Vale of Leven 10k / river bound ...

The run …
Vale of Leven 10k is the last in the Polaroid road race series. Despite entering the series for the last three years, this was the first time I wasn’t double booked and could actually attend (actually I was double booked but that is another tale).

The start was down by the railway station before a loop led up into Balloch country park and a short hill which broke the field up a little. An easy descent back into town before heading out towards Jamestown, Bonhill, over the river Leven and a return to Balloch via Alexandria.

At the 5km point things were looking good for a new PB with 20 minutes and 29 seconds on the watch (previously I managed 40:37 at the faster Dumbarton course). Once again, no amount of effort seemed to pull back the 29 seconds to get under the magic 40 minute mark which would have been perfect – was the previous best at Dumbarton beaten … not sure. I stopped my watch at exactly 40:37 ! Will see the official results soon I suppose.

Quick yap to a lass I was at school with, then off north to the river Teith …

Maybe ma boat is too wee ?
I sent Rossco a txt to let him know I was just past Drymen (his burd was on cook duty). About 40 mins later I got a concerned call asking where I was … apparently the journey should of taken half the time and I had taken the tourist route ?!?!?

Conversation over lunch (which was cracking – cheers Lynn) centered around the New Zealand All Blacks and personal in-security. Fully fed, we fully loaded loaded the car and headed up to Eas Gobhain which flows into the Teith. An easy start and an easy float for a while. Passing the meadows we debated if the river was up or down on the last time. Before long, we were using hands to lift the bottom of the boat off the river bed. Shortly after we were out and walking over a section that was almost completely dry.

After the luxury and space of the sea kayak, the Riot 007 seemed ehhhh … tight. After the run the legs were sore but after an hour in the 007 I couldn’t even feel them. Ross suggested we pulled over and stretched the legs a little. My problem was standing up ! As I wiggled about trying to get onto the bank the blood returned which in retrospect may not of been a good thing. Back in the boat, cramp threatened for the remainder of the journey. Major memory of the trip was watching Rossco fall into the river whilst exiting the kayak at the get out. It was great to be back on moving water again !!!

70 Wild Miles - A German perspective ...

Policy – if in doubt … do it.

Over the last seven days I have wondered if this should be posted. For me, it is open head and heart material. The memories and feelings associated with the days before and after 70 wild miles are pretty raw. Maybe what is below should remain in my head but I have a nagging fear of forgetting which kinda makes me go with how I feel at times …..


A difficult decision …
My Mum’s fight with lung cancer had been going on for 12 years. Over the past few months her condition had been getting worse. Gut instinct was to stay at home in Glasgow. Following a conversation with her and my Dad, gut instinct was overruled and I headed north towards Glen Coe.

Pre-race …
When it comes to accommodation in the Coe, the location of choice is to camp at the back of the Kingy. This is more for historical reasons (the Big Yin and I had a misspent youth based here) than anything more practical. Having said that, with and early start from the White Corries next morning, it made perfect sense. Kayak off loaded, tent up and it was time for food and a beer. Maybe a sign of age but I choose the lounge bar with the higher degree of comfort as opposed to the more usual climbers bar.

The alarm went off just after 6:30am and the stove sparked into life for morning coffee. Carbo loading continued with a bag of mini jaffa cakes complete with the “smashin wee orangy bit”.

Up at the White Corries bikes were being assembled, brakes tested, tyres checked …. i.e. much faffing about.

The paranoia about "was all the right gear in the right transition bag" and "was the right tranisition bag in the right van" soon disappeared – there was a serious 47 mile time trial to be done … too late for worrying !

The Bike …
47 miles is a long way. Across the Rannoch Moor, on a road bike and 47 miles is closer to madness.

In 1990 I remember crossing the moor on a suzi 600 bandit and feeling incredibly small and this felt worse! Still - heid doon / @rse up and arms onto the tri-bars. After the initial nerves settled down it was great. The 64kmph descent down towards Bridge of Orchy was “interesting” – easy time improvement to be had but at the risk of a bent bike and body in the event of a crash. It seemed like no time at all before the race marshals were warning of the right turn at Tyndrum. The road sign announced that there was 24 miles to Taynuilt and the finish – a check of the cycle computer showed that the sub 2 hour target was well possible. By the time the undulations in the road hit the legs, that target seemed …less possible. With Taynuilt in sight the same computer indicated that the target had been missed and a damage limitation exercise begun with everything possible getting thrown into the last mile or so up to the pier.

A split of 2:05:46 – just over target but the best that could have been achieved on the day.

The Kayak …
Thankfully Iain Burns joined the army and donated a sea kayak for beer and curry. I say thankfully because I really wouldn’t be up for a 10 mile paddle in the wee Riot 007 play boat thing I own.

The mass start was fantastic with boats of every shape, size and type. Watching the brave (and skilled) folks in the tippy marathon boats trying to stay upright helped to pass the time till all hell broke loose and we were off. Very quickly the field broke into those who knew what they were doing … and those who wondered what they were doing. I have heard of magnetic boulders in rivers but the north shore of Loch Etive ??? At one point I hadn’t put a right stroke in for about 10 minutes. All the effort was being put into the staying in a straight line – which meant left, left, left left, left … etc.

My shoulders and back were agony by the time the finish was in view. From a previous trip here I knew there was still a long way to go.

A split of 2:01:26 – again just over the target of under 2 hours (which could have been achieved if I had tried harder in the early part of the paddle ….. AAAARRRGGGHH)

The Run …
Having had a practice run over this section, the confidence of knowing where the three really nasty hills were, was tempered with heavy post bike / post paddle legs. My overall aim was to get under 6 hours for the total 70 wild miles. Fearful of attracting cramp and having to walk, a steady pace was adopted. With each mile marker that went by, the legs loosened off. The superb scenery was added to the bucketful of memories that continue to live in various parts of Glen Etive.

The only downside of the run, was having to jump clear of a minibus and into a ditch – the annoying thing was it was being driven by a race marshall who should know better !

Mile 11 … no point in finishing with anything left over so the pace was increased to everything that could possibly be sustained for the remainder of the distance.

A split of 1:36:10 – better than I could of ever have hoped for.

Post Race …
A quick set of goodbyes /congratulations, car loaded and the journey south started. Usually the race medals go to Mirren. This time I gave mine to my Mum.

About 10am on the Sunday morning, I got the phone call to tell me to get over to the house quickly – my Mum was worse. Early afternoon, an emergency doctor prepared to give a dose of diamorphine to make my Mum comfortable. The effect of this was explained and my dad, sister and I said everything that needed to be said. Overnight, my dad and I took turns overnight in checking on her. Around 6am on the Monday morning we were looking at her still fighting for breath .... and wondering how she was still managing to achieve it ! I nipped out about 8:30am to take Mirren to school and just before 9am - my Mum died with my dad by her side.

Over the next few days some thoughts about 70 wild miles rattled around the head.

Was it the right decision to race ? For sure – life is about getting out there and trying. If you have your health and fitness it should be used whenever you have the chance … you never know when it might not be there.

Are results important ? Again, I think they are. Without targets to work toward how do you measure yourself ?

What is more important than results ? – your family and pals. Without these people to share it all with, the experience could be empty. My dad summed it up “the best bit about going out on the bike, or into the mountains … is coming home” Coming home has changed forever now.

I also thought about how I had come to take part in 70 wild miles. A quick trace revealed it came from taking up paddling. I had thought about it in previous years but dismissed it due to the kayak section. How did I take up paddling … by meeting Nonie at last years Hebridean Challenge which was due to Rob … which was due to taking part in SAS Jungle … etc …

Like I said … the most important thing about a race is having good folks around you.

On a lighter note …


During the cycle I saw a couple of folks with "in memory of Mum and Angela" signs on their backs. This broke me and in both cases I passed them in tears. Would of liked the opportunity to let them know "why" but also kinda like the idea of them thinking ...... "WOW - how hard is that guy trying that he is crying" !!!!!!!!!!!

Pen-Y-Ghent race

Let's begin at the beginning.

It's a nice sunny afternoon. I'm stood in a layby with my manager and his girlfriend, going through a bizarre series of stretches. Everyone else who posts to this blog is off doing crazy things in Glencoe. So what am I up to? Waiting...

We wait a bit more. Then Chris turns up in his Volvo. Then Matt, and all of a sudden there are 8 of us. We all do some more bizarre stretches and try and psyche each other out.

We walk over to the 'start line'. Someone says 'go'. We all run off.

This is the fifth running of the annual YHA (+ hangers on) Pen-y-Ghent race/fun run. I say fun run, as you're not supposed to race on a public path without police permission. It started as a 'lets go for a run sometime' comment from the manager of Stainforth YHA to some of his staff, then suffered under the effects of excess testosterone and became a race.5 year on and the hormones haven't worn off yet...

Pen-y-Ghent is a big hill. 694 metres, according to my map. There's a very steep path up one end. Guess which way we're going? Got it in one...

I've been spending a lot of time on my bike recently, hence I'm not such a great runner. Aiden, my manager, has been training for this. Chris, the manager at Stainforth, runs this about once a month. The others I've never met, so I don't know. As we set off, I go hard, keeping with Aiden and Simon. I think I can keep this pace up but I'm wrong. The gradient and surface changes make it hard to keep a rhythm going, and the fast start was the wrong idea: I've never run this race and it's been a long time since I did anything like it. So, I flag early on - after about a mile, I'm 30 yards back on Simon and Chris is about 30 yards behind me, but looking a lot fresher as we reach the first stiles. He passes me soon after.

The constant climb to the 'base' of the hill is a long drag, slight drops at times, but never enough to really relax and catch your breath. So, I chug along, keeping my own pace now, not aiming for the others: there is a chance I can reel some time back on the descent, as I know Aiden can't descend very quickly. But Chris and Simon can...

Ellie is 100 yards behind me, Matt 50 behind her, and I can't see Phil and Robin. I get to the steepest part of the climb (yes, those are crags on the map - yes, it is a 'climb', pretty much...) and pause briefly. The rough steps slow everyone except Chris down, and he goes up them like they're not there. By the top he's caught Aiden and is gunning for Simon.

I'm just aiming to get round, and hopefully stay ahead of Ellie, who seems to be gaining on me (must be her personal stereo). But I scramble over the last rocky step, look up, and see the trig point 100 metres away. I set off again, and there's no way anyone will catch me on the descent.

Pen-y-Ghent race route - 8.9km (5.56 miles), 464m climb.



As I top out, some other members of the YHA staff who walked up earlier are having a barbecue at the top. 'Well done!' says Alex. "If I'd know it was that steep, I'd have brought f'ing crampons" I reply. But it's mostly down from here. Over the stile and it's time to move. I look along the path briefly, and see Aiden a long way ahead of me. I'm not going to catch him, so I concentrate on going at a fast but safe pace. The descent is rocky and loose and at one point I see Aiden fall, but he gets up quickly, dusts himself down and he's off again.

The pain arrives at the gate into the lane - the last 1.5 miles is along a walled lane, not climbing, but not downhill enough for 'gravity assist'. so I drag along, trying not to hurt myself. At one point I glance back and see Phil about 500 yards back; he's made a lot of time up on the descent, passing Ellie and Matt. Robin's still nowhere to be seen.

I remember the advice I was given at the start 'turn left through the farm yard', and vault the gate, then trundle on to the bridge to finish. As I get there, the others congratulate me, and Chris tells me I've done 63 minutes, which quite cheers me up. I've come 4th, although I'm 7 minutes down on Aiden in 3rd. In a way I'm happy, as it tells me my running is better than I thought it was, but in a way I'm unhappy as I didn't run how I should have and lost time as a consequence. Oh well, I'll know for next time.

As the others finish we clap them in. Everyone who's raced has set a PB, which is quite nice. The hostel's closed this evening, so we can relax a bit. I neck some water, grab a CamelBak shower in the layby and then head to the pub for a nice pint of Landlord and a curry...

72 not quite so Wild Miles

As a graduate of Leeds university, and partly due to living pretty much ON the Carlisle-Settle-Leeds railway line, I still spend a lot of time travelling to Leeds to visit my mates and party every now and again. Being as I don't own a car, I've always biked to a station and got the train: first Dent (2 miles), then Ribblehead (about 8 miles), then Settle (17 miles by road, 20 off-road)...

So, as my so called 'training' progresses, I get further away from work to the station. Fine. But the natural conclusion ahs to be to bike to Leeds, yeah? Yeah...

Obviously, I had to try one day, so, one sunny afternoon, with at least 2 nights off to recover, I set off from YHA Dentdale to seek my fortune on't way t't big city...

From Dentdale to Ribblehead is a nice ride, up a big hill on the road, then climb a little bit and descend on some nice moorland singletrack, watch out for the dogs as you fly through the farmyard etc etc... Ribblehead's a lovely place. Big viaduct. Ice cream van - no, I didn't stop.

A little more road brings me to Selside and the bridleway/BOAT across Ingleborough Common - wild moorland doubletrack, scraps of limestone pavement (ever tried riding on limestone? When it's dry, it's like riding on sandpaper. When wet, like riding on soap...). The view out across the common is beautiful, and the recent access restriction order means no more motorcrossers to avoid.

The lane down to Settle via Wharfe is technical double/single track with a lovely ford and stone bridge - time to test the trials skills again - and a little back road down to Stainforth and Settle...

From Settle, my nice safe knowledge of 'yeah, this is fine' is gone. I'm not at a 'point of no return', the railway runs pretty much exactly whe I'm riding so there's plenty of chance s for a 'sack this' moment, but the sun is shining, and I'm a sucker for sunny days on a bike.

I grind up the hill out of Settle, Sleipnir's knobblies treads singing quietly on the tarmac. It's a hard hill, but I'm in a good mood and it passes quickly. The next bit's boring: all road. We pass through Bentham and Hellfield quickly and head on to the place where I've told myself I can have an icecream is I want one: Skipton.

I ride into the middle of Skipton and find an appropriate shop, then go and sit by the canal. Enjoy my 99, it makes a change from the nutrigrain bars which are my standard fodder on long rides.

From here it gets interesting. 29 miles of quite scenic and quite lovely canal towpath. I've paddled this many years ago (OK, not that may, but a few) in a stage of the Trans-Pennine Canoe Race, but it was dark then and all I wanted was a dry pair of shorts. Now it's sun-dappled and lovely and all I want to do is ride. And it's flat. The only times i have to slow from cruising speed are to avoid pedestrians and dogs (and consequently a potential swim in some fairly yuk looking water) and under bridges (ditto...), so i sit at a constant cadence and aboput 14mph for 2 and a bit hours. The canal weaves it's way from Skipton via Gargrave, Keighley, Shipley and the top end of Bradford into the centre of Leeds, but you never feel 'urbanised', you're just riding along next to a canal, the stuff around you is trees and grass and fields, and citys are something that are happening to other people while you toddle along at whatever pace you like.

All in all, just over 6 hours later I arrive at Granary Wharf, Leeds quite happy. The afternoon has flown by, and a text message tells me there's burgers and cold Guinness waiting for me in the park...

Ben Narnain ....

After an absence, two mountain days within a week was perfect !

A return to Arrochar and a return to Ben Narnain. Company this time was some friends of a girl that I work with. Mike was over from Canada and hoping to get a Munro tale to tell back home. Alan and Irene just looked over excited (a look which took some knocking out of them).

For those unfamiliar with the soon to be replace pipe track route of ascent, it has been described as:

“The start is a good warm up, taking a brutally direct line up the line of what was a rack and pinion railway used to construct part of the Loch Sloy catchment area for a hydro-electric scheme”

Brutal is about right. Over the years the erosion hasn’t helped either!

By the time we were at the point where the path takes an easier traverse line towards the Cobbler (we were continuing straight up), Mike’s knees had decided enough was enough. With about another 2000ft of climbing and a full 3000ft of descent the hard choice to descend was made.

The remaining folks continued up towards the summit whilst the cloud swung in and out either giving or stealing the view as it wanted. Just before the last push up to the trig point a sheltered lunch stop was chosen and Alan dished out a fantastic rice and veg dish with a selection of teas – tremendous!

Time was pressing when we arrived at the trig, so it was photographs, quick bearing and down towards the bealach between Narnain and Ime. Alan decided to make the descent a little more interesting by trashing his ankle a little – which looked sore. Few brufen he was back to skipping down again.

Last bit of the pipe track was made torture by the addition of the midges (doesn’t bode well for next weekends camp ?!?!?!?).

Back at the car (and with the Munro virginity lost) the pain in the legs for Alan and Irene seemed to be replaced with that over excited look that had started the day. Only another 283 mountains to go ….

Clydebank 10k Road Race (more fun than last week)

What do you get if you add a pretty girl, a humid night and an Audi TT ? The correct answer (but not probably the one that first comes to mind) is last nights Clydebank 10k Road Race.

A little explanation is required – the pretty girl is Nicola (my dentist), it was a little humid, she does drive a really nice black TT and after Helensburgh last week we were going to run together to try and get her a new PB.

The race start was, as always, mad – confusion to exactly where the start was and confusion to had the clock started. The congestion remained until the industrial park where there was an opportunity to spread out a little. Going through 3km a quick pace check indicated that we were on target. Settling down, we were bang on time for under 45 minutes at the half way mark. Unfortunately around 7km we had to slow up a little but Nicola put in a fantastic last 1k to finish in just over 48 minutes.

As tends to happen with 10k races … no matter how sore it is at the time, recovery is quick. Disheartened about not achieving a new PB ? Nope – there is always Dumbarton next week or Kirkintilloch on the 24th June or ………….

The Cobbler

The Cobbler is one of those hills that has something for everyone – unfortunately in our case it was rain !

Can’t remember exactly what age I would have been when I first gazed up the steepness of the pipe track path but it would have been in the company of my Dad, Uncle Jack and Alan for sure. Since then, there has been summer and winter climbing (including a few epics on Punsters, hilarity on Recess Route, ice axes and bad language from the Gnome to mention a few), day rambles and numerous hill running trips. The easy access from Glasgow also helps!

The original plan for the weekend had been a big backpack / camping shot with some Venture Scotland folks. Due to family illness and a new lass (for one of the other guys) the plan was scaled down to a single day gig. Just outside Paisley my mobile beeped to indicate that Gina had left her waterproofs in Edinburgh – brief glance through the windscreen indicated that was a bad move (which she remedied with a £12.99 top in Balloch).

After introductions in the car park, the team consisting of Rhidian, Mike, Raymond, Gina, Ailsa, Emma and myself (is it just me or are there more girls on the hill these days) made for the soon to be replaced path leading up towards Ben Narnain and the traverse round to towards the Allt a’ Bhalachain. Every combination of base layer and waterproofs was tried without much success. The cloud was ridiculously low with even the Narnain Boulder being covered! Quick bit of navigation tuition for Ailsa, before heading up into the Corrie where another two girls and a guy joined up with us. The rain got worse. Once at the bealach the decision was easy – “nae big traverse of the tops … simply got over the centre peak and get tae!” A couple of guys were roping up for threading the needle - one for another day.

Once down onto the grassy ridge that runs parallel (but above) the path we had come up and it was hands in pockets relaxed type stuff again. Possibly a little too relaxed as I managed to drop a little lower than ehhhh …… planned. This resulted in a battle with the forestry to regain the correct path – OPPS

Lesson for the day was concentrate on the nav rather than the sh!te patter.

Veggie burger, chips and some of Gina and Emma’s ice cream over at the Pit Stop (Ailsa had been wanting a skinny latte and a low fat muffin – typical Edinburgh lass) before heading up to Grandtully via Glasgow.

The weather wasn’t what we had hoped for but once again proof that the worst day on the hill is still better than the best day stuck inside !