap at the end of the ledge while Claire and I waited on it, enjoying the situation at the same time as trying not to think about it too much. There was already a rope in situ so Si clipped in to it, but there was a bit of a delay before he actually descended. From my vantage point I coudn't see what was going on, I just knew I was getting a little chilly and also a little damp as it had started to drizzle, but when I arrived I saw that someone had tied a knot in the rope to bring the two strands together. This knot was half way down the gap, so the rope wasn't actually much use as an abseil rope until you'd actually managed to lower yourself down to the bottom of the gap. Simon threw himself valiantly down it, and climbed skillfully up the other side, using the ab rope as protection although the higher he got the more horizontal it became - thankfully the difficulty eased with the height. Claire followed, then me, and I accepted the rope Si threw over to me, so I had direct assistance from above. Then we stowed the gear for the final section.<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaRUT8y2AzYlXMgEntpkt6HKB8oAWgMlcpegAh2IPXsUG3mJIENOefYV_5uyu9uwKPlQvvj8n3xSPa1ywoi9NkDwH21DNXyCREvxesMm5WtMSUt5y8ocWFUJv4ks2eAAtjDrPSCb12My4/s1600/IMG_0733+Refuge+on+the+Ben+Nevis+summit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaRUT8y2AzYlXMgEntpkt6HKB8oAWgMlcpegAh2IPXsUG3mJIENOefYV_5uyu9uwKPlQvvj8n3xSPa1ywoi9NkDwH21DNXyCREvxesMm5WtMSUt5y8ocWFUJv4ks2eAAtjDrPSCb12My4/s320/IMG_0733+Refuge+on+the+Ben+Nevis+summit.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The refuge at the summit</td></tr>
</tbody></table>The ramp leading away from Tower Gap was much easier than it looked from below although Claire wasn't keen on one of the moves - we were all a bit wobbly after the pause and confusion of Tower Gap and the odd rope work. Even after climbing up the other side I was worrying about the bit in the description noted as a 'final steepening' with no mention as to whether it was hard or easy. As it turned out it was barely noticeable, and suddenly we found ourselves standing on the summit plateau, an unexpected situation after being so absorbed by the route for so long. The mist still brought visibility down to around a hundred metres, but we could hear all manner of noises up ahead. Captivated, I gingerly stalked onwards while the other two sorted something out behind me, until the view cleared a little and I could see ghostly figures passing in either direction in front of me - we had reached the tourist path leading up from the right to the summit on the left, and there was a steady flow of people ascending by that route. In no time at all we'd joined the masses and covered the last couple of hundred metres across the plateau to the summit, and were standing there amist the sodden walkers and climbers, the ruins of the observatory, a war memorial, a trig point, a wooden roofed steel-box refuge, and a number of cairns, each artefact appearing out of the mist as the other faded in to it.<br />
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It was the first time up here for all three of us and we sat and had some food and drink. We'd made good time, 2 hours for the walk in and 5 hours on the route, and it was now 2pm, meaning we had time to descend by the CMD arete as planned.<br />
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We set off on a bearing, but then I made a brief error and led us over to the wrong shoulder, forgetting there were two. I soon realised my mistake and we backtracked 100 yards or so and found the path down the correct shoulder. We zig zagged down steeply for a good way, and had our moment of vindication when we found a levelling along with the the pole marking the escape route down Coire Leis, showing we were in the right place. There was also a feature that looked like a large rock chalice, which turned out to be a series of abseil posts, marking another descent option. Our route carried on ahead, with the flanks steepening again into the CMD arete. We followed the path along the back of it instead of scrambling along the crest, for speed's sake and because we'd already put in a good deal of toil on the way up so didn't need the extra difficulty at this point. There were still no views, and the rain that had started at Tower Gap had not stopped, so we were plodding along in waterproofs. It was a little disheartening having to walk with poor weather and no visual rewards, but at least it had held off while we were climbing. I personally was still enjoying the terrain, and imagining what a stunning situation it must be on a good day. The ridge curved round to the North and it didn't seem too long until we were only 1km from the summit of Carn Mor Dearg, and then 200m. Then a short hop along to the subsiduary top, then all that was left was the epically long path that descended mercilessly slowly to the Allt a' Mhuilinn.<br />
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We'd expected to descend fairly steeply back down to the valley floor, but the path we picked up seemed to be heading in pretty much the correct direction albeit staying high, so we followed it deciding it would be quicker than going off track. At points we thought it would never descend nor converge with the Allt a' Mhuillin path, but eventually we saw over a rib and were reassured that it would. As we came down out of the clouds we started to get a couple of views. Unfortunately by this point Tower Ridge was out of sight, but we saw the western part of the North Face, and round to Lochan Meall an t'Suidhe and beyond to Loch Linnhe. The rain stopped too, meaning we could take off our waterproofs, which was good as it was getting steadily warmer the lower we got. There was also a brilliant moment where I observed that we hadn't seen much wildlife except for the odd little brown bird, and added that I nearly always see Ptarmigan on Scottish hills… then as if by magic, just as we passed a bump on the path we stumbled over the largest flock of them I've ever seen, and they ran around for a bit before flying away, flashing white under their camouflaged grey backs. We saw some deer in the distance too, the other essential tick.<br />
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When we finally reached the Allt a' Mhuillin we wished we were still up on the flanks as it was pretty midgy, but thankfully that didn't last too long as it started drizzling again which kept them away - we weren't complaining this time. The path back along the river then through the forest began to drag, our feet were aching and our knees were sore. We didn't quite make it within 12 hours, but we reached the car at 7 past 7 having left at 7 to 7, and 12:15 isn't bad at all for such a long day out: 14km and 1480m total ascent with a fair amount of scrambling. The question is whether to go back and do it again on a fairer day, there are so many other Munros still to do but I think it would be worth it!Sarah Cloughhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03797857043816872742noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1445147937322368187.post-59864658506607422982011-07-06T12:20:00.001+01:002012-06-07T14:44:47.369+01:00June 2011 - Walking/Climbing - Skye and the Cuillin(The full set of photos accompanying this report can be found here - <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px;">https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10150304811000498.379331.618910497&l=5a9656f7d1)</span><br />
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The hardest Munro is said to be the Inn Pin (Innacessible Pinnacle) as it requires a rock climb to get to the summit, and on top of that it is part of the Cuillin Ridge on Skye which is fairly continuous scrambling over 12km and often done in one or two long days, so I was keen to get there this year before I forgot how to climb. The best time to go is in May or June when the snow has melted but the midges haven't yet descended en masse, however my planned trip fell through and nobody else could take a week off at short notice. Then I received an unexpected message from a friend who was on shore leave for a couple of weeks and interested in a little Munro bagging or climbing, and suddenly the trip was on.<br />
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We liaised over facebook chat, working out what to take and researching the route. We would head to Skye on Monday 20th June, staying until Sunday 26th at the latest and hoping for a weather window. I had already planned to go Munro bagging with a different partner the weekend before, so arranged to stay with some friends in Glasgow on the Sunday night to save coming all the way home inbetween, and enlisted a neighbour to look after the chickens.<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFy4NLlyylfDVA7deDM8A7QnxXnR5zOAaO1enMgeOoRcdDGjAj2OqsWsYmqj8PKBl2dGW8_WIOWM7dbKEZFFf4GZ0c4eVVJmx_kyLWeoFyffNJqV98Cckepzh2W2Nr96xvvKlBDOMaMA4/s1600/IMG_5358+Paul+and+the+typical+weather.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFy4NLlyylfDVA7deDM8A7QnxXnR5zOAaO1enMgeOoRcdDGjAj2OqsWsYmqj8PKBl2dGW8_WIOWM7dbKEZFFf4GZ0c4eVVJmx_kyLWeoFyffNJqV98Cckepzh2W2Nr96xvvKlBDOMaMA4/s320/IMG_5358+Paul+and+the+typical+weather.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The typical weather on the first day</td></tr>
</tbody></table>The first weekend didn't start well, driving for ages down winding, damp Glen Orchy with Paul looking for a suitable spot to hang his tarp and me desperate to just put my head down in the passenger seat and catch up on some sleep. When we finally stopped, spent a while settling down, and curled up in our respective spots, the camper vans next to us started pumping out repetitive techno music. I tried to ignore it. I really tried, and every time I went to do something about it (move myself, move the car, ask them to turn it down) it seemed quieter and bearable so I'd lie down again, and then once again it would take over my entire brain and pervade the world around me - boom, beep, boom, beep. So eventually I got out of the car in my t-shirt and shorts and wandered over to Paul's bivvy to see if it was queiter over there, it was a little so I resolved to get my tent, then I was suddenly aware of a toxic, needling pain all the way up my legs and realised there were midges everywhere. I ran back to the car with Paul's keys saying I'd return them shortly, but when I reached the safety of the car, sobbing and scratching, I knew I wasn't getting out of there for a second time. It would be like willingly leaving the trenches into enemy lines without any kind of fire power. So I sat in the car in self-pity, feeling doomed to a sleepless night that would impact on my energy on the hills, then was overjoyed when Paul appeared at the window and said we'd move down the road. We found a non-boggy layby and I dosed up on anti-histamines, and finally at 1am I went to sleep, peacefully and deeply. Saturday started a little ominously with the initial path peppered with cows, but things steadily improved. The weather took a while to catch on, and it rained all day, but that couldn't take away from my elation that my knees weren't hurting one bit on the downhills, they've been improving more and more over the last year, and the steady plod up and down hills was blowing away the cobwebs that had accumulated since my last Scottish trip at Easter. We did 3 Munros on Rannoch Moor - Beainn a'Chreachain, Beinn Achaladair and Beinn Mhanach - gaining barely a single view through the cloud, but we struck up a steady conversation of shared experiences and for me the day passed without drudgery. In order to bag an extra 'top' I half deliberately mistook a county boundary for a footpath and dragged us directly up Beinn a'Chuirn for a bit of added interest. We were rather sodden by the end and grass-skiing all over the place in our soaked-through boots, but the impacts of that were lessened by adjusting our original plans to camp for the night and booking into the last available beds in the backpackers hostel in Tyndrum, which has a reasonably effective drying room.<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0_qX_UuRyn8FTa_At_I5oC5b8hhpJe_IU_MpausV8DzCI2V_SX3GlDnSA5j5zQqlhK6VpG1ot9V8zkxcB1S4_4qKa8-us63Upc7ma47AA_2zwjJiJ8T5Uo2G7z287eekWLyCyCN_Bo1c/s1600/IMG_5353+Path.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0_qX_UuRyn8FTa_At_I5oC5b8hhpJe_IU_MpausV8DzCI2V_SX3GlDnSA5j5zQqlhK6VpG1ot9V8zkxcB1S4_4qKa8-us63Upc7ma47AA_2zwjJiJ8T5Uo2G7z287eekWLyCyCN_Bo1c/s320/IMG_5353+Path.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Winding path of Ben More</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Sunday was a better day, some low cloud but no rain, and we ticked off Ben More and Stob Binnein, near Crianlarich. The descent was quite steep, boggy steps round the side of the hill, and I wrenched my knee a little, so had to engage in a little wrong-way-round-traversing trickery to stop it getting any worse, which seemed to work, but apart from that it went mostly smoothly. We even got a couple of views. It had served as a good warm up for the impending week on Skye, I didn't tire myself out too much and the skin on my still-recovering toes held up fairly well. We'd had a late start as I'd left my gaiters in the drying room, and a later finish as it took longer than we'd anticipated (it's quite a slog up Ben More, although thankfully I like uphill slogs), but I made it to Glasgow in time for tea, shower and bed.<br />
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After a leisurely morning of sleeping and shopping, James met me in Glasgow and we headed on up to Skye, with a couple of photo stops on route to stretch the legs. We made it to the north end of the island a bit before sunset and walked into a little bothy where we planned to stay for the night, a converted coastguard lookout with a fantastic view over the lower headland and the Outer Hebrides. The bothy came with a grumpy Scot in situ, but he soon left with displeasure at the disturbance on his peace and quiet, and we settled down in our own peace and quiet, with a book, the view and a whisky.<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidJy6ynf0SaLiAYlZvZq3tTEPQWQfwazPytc3t4uS3h-of8UygH6eJMRuszMydESPZoxq1VoRIvbT_GSgfOw3OqzQNi465A-S-5GMMq5XoPf4o1wXzwwqICwb9qr-F7OfiK_o5pMDeqmQ/s1600/IMG_5402+Skye%252C+Old+Man+of+Storr+Poss.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidJy6ynf0SaLiAYlZvZq3tTEPQWQfwazPytc3t4uS3h-of8UygH6eJMRuszMydESPZoxq1VoRIvbT_GSgfOw3OqzQNi465A-S-5GMMq5XoPf4o1wXzwwqICwb9qr-F7OfiK_o5pMDeqmQ/s320/IMG_5402+Skye%252C+Old+Man+of+Storr+Poss.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Old man of Storr</td></tr>
</tbody></table>The next two days were spent doing a little touristing as we needed Tuesday to recover and the forecast for the wednesday looked dubious. We visited the Kilt Rock viewpoint, the brewery shop, the Talisker distillery and the fairy pools beauty spot. Wednesday was actually a nicer day than anticipated which boded well for the route being dry. Unfortunately the forecast for Thursday had moved in the other direction according to metoffice, saying hail and a risk of lightning, but the other forecasts still said it would be fair, so we had an early dinner and an early night as planned. We squeeze into one tent as mine was packed for the ridge, and when I took it down I found a perplexed mouse underneath it wondering where his house had just vanished to, been after my food no doubt. Added to the Eider ducks in the bay and the corncrake we could hear in the neighbouring field the campsite was quite a good setting for wildlife.<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGFqiHj-0qiYbU6OKqHwhfYQGUsJ_QzIYPJh9GoyfviTJw_HaM6zqvfqdY4xUXYuR4Vcg8Y5_tvS1pdcurRAGhgCOsvYVDUfroctS9Ae_nbZUBpDZrwQbD7ighGpV30LUyimBSlMn1u14/s1600/100_0192+James+on+the+approach+to+Sgurr+nan+Eag+and+Gars-bheinn.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGFqiHj-0qiYbU6OKqHwhfYQGUsJ_QzIYPJh9GoyfviTJw_HaM6zqvfqdY4xUXYuR4Vcg8Y5_tvS1pdcurRAGhgCOsvYVDUfroctS9Ae_nbZUBpDZrwQbD7ighGpV30LUyimBSlMn1u14/s320/100_0192+James+on+the+approach+to+Sgurr+nan+Eag+and+Gars-bheinn.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">James on the approach to Sgurr nan Eag (right) and Gars-bheinn (in distance)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>At 4:45 am Thursday morning we were breakfasted, packed and ready to begin. James had been ready an hour before with his watch still set on French time and was a little miffed that I was still snoozing, until he realised his mistake. There are a couple of ways you can begin the ridge - either by boat from Elgol (not practical at that time in the morning), or from Glen Brittle, either traversing round the base of Gars-bheinn (the start of the ridge) and ascending it direct, or walking up past Loch Coir' a' Chrunnda to a col mid-ridge, dumping bags, and backtracking to knock off Gars-bheinn and Sgurr nan Eag (the first Munro on the ridge). We opted to do the latter, as it meant you can fill up your water bottles in the loch at the top and do the majority of the ascent with lighter packs. I normally drink more on the walk in than throughout the day, so took half a litre of squash in my platypus and managed to time it perfectly so I'd just finished supping away when we reached the loch. With an extra 3kg of water our packs were significantly heavier but at least we were only one final slope before the ridge. I think there's a definite line between my bag feeling 'light' or 'heavy' and it was definitely now the wrong side of it, but on the plus side it would only get lighter as the trip went on. The path we could see zigzaging up the scree looked to go up the wrong side of the coire ending too far along the ridge meaning more to backtrack (and ascend), but we followed it anyway and it did somehow lead in the desired direction, although we seemed to end up a little too high if anything. At the ridge proper we wedged the bags behind a rock and scampered over Sgurr nan Eag and on to Gars-bheinn, occasionally stopping for a photo or two. It's quite a long way, but the going is easy (even easier if you stick to the ridge rather than trying to take the runner's detour round the side of Sgurr a'Choire Bhig) and where there isn't an obvious path you can choose anywhere to walk. We got to Gars-beinn just after 9am, a little after the recommended time of 8:15 (and that's for slow people), but those times were for a speed 1-day ascent, and we were carrying big packs.<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvoyMXQeQLhXzD_5Zg-bfQDA_RtFELwuB0tCl339XcV7MgkjBoFbbu41jk0nDUSQkbPXD4fGquurqkUFWxtBq_mSvFZBPz8Nol8kMk5eZYrwXiHEcXhtdJIyBjfq92gr335CZsOTew6BA/s1600/100_0202+Death+approach+up+to+Sgurr+Dubh+Mor+that+wasn%2527t+death.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvoyMXQeQLhXzD_5Zg-bfQDA_RtFELwuB0tCl339XcV7MgkjBoFbbu41jk0nDUSQkbPXD4fGquurqkUFWxtBq_mSvFZBPz8Nol8kMk5eZYrwXiHEcXhtdJIyBjfq92gr335CZsOTew6BA/s320/100_0202+Death+approach+up+to+Sgurr+Dubh+Mor+that+wasn%2527t+death.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Death approach to Sgurr Dubh Mor that wasn't death</td></tr>
</tbody></table>We returned to our packs and continued North East to take in Sgurr Dubh Mor which isn't quite on the ridge but is the second Munro. It was very difficult to continue with our previous sure-footed rhythm due to our heavy packs (12kg+) playing havoc with our knee strength and inertia, but we continued as fast as we could hoping we'd get used to the weight. The way to Sgurr Dubh Mor looked from afar to be a bit of a death trap, with scree ramps followed by a loose gully, but everything was reassuringly solid. That was one of my overriding memories of the ridge: the rock (in the majority) has amazing friction, there's nearly always something good to hold on to, and the loose boulders seem to be securely wedged, even at impressively steep angles. That did a lot to reduce any impact of the exposure - there were only two places on the rige where I felt at all exposed, when the drop was sheer, the rest of the time I didn't fret about my position at all, there were gradual slopes beneath you and it was just a fantastic place to be and afforded unobstructed views. And views there were, the cloud base was about ridge-level and lifed slightly as it reached the summits too, so we could see clearly down to the valley floor, with the various islands to the wets and the azure waters and sailing boats in Loch Coruisk to the South East. I'm not a religuous person but I was actually praying that the weather held, and promised that I would do all manner of good deeds in return.<br />
<br />
We left our packs on the ridge again for the final interesting scramble up Sgurr Dubh Mor, which had a couple of tricky moves that would have been hard to reverse, had we not found an easy way back down again. Then on to the TD gap, the bridge between us and Sgurr Alasdair. Just before this there is the first of the aforementioned exposed sections (the second being the Inn Pin, and the drop off to the right hand side), a few metres of vertical scrambling up to the belay spot. James tentatively climbed up this, declared it not as bad as it looked, but dropped me a rope which I tied round my wait so I didn't have to fret about plummeting to my death. It was actually quite straighforward although I'd still like a rope if I did it again.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvrW5YplGdFiQxMWtl_7Kb3pbffM58iVk-sc0qXrFZkIhnXX9R2s6I70xF2jct4y7CSgQa_4Jsfd2Fee9KOj_nDWMUsygN89_ema8AmvQ1aQsk62tN2qapRliCLbmYVksOmk70cM9XMXM/s1600/100_0211+stitch.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvrW5YplGdFiQxMWtl_7Kb3pbffM58iVk-sc0qXrFZkIhnXX9R2s6I70xF2jct4y7CSgQa_4Jsfd2Fee9KOj_nDWMUsygN89_ema8AmvQ1aQsk62tN2qapRliCLbmYVksOmk70cM9XMXM/s320/100_0211+stitch.jpg" width="121" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">TD Gap</td></tr>
</tbody></table>At this point it was 2pm, only 2 hours behind the 1-day schedule, although I think that time is actually for the far side of the TD gap rather than the near side, so we would have been further behind still. However, following that timescale we would have made camp at 5pm, and it was light until gone 11, so we weren't too fussed about sticking to it, just useful as a guideline. The TD gap is one place where you can lose time getting stuck in a queue, and sure enough there were a few parties strung out at various places on the far side of it, moving upwards. However by the time we'd faffed about abseiling in to the gap, shivering in the mist and drizzle which had picked an inopportune moment to descend (there vanished my promises to the man-up-there), they were off and away. In the deteriorating conditions I lost my confidence, and we made a little faff of climbed on the two big boulders that sit in the gap, in order to reach the start of the rock climb. James found the easy way up, and we roped up for it, attached ourselves safely into the proper belay stance, then James set off up the climb. He had been a little nervous as the rock here was smoother and lacked the friction we had enjoyed on the rest of the ridge plus he was wearing approach shoes rather than rock shoes, but at least he could leave his pack with me and haul it up after, and in actual fact he climbed it pretty quickly, finding it a lot nicer than he anticipated. I enjoyed it too, not least because the clouds lifted just before I started. I had a hiking boot on my right foot and a rock shoe on my left foot, I couldn't be bothered to change them both but as it happens I got the pefect combination as my hiking boot wedged nicely in the wide crack at the back of the corner.<br />
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The next section was thankfully easy, and downright enjoyable. Sgurr Alasdair was a quick hop up an obvious scramble next to a bealach where we'd paused for a snack. Thearlaich was a little perplexing as the guide we were following doesn't tell you how to get up or down it so we made up our own route, retracing our steps a little until we could find a way to scramble up, and carefully scrambled off the back too, James ahead picking a viable descent. The other parties seemed to climb it directly as a rock pitch, and possibly abseiled off the back of it.<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-EiSwkGP7q9gnEzJQ370oCK3S5ZbYES9aWK47YJZxeEo298Zn5T6h1ZEasgRgJJivlZVQcG-1d4KNWC05vbkhv6_45UgbOPWyinf0GS_JIFqGnttmzOnEYa_8CPXJxTFNpydJsMFaGK0/s1600/100_0229+Collie%2527s+ledge+%255Bedit%255D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-EiSwkGP7q9gnEzJQ370oCK3S5ZbYES9aWK47YJZxeEo298Zn5T6h1ZEasgRgJJivlZVQcG-1d4KNWC05vbkhv6_45UgbOPWyinf0GS_JIFqGnttmzOnEYa_8CPXJxTFNpydJsMFaGK0/s320/100_0229+Collie%2527s+ledge+%255Bedit%255D.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Collie's Ledge</td></tr>
</tbody></table>We crossed rapidly on to Mhic Choinnic, and the location of King's Chimney (VDiff). It isn't actually necessary to climb this so to save time we opted for the alternative of Collie's Ledge and I'm glad we did, it was my highlight of the ridge. It's an exposed traverse round the side of the mountain, with a completely smooth, flat, natural, jagged edge ledge for your feet, and always good, high-friction handholds. It takes you a little past the summit, so we deposited packs again somewhere they wouldn't roll off, and scampered up and back - Munro number 4! (Although we thought it was no. 5 at the time, forgetting that Thearlaich wasn't one).<br />
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It struck me at some point that when you are in a situation where you know you don't really have options and know you just have to keep going, you don't really question your morale or choices, you just get on with it. As a result of this I wasn't really sure how much I was enjoying myself as I was ignoring the usual questions that tumble around in my mind, such as whether I wanted to be there still or how my morale was holding up or if I was tired, just in case the answers were undesirable, I could go over all that once I was safely back at the campsite. This led to a rather remote enjoyment of the experience, for the first day at least. A restrained mind is not bad though, it keeps excitement and fear in check. The first time you take on the challenge of the Cuillin ridge it's a massive unknown, each section could be tricky and there are so many of them that if you let the anticipation of each one get the better of you the effect would compound and you'd be a shaking wreck. I knew that I could quite easily be nervous about various sections if I wanted to, but instead I was wearing a matter-of-fact cloak, and I'd just take each challenge as I got to it, as there was no way of knowing how it would turn out when until I got there. I first realised I was doing this on the traverse to Sgurr Dubh Mor, as the scree looked horrible but I didn't panic, and when we got there it was actually completely fine. This made me aware that it was actually a good way to tackle things, and although doing it unconsciously I knew that this approach stood me in good stead for the rest of the challenges, made them pass in a kind of oblivion.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCAHhTeqOfBK4HWrlm8k4wtHc4134a6NzIKIOohvhKGZgvVHy8NtAJdpUNeSjKPQCaFgo0o8KI8qfgUVv67oTojBs1PBSIV0Q6v94glgDoUJDN-5CmjBJP3_ISF8l22tjf8EFNeW2zoNo/s1600/100_0219+Inn+Pin+and+An+Stac.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCAHhTeqOfBK4HWrlm8k4wtHc4134a6NzIKIOohvhKGZgvVHy8NtAJdpUNeSjKPQCaFgo0o8KI8qfgUVv67oTojBs1PBSIV0Q6v94glgDoUJDN-5CmjBJP3_ISF8l22tjf8EFNeW2zoNo/s320/100_0219+Inn+Pin+and+An+Stac.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">An Stac (lump in the middle), the brown ramp round it, and the Inn Pin (high fin)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>We had been wearing our harnesses since the TD Gap, and had drunk over 1/4 of our water, but we were still tiring a little by now. We were no longer looking at the clock, just making progress as our bodies and minds would allow. Looking on there were two options - the towering bastion of An Stac, which was described as a Mod rock climb, like a taller version of the Inn Pin and just beneath it, or a brown, slippery-looking ramp round its left hand side - neither of which looked that appealing. We continued scrambling onwards until the moment that we had to make a choice, James had been keeping a good eye ahead on where the parties ahead of us had gone, so knew the decision point. Studying the options myself, I was drawn to the sight of immensely steep scree slopes leading from the side of An Stac right down to the valley floor, and commented that my worst nightmare would be to end up on something like that - and then my jaw dropped to the floor when I spotted tiny ant like people happily ascending and descending it. That both reassured me, as it obviously wasn't suicidal as I thought, and terrified me lest I had to partake in a similar experience on a later descent. This discovery didn't help me to come up with a preferred onwards route as on the one hand An Stac looked taxing - from this distance it was hard to tell whether it was more akin to scrambling or climbing and the party in situ were pitching it suggesting the latter - but on the other hand the brown ramp involved walking across the top of the scree and the person in front to do that had sent a portion of it clattering far, far down the slope (thankfully not following it himself). The brown ramp would save time, but miss out a notable section of the ridge. This latter catechism led to our decision - we knew that it is advisable to take time-saving bypasses, and considering that I was there to bag the Munros it wasn't the end of the world if I missed out a non-munro pinnacle, even if it was a notable one. Furthermore, I had mis-remembered the notes as saying that this bypass 'gives the legs a rest if not the brain' so I thought that might mean it was loose and scary, but James reminded me that it had said that the bypass 'gives the brain a rest if not the legs', so bypass we did. It was actually okay, a wide, featured slab, easy angled enough that you didn't feel that you were going to slip down it, but steep enough that you had to scamper up it on all fours.<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMXLMsX1HgStiX5ORjeePv32KiCAceVg-hipVpgX6tC_njNzYUADR_q2mMyU_EXP3NqBv9U1cvWtN_Z-Lq0tlj7-yi-nWG8iUzDeqWnxOPVeB4jPG2gXbH4ppeOx63ZMNEqTlWXbgOnuM/s1600/100_0239+James+on+the+Inn+Pin.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMXLMsX1HgStiX5ORjeePv32KiCAceVg-hipVpgX6tC_njNzYUADR_q2mMyU_EXP3NqBv9U1cvWtN_Z-Lq0tlj7-yi-nWG8iUzDeqWnxOPVeB4jPG2gXbH4ppeOx63ZMNEqTlWXbgOnuM/s320/100_0239+James+on+the+Inn+Pin.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">James on the Inn Pin</td></tr>
</tbody></table>The rock here was interesting, rounded brown lumps held in by a kind of natural mortar that was flaking away in places leaving large brown pebbles scattered about. You could ascend it anywhere, although I stayed towards the right-hand side where the rock was more featured and the exposure was less - I'm more confident on slabs than I used to me but they're still my weakest area. Despite the fairly trivial terrain, the slope was relentless, partly because the angle lent it to a speedy ascent and no resting. Nearing the top, which pops you out right at the base of the Inn Pin it started to rain again. I increased my speed lest it get treacherous - it did get slippery, but we made the step rightwards before it got scary. Then we were standing on a big flat ledge, with a few other people, staring at the dramatic fin of the Inn Pin - like a small, more defined version of An Stac, but higher, and this time compulsory in order to tick the 5th Munro. The rain wasn't giving up so we pulled on waterproofs and sat there glumly with moments of enthusiastic conversation while we waited for the other group to climb the route. The rain abated before James started climbing, but of course picked up again as soon as I came to second it. James made short work of both pitches, despite wearing boots and a rucksack it is only a Mod. I decided I couldn't be bothered to put my rockboots on despite carrying them with me claiming I'd find them essential. After enjoying a rainbow spanning the valley floor, it was my turn to climb. The first pitch was okay, not quite as easy as the scrambling despite James telling me it was, but no dramas. The belay I arrived at was less than ideal, James had draped a couple of slings round spikes as expected but one was too high for me to inspect and the other seemed to lift off at the vaguest touch, so I belayed one handed while clinging desperately to a very good handhold, and using added knee and elbow power when I needed both hands for the rope. On the second pitch, despite the belay above being much better, I was fretting audibly, as the angle had dropped off and I was clambering horizontally along the tip of the ridge, the left-hand side ending at the ledge we'd been on but the right side was fairly sheer for a long way down and had I fallen off I would have struggled to find any purchase on the rock and would have been dangling there, further inhibited by my pack. So despite the moves being easy, each one felt serious. I made gratuitous use of my knees as it meant I could take smaller steps and keep my centre of gravity lower, and so remain in balance. Due to the rain I didn't enjoy it as I had the TD Gap, and I was very thankful to reach the abseil chain and make myself safe. The abseil was exposed but didn't bother me, I was on a rope and going back down! We promptly packed up the gear, walked up a short continuation ramp and hopped over the back of the perpendicular ridge line to have a sit down, and discuss another choice we had to make - what to do next.<br />
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The Inn Pin had been particularly time consuming and suddenly it was 7pm, and we had been going for over 14 hours. It didn't feel like a lot, because we knew it would be a long day and you just have to ignore it and keep going, but we had to start to consider that it might be time to stop. Only it didn't look like an ideal place for a tent. Plus we were still three Munros away from the point we had hoped to set up camp. Although we had also hoped to be there by now. Should we carry on? The next section of ridge looked easy, but there was no guarantee we'd find a place to pitch the tent, and on second inspection the location we were at looked like it wasn't that ridiculous. Then again, given that it was still raining and we were feeling a bit disillusioned, perhaps we should descdend all the way down, we still had time? There are plenty of escape route along the ridge, only the one nearest us didn't sound particularly nice in the wet. It was like a tombola, each option we came up with sounded equally likely, and the final decision was a likely to happen purely by which one the conversation ended on. Neither of us had a strong opinion either way, I don't think either of us knew what we wanted to do, for me my decision making mechanisms were fixed in 'don't think, just get on with it' mode, so we were almost communicating via telepathy. We decided to stay put, and try to pitch the tent here. We knew we wouldn't complete the whole ridge in one more day, so we agreed to see what the weather was doing in the morning, and have an easy day, ideally do at least 3 more Munros, meaning we'd have competed the entire western portion of the ridge.<br />
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<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfcsavudJ99Z68wwowzC56H4fSSPb2mdJsY8urE8e8XnqBpG0t160uEGt04IiWHSZePIWziTQbm69WzWsllzvOzZRNsNfZSGVxME2-DjirTY4-Rfo760pi_9ucJh96tQYyTLg6AUWcWyE/s1600/100_0246+Bivvy+spot%252C+airing+out+in+the+morning.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfcsavudJ99Z68wwowzC56H4fSSPb2mdJsY8urE8e8XnqBpG0t160uEGt04IiWHSZePIWziTQbm69WzWsllzvOzZRNsNfZSGVxME2-DjirTY4-Rfo760pi_9ucJh96tQYyTLg6AUWcWyE/s320/100_0246+Bivvy+spot%252C+airing+out+in+the+morning.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bivvy spot on the back of Sgurr Dearg</td></tr>
</tbody></table>From a certain way along the ridge, there are pre-built bivvy spots, semi-circles of stones to shelter behind in a bivvy bag. One of these off the back of An Stac seemed to be wider than the others and floored with fine gravel, and wasn't on a scary angled sloped, so while the rain surrealy turned into snow, softly plopping around us, we popped the tent up, weighing down the pegs with rocks and tying some of the guy ropes on to other rocks, then piled up our damp kit in the porch. Sitting inside the tent it was obvious it hadn't quite gained the structure it should have, but it was warm and somewhat steamy, and dry. Neither of us were hungry but we knew it would be silly not to eat so James tucked into his Jamaica loaf and I my yummy and squidgy banana soreen, followed by a few swigs of Laphroaig quarter cast that James had brought along in his new hip flask, purchased that week in the Talisker distillery. Then, we with got on with the only exciting task remaining - sleeping! It took me a while to drop off, first afraid that the wind, light but gusting, would pull the pegs out of their tenuous placements. Then it rained more, and the sound distracted me further. Eventually though, sleep overcame me.<br />
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A good few hours later, well past dawn, I heard James mumbling about getting dripped on, and he got up and went to sit in the sun which was shining with renewed vigour. I was dry and warm so I stayed put, but the disturbance of the tent and the rearrangement of space seemed to anger the fabric, and it desposited a steady stream of water on my head, so I too got up and wandered outside into the dry.<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeUqLGg9xC7OwTEAfBFTszuayM9qbni3dvqL2LFESHXdrTI7NxswKZ9QhteJqdIlJ3S4hn7BZacFEN-YefE0lqS6xX26X719BNYh97-AC3b0_d2k9knEt7Hs0JVick4ZyMXa7TNO1Rc9g/s1600/100_0250+Stitch+%255Bweb%255D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeUqLGg9xC7OwTEAfBFTszuayM9qbni3dvqL2LFESHXdrTI7NxswKZ9QhteJqdIlJ3S4hn7BZacFEN-YefE0lqS6xX26X719BNYh97-AC3b0_d2k9knEt7Hs0JVick4ZyMXa7TNO1Rc9g/s320/100_0250+Stitch+%255Bweb%255D.jpg" width="231" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Typical path, descending towards Banachdich</td></tr>
</tbody></table>After a relaxed breakfast we packed up our kit and continued along the ridge. First up was a winding scree descent down a fairly broad flank on the outside of the ridge (the ridge forms a curve around a volcanic crater, loch Coruisk is on the inside while Glen Brittle and the Sligachan are on the outside). For most of the ridge James was ahead as he was more sure footed, and even if I started off first there was bound to be a divergance as we picked a different step or two and James would overtake and pass back in front. Sometimes my mind started to numb at taking none of the responsibility of route finding and I'd request that he hang behind me for a while so I could take a turn in the driving seat. This kept the status quo and kept things fair without introducing an uneccessarily precise division of labour. (At the climbing sections I still let James do all the work of course, much faster that was and we both knew it made sense, me having retired my climbing shoes in exchange for Munro ticks). I went ahead here, following scree zig zags downwards and losing height. We had to descend a little to the left of the ridge so that we could then traverse round and reach the bealach between Sgurr Dearg and Banachdich, rather than trying to descend the steep, jagged rocks that are directly on the ridge. The path here became less obvious, perhaps because it's the kind of terrain where a path won't stay put, as this is the only part of the ridge we did that didn't seem so stable. We picked a way around a perpendicular rib and across a wide screen gully, and then thankfully it returned to normal again, with a more obvious track up the scree on the other side and round the back of Banachdich to the true summit.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7QKAC8HXLojlniRkgfw70A-qtFHIgtuqjzer9YKtOQSg8lVo1U_JWBC8d-bjxVZ_aMPwxYcQTwFj15Pwm1WzZp4Tph8pdCHdKKkcpr-Nc18aTLRmoSjdm16hF3tOxU0hnCrKGQHioQZM/s1600/100_0269+James+a+cheval+on+Sgurr+a%2527Ghreadaidh.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7QKAC8HXLojlniRkgfw70A-qtFHIgtuqjzer9YKtOQSg8lVo1U_JWBC8d-bjxVZ_aMPwxYcQTwFj15Pwm1WzZp4Tph8pdCHdKKkcpr-Nc18aTLRmoSjdm16hF3tOxU0hnCrKGQHioQZM/s320/100_0269+James+a+cheval+on+Sgurr+a%2527Ghreadaidh.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica;">À</span> cheval on Sgurr a'Ghreadaidh</td></tr>
</tbody></table>That section was quickly forgotten as things got more and more enjoyable as they day went on. The next section of the ridge is described in the guide as mind numbling but we didn't find that at all. Thormaid, the sub-peak after Banachdich, had earned a little description in the guide (most of the easy bits were just given as notes on a route map, but the tricky bits were details underneath, Thormaid being one such), but thankfully it was a piece of cake, scrambling straight over then walking down a terrace of sloping ledges. A mixture of flat path then minor scrambling led us round and over the two peaks of the Midget ridge and we were in our element, poles away and scampering along the rock. Then we got ridge fever and obliviously went straight over some pinnacles rather than using the path around the side. I'm glad we did though, a fantastic <span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica; font-size: 13px;">à</span> cheval position and my second favourite section of the ridge. We relished the two peaks of 'Greedy' (Sgurr a'Ghreadaidh) and the area between them not at all complex despite the guide saying it is, then picked our way across and down a couple of easy scrambly bits towards An Dorus.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuyZC-jkikf_E4i_gLR8YXoCPLH-fz0EgW95SK7Z2FRlL5C3Z-mKsOMgs_C8ZS3CKH3M0mWLNHiCBWpZieigrhP1FUtUogKsmg_F4YS31CLw_PbopKm-itbAtqcs_ip89rZPAu4CxN9pc/s1600/100_0274+Munro+no.+8%252C+Sgurr+a%2527Mhadaidh.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuyZC-jkikf_E4i_gLR8YXoCPLH-fz0EgW95SK7Z2FRlL5C3Z-mKsOMgs_C8ZS3CKH3M0mWLNHiCBWpZieigrhP1FUtUogKsmg_F4YS31CLw_PbopKm-itbAtqcs_ip89rZPAu4CxN9pc/s320/100_0274+Munro+no.+8%252C+Sgurr+a%2527Mhadaidh.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Final Munro for us!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>An Dorus is a bealach in a notch like an easier version of the TD gap, and the short downclimb to it caused us to stop and scratch our heads momentarily. James went down one way and I paused at the top of another until he came to receive my bag so I could then climb down it in balance. We left our bags on a ledge and set off up our last Munro of the trip, 'Moody' (Sgurr a'Mhaidadh). This was also fantastic fun, more secure scrambling of a 'go anywhere' variety, with blissful hands and footholds. We were up in 15 minutes and down in 10. Inbetween that we sat on the summit for a very long time, just drinking in the views, the peace, and the situation. I knew it made sense to end our adventure, it was quite a distance to the last 3 Munros past the three tops of Mheadaidh and the confusion of Bidein Druim nam Ramh, and here was a practical place to descend as it would bring us back to the road at Glen Brittle youth hostel not too far from the campsite, rather than significantly further along towards the Sligachan end of the ridge... but I had been thoroughly enjoying moving over the rock and didn't want to stop. We satisfied ourselves by taking many photos and scrutinising every aspect of the view, the tiny fin of the Inn Pin in the distance poking into view behind the perpendicular ridge of Sgurr Dearg, our camping spot on the near side of that ridge, Gars Bheinn even more distant still where we had started the ridge, Loch Coruisk, and the three remaining summits with their as yet undiscovered craggy ups and downs. The air was still, and we were in special world, fairly close to civilisation yet entirely separate from it just given the difference in altitude. Finally we returned to the bags and started off down the An Dorus gully. This gave a couple of easy steps down some rocky ledges, then another zig zag path rapidly losing height down more solid scree. This went on for a fair old while, and eventually took its toll on our legs, and we were thankful for the slackening of angle at the Allt a' Choire Ghreadaidh. Here we shunned the path and wandered along the bank of the river, more cascades and plunge pools akin to the ones we'd photographed at the Fairy Pools two days before. At a more open section we sat and took our boots off and dunked our feet in the ice cold water, trying not to scream out in comical pain at the soothing but intensely cold temperature.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieYA78NTMKhURvkaYpJbfAXjJx1Ru8YNrSZNVAd2aZL-DgtVm4wYx1ix5cXHWa_UaQ7hUHBvmM1Ie4JP1x_wC5w4-XkgPd-cKyGdu_ATw1s48Kq1QJmIQSBcDmZ9LzL3KSJnncrlpm3vU/s1600/100_0334.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieYA78NTMKhURvkaYpJbfAXjJx1Ru8YNrSZNVAd2aZL-DgtVm4wYx1ix5cXHWa_UaQ7hUHBvmM1Ie4JP1x_wC5w4-XkgPd-cKyGdu_ATw1s48Kq1QJmIQSBcDmZ9LzL3KSJnncrlpm3vU/s320/100_0334.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Descent down An Dorus</td></tr>
</tbody></table>We were still 2km from the road and this last section, although pretty and reminiscent of an alpine meadow, was agonising. Perhaps due to the heat (losing 700-800m we would have gained 7-8 degrees in temperature) my feet were screaming, which was odd because I hadn't had a single problem with them on the ridge. The blisters on my little toes, although not as bad as they had been a couple of weeks ago, started rubbing noticeable, and my heels kept cramping up and causing me to stop and grimace. I was overjoyed when we met the road, as although still 2.5km from the campsite it meant we could hope to hitch a ride. Unfortunately traffic was sparse, only 1 car passing in 1.5km and they waved apologetically to indicate that they didn't have room. Thankfully a lady and her daughter in the second car stopped to take us the last kilometre back to the campsite and we were so thankful we picked up every hitcher we saw over the last 2 days of our trip.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZj77gketc2PnDw7NOJ1B7JdqAJJi6MxKDqk_AX7L98d9zo4Vzl1COb49x-SBmkXC9QvI0OuNUTJG7SSd4LqxtAj0c6e844WjR0dfZxwXsTPJUhza2F2jxmNtKMxU2zIl8boW8DnbMrYE/s1600/100_0354+Haggis%252C+neeps+and+tatties+in+the+pub.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZj77gketc2PnDw7NOJ1B7JdqAJJi6MxKDqk_AX7L98d9zo4Vzl1COb49x-SBmkXC9QvI0OuNUTJG7SSd4LqxtAj0c6e844WjR0dfZxwXsTPJUhza2F2jxmNtKMxU2zIl8boW8DnbMrYE/s320/100_0354+Haggis%252C+neeps+and+tatties+in+the+pub.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Celebratory haggis, neeps and tatties in the Sligachan</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Back at the car, we relaxed, smiled, sorted kit, then enjoyed a little self pampering - a shower, almost a massage (the showers there are awesomely powerful), hair dried with the free hairdrier, moisturised, cleaned teeth, and clad myself in lovely clean smelling clothes. After that I could almost walk again, and we upped sticks and decamped to the Sligachan, enjoying a 3 course dinner and a couple of posh whiskies, before battling the dense cloud of midgies at the adjacent campsite for a bit, then having an early night and a good sleep.<br />
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Saturday dawned misty and damp giving us no inspiration to get up and allowing us a bit more recovery sleep. Then we visited a couple more sites of interest before beginning the long drive home.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5JHmc1ZnNNUlIoK4smDLSatU1PYSAxBndq1IK7Pibw3QDncR0O9QZOBnamKoX3to0wWU_HmhxJDm4cgFa7C_H6TQB-vGKPCf6VtEoafZlL4Y6i5p_L9YmbbsV5XpkJtnl73PqKHl2B6Q/s1600/IMG_5780+Kylerhea+ferry.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5JHmc1ZnNNUlIoK4smDLSatU1PYSAxBndq1IK7Pibw3QDncR0O9QZOBnamKoX3to0wWU_HmhxJDm4cgFa7C_H6TQB-vGKPCf6VtEoafZlL4Y6i5p_L9YmbbsV5XpkJtnl73PqKHl2B6Q/s320/IMG_5780+Kylerhea+ferry.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kylerhea ferry, we went to Skye and came back from the 'Isle of Skye'</td></tr>
</tbody></table>All in all it was a pretty memorable trip. It holds a bit of an odd place in my memory, as it was organised last minute, didn't follow a strict plan, and didn't feel like a holiday, and we didn't complete the whole ridge, but it was a fantastic experience and didn't leave me wanting, although has left me making virtual plans for the future - return and do the remaining section in a day, and then possibly another trip travelling light, just water and food, doing the whole thing in a day and missing out the climbing section (perhaps asking someone if I could join in on their rope on the Inn Pin). I'm definitely happy with the way we approached it for our first attempt - happy that we didn't hire a guide, despite all other two day parties that we met having hired one, the paper printout was more than sufficient; happy with the gear we took, yes packs were heavy but in order to pre-stash water you have to do another significant day of ascent or descent beforehand, and I wanted the confidence of having overnight kit so we could stop and sleep whenever we wanted. Before I went, I didn't know what to expect, how serious it would feel, how tricky the terrain would be, whether we'd need to do any short roping (we didn't). People can relate their experiences, but words are difficult to hook up to your own impression. I'd read that it is possible to descend from various places along the ridge, and I now know that I'd feel confident doing that, so if I return I can do so with less kit, and just bail out if the weather turns rather than having to be prepared for all eventualities.Sarah Cloughhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03797857043816872742noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1445147937322368187.post-8983179294342661082011-05-06T19:19:00.000+01:002011-05-06T19:19:56.647+01:00Apr/May 2011 - Walking and Holiday - Serendipitous Scotland9 Munros, bolognaise for breakfast, a snow bunting and a mountain on fire.<br />
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(Click on the photos for a larger version). <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzC5a2OWCnhH2ovKOVoooglZZ9Sxcs5F6XSgF-XjCw1V7frUSzsE04Jo66_siGjHfuDYKGyWk3UasXXkHxjKcsLcDzS72Z52tBhkiIlpmfABxTO-sfAtGTOBzhoQ9l1YzIGVVEy2AkboU/s1600/IMG_0371+Wet+Vicky.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzC5a2OWCnhH2ovKOVoooglZZ9Sxcs5F6XSgF-XjCw1V7frUSzsE04Jo66_siGjHfuDYKGyWk3UasXXkHxjKcsLcDzS72Z52tBhkiIlpmfABxTO-sfAtGTOBzhoQ9l1YzIGVVEy2AkboU/s200/IMG_0371+Wet+Vicky.JPG" width="133" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Vicky soaked through</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnjSKclSWXG8dHlNMesAIDaPJv2LsEhk1yZzPn3Kt-YgInqab1BqHwYONpE5529gDUzhPkpWn75f9UIbm6pcrvQHnP602Dp4X-b6B7r8hC55KhqI1NjJ85XwbEDrhlBvz2w2RsA05kK_o/s1600/IMG_0497.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnjSKclSWXG8dHlNMesAIDaPJv2LsEhk1yZzPn3Kt-YgInqab1BqHwYONpE5529gDUzhPkpWn75f9UIbm6pcrvQHnP602Dp4X-b6B7r8hC55KhqI1NjJ85XwbEDrhlBvz2w2RsA05kK_o/s200/IMG_0497.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Findlay</td></tr>
</tbody></table>The double bank holiday, giving the possibility of an 11 day holiday with only 3 days leave, was far too good an excuse to head to Scotland for a spot of Munro bagging, a bit of sight-seeing, and catching up with some friends, so I spent a little bit of time on the phone and made some plans. I spent part Easter Friday with my boyfriend who was unable to join me on the trip, then jumped on a train to Aberdeen, to be met at the other end by my former housemate Vicky who now lives up there. The train journey made a pleasant change from driving - I could relax and enjoy the view, and read some of my book on which I've made not very much progress in rather too much time. I was still quite exhausted on arrival so we retired straight to bed, then on Saturday morning we drove over to Glenshee to knock off An Socach, a standalone Munro behind the Cairnwell group. The weather wasn't great, warm but rainy, which was a shame since I'd left glorious sunshine behind me in Stoke, but apparently they'd had a thunderstorm after I left so I didn't feel too cheated (apart from missing out on taking photos of the first lightning for ages!). We left the car at 10:30 and it was a pretty straightforward and not especially memorable trek up a subsiduary top, then on to the summit, and back for 5ish with the heater blaring to dry out shoes off. 16km (down the track from the east) in 5.5 hours, which was a little faster than anticipated, so we had time for a hot chocolate at the ski centre, a photo stop at Breamar castle since it had stopped raining, then a bath back at Vicky's, before time to visit Charlotte, Dave and Findlay for dinner. They were a little too wiped out to meet us as planned, so we drove up to meet them at the Buchan Braes hotel in Boddam for two smashing courses of its mouthwatering menu and a little entertainment from young master Findlay! <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-Vt20iXMANDVBgCjyieH-8u9Tc7qTCu6VHN4JH053lT5jUR-9RIq6CJR_rvwX2sRvRVBUx8WlfwvOM9Al46m5GGxfVgXlUlATuuE-YC4VWbSMqaJYAkfR7FYGTPBaQ1Q_vgBJHinRLFI/s1600/IMG_0581+Me%252C+tiger+on+Beinn+Bhrotain.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-Vt20iXMANDVBgCjyieH-8u9Tc7qTCu6VHN4JH053lT5jUR-9RIq6CJR_rvwX2sRvRVBUx8WlfwvOM9Al46m5GGxfVgXlUlATuuE-YC4VWbSMqaJYAkfR7FYGTPBaQ1Q_vgBJHinRLFI/s200/IMG_0581+Me%252C+tiger+on+Beinn+Bhrotain.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me on Beinn Bhrotain</td></tr>
</tbody></table>The next day we headed back to Braemar for a bit of a longer adventure, more suitably attired for the warmth after the previous day's build up. From Breamar we headed West to the Linn of Dee then started a 2 day walk which was either dramatic or beautiful or both from start to finish. First along the sweeping Dee valley, then Glen Dee with its turquiose pools and granite sheets, then branching off and skirting round and up and round and up to reach the first Top. To the summit of here we'd managed an average speed of 4km/h, not bad at all! Then to the summit of Beinn Bhrotain where there was a trig point for me to pull shapes on, and from there it was a short-ish hop down and up over to Monadh Mor, Munro number 24 for me. Then we descended to a little lochan where we decided to set up camp instead of walking all the way down Glen Gesuchan only to have to re-gain the height the next morning. We spent a while circumnavigating the boggy loch when we changed our mind about which end to camp at, and finally settled at a nice dry spot not too far from running water at 6pm, 19km and 8 hours from the car and at 880m altitude. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOpBkpNv2IQ4uFfsx5U1R2jhRmT1aXZPt9EielZQv8Hfc054H6XpH9YXYS7faeO2NafLIRMvnNBlSjH8y9KL0jG-DgWETY4fROufcq7IoohDZxX8XeP1FkHZixALglZj32lO57VBiEtB4/s1600/IMG_0606+Wild+camp.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOpBkpNv2IQ4uFfsx5U1R2jhRmT1aXZPt9EielZQv8Hfc054H6XpH9YXYS7faeO2NafLIRMvnNBlSjH8y9KL0jG-DgWETY4fROufcq7IoohDZxX8XeP1FkHZixALglZj32lO57VBiEtB4/s200/IMG_0606+Wild+camp.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wild camp</td></tr>
</tbody></table>We wolfed down a much needed dinner of pasta and bolognaise sauce, slept soundly, then woke with the dawn for a breakfast of... pasta and bolognaise sauce. Plus chunky soup with squashed bread rolls. A magnificently odd breakfast, followed by only mixed nuts and raisins for lunch with value cereal bars. But when you leave Vicky in charge of food things are never dull :-) Unfortunately with two hot dishes and a water spillage breakfast was not a speedy affair, and I was champing at the bit since when I camp I usually eat breakfast in bed while I'm waking up, and it was 3 hours before we were ready to start walking for the day. Still, the high wild camp had allowed us some extra time, time enough that we decided to add Breirach to the day's objective, an extra 6km but not much height gain and the 3rd highest Munro. As we gained height I pondered over the extensive bird song and wildlife, and the snow still clinging to northern slopes and gullies, and wondered to myself whether there were many snow buntings around as I'd really like to see my first one. Various aspects of this trip had come about by luck, and my serendipity seemed to be holding as just as we reached a snow patch a little bird when scuttering off round the top of it, the paused. Through my camera lens its head marking made it look a little like a chaffinch and I wondered what one was doing up that high, then I noticed it had a white breast not a pink one as got quite excited as here was a snow bunting (photo <a href="http://amoodaday.blogspot.com/2011/05/monday-25th-april-2011.html">here</a>)! <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtIjvBmJz78VbpLMgjFqc6-ao79RQBR68OGzfHwoA63LyaBqfjZeXXad7Ca9d84F-gdUbrlqqOjlUJVFza8uI4k9XF8MTSUyEr7BSY72AQs559uQ9L9j07xV8f1Y7spB8sm42DyC7KUgg/s1600/IMG_0694.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtIjvBmJz78VbpLMgjFqc6-ao79RQBR68OGzfHwoA63LyaBqfjZeXXad7Ca9d84F-gdUbrlqqOjlUJVFza8uI4k9XF8MTSUyEr7BSY72AQs559uQ9L9j07xV8f1Y7spB8sm42DyC7KUgg/s200/IMG_0694.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Carn a' Mhaim and Devil's Point</td></tr>
</tbody></table>After gaining the narrow, curving plateau we followed north round the eastern edge which gave us stunning views South to Lochain Uaine and Cairn Toul, our next two summits and the 4th and 5th highest Munros, and we had not tired of the view returning back along it and continuing up them, looking then over to the steep crag below Brearach too. We had a couple of stops for nuts and water, and were sitting on top of The Devil's Point, fourth Munro of the day, at 3pm. This summit was somewhat lower but no less impressive and with no less of a view, as the rivers to each side of it have carved it into a jutting promintary from where we could see north to the peaks already bagged, east to Ben Macdui (second highest Munro), south east all the way down the Dee valley almost back to the car in the far distance, and South to Beinn Bhrotain with Glen Gesuchan below it. We couldn't linger long as Vicky had to be at work in Aberdeen for 9:30pm, so we descended the Devil's Point as fast as we could. I'd been fretting about this most of the day but it wasn't as steep or as snowy as I'd feared, just one little patch of snow that was crossed rather than descended, then a good, albeit steep, path down to Corrour bothy. From here we agreed to pace it out as fast as we could as far as the track was good, and managed to cover 11km in just 2.5 hours. Unfortunately after 2 hours we were both in quite a lot of pain and possibly shoud have stopped but didn't, perhaps each not wanting to let the other down. We eventually collapsed at a right turn over a bridge that had taken a long time to arrive, and whether because of the pause or having a stetch out, when we set off again I'd pulled muscles in my left thigh and right hamstring. I hobbled the last 2km but we still managed to average 2.8km/h over a 29km day, taking in 4 Munros and after two previous day's walking! We had succeeded in getting back in time to get Vicky to work in time though, and after she'd gone out I eased my weary muscles in the bath then packed my bag for the next part of my adventure... my first trip to Edinburgh!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3qMSGPE9TNpKA_G8_0sir2QrptG1fpr0oFQXSVLkwrGkjbXsw7bDKiPqQgc8bN8WITDLBzuqlXx3fEbvZUbn_RVrPz_m_nwZ26_hJkRvIhJSjyJVR7-ztyCAquACv3b5nYTvm2FvkEbc/s1600/IMG_1042+Poss.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3qMSGPE9TNpKA_G8_0sir2QrptG1fpr0oFQXSVLkwrGkjbXsw7bDKiPqQgc8bN8WITDLBzuqlXx3fEbvZUbn_RVrPz_m_nwZ26_hJkRvIhJSjyJVR7-ztyCAquACv3b5nYTvm2FvkEbc/s200/IMG_1042+Poss.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Edinburgh, church and Salisbury crags</td></tr>
</tbody></table>A deep sleep and an 8:20am train saw me in Edinburgh at 10:52, and Matt, my unofficial tour guide, arrived a few minutes later. We found somewhere suitable to leave the car and got a bus into the city, remembering a little late to pay attention to which street we'd left the car but between us we found it again later. It was certainly an active rest day rather than a relaxation day as we covered 6 miles round the city, taking in Princes street; the castle; Victoria Street balcony; a lovely cafe where I got my tasty and well presented pork discounted as they'd unfortunately undercooked it; Greyfriars Kirk (cathedral); the Meadows; and Holyrood Park and Salisbury crags. I stopped for frequent photos, often in the middle of the street, although the bright sunshine made the contrast a little awkward, and I wished for a bigger tripod while I was lying on my tummy in Greyfriars Kirk trying to take a photo of the massive organ. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji9aJU5ECSYHzVAjlQ130J_Xa2exW6WpswocTWRARDHldJ5L_P6rEpD4uxYyFSGyZ_xGc_MVh8ZbPKxyKo6JwJOiulcsiKUHFDwzaKHYW1ESslme25iRqxSGomAeKAZpewjDpvXd2111g/s1600/IMG_1141+Poss.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji9aJU5ECSYHzVAjlQ130J_Xa2exW6WpswocTWRARDHldJ5L_P6rEpD4uxYyFSGyZ_xGc_MVh8ZbPKxyKo6JwJOiulcsiKUHFDwzaKHYW1ESslme25iRqxSGomAeKAZpewjDpvXd2111g/s200/IMG_1141+Poss.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Glasgow High Kirk, Infirmary and Necropolis</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Early evening went back to Matt's in Glasgow and had haggis and jalopeno pizza for dinner with the obligatory Irn Bru, then the next day I did a little more sighseeting but at a rather sedate pace with a happy lie in. I jumped on a very cheap (£1.80!) train into the city and wandered round the High Kirk (St. Mungos Cathedral) which was rather extensive and being nicely restored, then round the Necropolis. The Glasgow Necropolis is a substantial graveyard on a hillside which was opened in 1933 when space in churchyards space was dimished and less people were attending church, and it affords a nice view down over the Kirk and the Royal Infirmery, as well as being atmospheric in itself with grand tombs and monuments. Unfortunately while returning from here I discovered that my plans to head to Arran for the bank holiday weekend had fallen through, so I had to make come up with an alternative idea. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQrScEHIQHiEVlulliQ2aeyFQYq0Xtf1sNXlfcaFYlMVz-42iUv4h735q6qPQXqqY56svH_puYyzyfpEDXOoX7MwJHmA9c5ogAvUVxFjSxtS5tI-FcbzkZArZAfbRUcbCIV_uXM3EDq7c/s1600/IMG_1201.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQrScEHIQHiEVlulliQ2aeyFQYq0Xtf1sNXlfcaFYlMVz-42iUv4h735q6qPQXqqY56svH_puYyzyfpEDXOoX7MwJHmA9c5ogAvUVxFjSxtS5tI-FcbzkZArZAfbRUcbCIV_uXM3EDq7c/s200/IMG_1201.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Stag</td></tr>
</tbody></table>I tried a couple of avenues that proved to be blind, before deciding that the best thing to do would probably be to tag along on Matt's trip to Gairloch - after all I've never been to Torridon and there were more Munros there too! On further investigation the Munros aren't really that near Gairloch and they sound like quite an undertaking in terms of terrain, so I stuck a post up on facebook asking whether anyone was in the area to accompany me, and lo, I got a message from a friend from home saying 'Sarah, Serendipity, I'm heading up there myself today!' I had the morning to pack, then Matt and I departed and I transferred to Jon's car part way there. Not longer later we were traversing the base of some awesomly dramatic mountains rising pretty much from sea level and reflected in passive lochs, then winding up a mountain pass to Applecross campsite past wild deer. A few photo stops delayed us a little as did leisurely tent pitching, and we arrived at the pub just after they'd stopped serving food but thankfully they threw us together a couple of dishes.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMBZWun6dYgzYt5TwRrbgLyuZSgrUwbAqNE32R_CXhS4wuw0Z8o5h0coFXQaxFGUjJ0sAB1YC1ckSBbi1ipiH3JBEeR1Z5M34zM1XzlMq6MHJrpnb7eZie7UecMPLiEGC9VVvkpzemLj4/s1600/IMG_1341+Poss+%255Bzen%255D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMBZWun6dYgzYt5TwRrbgLyuZSgrUwbAqNE32R_CXhS4wuw0Z8o5h0coFXQaxFGUjJ0sAB1YC1ckSBbi1ipiH3JBEeR1Z5M34zM1XzlMq6MHJrpnb7eZie7UecMPLiEGC9VVvkpzemLj4/s200/IMG_1341+Poss+%255Bzen%255D.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Suset over Skye</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj4K_zmOUUEBTY1DdWD9FYjOIfPTjwytOJUxkRk_0LqKidjRWrhzyCsSDn3iCu3kKMjxcWjKM2dKzSzyqamDDv7C_ZZLBoJkCT82s58ehPKYBoCG_52Mw5D-QSnwuDx3xWv58-nynxb5c/s1600/IMG_1262+Our+wild+camp.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj4K_zmOUUEBTY1DdWD9FYjOIfPTjwytOJUxkRk_0LqKidjRWrhzyCsSDn3iCu3kKMjxcWjKM2dKzSzyqamDDv7C_ZZLBoJkCT82s58ehPKYBoCG_52Mw5D-QSnwuDx3xWv58-nynxb5c/s200/IMG_1262+Our+wild+camp.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wild camp</td></tr>
</tbody></table>We hatched a plan to get up at dawn and take photos from the beach, go back to bed until the sun drove us from our tents, walk up a couple of Munros, camp high and take pictures of the sunset then dawn, then walk back down, and that's what we did. The Munros were Beinn Liath Mhor and Sgorr Ruadh, which are lesser known but provide fantastic views north to Beinn Alligin, Liathach and Beinn Eighe and west to Skye. We did them in the reverse order by accident as we overcooked the walk in a little, and I did the second one alone as Jon was eager to scout for photo spots, but both had a great day, and although my photos didn't turn out amazingly I learnt more about the photographer's light and really enjoyed the situation. The weather was good enough that I'd summited Sgorr Ruadh in shorts, only donning trousers for prudence when I went off alone, and view from the top of Sgorr Ruadh was breathtaking with the descending sun turning the sea golden in front of Skye, and it was hard to drag myself down again before dark.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhepLzITu79J_E0c0kPFVweSxmGBpx1u8rKQxfH602LqY79SqSnSJTDZ-fPFyczQpNmrUvkmGW9e2p3MGG_pZ-lzg57pp8-lvQUoflpd7Xy3ASV70GYqj7ada7_H04yGZx7RrY1X8rvDU4/s1600/IMG_1543.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhepLzITu79J_E0c0kPFVweSxmGBpx1u8rKQxfH602LqY79SqSnSJTDZ-fPFyczQpNmrUvkmGW9e2p3MGG_pZ-lzg57pp8-lvQUoflpd7Xy3ASV70GYqj7ada7_H04yGZx7RrY1X8rvDU4/s200/IMG_1543.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Liathach on fire</td></tr>
</tbody></table>As we walked back to the car on Saturday morning we were both pooped - the blisters covering the tips of my little toes from the Cairngorms had blazed through the remaining layers of skin and Jon was just worn out - and the walking was arduous out of proportion with the gentle downhill angle, so we delayed plans to then walk up Liathach, which turned out to be a longer delay for me as I heard from Matt that he was picking me up the next morning. Jon and I set up camp at the wonderfully situated campsite at Shieldaig, had a lunchtime treat of steak and frites for me and moules and frites for Jon at the restaurant in Shieldaig, then took a stroll round a peninsula to look for seals, when we noticed that across the loch Liathach was on fire! Right the way from floor to tip, and being extended westwards by the lively wind. We stared at it in awe from various viewpoints and took photos, then came back to camp to cook up a hearty meal then take photos of the night sky. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9QmajO2t8jRSV1LuVo5fzN3arBSdYdRfcqe2fQ9exkF3uL3SKyJKvmmXUpGoKxRACaDxPZVz4UMs7u6X-vmrTHOan20S3Q0vdWbV8cCVb_-iKzwfDfEdRWhs86HDTzO4LPFu9QCTaLmc/s1600/IMG_1763+Poss.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9QmajO2t8jRSV1LuVo5fzN3arBSdYdRfcqe2fQ9exkF3uL3SKyJKvmmXUpGoKxRACaDxPZVz4UMs7u6X-vmrTHOan20S3Q0vdWbV8cCVb_-iKzwfDfEdRWhs86HDTzO4LPFu9QCTaLmc/s200/IMG_1763+Poss.JPG" width="133" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Waterfall in Glencoe</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Matt picked me up late morning and there began a rather disjointed last day. First we drove to Glen Nevis and I spent a while looking for a short Munro outing that I could do in the available time, deciding on Aonach Beag, but was thwarted by a lack of map and all the local shops and services stations having run out of the appropriate one, and then it turned out Matt's partner had to leave early anyway for some work that had just become available. After a bit of discussion it turned out we still had the rest of the day to spare, so we continued down the glen and the boys went climbing at Whale Rock and I sunbathed and took photos. They did one route then none of the others seemed suitable so we moved further South to Glencoe for some roadside cragging, which turned out to be at this idyllic beauty spot just under the road! Gushing waterfalls, a deep pool with a soaring cliff next to it, pale, water washed boulders and colourful lichen. Definitely a spot to return to, and it revealed a different side of Glencoe to me. Unfortunately the climbing didn't go well for the guys, and Pete wasn't feeling well either, so it was a bit of a dreary drive to Tyndrum to sample the chip shop delights, then on to Glasgow.<br />
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My train home was at noon which allowed me time to pack after a lie in. I spent the three hour journey reading my book and my magazine which rounded off the holiday nicely since I don't get much time to read at home, and I finished them both just before pulling up at Crewe to be met by my boyfriend, then head home for a little gardening in the remaining sun. It was an excellent and varied trip, and I was only a little disappointed that my luck only gave me two numbers on the Saturday lottery.Sarah Cloughhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03797857043816872742noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1445147937322368187.post-55030185009228202362011-04-06T16:51:00.004+01:002011-04-06T17:16:49.370+01:00April 2011 - Walking - Sodden Munros and the Crazy Bridge, Loch MonarI put a message on facebook to ask people to get in touch if they fancied a bit of Munro bagging with me, and Jen was one of those who replied, although it took us a couple of months to find a suitable weekend. Jen said she's not currently very hill fit but that was fine as I want to spend the early part of the year ticking off some single or double Munros rather than the bigger circuits. I fancied heading to an area I've not been to before, and I wanted to make use of my new MBA membership, so set about finding some hills the other side of the Inverness/Fort William divide that are near a bothy. It seems that most bothies up there aren't actually that convenient for Munros, but one stood out and was mentioned in the guidebook, although the more I looked into it the more crazy the plan seemed - it involved a night in the bothy and one or two wild camps in order to bag some of the most remote Munros, so we'd have to carry all our kit. Jen is used to that sort of thing though, and thought it sounded feasible, and since neither of us had much time to find an alternative the plan stuck.<br />
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After work on Thursday 31st March I picked Jen up from Stockport station, and after a brief detour to pick up a belt sander we made our way up to Scotland to gratefully stay overnight with some friends. It was a smooth journey but we arrived at midnight which was after all of our bedtimes so we quickly hit the sack. On Friday we travelled the same distance again up to the Northwest Highlands, and parked up in Craig, a little village in the middle of nowhere midway between Inverness and Skye. I just about managed to cram part of the tent into my teensy rucksack, whilst Jen hauled the lion's share in her monster pack. I later decided I could strap the poles to the outside of mine, but she refused to let me take them, and it transpired that she'd brought a few extra items like knitting, so the balance of shared kit wasn't too unfair. Thankfully the mountains were pretty devoid of snow so we could leave the winter kit in the car. By 1:15 am we were strutting off along the well made track up the Allt a' Chonais.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcmTcS4kUrQG7Typ2FAv4xakRFL4I2hu-JWVHrdkyWShiU3whMxT9YklVA_C8Xfl_NuFCvm-Z3Vol2JgiSiyx2hSIOTxzMGeVfgsNDkybB8zMEconuitvUNbrTpnAJeg9UXb8xT6y2OfA/s1600/217388_10150151382509706_513664705_6299047_7213885_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcmTcS4kUrQG7Typ2FAv4xakRFL4I2hu-JWVHrdkyWShiU3whMxT9YklVA_C8Xfl_NuFCvm-Z3Vol2JgiSiyx2hSIOTxzMGeVfgsNDkybB8zMEconuitvUNbrTpnAJeg9UXb8xT6y2OfA/s320/217388_10150151382509706_513664705_6299047_7213885_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me on the bridge of Instability, photo by Jen</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj24yApzNRsVwmhC7cl4FXZj-WEeTsFXNTpL4TrxpUNhE4y5w0xQY3EaXvFXlZJR8V1X8BW6Udztphqqep3rHW44axBjjN2kPZbmsJi_a6Z5IfU4kwmjxiA1BiiyxK2_LWRwkSNt3OWaYk/s1600/208334_10150198286235498_618910497_8709665_5024591_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj24yApzNRsVwmhC7cl4FXZj-WEeTsFXNTpL4TrxpUNhE4y5w0xQY3EaXvFXlZJR8V1X8BW6Udztphqqep3rHW44axBjjN2kPZbmsJi_a6Z5IfU4kwmjxiA1BiiyxK2_LWRwkSNt3OWaYk/s320/208334_10150198286235498_618910497_8709665_5024591_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Jen off the Bridge of Instability</div></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">At the point where we were to leave the big track and take a footpath up the Allt Leathad an Tobair, the map showed a bridge. After one uneccessary bit of path and just after some rapids we found it - two cables strung across the stream, the top one worryingly floppy. This flouted entry into the accepted classification of walkers footbriges (bridge of Mild Peril, Peril, Doom then Death), and became dubbed the Bridge of Instability. After a few tentative steps I decided that it actually worked, as long as you pressed down on the handline and leant forward, and after a disorientating section over a fast flowing section of stream at the far side, I was across. Perhaps my balance made up for my ineptness in all other areas, for example the new found ability to look at the map and think we were in a completely different spot to where we actually were. Jen was very unsure of the bridge, but valiantly gave it a try, however whereas I'd felt surprisingly stable, she looked rather wild as the handline swung worryingly from side to side. Deciding either way would end up in a dunking, she went for the deliberate one and stepped down into the river, wading rapidly to join me on the far bank, somewhat the wetter. The first river crossing of the trip, although not the last! From here we started ascending, following a path up the banks of a fast flowing mountain stream.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: left;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX70LN37bU9FdsOVJgsb7185MtNnTIOYMzYZ_wuoVHxdh23UZXaylPwpIRegYJefgkjZ_a9ni0GvuLJkPlJRrF7DADKGzBYc85ky7ZgmhmatooJhb0m3InFcp5Yd4-d7i2obB9WiXCeP8/s1600/197970_10150198288540498_618910497_8709688_2660589_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX70LN37bU9FdsOVJgsb7185MtNnTIOYMzYZ_wuoVHxdh23UZXaylPwpIRegYJefgkjZ_a9ni0GvuLJkPlJRrF7DADKGzBYc85ky7ZgmhmatooJhb0m3InFcp5Yd4-d7i2obB9WiXCeP8/s320/197970_10150198288540498_618910497_8709688_2660589_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In the Bearnais bothy</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">The forecast for the weekend had been full of challenges, the first being the wind. It didn't *feel* too strong, but it really was especially after being channelled down the valley, as for the first time ever I was knocked over - it swept my feet out backwards and unceremoniously faceplanted me onto the path. And kept trying for a repeat. Often you had to walk with body horizontal when you felt a gust hit you, and brace against walking poles. But eventually we crested the valley at a bealach (saddle) and began to gradually descend down the mirror valley on the other side, where it was a little less strong. Here there was no path and we began the tedium of bog hopping and stream straddling as various tributaties headed down to join the main stream. Such is the way of Scottish hills though and we had a little sing song to aid us on our journey. Boots were wet by now and the moss under foot was unstable, so we started slipping frequently, but our souls were further lifted when we caught sight of the bothy at the head of the loch and half an hour later we'd arrived - after 12km and 6 hours from the car.</div><br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Being a remote bothy and a Friday night the place was desserted, but we connected with previous travellers by reading through the logbook and adding our own entry. We had enough daylight to settle in, toilet and change and get the dinner on, and just dug out the headtorches in order to eat it. A nice early night was earnt, and by 9pm we were head to head on the little bench bed, fed, warm and dry, and hoping not to topple onto the floor and that the moose could not work the door latches.</div><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5Q-A3FhhoKU_7tC78pzY9zqIaYUyZtsA6YeFV-zcbob7sETsCnUoBhKlxaXs8xPIkKDQ7M1FifCmcrn7UThVkFTjy94EKX11WGASQunrTNjV9iu1NhhVm-RfCpt9lN2BrZIzhF-zgEL0/s1600/215448_10150151382914706_513664705_6299055_4884631_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5Q-A3FhhoKU_7tC78pzY9zqIaYUyZtsA6YeFV-zcbob7sETsCnUoBhKlxaXs8xPIkKDQ7M1FifCmcrn7UThVkFTjy94EKX11WGASQunrTNjV9iu1NhhVm-RfCpt9lN2BrZIzhF-zgEL0/s200/215448_10150151382914706_513664705_6299055_4884631_n.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">River crossing, day 2, photo by Jen</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgat7oI2QCStJmGKLz5wI5ySCo6VbFKcrAugTjB8lrte2ct6UKbPaf0XxeG38JHWPZCZyHIBjqBPvcFhiArlkVN3SSQoItLwI-qsD-lphB2Nh1VUR4OHm5j9WVFW0hijNZ_Ef6PZyd7PQ4/s1600/205802_10150198289560498_618910497_8709701_5132309_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgat7oI2QCStJmGKLz5wI5ySCo6VbFKcrAugTjB8lrte2ct6UKbPaf0XxeG38JHWPZCZyHIBjqBPvcFhiArlkVN3SSQoItLwI-qsD-lphB2Nh1VUR4OHm5j9WVFW0hijNZ_Ef6PZyd7PQ4/s200/205802_10150198289560498_618910497_8709701_5132309_n.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">River crossing, day 2</td></tr>
</tbody></table>We got up with the light (ish) and then didn't really keep track of time, and were ready for the off by 8:45, although had plenty of time as we had 15km to cover which we'd anticipated would take 10 hours. After a river crossing (I took my boots off and Jen just waded through given that she was wet enough already) we picked up some landrover trails round the lochan, and then a path heading to the western shoulder of Bidein a' Choire Sheasgaich ('Cheesecake'). The ground was still pretty damp underfoot and it wasn't long before I was also wet through again, but visibility was fine and we plodded our way steadily upwards, with a fairly rapid height gain (in terms of steepness, not our actual speed). There had been a little dusting of snow overnight but it melted as we ascended, receding away from us. Once we reach the intermediate summit of Sail Riabhach it seemed to take forever to encounter the small lochan just before the final slopes of Cheesecake, but there wasn't really much room for error given we were on a ridge, so just carried on and finally there it was. There the ground steepened and we caught up with the snow and kicked steps up to the summit arriving 24 hours after leaving the car. Due to the cold and the wind we only paused to take a quick photo and check for a phone and internet signal so we could get an up to date forecast for tomorrow - success. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWPt3iw8wbYiapHvOkuigAAnAtO9UQUghElW6FbdqTjHaYlVPT5HCILlNz2dg3eJQNHph6yPTdA3g9_W-YWor8VQvSI2R8kqw1ODN7tad1GhnSqcXZ6PmuF7s2is6oiWa2SGQxigBRszc/s1600/196550_10150198291815498_618910497_8709739_2437579_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWPt3iw8wbYiapHvOkuigAAnAtO9UQUghElW6FbdqTjHaYlVPT5HCILlNz2dg3eJQNHph6yPTdA3g9_W-YWor8VQvSI2R8kqw1ODN7tad1GhnSqcXZ6PmuF7s2is6oiWa2SGQxigBRszc/s200/196550_10150198291815498_618910497_8709739_2437579_n.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On the lower slopes of Bidein a' Choire Sheasgaich,<br />
the bothy is at the head of the lochain</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHzNBf7uPiU-vL3-R_PJ6glfRSUXLkPwyNvtsEah6M5A0vBruVXoYP47-RPB1izyZtG3fStiQDdYwZi3wfIDU7sMP08mLcotYv_r-9eDVejSWUe9QVUMdA1EpbuC4wYpOFQlZOTGcrSVs/s1600/197154_10150198292825498_618910497_8709756_3836459_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHzNBf7uPiU-vL3-R_PJ6glfRSUXLkPwyNvtsEah6M5A0vBruVXoYP47-RPB1izyZtG3fStiQDdYwZi3wfIDU7sMP08mLcotYv_r-9eDVejSWUe9QVUMdA1EpbuC4wYpOFQlZOTGcrSVs/s200/197154_10150198292825498_618910497_8709756_3836459_n.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Summit of Bidein a' Choire Sheasgaich</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">The wind was still fairly strong so with heads down and little conversation we descended to the col inbetween this and the next Munro, and thankfully soon found ourselves out of the wind and cloud and able to see where we were going again. It was nice that we didn't actually need much conversation between us, every time there was a decision to be made we seemed to be on the same wavelength and were thinking the same thing. Although it was also nice that we found plenty to natter about when the weather allowed! We passed 3 RAF blokes whose friendly hello seemed a little like the third degree, then continued up Lurg Mhor. This meant another 250m of ascent but it seemed a lot quicker and easier with a path the whole way and no snow. Then back down to the col, then we picked our way down the steep slopes to the north which levelled off as the cloud lifted yet further and actually allowed us to see the summits we had just bagged, and prompted smiles to spread across our faces. Then with one further rain shower came a beautiful full double rainbow. </div><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitOBklcczEOgz7heCKAS6Z-8sRF6DIp5SR24oGA70JsThosHpo4tXmDeWLDqmebufZbn4tvkg5NkCmqt9oMy3IzUr6uhNYymKnHmCzI31t863G27fyTRblozsstB_5m45k-rhu-_D6JsE/s1600/204718_10150198284615498_618910497_8709656_1290879_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="142" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitOBklcczEOgz7heCKAS6Z-8sRF6DIp5SR24oGA70JsThosHpo4tXmDeWLDqmebufZbn4tvkg5NkCmqt9oMy3IzUr6uhNYymKnHmCzI31t863G27fyTRblozsstB_5m45k-rhu-_D6JsE/s320/204718_10150198284615498_618910497_8709656_1290879_o.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beautiful rainbow</td></tr>
</tbody></table> <div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">We continued descending then found ourself amidst an array of granite slabs and cascading waterfalls, but fortuitously we had landed ourselves on top of a grassy rake which gave us a way through. The ground levelled off which meant more bog wading, then we rounded a rib and started heading up a different valley that leads up to the saddle we crossed over yesterday, from the side. We were becoming quite familiar with the classification of streams you are likely to encounter - wide streams, roaring streams with waterfalls (some with piles of rocks dumped when the water lost power and making useful bridges), boggy streams (some strewn with rocks to use at stepping stones, some not), streams that blend in with the grass and have it flowing in the current, and one lowly but pretty awesome stream that surged round the bottom part of a sloping granite slab. Part way up this valley we pick a slighly raised spot by a fast flowing stream that made a rather appealing wild camping spot. We managed to come in on schedule again as it was only 6pm, and had a leisurely hour or two pitching the tent and making dinner. Of course as soon as we'd put the tent up it rained (thankfully not before) so we ate dinner (crunchie macaronie and lumps of cheese, which was DELICIOUS) in the damp, but it dried off before bed allowing us a little time to air dry. We put our heads down just before 9 again, and had another proper night's sleep, although had to curl round the odd tuft of grass underneath our sleeping mats.</div><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG5SEm2esL2oz4HaukGbaWg58A-ByMF8dgygrMZIyERHZGqX11Djr0fClry3okCluZj1glYUhAlaIZLZZtyezB4XOV8lws-0iBpQz-WpuhUxl0RCIVtjWnGRZZzLC_mu6GL7D0XuN0h6c/s1600/205514_10150198295785498_618910497_8709804_868634_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG5SEm2esL2oz4HaukGbaWg58A-ByMF8dgygrMZIyERHZGqX11Djr0fClry3okCluZj1glYUhAlaIZLZZtyezB4XOV8lws-0iBpQz-WpuhUxl0RCIVtjWnGRZZzLC_mu6GL7D0XuN0h6c/s320/205514_10150198295785498_618910497_8709804_868634_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wild camping spot</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">My big toes had felt rather sore when I'd removed my boots, but they magically restored themselves overnight, and instead I woke up with agonisingly painful neck and shoulders from too much rucksack carrying. Much stretching and ibuprofen ensued then I was mostly fit to continue. The forecast for today had fairly insistent that there was a risk of thunder and lightning, although that was for the whole of the Northwest Highlands so we hatched a cunning plan to walk up to the saddle and at that point make a decision whether to head down back to the car, or up to the next couple of Munros (Sgurr Choinnich and Sgurr a Chaorachain). The weather so far had not been brilliant, but had been only what you'd expect in the mountains, and didn't detract from our enjoyment of the adventure. Today however, we were attacked by hail, in an ever changing wind direction that we concluded was playing games just to make sure we were soaked from all angles. We were both travelling at rather a crawl today, my third day pace being a little more of a match for Jen's slow but steady plod. The wind got stronger as the slope steepened and by the time we reached the top it was hard to know whether to find shelter to have a little chat about plans, or to just find the path down. We were both 60% sold on going down (30% up and 10% minds elsewhere) and the cloud was too low to see what the weather was actually doing in the bigger picture, so after a little zigzagging back and forth we dropped over onto the other side and carried on down, down out of the wind. Not out of the rain though, so it was a bit of a heads-down auto-pilot descent. </div><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX4npvDfpzLvGVr8bzWu4i7Ycs8ed8C3oBEDoo9nWUereHTJSTEEdP04COMHCT02DNPaPuH97m0-_SrbP3TpI05Ui4Lao8VYHe6_empaAwM1pLW4SP3RsrTGuwwSwjkmFC68tLCERGN2E/s1600/192320_10150198291125498_618910497_8709728_5416218_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="171" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX4npvDfpzLvGVr8bzWu4i7Ycs8ed8C3oBEDoo9nWUereHTJSTEEdP04COMHCT02DNPaPuH97m0-_SrbP3TpI05Ui4Lao8VYHe6_empaAwM1pLW4SP3RsrTGuwwSwjkmFC68tLCERGN2E/s320/192320_10150198291125498_618910497_8709728_5416218_o.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Two of the many deer</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Back at the Bridge of Instability we passed in the same manner as on the way in - me on and Jen off - then had a brief pause in order to stuff ourselves with pork pies. Then things went a little weird, my hands were getting pretty cold thanks to being damp, but my warm gloves, although at the top of my dry bag, were buried under the tent which had been the last thing back into my bag, and extracting them would be a bit of an ordeal. As we rejoined the big track I had an epiphany that I really needed to try, so unclipped the rucksack, and set down my rollmat, and undid the pack and pulled out the tent, and opened the dry bag, and extracted the wet gloves off my fingers. As I used my teeth to remove my liner gloves the chinese finger trick effect of the the wet fabric gave me the sensation that I was popping each of my fingers in its socket, and suddenly the onset of hot aches turned into full blown 'screaming barfies' - I felt sick and couldn't help but moan audibly, which lead to a rather taken aback and increasingly worried Jen. I've had hot aches plenty of times before and they're not pleasant, but this took it up another notch, and I'm fairly sure this was due to the additional bonus of wet feet. I stood there with my fingers of one hand sheltered inside the warm dry fabric of my winter gloves, and could last out just long enough to do one task like pull off my other wet glove before I felt dizzy again. Jen started to help me pack my bag saying we needed to get going, and I knew we had to, but everything was overcome by the surreal all-over-body ache emanating from my hands. Somehow we got the bag clipped back up, me with gloves dangling off my hands as my fingers were so numb I couldn't get my fingers into their little slots. I felt neauseous so I dropped to my knees with my head down for a little bit. Jen said we needed to get going so I stood back up, and she asked if I felt dizzy. 'I feel really light-headed' was my best verbal approximation for feeling a hair's breadth away from fainting for the first time in my life and she told me to get back down. 'But you said we needed to get going!' I half protested as I sat down. The thing with hot aches is that you always know that no matter how bad you feel, you know it's only temporary and that allows you to wade back out of the wooziness. A second epiphany told me that if I stood up and started walking immediately then the motion would prevent the dizziness from taking hold. Thankfully it worked and I began the hardest bit of walking I can remember, asking Jen to hold one of my poles so that I could get the most blood flow round my fingers and concentrating on each footstep. I desperately wanted to either empty the water out of my boots, or get out my scarf, or eat a mars bar, but I couldn't do either of those without removing my gloves and undergoing a repeat performance, so just had to trust that by keeping moving my feet would warm up and that would thrust some life back in to me - which it did, and after another half an hour or so I felt right as rain, especially when the sun came out. When Jen stopped for a photo I did too, choosing that over those other options. Then also squeezed one sock and ate a mars bar ayway. We finished the walk out back to the car at an absolutely stonking pace, making up for our snail like crawl up the hills. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv_Z4r68IyDcP3X7rKfg6GTrAika2aJh3CfMAcS3TwNTCZRCCotFqSrcmlUL4HeiaYvkmy2k6fnj0W0wfb-TocqJj52_hyphenhyphengC0X58qkxHkasERzKs0plFmNC9X9cUvy0vMA_wmjDt-TXv0/s1600/208362_10150198296620498_618910497_8709809_5330897_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv_Z4r68IyDcP3X7rKfg6GTrAika2aJh3CfMAcS3TwNTCZRCCotFqSrcmlUL4HeiaYvkmy2k6fnj0W0wfb-TocqJj52_hyphenhyphengC0X58qkxHkasERzKs0plFmNC9X9cUvy0vMA_wmjDt-TXv0/s320/208362_10150198296620498_618910497_8709809_5330897_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking down towards the car in the sunshine</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">On the way back to the car we discussed various plans, such as heading South and ticking off Loch Lomond or similar the next morning before driving home, but once we reached the car and got changed into dry clothes, we felt rather complete, and felt as if we had achieved the mission we set out on and drawn a line under it. It had been a 48 hour epic adventure almost exactly to the minute, and we concluded that would do us. So we decided return home (with socks drying out the window and making the car look as if it had ears), in what was now glorious sunshine which continued for the entire journey. My fingers felt sore and beaten, and I felt a little knocked for six after the enforced recovery from the dizziness, and it is a very long drive, but with a hot chocolate stop in Aviemore, a haggis supper stop just south of Perth, and a photograpy stop at Southwaite servies as the sun set, the drive went without event. The last part of the journey round Manchester and down the snake pass to Sheffield was passed with Jen and I bawling out every word to an entire album of Bon Jovi with great gusto.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Sarah Cloughhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03797857043816872742noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1445147937322368187.post-12117621274675803852011-04-05T17:07:00.000+01:002011-04-05T17:07:06.225+01:00March 2011 - Caving - Knotlow / Hillocks exchangeI set off with a mixture of trepidation, nerves, and fear. Okay, and a degree of excitement too. 18 months ago I did a Hillocks to Whalf exchange with some friends, and before ascending Steve and I went exploring for something he'd heard of called Meccano passage. After a couple of dead ends we found it, and went down a little way until coming to a body sized tube at the bottom of a short drop in the floor. I tried to look in head first but dropped myself on my neck which hurt. Steve went in foot first for a body length but came back when he hit water, then we left it for a future day since the others would probably have finished prusikking out by now. <br />
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A bit of reading up on the internet told us it was the connection to Knotlow, and it sounded scary but interesting without being dangerous, so it prompty got added to the wishlist. Steve has been back to do the trip another time but I wasn't available, so I jumped(ish) at the chance when I heard of a TSG/KCC trip this week. <br />
<br />
Sitting at the top of Knotlow climbing shaft, feeling the fresh air as the beautiful day dropped into night, I watched down the Chapel Dale engine shaft as Wayne rigged a rebelay at Chain Passage, while out of the corner of my eye Glyn, John and Eszter disappeared one by one down the climbing shaft. I bounced down the springy new 9mm rope towards the sound of whooping, and we reconvened in the start of Meccano passage. A couple of short sections led to a downwards slope to a lowering in the roof, which was the start of the flooded coffin level. Wayne went first having been here before, and after a short while sounds emitting back down the passage that sounded like he was being attacked by some kind of sea creature. Thankfully this was followed by a shout of "I'm out of the water", and John followed on down. Some mumbled voices, some more splashing, then the splashing appeared to be getting louder, and John popped back out again. It turns out the dry end of the passage is a little restrictive to get through with SRT kit, so John came back to take his off in the larger passage, and somehow Wayne stripped off in situ. I felt glad I'd anticipated this and had already stuffed my kit into a bag, although unfortunately this meant I was instructed to head down the passage next while John de-kitted! <br />
<br />
Being with strangers I didn't really have the option to procrastinate while composing myself like I usually do, so I posted myself head first into the passage and just started crawling, one hand and one elbow in the water, with head just clear of the ceiling. After not very far my bag started to get jammed between my thigh and the wall, so I hooked it over my bent knee and dragged it along behind me. Then the roof lowered and I transitioned automatically to lying flat out, and the bag strap went sliding down my leg, and I just had to hope it stayed hooked over my welly. What with the weighlessness of my body in the water negating any need to crawl, my legs motionless in order that I didn't lose my bag, and enough room to turn my head and look around me, my elbows propelled me down the passage with very little effort and surprisingly little fear. It was quite peaceful in there and I relished my unique situation. I think it would be a different story if I'd been first down, as most of my feeling of being at-ease came from Wayne waiting at the end and reassuring me that I was nearly there, and that despite the fact that the roof was still lowering it was always possible to breathe. <br />
<br />
The lowest part comes when you still can't see the end, with a smooth flat block of rock forming the ceiling meaning you have to turn your head, but that's the end and then the whole passage tilts up a little taking you out of the water, and kinks to the left which helps you to turn onto your back for the exit. Fortunately when I dragged myself out of the water like the dinosaur crocodiles that beached up to land and stood up as humans (that's how we evolved, isn't it?) I could feel the weight of my SRT kit hanging off my foot so didn't have to worry that someone else would end up crawling over it and getting stuck. When exiting the passage on your back you have to lie in all the water you've acumulated and you realise how cold it is - I hadn't noticed when entering the passage as I had been so absorbed by the situation. On exiting into the larger passage I felt a little sick (strange how one's throat can dry out so much with so much water around) but happy, and I knew from here I'd done the rest so there were no surprises. I had to just trust that the CO2 problems in this area are no longer an issue, as I'd remembered to bring a lighter for the first time, but the pocket I'd put it in had filled with water rendering it useless. The other three popped through with no fuss and we started working our way back to the surface. Despite thinking I'd remember the way back to the main chamber I didn't, in fact I was convinced it went up a gravel slope rather than through the crawl to the left, so Wayne had to put up with a succession of calls of "are you sure it's this way?", "are you sure you're sure?", "are you really sure, because i'm positive it's… oh sod it, I'm coming".<br />
<br />
I must say the company was great - despite only having met Glyn before and none of the others they always seemed to be there when you needed them, either when you wanted a bit of reassurance or when you weren't sure of the way. I couldn't remember much of Hillocks at all (18 months seems to be enough to wipe the memory) but did manage to recall the location of the parallel passage so we could climb out in tandem (although later on I encouraged John down an incorrect squeeze). Back at the surface I volunteered to go back down the Knotlow engine shaft and de-rig Chain passage as nobody had come out that way. I wanted to try out my footloop as I've recently shortened it and wanted to see if it's better like that - it isn't (if it ain't broke, don't fix it, should be my motto next time). Then all that was left to do was debried liquidly at the Bulls Head and say a longer hello to the group we'd passed in Hillocks travelling in the opposite direction.Sarah Cloughhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03797857043816872742noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1445147937322368187.post-51380736568766843252011-04-05T16:59:00.000+01:002011-04-05T16:59:45.882+01:00December 2010 - Walking - Munros, South West<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGtMSSfcg2_RwsDBVVFcGZZcQQHIxvKOiUUV_AMrhjyjXs7_OlHFEEQckoohdVX1Rpq7WXEpapFvptS_BhAAcWMMVQlL1vT5Syl2kLWWdX08pcAj1ePw4oZDRxc0lky85ccSR-Ou3RYoo/s1600/133636_10150100793880498_618910497_7826675_264376_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGtMSSfcg2_RwsDBVVFcGZZcQQHIxvKOiUUV_AMrhjyjXs7_OlHFEEQckoohdVX1Rpq7WXEpapFvptS_BhAAcWMMVQlL1vT5Syl2kLWWdX08pcAj1ePw4oZDRxc0lky85ccSR-Ou3RYoo/s320/133636_10150100793880498_618910497_7826675_264376_o.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dan on the footbridge of doom</td></tr>
</tbody></table>A persistant flat tyre and a resultant trip to the garage delayed our Saturday start somewhat, and what with the Gleenshee road being dodgy near Blairgowrie, we decided by the time we got there we wouldn't really be rested for an early morning so a change of plans was in order.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVU5cik7mdSqwpJLecMcHTqxru6cVHFRctnf_1Mln0sf9-X6WcB6tdqO3A5ofEZi6-dhPQkp9lzt-tEXH4UUUPcBtCI1ICyIE6ezBJodDJYXss338unsNZOl6BBqWS6cej13S9f9UmNrQ/s1600/132942_10150100778310498_618910497_7826315_5816092_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVU5cik7mdSqwpJLecMcHTqxru6cVHFRctnf_1Mln0sf9-X6WcB6tdqO3A5ofEZi6-dhPQkp9lzt-tEXH4UUUPcBtCI1ICyIE6ezBJodDJYXss338unsNZOl6BBqWS6cej13S9f9UmNrQ/s320/132942_10150100778310498_618910497_7826315_5816092_o.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beautiful sunrise</td></tr>
</tbody></table>We stayed with friends in Glasgow Saturday night and headed to Tyndrum next morning planning to tick Beinn Dubhcraig and Ben Oss. Due to the woods being very icy, my friend being unfitter than he thought, and me being a little slow on the shoulder while I got used to the snow and ice (we countoured left to go up the shoulder as there was a cat 3 avalanche risk that would have got one side of the coire... and the shoulder looked easier because I'm a steep snow scaredy cat), we were going very slowly and it took us 4 hours to summit (6.5k). Given that due to the drive up from Glasgow and a supermarket stop we hadn't started until 9:10, we decided that it would be wise to sack off Ben Oss and start to descend. We didn't fancy reversing the way we'd come so decided to countour round to the other rib, but had a look down the coire on the way as there didn't actually look to be enough snow to avalanche. It looked fairly amenable so off we set, and it was fine - nice solid snow/neve only getting powdery if you came too far round, and steep enough to make me think but not enough to terrify me, could pretty much walk straight down with a little zigzagging. That was probably the highlight of the day - Dan got to play on the snow, and I felt empowered as I did something I was nervous of which actually went perfectly fine, making it fun. Since we had a bit of time in hand we dug an avalanche pit, hitting ground at the length of an axe and finding not a single layer, all well bonded. Somehow the entire descent took us the same as the ascent, but the ground was steep and the woods just as icy, so guess that's understandable. We got back to the car at 7pm, not needing to crack out the headtorches.<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjniV19_UzmpI6b4VRDCfg6nF8HWHZQ9IJJmXuAD6zl60lJC5CwTq85xjN2m7f0kfq13cKLV87PdRldd6RyQzU-SC9moEZ74LQoZ2oVgr5yOJS8zdfwD_P6aJPM1YwTT5rEsLCyw8YT9CA/s1600/54704_10150100797185498_618910497_7826761_7988796_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjniV19_UzmpI6b4VRDCfg6nF8HWHZQ9IJJmXuAD6zl60lJC5CwTq85xjN2m7f0kfq13cKLV87PdRldd6RyQzU-SC9moEZ74LQoZ2oVgr5yOJS8zdfwD_P6aJPM1YwTT5rEsLCyw8YT9CA/s320/54704_10150100797185498_618910497_7826761_7988796_o.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px;"></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px;"></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px;"></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px;"><div aria-live="polite" class="fbPhotoTheaterCaption mbs" id="fbPhotoTheaterCaption" style="margin-bottom: 5px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: initial;" tabindex="0"><div class="clearfix fbPhotoInlineCaptionEditor editor" id="u876214_33" style="display: block; zoom: 1;"><div class="captionWrapper" style="margin-right: 18px;"><div class="fbPhotoCaption">Bit steep for me without a rope but I managed to contour round.</div><div><br />
</div></div></div></div></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>Sunday the avalanche risk had dropped down to cat 2, so we went to tick Beinn Narnain and Beinn Ime. We started at 8 and zigzagged up the forest enjoying the most beautiful sunset I think I've ever seen, then watching a fireball of a sun shining over to Ben Lomond. From the Narnain boulders we struck up the coire to the saddle, which got quite steep near the top. Then scrambled up to the Spearhead and climbed the gully. Due to it being fairly technical it took a whopping 4 1/4 hours to reach the summit (5km). There was still potentially time to get the other summit especially since the foresty track would be trivial to follow by headtorch so continued down to the Bealach a' Mhaim. We made a mutual decision as time was short I'd carry on up Beinn Ime at my own speed as would Dan and I'd meet him on the way down. I managed the 1.6km and 374m of ascent from the bealach to the summit in 56 mins, which meant we were back at the boulders by sunset and back at the car at 5:30 without needing headtorches again.<br />
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Both days were amazing days in the hills, and for me personally I felt a great sense of achievement as we bit off exactly the right amount of challenge.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF_5cmuhaVlKlV_6difyB0fFcnwzhq-KYnuc42hXo8m3mAuNhh5sh2q_hBXH42g6VcU-VST8NiijuG2nTE8AEKXg9xcYGgHTXZMXI61IAk-Br1WTrKZ1mle387ltGP2irFB3OgUsHsChQ/s1600/133994_10150100781420498_618910497_7826387_1497772_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF_5cmuhaVlKlV_6difyB0fFcnwzhq-KYnuc42hXo8m3mAuNhh5sh2q_hBXH42g6VcU-VST8NiijuG2nTE8AEKXg9xcYGgHTXZMXI61IAk-Br1WTrKZ1mle387ltGP2irFB3OgUsHsChQ/s200/133994_10150100781420498_618910497_7826387_1497772_o.jpg" width="267" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px;">Summit ridge of Beinn Narnain, Loch Lomond behind</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzFiHIgdOyDivgGplmr03FkCG-wJDGxDe4x48EV5NsmC_3xUnk-7nhxzVRUk8D6EnVYcLWd22_8AB0Bm-hM-Fr28Is9VCCytzLFyLm6yPKfPUYaPkKAMdkJgYAjCLOCwtgSvw7Ibeomlo/s1600/135518_10150100782245498_618910497_7826420_577771_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzFiHIgdOyDivgGplmr03FkCG-wJDGxDe4x48EV5NsmC_3xUnk-7nhxzVRUk8D6EnVYcLWd22_8AB0Bm-hM-Fr28Is9VCCytzLFyLm6yPKfPUYaPkKAMdkJgYAjCLOCwtgSvw7Ibeomlo/s200/135518_10150100782245498_618910497_7826420_577771_o.jpg" width="267" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px;">My 15th Munro, Beinn Narnain</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Sarah Cloughhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03797857043816872742noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1445147937322368187.post-3421105647050667382011-04-05T16:49:00.000+01:002011-04-05T16:49:41.407+01:00November 2010 - Holiday - Thailand and CambodiaA trip report to accompany my photos, which can be found here:<br />
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=304422&id=618910497&l=0a7a03980e<br />
<br />
If I look back on various holidays I've been on I have very definite images and vibes. California, Christmas 1997 - seeing reindeer on the golf course on Christmas Eve, sunbathing on New Year's Day and beautiful coastal scenery; Climbing in Sardinia - camping on a pebbly campsite, picture perfect turquoise blue sea and pocketed grey rock; Climbing in Red Rocks - the consistency of the routes over many pitches, the spring-like weather although throat-hacking dusty dry air, and the craziness of Las Vegas. I've only been back from Cambodia a couple of weeks and already I have a vivid memory of the place in my mind - the continuous stretches of lush paddy fields and rural houses on stilts, with extended families, cattle and chickens wandering around the front yard, clay ovens and plentiful fresh fruit. And in the city the constant offerings from tuk-tuks and market vendors, and everywhere the way the people are so helpful and you only have to smile at someone to find them smile back and you’ve made a connection. It's a beautiful place. It's a world away from UK, but I felt very at home there, and very safe, and by the end of the week I even felt like I was getting a little used to the heat and humidity.<br />
<br />
It's hard to define when our holiday began, as there were various stages involved in actually getting to Cambodia, but that was all part of the experience so all part of the holiday too. On Thursday 11th November, Mo picked me up after work and we headed to my parents house for a lovely dinner. An early start on Friday saw us at Heathrow for our 17 hour flight to Bangkok, changing at Mumbai. We flew with Jet airways with whom I was very impressed: personal entertainment consoles giving you the option to choose your own film from a sizeable list (although unfortunately unchanged on the way home), very nice authentic Indian food especially breakfast (curry in a bread roll), and helpful staff and crew who actually bothered to tell you whenever there was turbulence. The security in India were a little scary with rifles slung over their shoulders, and everybody was being frisked despite only transferring flights. They didn’t tell us we got our boarding cards stamped as proof we had been searched so had to sheepishly go and dig them out of our bags once they'd been scanned, and there was minor chaos when they started searching people who had seemingly already gone through. I was happy though when they were unfazed by the presence of knitting needles in my bag, and we relaxed a little then and swung by the noodle bar to grab some food. Which we were still waiting for when we realised our flight was boarding. We panicked until the food was ready, then ran to the gate, then sat on the floor scoffing our snack while the queue rapidly decreased, then it turned out we were allowed to take it onto the fight anyway, and they also fed us soon afterwards!<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU3DPflLrB9X5ktbqun_ks_8SggJvkz6NVHDt-wI4saZk2zpjOhS5C-dpc8vdbWSIIZ8sNsZPRREBvdCW8jfbKiKKOh8wUMy8LaFVwoKhYc5odw2xMNit9KKsCL6-RWL82K5ipMHhDe2s/s1600/52241_10150090171870498_618910497_7666508_8347810_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU3DPflLrB9X5ktbqun_ks_8SggJvkz6NVHDt-wI4saZk2zpjOhS5C-dpc8vdbWSIIZ8sNsZPRREBvdCW8jfbKiKKOh8wUMy8LaFVwoKhYc5odw2xMNit9KKsCL6-RWL82K5ipMHhDe2s/s320/52241_10150090171870498_618910497_7666508_8347810_o.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px;">The approach to the water taxi port</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>We arrived at Bangkok in the early hours of Saturday 13th, and took the BTS (elevated rail link) to Phaya Thai station, and jumped in a taxi to our hotel. We were instantly struck by the craziness of the Asian traffic that I've heard so much about - mopedders with monks riding side saddle on the back or children hanging on the front and hardly anybody wearing a helmet, vying for space with the ubiquitous 'taxi-meter' or tuk-tuk. But somehow it seems to work and it doesn't seem quite as dangerous as you expect it to. We dumped our bags next to a stack of backpacker rucksacks in the 'too early to check in but leave kit here' room, grabbed a taxi to the station as a test run for the next morning, then started our exploration of the city. Bangkok is a real assault on the senses - sounds, sights and smells. There are always toots of horns, and aromas wafting around from the ever present market vendors. It's a mixture of old and new, run down and modern. There are people sleeping in the street (presumably homeless, although it's hard to be sure without the mass of warm blankets you expect in the UK), and every new building seems to be built next to a dilapidated old one. We headed off down the canal, crossing arched bridges without edges, passing hanging creepers, and eventually made it to a river-taxi port in spite of one man's advice and thanks to two others (everybody wants to help). The boat took us to a naval restaurant where we had dinner for 65 baht each (about £1.20), and checked out the market. We viewed the Grand Palace and Emerald Buddha from the road as weren't suitably attired for visiting temples (you have to have your shoulders covered and we didn't fancy borrowing the clothes on offer), then risked our lives crossing a couple of major roads (there are pedestrian crossing, but they might as well not be there), and walked back to the hotel for a super early night with the air-conditioning blasting.<br />
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We arose around 3am and took a taxi to the station in time for its opening at 4am. We managed to avoid minibus touts and purchased two train tickets at £1 each, and carefully selected seats on the 5:55am, 3rd class only train for our impending 6 hour ride to Aranyaprathet. We then proceeded to spend the next 6 hours staring out the window transfixed by the scenery - first the shanty towns that cram up against the railway line which were coming alive with spicy food being cooked on woks, and then paddy fields, and birds, and butterflies, and people working in the fields, and buffalo, and irrigation channels, and more mopeds. It could be straight out of a film, and it’s very picturesque.<br />
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From Aranyaprathet we made our way with a little confusion to Poipet, kept our heads down to avoid any scams and almost walked straight past the customs official (cue more sheepishness), and queued in the apathying heat to be stamped across the border. From there it was a free shuttle bus to the transport depot, then some very helpful government officials sorted us out with a taxi to Siem Reap. 2 1/2 hours later we were at the edge of Siem Reap, then in a free tuk-tuk to what we thought was the correct address for our hostel, then walking 1km down the road towards the actual location of our hostel (Aqua) in the dying light (6pm), then finally jumping in another tuk-tuk for what turned out to be the remaining 100m. John the owner showed us the way through the dark fern fronds and decking to our room, and then to the bar. Mo headed to bed shortly after that but I found the beer was going down supremely well and since that's unusual for me I decided to capitalise on it, which meant I was still about when Jess unexpectedly appeared. Catching up with old friends is always nice but it has an added significance when it's been 6 years and you're a long way from home.<br />
<br />
On Monday morning we arose with the heat at around 6:15 am (Aqua is a Cambodia style hostel without western conveniences like air-con or warm shower/water) to became well acquainted with the place as it turned out we were locked in and it was the only morning John has slept in in years, so had to wait 2 1/2 hours to escape. By the time we made it to town we were desperate for food and found a nice little Khmer place where we had fruit shakes (very refreshing in the heat) and an omelette baguette (their national bread has a rather French influence). We spent the rest of the day exploring Siem Reap city and running away from tuk-tuk drivers and market vendors who persistently offered to show us their wares. Back at Aqua later on we cooled off in the pool and giggled at ourselves doing pull ups on and traversing the bar, then sheltered from a bit of a monsoon under straw umbrellas, then headed to Red Chilli for dinner with Jess and John. Jess whooped me at pool just like the old days, although I claim mitigating circumstances since the pool queue stuck to my hot clammy hand.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf_N2AyTEwuzI6UGBut1XbkbBuQrx9F-5fvQnQuTU7rgMStcoO7OytVt5D5YXsVBs5RlZuDKhZcO_4U-Cf9nEoVgOSFjMqsa5BRvA_DwyJgGUPm3w5rr-EK4UbbtoeSjkd-sgL_fyPE38/s1600/131178_10150090194580498_618910497_7666924_8015040_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf_N2AyTEwuzI6UGBut1XbkbBuQrx9F-5fvQnQuTU7rgMStcoO7OytVt5D5YXsVBs5RlZuDKhZcO_4U-Cf9nEoVgOSFjMqsa5BRvA_DwyJgGUPm3w5rr-EK4UbbtoeSjkd-sgL_fyPE38/s320/131178_10150090194580498_618910497_7666924_8015040_o.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bayon</td></tr>
</tbody></table>On Tuesday we began our assault on the temples with Angkor Thom ('Great City', 1100s). Jess hooked us up with a tuk-tuk driver for the week, the quiet but helpful Teewon (sp). Bayon was first, with its many towering, smiling faces and extensive bas reliefs. What a place, everywhere you stand you are surrounded by levels of steps and corridors and giant carved faces, it's very absorbing. The next stop, Baphuon, was also captivating - a temple that was taken to pieces then all the records destroyed so the EFEO have been reassembling it by guesswork since 1995. We were wilting in the heat by this point and possibly led by our subconscious or some other force, we found ourselves wandering off the beaten track under trees to a shady hidden temple called Preah Prahilay. There was not a soul around and we clambered up the fallen rubble into the inner sanctum to momentarily enjoy the serenity. We then headed back out to the Terrace of the Elephants and the Terrace of the Leper King before heading back to Teewon, and were confounded by the signs marking 'no exit' and 'way of visit', becoming rather hot and bothered again. We'd finished our tour of Angkor Thom's main temples quite early, so decided to move on to Ta Phrom, the temple returning to nature and smothered by strangler fig trees (also where part of Tomb Raider was filmed). I have seen pictures of this place before but it didn't lessen the impact - the trees are immense and entwine round the masonry in an almost symbiotic way, one depending on the other, integrally linked.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1S0wfPdKvt1QWiEis5VimOQU45e37rQ19YABIk0aAMqunk8jOHNJGf9tWh1jhmtXaVk8kYFFT_8bjO3lYWHOSNpcw9lftRCAscjcf9VawtANnZEFJf6JdOM5jTeIBN6CAEnIyLzSfdl8/s1600/54529_10150090222105498_618910497_7667575_5172844_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1S0wfPdKvt1QWiEis5VimOQU45e37rQ19YABIk0aAMqunk8jOHNJGf9tWh1jhmtXaVk8kYFFT_8bjO3lYWHOSNpcw9lftRCAscjcf9VawtANnZEFJf6JdOM5jTeIBN6CAEnIyLzSfdl8/s320/54529_10150090222105498_618910497_7667575_5172844_o.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px;">Ta Prohm, with its strangler fig trees</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>Wednesday morning dawned in a rather disturbing way. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed that what had been a small, innocuous mess of brown tissue on the bathroom wall the night before, had grown exponentially into a crucifix of brown eggs expanding in all four directions like some rapidly spawning monster, like in Godzilla where all those thousands of eggs are poised about to hatch. We left a note for the staff and quickly scarpered off to Angkor Wat, dreading a mass of scurrying creatures on our return. We'd arisen pre-dawn to watch the sunrise over the temple which is a very popular thing to do (although for good reason), and soon we were in a queue of tuk-tuks up to the west gate. Most temples face East but Angkor Wat (one of the seven wonders of the world) faces West which has left scholars to believe it was built as a tomb. That means you get a view of the sun rising over it, and if you stand by the north pool (which we didn't, as it was rammed), you get to see it all doubled up with the reflection in the water. Once the day had dawned we explored parts of the 1km of bas relief, not all as we were a little saturated from the day before but the 'Churning of Ocean Milk' was worthwhile – this is a representation of the mythical scene where demigods (devas) and demons (asuras) pull alternately on Vasuki (the kind of serpents), who is wrapped round Mount Mandaranchal which is in the ocean supported by Vishnu in his turtle form. The resultant churning produced the nectar of immortality (Amrita). We also had a look around the central temple (Bakon), and the grounds of the neighbouring Wat where there were many butterflies, and children playing the drums and raising money for the orphanage. Teewon was a little miffed that it had taken us 5 hours to return, but we elected not to go anywhere else that day, and returned to town for a coconut shake and to try out one of the many ‘fish foot massage’ tanks where the fish nibble the dead skin off your feet. I didn’t get on with it and just squealed whenever their rough lips grazed against my skin, but Mo admirably sat for the full 10 minutes with hundreds of fish swarming round her. Back at Aqua the eggs were still there (thankfully unhatched) so we watched with disgust as Romania squidged them with a finger then washed them off, before heading to the butterfly restaurant for dinner, although hadn't considered that, being after sunset, the butterflies would be sleeping. Back at Aqua we dozed off listening to the countless frogs croaking in the thrall of another atmospheric downpour.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxxYBxfAoxNy70ngKOUEwZmMsx91gODxjbKeYordRjwieEVLgM9XYqQO9hIOnHjR_Gni_gOFW6ZjUDlsCw5M5_on_QLI0-9kCSn6fIvyz-v0RoSn3SncxEbVEoIB2yx9Mam5ABRyGCGB8/s1600/55310_10150090249240498_618910497_7667979_3728323_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxxYBxfAoxNy70ngKOUEwZmMsx91gODxjbKeYordRjwieEVLgM9XYqQO9hIOnHjR_Gni_gOFW6ZjUDlsCw5M5_on_QLI0-9kCSn6fIvyz-v0RoSn3SncxEbVEoIB2yx9Mam5ABRyGCGB8/s320/55310_10150090249240498_618910497_7667979_3728323_o.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px;">People working in the fields</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>Thursday was the final day of our three day temple pass, so we headed further out of town to Kbal Spean and Banteay Srei. Once more we were fascinated by the ride itself and the beautiful countryside, and even got to meet a couple of the country folk when Teewon's moped overheated and needed a breather. Kbal Spean is a series of riverbed carvings 2km up a hill 25km from the main Angkor group, that I wanted to go and see after having the idea put in my head by a friend. The carvings were made to fertilise the water of the East Baray (a now-dry artificial body of water near Angkor Wat) and irrigate the rice fields in Cambodia, and there are reckoned to be 1000 carved Lingas (fertility symbols) here. We were struggling to work out which carving was which when a guide popped up and welcomely reeled us in by pointing out a dangerous snake (live not carved). He led us round rocks and across the river showing us carvings of Vishnu (a god), Shiva (another god), Yonis (ladies genitalia), Lingas, a crocodile (a carved one this time), a bull and a frog. It's inspiring that this kind of thing lies hidden away in the middle of nowhere, the carvings seemingly as clear as the day they were carved. Banteay Srei is a small but intricate temple carved by women. The temple dates from the late 8th century, but they think the carvings were more recent as temples were often stripped and re-done. It was another wiltingly hot day so we had a little wander around the shaded outer perimeter as well, then hopped back in the tuk-tuk and enjoyed the 30mph breeze. Our final stop on the way back was the landmine museum, which is a bit of an eye opener, not least because it hits you how crucial it is for a member of society to have 4 working limbs, because as soon as they lose that they cannot earn their keep and are cast into a life as a beggar. Thankfully things are changing and the museum provides awareness, as well as a home for injured children to provide them a better life.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq2XKowWkTuzueCqc5djBTUUfGJIycvY-1zeQml5gjZSOsxDBWM2lCrSr-ekOgR88XxpysPu49ziKjse2xgh6rVXsd29hww3Q8xKhYdnAAKk5QDk59hg3y8PN8axO5yrpayH-LWupst2Q/s1600/55032_10150090269030498_618910497_7668241_6859924_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq2XKowWkTuzueCqc5djBTUUfGJIycvY-1zeQml5gjZSOsxDBWM2lCrSr-ekOgR88XxpysPu49ziKjse2xgh6rVXsd29hww3Q8xKhYdnAAKk5QDk59hg3y8PN8axO5yrpayH-LWupst2Q/s320/55032_10150090269030498_618910497_7668241_6859924_o.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px;">Pulling up water at Kompong Phluk</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>Unfortunately on Friday Mo was feeling quite poorly with suspected food poisoning, so we took a divide and conquer approach where she would hold the fort at Aqua and ensure that nobody stole the beds or the wooden bench loungers, while I'd go and check out the floating villages on Tonlé Sap lake. Tonlé Sap provides fish to most of South East Asia, so floating villages have sprung up all along the edge of the lake. Whether it was because I was on my own, or because there were no vendors, or because the villages are quite off the beaten track with the access being down a skiddy mud road, or because the boatman didn't speak any English, or because I was laughed at as I was the only one in a boat for 10, or whether a combination of all of that, I found the floating villages a very eerie place. I expected them to be colourful and vibrant, and some of the houses are (my photos are mostly of those ones), but mostly it was a dark and almost forbidding place. It was fascinating to travel past on the boat and just watch - children no more than 3 climbing steep wooden ladders up from the water with the rungs as far apart as the length of their legs, boats passing laden with fresh fruit, people extracting fish from fishing nets, pigs (and possibly crocodiles) in floating cages, young girls lowering pales to bring up water and villagers sitting on boards underneath their houses extracting fish from nets. Kombong Phluk isn't truly floating like Chong Kneas (which I didn't get to) as the houses are on stilts, but it was the end of the rainy season and the water levels are still high. The guide books tells how they embalm their dead bodies in the rainy season and store them in trees until they can give them a land burial, and I wonder if the prongs I saw sticking out of a couple of trees was one of the places they store them. I had dinner in a floating restaurant then jumped back on the boat, I didn't quite see the sunset over the water as planned, but I was quite happy to finish the boat ride and the muddy tuk-tuk ride before darkness really struck. Thankfully Mo was still alive on my return, although still bedridden so I headed out to the ex-pat-run quiz night (in aid of a local orphanage) with John where we came 3rd out of 7, no thanks to me.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQezMe0de2Gejif1ts5Bqd3PzhD_5f8OImVatpO0zxeN0fna1p17bbXcN5oFlpI-cMAhbA49LA6sdLmf6phk2ykZMq49-oZl1s_HF26mIcKDiaCmILjmxYF2BmoOPlFdBGdye91_TAVWM/s1600/51677_10150090289670498_618910497_7668580_1110581_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQezMe0de2Gejif1ts5Bqd3PzhD_5f8OImVatpO0zxeN0fna1p17bbXcN5oFlpI-cMAhbA49LA6sdLmf6phk2ykZMq49-oZl1s_HF26mIcKDiaCmILjmxYF2BmoOPlFdBGdye91_TAVWM/s320/51677_10150090289670498_618910497_7668580_1110581_o.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px;">Boat races at the water festival in Siem Reap</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>I'd hoped to go to Phnom Penh today to see the genocide museum and the water festival, but logistically it wasn't looking possible (expensive to reach and slower than normal due to the festival), so I stayed in Siem Reap to view their local celebrations instead. Mo was feeling up to joining me on Saturday morning so we started the day with another omelette baguette, then had an hour long traditional Khmer style full body massage for the grand total of $3.30 each. The massage wasn't particularly soothing, but the general vibe of it had me intoxicated - a darkened room, the unfamiliar clothes they get you to change into and a young girl sitting on me and manipulating my various limbs and saying "sleep lady". Once again like something plucked from a film. We tried the butterfly restaurant again for lunch and sure enough the butterflies were awake this time but in a rather sorry state - some bedraggled and missing part of a wing, and the odd crumpled specimen on the floor, slightly sorrowful. The festival provided a welcome distraction at 3pm, with boats racing in heats, manned by the staff of local businesses and restaurants. Market vendors selling an even wider variety of fresh produce than usual were out in force (so I braved a few, the soya beans really didn’t go down well), and residents were out in their pyjamas, their Sunday best. We experienced a slightly different view of Cambodia here, with the beggars that we had been informed about but not until then seen. One elderly lady was holding out a tin, and a stick with which she poked two young children along so that they could collect the money. On the other side of the coin, a pleasant lad with very good English came to speak to us about how he is at the University and wants to go abroad to study so he can come back and help his country. The trip out had exhausted a nutrition-deficient Mo so after returning with her to Aqua and having a cool off swim (32 lengths this time to work off my gluttony, rather than the daily 10 I had been doing as a token nod to exercise), I headed back in to town for my final meal in Siem Reap, this time the local speciality of Amok fish in a spicy coconut sauce with rice. I found a nice little Khmer place to eat at, and also worked my way through three more coconut shakes (which we had become quite partial to by now, an effective way to cool down). Before heading back I had a quick wander round the night market to complete my tour of the town. By now I had mastered the art of 'Ot te Or Kun' (no thank you) with eye contact and a smile to dispel the various vendors, so could wander round in peace. The traffic was starting to make sense too - it works because the majority of the transport is slow (tuk-tuks, mopeds and bicycles), and they don't bib because they're angry (I didn't see a single angry Cambodian) but to alert people in front of their presence lest they swerve to avoid a pothole.<br />
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Sunday morning we packed up our stuff with a mixture of regret and relief. It's amazing place, but there becomes a point on holiday where you would be relieved to return to the familiarity of your own country, house and bed. We stood outside to await a tuk-tuk and of course when you want one there are none around and we waited an amazing 15 minutes for one to materialise, perhaps they didn't want us to leave. Siem Reap airport is sweet and efficient and more importantly air-conditioned, and the flight back to Bangkok was lightning quick at 40 minutes - as soon as we'd gained altitude we began to descend again. We checked back in to our friendly hotel Penpark Place, then went for a wander to find Khao San road, having missed it on the way back. It's a perturbing mix of various influences, seeming neither natural nor like it would belong anywhere else. To fit in with the vibe I had pizza at an Italian restaurant while Mo had a few chips, and we watched the ladies in traditional headdresses trying to sell the same wooden croaking frogs that you see in the discover shop over here. On the way back to the hotel we took a little deviation and snuck into a riverside restaurant to see more water festival celebrations - fireworks, ferris wheels and floating lanterns, before having a much welcome warm shower (or unbearably hot for Mo just because she could), then hitting the sack... and proceeding to sleep not a wink due to all the crashes and bangs, which woke Mo up, who then moved, which woke me up (we were sharing a double bed as they'd run out of twin rooms that also had air-con and a private bathroom). The air-con was actually a mixed blessing as we woke with sore throats which turned into phlegmy colds (made worse by the long plane journeys).<br />
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Monday was a long day, but an insignificant one in my memory as it was just a necessity of a taxi ride followed two flights (the knitting needles once again made it through without event), then a quick reunitement with Mum and Dad who sent us away with a gorgeous packed dinner for the tiring final car journey home.<br />
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Coming back to the UK was odd in that it was spookily familiar but everything was momentarily odd as you rediscovered it, all the things you usually take for granted are suddenly significant - the crisp air on your skin, the taste of your mum's cooking, English roads with their rules and anger, the feeling of a cosy winter duvet weighing down on you, the click of a key in your own door, and not feeling the need to check under the toilet seat for dangerous spiders before sitting on it. I woke in the middle of the night feeling that I had just woken up in a strange ramshackle building in Asia, feeling alarmed that I'd been tired enough to fall asleep in such a place. The light was dim (and blurry, as I'd taken my contact lenses out!), but I scanned the perimeter of the room to assess whether I was in any danger from people or animals, before allowing myself to panic. Slowly the room took on familiar dimensions and became my own, and I settled back into deep sleep again.Sarah Cloughhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03797857043816872742noreply@blogger.com0