OMM Elite 2007 - Lowther Hills

The weather forecast for Saturday and Sunday 28th/29th was bad. High winds and rain. The only silver lining was it was due to be mild, so at least I wouldn't freeze on the overnight camp. I had been nervous about the event for the past couple of months and it felt strange lining up to register in the elite class. After a beer with some friends I retired to the tent only to be woken by my running partner arriving at midnight.

In the morning with the sacks already packed we had nothing to do apart from eat and get to the start line for 8.23am. Again I felt nervous but by now was pretty much pysched up for what lay ahead. Picking up the map at the start it looked such a long way so I just folded the map to split it into managable sections The first couple of control points were no problem and the running generally good, at least on the downhills. The hills were all very steep and we were concious of saving legs and stamina for the later stages. Despite our beta the ground was very rough with tussocky grass covering much of the hillsides. It seemed all a bit too wet for heather too. A minor cock-up in the clouds, which were lotering around the 500m mark, meant we dropped a few places but by then we were into the flow of things. I was finding the uphills tough especially as my partner was running strongly about 20m in front. A long road section (well 3miles) got us to the furthest-most checkpoints. A whole bunch of faster teams sped past at this point at an unbelieveable speed and we were soon back on our own. The ground underfoot seemed to be getting worse and I didn't seem to have any energy. I was desperately trying to keep on eating but a long slog up towards Green Lowther finished me off. At the summit I was knackered and the rain by now was lashing down and the wind was viciously cold. Strangely there was a tarmaced road on the top of this hill, with white lines and everything. Runners were huddling behind buildings everywhere. Even running downhill was hard. Dropping off the path to the next checkpoint I suddenly lost all co-ordination and was staggering rather than running. Feeling very light-headed I stuffed in a Mars bar and pulled on all the spare clothing I had. I gingerly made my way down to the marshalled check-point. I really had had enough and told the marshal and my partner that. However after a quick jog down the road, with the aim of finding somewhere to camp, I felt much better and decided that in fact I could continue relatively safely. I was very aware that I was leaving the only short-cut behind, and with some trepidation we set off back up the route. The rain came and went but was never dry and finally it was only 5km to go. A couple of controls, where we lost loads of time, and then we were in the camp. We were both soaked through and quickly set up the tent in a relatively dry area. We jumped into our sleeping bags, had some soup and the both crashed out. After a couple of hours I managed to convince Henry to don wet kit and fill up the water bottles so I could cook our food. I snuggled back down in to my bag for some more sleep. Vesta meal beef curry and rice went down well but neither of us could face more food and just wanted to sleep. Suddenly at 2am Henry starts cursing about wet feet. Sure enough there is about an inch of water in the tent. I start bailing and after about 5l got it relatively dry. The survival bags come out and we lay them down to keep the sleeping bags at least a bit dry. An hour later I am bailig out again and this time when we look into the porch there is running water from underneath the tent. The pan is actually bobbing up and down. Inside all my clothes are soaked through. We both huddled on my Therma-rest and tried not to think too hard. The rain gradually lessend but was replaced by stronger wids that whipped the condensation into our clothes and sleeping bags. Everything was damp and we contemplated setting straight back to the base camp when it got light. Meanwhile I got siome fitful sleep.

The morning dawned clear and after some oats and hot chocolate starting didn't seem too bad. I wrang out my running kit, put it on and then headed up to the start bang on time. With clouds still threatening I was a bit undescided especially as the distance given was 33.5km. Thankfully the day stayed fine and the kit gradually dried out. We began to enjoy oursleves and had a good run, making up a far amount of time of the others in the class. Not enough to make much of a difference but a moral boost all the especially as I seemed to be keeping my own with Henry and the other teams. I began to tick off controls anticipating when the final refolding of the map would reveal the finish. At last it was all easy ground and the adrenalin from being so close to home gave my tired body a boost. The finish was superb. I for one felt a real sense of achievement. I had pushed myself hard mentally as well as physically and we had completed the course in good style. I turned to Henry grining slightly manicaly and asked about next year to which he replied ' LAMM Elite?'. Well, if he can put up with a slower runner then I'm game for it.

DAY 1: 40km 2600m 9h 36min
DAY2: 33.5km 1800m 6h 30min

Last weekend before the OMM : (

So the last weekend before the OMM and I went with Dave over to Ben Mor Coigach and walked, at a very easy pace, over three Grahams in the area starting from the Stac Pollaidh road. The only downside from this approach was the rather boggy section at the start. Superb views over the spectacular mountain / sea landscape to the north and south more than made up for wet feet. Happily, once out of the corries the going was dry underfoot and the sandstone outcrops, eroded into fantastic shapes, were great fun to boulder and scramble on. We took a long brew stop halfway round to take in the views and sacreligiously re-arranged the cairn on Sgurr Fhidhleir to keep the bitter southerly wind off our backs. We ambled back over Ben Mor Coigach in time to catch the late afternoon sun illuminating the rocky crest of Stac Pollaidh.

It doesn't look as though the weather will be as kind as this on race day.

$Time 5h Distance 13km Height 1200m

Carbisdale weekend

It was my final weekend before tapering in preparation to the OMM and I decided to spend the weekend up in Caithness, an area where I haven't run much before. Saturday saw me parked at the phone box at Braemore Lodge. After a quick check with the stalker regarding any shooting I did a superb loop starting up Maiden Pap and Morven. Two sandstone hills that stand rampant above the large tracts of moorland, which comprises much of the surrounding area. After a quick steep pull up the Pap a long traverse along runnable grass led up to a bealach below Morven. I have just started Yoga but I must have pulled something as the steep climb was agony on my achilles.

Coming down was fine and having done the steepest and longest climb I decided to run through the discomfort. On the way I went over Smean with a 15m high conglomerate crag making up the highest point. I tried some scrambling but the lichen covered pudding stones were disconcerting and I left the inviting routes to a more intrepid climber to conquer.

To add in some height and distance after Smean, I climbed up and over Sal-vaich. In all of the bealachs the pungent musk from the stags was almost over-powering. Despite being circled a few times I avoided any confrontation, which was as well as they can run a lot faster through heather than I can.

To complete the loop I ran along the three tops of Scaraben. There was a distressing amount of descent and reascent involved and in contrast to the previous hills was covered in quartzite scree. Although I stuck to ridges as much as I could still hear bellowing challenges echoing in the corries. After Scaraben East I followed a wet track dotted with old telegraph poles past a number of abandoned steadings back to the start point.

Time: 5.5hs Distance 25km Height 1800m.


On Sunday the weather wasn't so good but I still headed out to do a round of Glen Loth, a glen just north of Brora. I parked at the viewpoint at the head of the glen and headed anticlockwise first up over Beinn Dhorain. My route then took me deep into rolling hillsides and valleysto the East. Classic OMM territory. I then spent the next couple of hours running through heather of various deepness before reaching Glen Sletdale. The climb back up from the road to the west side of Glen Loth and Beinn Mhealaich was tough and slow. Not much running at all. Coming off the top of the Beinn the heavens, which had been threatening all day, finally opened and the rain drummed on my hood. Obviously there must be some kind of cumulus above the stratus that had accompanied me for so long. After 20minutes the shower passed and allowed me at least to get changed in comfort when I reached the car. Although the route lacked the interest of the previous day I did get some satisfaction of getting into a pretty wild and lonely place.
Time: 4.5hs Distance: 21km Height 1200m,

Another week closer

Only three weeks to go to the OMM and it was meant to be an easy week. The normal Tuesday run was over in Ord Hill just over in North Kessock. I had never been before but there is a myriad of superb single-track trails linking together forestry tracks and enough steep hills to get the lungs and legs going.

On Saturday I couldn't face driving too far and the weather wasn't great anyway so I decided to link up the three Marylins which surround Loch Ruthven near Inverness. I won't bore anyone with the details but I started from the RSPB car-park and headed clockwise past the climbing boulder. Even though it was only 14km it took about 3hs due to the terrain (rough heather, bracken and moor). With low cloud and drizzle navigation was challenging and I achieved almost total immersion in a deeper-than-expected drainage ditch. It is great to have such good training so close to home and I would actually recommend the loop.

Sunday was my first race in a month and only my 7th of the year over at Bennachie(about 13km) in deepest darkest Aberdeenshire. The race was fast and all on well constructed paths. I was running strongly uphill, although I struggled on the flatter and downhill sections. Following a team mate I went off course in the latter stages, but still finshed 15th in 1h 05min 31sec despite the extra kilometer I had run. Without the minor diversion I reckon a time just over the hour would have been on the cards. It all bodes well and I actually enjoyed racing for once. Might even do some more next year.

So I managed my 4hs running at the weekend and one of my best placing in a hill race. Very good for my confidence. My legs are trashed but some massage from my therapist has done them a world of good. Fingers crossed that I can recover in time for my last 2 hard runs before the OMM.

EPIC!!!

After Thursday's run I was absolutely shattered. My legs were absolutely minced which I can only account to the very rough ground we covered. With the forecast indicating light winds myself and Emily decided to go kayaking over on Moidart. After 2 days kayaking and an overnight camp at which we cooked everything over an open-fire, I felt the need to grab in a run to make sure I didn't miss my weekly milage (hourage really).

We got back to Inverness relatively late so it wasn't until 17.30 until I left the house aiming to cover about 20km. The initial 10km was on track and the first trig-point at 200m went to plan. As I headed over the first open moorland section the light was begining to fade. Suddenly on my right I spotted 2 large bulls and I used all available cover to stay out of their way. A huge band of gorse pushed me off my bearing too far North but at least that way I got to see a large chambered cairn. I hit a road and ran down for a couple of hundred meters. By the time I reached the second trig point it was well and truely dark and I got my head torch on.

I now had a 4km cross country stretch to reach the General Wade road which I could follow easily back to town. This leg started badly. I gave up on my orginal route after I disappeared, several times, over my knees in bog. A huge patch of gorse cancelled out my cross-country attempt to reach the row of pylons which was to mark the line of my alternative route. So back to the road, a quick jog, a jump over the fence and off along the side of the pylons. I have never been the keen on the dark and trapsing through the dark, stumbling in amongst tussocks and puddles with the electricty wires crackling ominously really spooked me. I then had a horrid thought that some demented farmer might think I was out poaching and would take a pot-shot at me. Either that or some axe murderer might be lucking on a dark, wet night to spring upon some unsuspecting hill runner. I quickly switched off my head torch and after my eyes got used to the dark it was easy enough to follow my route. The gorse had been cleared from beneath the pylons and I even managed to up the pace. Slowly the dark edge of the forest came into view,but I was rapidly discovering that distance are much harder to judge in the dark. I thought I was nearly there but suddenly all routes forward ended in a huge bog, fringed by 10ft gorse either side. I tried to skirt the worst but kept on getting pushed further and further away from my bearing. Attempts at forcing my way through were quickly aborted. Every path I followed ended in gorse dead ends and the only sounds I could hear was my splashing through puddles and startled quacks of ducks startled by some idiot waking them up in the middle of the night. I began to panic and tried to orientate myself. I really couldn't, morally at least, face the return journey to the road I had come from. And just at the point of dispair my head torch, now firmly switched on, illuminated a well worn animal track heading in rough the right direction. I followed this to a burn marked on the map and I took a bearing across more open-ground. My worry subsided and I jogged through fields past a barn, over a fence. My heart leapt as I caught a glimpse of two large eyes, obviously belonging to some huge beast. I quickly hurdled a fence which was about knee height and hoped the thing wasn't interested in me. The thunder of hooves on my right indicated that he, for it definetly was a him, was interested and had several mates with him. I know that to run is probably the worse things to do in that situation but run I did Like a the proverbial out of hell. A full-on 400m sprint until I reached General Wades. I jogged down relieved, wet through and mentally exhausted and Emily came in the car and saved me the last 3km through the town.

Distance: 26km Time: 3.5h

Glen Duror Horseshoe

The weekend before this run I had a fun couple of days in the Lakes where I managed to get a couple of longish runs (4hours a piece) with a pack and I felt pretty strong. I managed to avoid the crowds by choosing more obscure hills and it was only on Crinkle Crags that I found the motorway-like paths and hordes of grumpy ramblers that the Lakes are infamous for. I really struggle sometimes to figure out why people make all the effort to go walking (or climbing, or whatever) only to follow a 'prescribed' route set out in some book. I dont mean to sound dismissive but I have always thought that looking at a map and making up the route yourself is a much better way of doing things. Every now and then I have an epic but that is all part of it. Rant over.

The Thursday after that weekend I headed over to Glen Duror, which cuts through from Ballachulish to Loch Linnhe, as the forecast was good. Cold but clear and hopefully excelent visibility. The primary school is framed by the steep profiles of Sgorr Bhan (947m) on the right and Sgorr a'Choise (663m) on the left. Both hills topped with a scattering of quartzite scree. Our aim was the 'bag' the two Munros on one side of the glen, then head back along the ridge on the opposite side which is topped and tailed by a Corbett (Fraochaidh) and the previously mentioned Graham.

The lower reaches of the glen has a grassy track but soon a narrow path weaved up through bog and heather, before reaching the drier ridge of Sgoor Bhan. High up the ridge narrows and a couple of steep, blocky sections have to be negotiated before the ridge flattens and a broad scree ridge leads up to the first Munro (Sgorr Dhearg). A well worn path zigs-zags down to the bealach and then up to the second Munro of Sgorr Dhonuill. The cold clear air was chilly but the discomfort was more than compensated for by the views North and West over a water landscape dotted with islands rearing up in high summits. The Paps on Jura jutted up in sharp grey cones in contrast with the large and almost square mass of Ben More on Mull.

The drop back into Glen Duror was not nearly as bad or craggy as the map suggested. Terrraces broke up the slope and after a quick bash through an area of clear-felling spat us out by the bothy in the glen. Birth-place of James of the Glen (a famous victim of a historic gross miscarriage of justice) I was expecting a locked hut. Instead when we poked our head through the door a fine well maintained bothy was revealed. Down here the air was warm so it was easy to delay to next stiff climb up through another area of clear felling. Once clear of the trees the ground was energy-sapping tussocks. After the summit of Fraochaidh a redundant fence line kept to the ridge line and the passage of counts hooves had worn a nice narrow path to follow. Left and right of the ridge large rashes of coniferous forests swathed the lower slopes of the hills. A final steep descent from the Graham on 65 degree heather lead back to the main path in the glen and back to the car.

Distance: 24km Time: 6.5h