Spine Race Part 2 - Match Analysis!

I thought I'd finish the second part of the blog first - the blow-by-blow commentary can wait a little while longer (besides I need to get the photos sorted), but this was always going to be a learning experience and the more interesting and important stuff is really the review of the race.

What went well

General approach / plan

Reading people's blogs from previous years, it's clear that most drop outs, even if they actually happen later in the race, can be tracked back to serious mistakes on day 1 or day 2. If you get past halfway in good order you're going to be pretty unlucky (or have to do something really dumb) not to finish.

My race strategy was therefore to take it steady and protect myself as much as possible until the very last stage (by that I mean the mountains after Byrness) where I would let myself race unless conditions or my condition meant that wasn't possible. So I planned to sleep and eat plenty and to "run" really within myself. Most importantly, I wouldn't worry about being near the back or about what anyone else was doing, I'd just concentrate on the factors I could control. In general this worked well - I noticed that I was stopping to brew up and eat quite a bit more than many of the other racers, but this meant I could maintain a decent pace when I was moving and keep warm more easily.

But the key thing about your strategy is how you deal with the mental aspect of the race. I was very determined and organised about this and it really paid dividends. First, you have to understand very clearly why you are doing the Spine race and what you want to get out of it. Be disciplined with this and make it an aim which is always positive. Process related goals are best (i.e. ones which are about how you do the race rather than about end result). This stops you thinking about how unbelieveably bloody far it is to the finish, and replaces that with something useful as you are actually in the process of slogging your way north.

For me, I just love being out in the wild. Lots of overnight runs and events, often alone, have left me comfortable navigating and moving on rough ground at night and more able to focus on where I am and how fortune I am to be there. I decided that whenever it got tough I'd think about how much better it would be to be wherever I was than to be sitting in the office at work!

I had a rough time for a while when I was very tired and conditions weren't great after Great Shunner Fell. I worked it out in the end just after Keld, got myself back in my happy place and realised I was going to be ok. The four hours or so this took were pretty raw and emotional, but I was ready for that too and I came out of it much stronger. I started to realise that all I had to do was keep going (over and above the basics of keeping warm, on track and safe which by this point most racers will have "got"). In my head I knew from here on that I would finish, it wasn't negotiable, the only way I was stopping was if someone from the event tapped me on the shoulder and told me either I was out of time or I was too injured to continue.

Luck can seem to come into the Spine a lot of the time. We had a couple of weather holds which were "lucky" (no, they weren't - conditions were really too bad for folks to be moving about in any safety on the hills and getting a break because conditions had got that bad wasn't lucky because we'd already been through some very testing weather as it deteriorated). Was I "lucky" to be able to stop at Lothersdale pub to get dry? No, I'd checked opening hours and spoken to the landlord to see if he would be doing food all day. Was I lucky to get going again after the bad spell in Swaledale? No, I worked through what was happening (really tired, cold, moving very slowly) and eventually did something about it (I stopped and ate a lot of sugary snacks followed by a proper hot meal and lots of caffeine). In the end the only real luck I had was meeting Burts on the Ladybank road midway between the wall and Bellingham when I was in another low spot, but even then I'd already mentally solved the problem by deciding I was going to find some shelter by the road and stop and cook some food. It was just nice to have someone else to chat to and do the cooking!

On the Spine, you make your own luck, and you do that by having the right skills and experience, the right gear, and the right attitude.

One more thing! I'm a keen Blogger and do Facebook a lot too. But not on the Spine. Whilst it was amazing to know people would be tracking and posting supportive messages and so on, I decided to take Joe Faulkner's advice and not let myself be distracted by any of that. Sometimes good wishes from home and friends can just make you want to be back there and I didn't want to risk it. I took a cheapo PAYG phone purely for comms with the race team and Zoe. I only messaged Zoe once, from Middleton, to say it was going ok, until I saw her on Friday morning near the A69. Otherwise I just stayed in my own moment. That was a really great piece of advice and something I'll do again. It's hard enough to keep your head in the right place with the distractions the race will put in front of you without adding a load more.

Feet and foot care

I'd listened carefully at the training weekend and spent a lot of time in November and December sorting out what to do. In brief, I went with a two layer sock solution, wearing a thin coolmax liner sock and a variety of thicker wool outer socks to suit the conditions, my footwear, and the size of my feet. I tried this out on the two longer reccies I managed and so I knew what worked over 50 miles of bog and slabs and was able just to buy more of it. I also tried drymax socks in various types which have worked well for others but were a dead loss for me. I wore a set of cloth gaiters almost throughout and they kept almost all the grit and vegetation out of my shoes. All I had in my socks at the end of each leg was a large dose of silt. I changed from racing shoes to more comfortable shoes in a half size larger at Hawes. I'd tried both first...

In addition to getting the socks and shoes sussed, I got the foot care spot on - at every checkpoint I took everything off and washed my feet as best as I could (I had wet wipes in the drop bag but generally was able to use a sink or bowl of hot water and a luxury hot shower at Middleton). I then talc'ed each foot up and put the liner socks for the next stage on whilst I slept. Result was no trench foot and no blisters whatsoever. That's right, no blisters.

Kit / clothing

I had my kit pretty sussed out by the time I started and only had two major mistakes with equipment - but I got enough of it right that I could deal with both of them.

Your kit has to:

• Keep you warm - primarily warm enough to stay alive, but ideally warm enough to function well, make reasonable forward progress and be able to make decisions;
• Keep you comfortable - it's all relative, but I mean this in the sense that it's obviously easier to progress forwards if you don't lose large amounts of skin from contact points or get muscle cramps or back pain or whatever;
• Give you flexibility - you need to be able to "tune" your clothing and your strategy to suit the conditions and your state.

Ideally your kit needs to be as light as possible while its doing fulfilling these functions. When considering weight, I'd disregard the weight of what you will normally be wearing or carrying in you hands - it makes little difference whether your cag is 250g or 450g. Weight on your back does make a lot of difference to the comfort and speed you can move.

My full kit list with reasons will be in another post - I'll only listed the things I actually used or carried and I guess 60% of what was in my drop bag never got used.

The two things I'm going focus on here are your clothing and your carrying system. These make the most difference while you're actually moving. I didn't really test my sleep system in the race as my only bivvy away from a checkpoint was effectively under cover, in the ladies loos at Malham.

Clothing wise, I went for a wicking base layer (ideally crew neck and long sleeved) with a powerstretch (i.e. closely fitting) mid layer on top. I wore synthetic briefs (I don't like boxers!) and winter weight running tights on my legs. On top of that I had my waterproof shell which I wore all the time on this race. In my bag I had a Primaloft top which I ended up wearing most of the time. Most critically I had several means of micro adjusting my temperature - three weights of hand wear and three different hats (the most I wore together was two of each). I wore a buff from a local race organised by my best ultra-running mates throughout - every time I looked at it I had a little lift remembering the crack we've had. The knack in UK cold conditions is not to break a sweat - keep your base and mid layers reasonably dry and they will keep you warm and happy - so I concentrated a lot on moderating my pace on the climbs and adding buffs, hats, and thicker gloves on any slow flat or downhill sections to keep warm.

Sorting feet at Hawes. Almost full race kit still on -
thermal, powerstretch mid-layer, primaloft and shell.

In my pack I carried a dry set of base layer (heavy-ish weight thermal top and longjohns) in case I took a dunking and needed to get my skin dry quickly, a spare fleece (used on the colder sections later in the race when I was feeling it) and spare socks. Everything in my pack was sorted into a variety of dry bags - different sizes and colours.

I started out intending to use my OMM 30L Classic mountain marathon pack, and both my longer reccies were done with this and a small front pack. I had everything sussed - everything had a place, it was all accessible when I wanted it and I knew where everything was - but I was getting a lot of pain in my shoulders and my lower back. The Spine load is heavier even than a solo mountain marathon load, the stages are twice or three times as long as a big MM day, and you're going out five, six, or seven days in a row, not two. In the end I just don't think the OMM worked for me for this event, so I switched approach.

After the second reccie I popped across to Kendal for a chat with Charlie Sproson, and came away with an Aarn pack. This has big pockets on the front which help balance the load so it pulls back less on your shoulders, and a great system of straps which works like a series of ropes and pullies to keep the load much more stable as you move your upper body around. I bought the pack there and then and, because I'd run out of reccie time, I did the Tour de Helvellyn race on the last Saturday before Christmas with (almost) full Spine kit in the new pack. This gave me the chance to suss out where to put everything and spend a reasonably long day adjusting and grooving the system and getting used to the pack.

My only problem with it during the event was an uncomfortable few hours from Bellingham to Byness after a marshal picked the sack up by the back adjuster strap, unbeknown to me, and managed to throw the adjustment right off. I didn't know what was wrong with it until I stopped at Byrness and had a good fiddle around. The same guy also took my mitts to somewhere unknown to dry them at Byrness, even though I didn't want them moved, and then wasn't around to show me where they were when I wanted to leave so I ended up racing around trying to borrow some. Anyway, apart from 8 hours on the last day, I had no back or shoulder problems at all during the event.

What went less well

Sleep / CP Strategy

The strategy was to sleep as follows:

• tent outside CP1 at Hebden Hay;
• tent again somewhere around Horton;
• one of the shelters between the A66 and Middleton, or in the CP at Middleton;
• in the CPs at Alston and Bellingham

This was a pretty flawed strategy in hindsight. The late start and the very poor weather on the first leg meant it was after 5am when I got to Hebden. I was too tired and cold to want to sleep outside: I found a bed in a dorm but it was very noisy and I probably only managed 30 mins sleep in a 2 hour lie-down. The weather and underfoot conditions on the second leg were tough again and it was 2:30am when we got to Malham Village in rapidly deteriorating weather. We'd been told that the mid-way CP at Malham Tarn would just be a single room so we decided to try to sleep at Malham. Good result, I managed 2½ hours' decent sleep in the ladies' loos with the Germans while Stephen and Iain had a reasonable if smelly kip next door  in the gents.

I really cocked up at Hawes later in the day, I stopped for six hours and managed maybe an hour of sleep. The CP was a large single room and there was a lot of noise. I should have sorted myself out, eaten, and headed out to bivvy in Swaledale somewhere. Middleton was fine, plenty of dorms which were quiet, it was just a shame I got woken up a couple of times to be consulted about getting a group together for the next leg. Because of the extended weather hold we all got loads of sleep at Alston, although I had some sleep in the bank from Middleton and would probably have gone straight through and on to Greenhead if we hadn't had the hold.

I slept well at Bellingham by avoiding the large hall and crashing on a sofa in the staff room - thanks for putting up with the stench and the snoring guys. I even managed to sleep with my feet right up which probably was the difference later on when I had to cram them back in my shoes. I intended to get 45 minutes sleep at Byrness but I was the last runner there (although several hours ahead of some who were in front of me from the restart due to our arrival times at Alston). I didn't want to delay the MST team deploying to sweep the course and I knew there were guys sat in the first mountain hut too who wouldn't be that comfortable so I had a decent rest and left in time to make it up to Byrness Hill at last light. Because I ate steadily all night and had proper meal and coffee stops at both huts I was easily able to keep going all the way to Kirk Yetholm.

Sleep summary:

• CP1: 30 mins
• Malham: 150 mins
• CP2: 60 mins
• CP3: 240 mins
• CP4: loads
• CP5: 120 mins

The weather stops didn't help me in terms of my time as I had banked sleep at Malham (four hours lost compared to those who were at the CP during the stop) and at Middleton (when I could have gone straight on to Alston if I'd known we were going to be held there - another four hours) but I wasn't in touch enough with forecasts to be able to second guess Stu Westfield's safety decisions - I doubt any racers were.

Next time I'd take a "do not disturb - wake me up at ____" sign for the checkpoints. I'd have a different and more flexible plan for sleeping, and I wouldn't sleep until Malham - I now know what to do when the sleep monsters strike and would be more prepared to take a small risk.

Support

Predominantly I did the race unsupported, which was absolutely the right way to go. My partner came up to Northumberland and was able to offer limited support from just before Greenhead to Byrness. It was great to see her at Lambley briefly and helpful to meet at a couple of places along the wall just after I'd had problems with my right knee. The weather was really foul on the wall and it was nice to be able to jump into a warm car for ten minutes and be fed soup. She was also able to bring me a cheap pair of waterproof gaiters when I needed them (see below).

But the problem with support is that you quickly become dependent on it, and the final time I nearly came off the rails was on the crossing from the Wall to Bellingham, when Zoe had to text me to let me know she couldn't make it to Ladybank. I felt crestfallen and defeated until I pulled myself together. In the end I decided I'd make a drink and a dehyd meal up when I got to the road. Andrew Burton saved me the effort, coming to the rescue as he'd been out to support Joe and Mark and not yet moved on.

I think the importance of staying on an even keel mentally / emotionally probably outweighs the physical advantages of support on this event, for me at least. For a more easily / reliably supportable event (better weather, better roads, more predicatable timings) I would consider running supported, but not for a future Spine run.

Kit mistakes 

Both my fault, not the kit!

I bought an eVent jacket specifically for the Spine. It's a brilliant piece of kit - light, very very breathable, equally waterproof fully adjustable hood, etc. The only drawback is the storm flap behind the zip which isn't wide enough and gets caught in the zip on a frequent basis, and the fact that it stopped being waterproof in a massive rain/sleet storm as we crossed Ickornshaw Moor on day two. I'd done two 18hr+ reccie trips, Tour de Helvellyn and a few other days out in it since buying it. I'd covered it in mud and sweated a few buckets into it towards the end of T de H. Not to mention the first 30 hours of the Spine itself which were pretty demanding conditions. Basically I'd filled the pores in the membrane and worn the DWR away, so the jacket was wetting out and not breathing well anyway.

I was "lucky" with this one. It helped that I was wearing the right stuff underneath so I was (just about) warm enough even when everything got soaked. It also helped that we got to Lothersdale in improving conditions and I was able to dry all my kit in the pub. We bivvied at Malham as the weather was turning really foul on the second night and had a free 40 minute stop at CP1A at Malham Tarn early on the third morning after a soaking coming up from the village so again I could get everything dried off. After intermittent but driving rain up Fountains Fell, day 3 turned into a fairly nice day (apart form the immensely strong wind), so I could make it to Hawes and my drop bag, and switch to my back-up cag. The lesson is that nothing, save possibly Paramo, stays waterproof for long in the conditions we find ourselves racing in, so you need to (carefully) wash and re-proof your waterproofs regularly and definitely before any major events.

I wore the wrong gaiters on the high crossing from Middleton to Alston. We started just after a fresh dump of snow and it was incredibly windy and very cold up at Cow Green. Cloth gaiters are fabulous at keeping grit and other debris out of your shoes but very very rubbish when the are wet and then freeze solid. Shortly after that the (over-ample) tongues on my Speedcross shoes also froze solid, banging into the front of my ankles every time I took a step. The result was that I was in pain and slowed by that and by having to stop to try to break up the ice a bit every few hundred yards.

You will make more mistakes towards the end as you get tired. I dropped a glove and my balaclava, and I forgot to put my waterproof gaiters on for the final leg over the mountains despite Zoe's effort in getting them. The knack is to make few enough mistakes early on when your brain is still working well that the ones you make later don't matter so much.

Groups

Generally being in groups didn't work very well for me. I walked in company three times. The first, from Lothersdale to Hardraw was very helpful. Stephen and Iain went at a sensible and steady pace. If one of us stopped we could easily jog for a few minutes to catch back up. Having read Allan Rumbles' excellent and throughtful blog on this I was wary of forming a permanent alliance, especially as John and Iain clearly already knew each other well, and three's a crowd too, right? But we were together for a tough 30 hours and we decided to leave Hawes together. I dropped a mitten near Hardraw and didn't notice for quarter of a mile, but I decided to go back for it (good decision). I thought I might catch them up over Great Shunner but I made a nav error at the fell gate and lost a few more minutes and that was that. I had a few minutes of feeling down when I realised I wouldn't catch them but Great Shunner in a snow storm at 2am was too magical a place to be down for long.

A good group, working well - Iain, Stephen and me - all laughing despite
having been racing for 52 hours already. Pic from Cam End © The extremely
excellent Mick Kenyon of Racing Snakes - used with permission

Having been very tired at Keld, I planned on a good sleep at Middleton but was woken twice to be advised of other people's plans for the next leg. I'd rather have got a good kip, thanks. But Carl did do a good job of pulling a decent group together to do what was clearly going to be a challenging leg to Alston. I was just pretty tired and I didn't want to go as fast as three of the guys. When we regrouped (which was obviously making the quicker guys cold) I twice offered to drop off the back of the group and make my own way. I was pushing too hard to keep up and not eating or drinking enough, and was very glad to see MST2's big Merc camper at the top of the Cow Green road. We all scrambled aboard and were given hot drinks. I said I wasn't going to go on with the group and to my surprise, two of the other five also wanted to wait a bit and recover before pushing on to Alston. Carl, Ben and Phillip went on after a 20 minute stop and Alan, Mike and I stayed for another hour, sleeping a little and drinking and eating (which was what I'd have been doing on the way up if we'd moved a minute a mile slower). So pushing for 10 miles had cost me probably the best part of an hour, and it was good that the MST truck was there otherwise I might have been in no fit state to continue by the time I got to Alston. As it was in the smaller group we all had our own troubles on the way over to Alston - Alan was just very tired having done Horton to Middleton in one push and then gone almost straight back out again, and Mike was struggling with very badly blistered feet which meant he couldn't go fast enough to keep his legs warm. We stopped at a farm at Garrigill for half an hour for mike to get warmed up. At a steadier pace though, we got there in the end all feeling pretty reasonable, and the group with Alan and Mike ended up being quite a positive one.

I had a nice couple of hours coming out of Bellingham with Joe and Mark - I know Joe quite well and felt very comfortable chatting away and Mark I've met before a few time and I think we find each other interesting, if very different! Again though I felt I was pushing a little more than I wanted to so I took a 15 minute rest when we met Zoe on the Gibshiel Road and felt better for it. I went on steadily for a bit and was caught by the Germans (Andreas and Michael) before the start of the Redesdale Forest section. Again we had a nice hour or so together, joking our way through the forest and even running some sections. Together these guys got me through to Bellingham in good spirits.

I travelled around 80 of the 255 miles in groups and the rest on my own. Groups made the time pass quickly, but I was less in the moment, and struggled a lot dealing with (my perception of) the group's needs - not really what I'd resolved to do in terms of not worrying about what others were doing.

My "best bits" were all on my own: the epic first night hailstorm on Blackstone Edge; Great Shunner Fell and the section from above Keld where I got myself sorted through to Middleton, and the final "run-in" over the Cheviot where my nav was spot on and I had an absolute ball yomping across the dark mountains, pausing at the huts for food and cameraderie, and passing maybe ten other racers on my glory leg, revelling in the realisation that the overall plan was coming together: not only was I going to make it, but I was going to do it in style, out on the fells where I feel most at home.

IF I do the Spine again, (and I probably will in time), it'll be as a solo effort, with no support - those were the bits where I enjoyed myself most, learned the most, and was most me.

Why did I finish?

I was reasonably well prepared, physically and in terms of my kit. I wasn't as fit as I wanted to be, but then who ever is, and as Allan Rumbles has pointed out, you get fitter as you go along on this race! My experience of mountaineering, hillwalking and above all mountain marathoning gave me most of the skill set I needed to look after myself. But above all, I had the right attitude. When it came down to it, I wanted to keep going. A lot. Not to finish, but because I was really, genuinely, enjoying myself. That meant I could hang in there when it was all going wrong, and come out of each difficulty actually feeling stronger and better equipped to keep going.

This race ultimately is about just that. It's not about finishing, or times, or hard running. It's about doing what you need to do to keep going. For me that was having the right attitude, and enjoying everything the race could throw at me.

I had the most awesome experience, for which I'd like to thank everyone who made it possible.

Postscript

I'd thought about the race right up to the point of finishing. I never really gave much of a thought to what happens afterwards. It's changed some folk's lives, I know that for talking to them. For me though, I feel a little calmer and a little clearer about what's important to me. The time in the hills was what I treasured the most from the race. Future decisions will be shaped towards making sure I can enjoy more of that and share it with Zoe too. I will have some memories of some amazing moments: the feeling I had sat on the summit rocks of Schill 6 miles from the finish at 3:30am, just being still, on my own in that immense landscape, enjoying the moment, will live with me for ever - I'm almost welling up thinking about it.

The physical aftermath is pretty much as I expected - swollen feet and ankles that took three weeks to go down, a deep physical tiredness that has only just passed, and reduced strength and flexibility which I should have copped earlier but which has caused a few niggles and now a minor calf pull.

Mentally I was totally unprepared for three weeks of my subconscious trying to sort out what I'd just put myself through. Waking up two or three times every night from endless Spine racing dreams with something having suddenly gone badly wrong? What was that all about - I'd finished the thing hadn't I? Maybe just the stress and tension I felt during the event dissipating?? I don't know really, and the dreams have stopped now. Emotionally I might be a little more in touch with myself, but much stronger too. I'm starting to refocus into the present and the future, starting to be able to look towards the next big events that life might bring...

Tour de Helvellyn - 20/12/2014

Coming into Side Farm on the way back...

Back to the Tour for a third time. This year I was just aiming to jog/walk round, test a couple of pieces of kit for the Spine race, and enjoy a long day out with Zoe.

It all went broadly according to plan although I think I must have picked up a bit of a virus or something. I'd had a sore throat on Friday and just felt a bit flat all day on Saturday.

For those not in the know, the Tour is a friendly low key event which features a surprising amount of fairly easy running in its 36 to 39 miles (estimates vary, but the normal route is about 36.5 miles and this years' altered route was a bit over 38.5). The course is a lollipop shaped route, with an out-and-back section between the start/finish at Askham and Patterdale, and an anticlockwise loop around Helvellyn which goes out over Sticks Pass, then along Thirlmere, and comes back from Dunmail Raise via Grisedale Tarn and valley. This year the normal route along the east shore of Thirlmere was impassible due to recent forestry works, so the route was amended to follow the very quiet road on the west shore.

Anyway it all went well for me until we reached Legburthwaite at the foot of Thirlmere. Huw and Glen Davies overtook us on the descent of Sticks Pass. I somehow cut my finger slightly in the checkpoint - I couldn't believe the amount of blood this generated, but it was easily patched up. We saw Dick Scroop on the way around the lake. I was struggling to run on the road - I think I just haven't done that much actual running and maybe the new Mizuno Wave Mujin shoes have a little more drop than I'm used to so were causing a bit of trouble, but Zoe is great at keeping going on the easier ground and got me through it.

I felt a bit more lively on the climb to Grisedale Tarn although I was still lagging behind a little, but the descent is fairly steep and quite technical and I managed to get it reasonably together and keep it that way from there on in.

We stopped for a few minutes at the Side Farm control and I sat and had a cuppa (bring your own milk for Joe's events!) and a bit of flapjack before we tackled the Boredale Hause climb and the long run / walk back to Askham. The final section of the event crosses an area known as the Cockpit which is notorious for confusing tired runners and adding bonus miles at the end of the day. I got it spot on in the darkness this time - take careful note of landmarks on the way out, but coming home it's sharp right at the standing stones, aiming well right of the woodland  initially, then follow the path as it comes around to the left and faces the woodland, cross a very distinct grassy crosss path still heading for the end of the wood, then turn right ten yards after the boulder just to the right of the path!

Plus points:

• coped well with nearly a full Spine load and was able to move much faster than I'll need to on the Spine;
• virtually no shoulder / upper back pain this trip - a result of switching to an Aarn Marathon Magic pack;
• Wave Mujins were great with a thin Coolmax liner and thick Smartwool hiking socks - no blisters, but loads of room for swollen feet and much more grip than I had expected;
• Clothing was spot on for the day - fairly mild but windy with the odd squall of rain - Salomon long sleeved wicking base layer, RAB powerstretch top and Haglofs windproof on top, and just a midweight pair of Ron Hill 3/4 length leggings. Regulated heat well venting with zips and warming with buff and thin wind gloves.

Things to work on:

• probably didn't drink enough;
• should have eaten a bit more too, but when moving slower on the Spine this should be ok;
• a bit of chafing off the velcro fastenings at the bottoms of the front pockets on the Aarn pack.

All in all a fun and useful day out. Huge thanks to Joe and his team - Lindsay, Darren, Stuart, John and those I didn't recognise too... Pics from http://www.nav4.co.uk

What the hell is that in your hand Zoe? Who do you think you are?

At the start...

Santa's little helper at the Swart Back bridge on the Sticks Climb

Dibbing at Swart Beck - almost sunny - a TdeH first!

Santa (John Bamber) and his elf (Stu Smith) - thanks for the pics guys. Lovely
to see John on the way up to Grisedale Tarn - Zoe thought the beard was part of
a Santa outfit!

Back at the shack. We ran in the last three miles fairly hard hence the pose!

Marmot Dark Mountains - 25 to 26/01/2014

So, Marmot Dark Mountains. Probably the ultimate test of fell running navigation, this event is two day mountain marathon rolled into one night, and just to make it a little more tricky, it's in January.

I’d entered Zoe and myself as a mixed pair in the short score class after hearing about the first edition of the event. We knew it would be a big challenge and had spent a couple of months getting fit (or at least fitter) and doing some navigation practise. My objectives were:

1.       Survive;

2.       Stay out for the full time (or near enough);

3.       Get a reasonable placing (top half in our class).

...but much more importantly to learn a bit more about route planning and also executing navigational legs. I’m a kind of learn by doing (and mostly by making mistakes) person, so most of my preparation was mental practise of the navigation – selecting a leg on a previous event and asking myself how I would navigate it, in poor weather and visibility and in the dark. Really this boils down to what handles (linear features like fences, paths, streams, escarpment edges) I would use to get close to the control, and how I would select my attack points (the feature at which you leave the handle to head off on a compass bearing to the control). Generally this stood me in good stead, although there were controls without decent attack points on the course.

I didn’t do enough route planning practise beforehand. This is specific to score courses and adds an additional layer of complexity to the event. Each checkpoint is assigned a score on the map, and you need to be able to identify a rough route around (some of) the various controls on offer to maximise your score over the event. For Dark Mountains the controls ranged in value from 5 to 40 points. We were warned that the high value checkpoints were high scoring for a reason – remoteness, horrible terrain, or navigational difficulty. Generally on a night event or in poor visibility (or both, as we had for an hour or two) it’s wise to avoid controls which are point features (say a small pond or an isolated building, maybe a cairn in a relatively featureless flat area).

Anyway the event map was handed to us as we started at 22:02, and we went straight to somewhere sheltered to plan our route. There were basically two routes options from the start and these would be the options for the return to the finish too. We opted for the northern option, visiting low scoring controls in an abandoned quarry area which would lead us round to the Pennine Way path north of Bleaklow. We could then use this path to guide us over the summit via another couple of low scoring checkpoints and into an area of mid-scoring controls east of the summit of Snake Pass. The plan was then to cross the Snake Road and head into the valley of Ashop Clough, visiting two mid scoring checkpoints on the north side, or, if there was time, three or four higher scoring checkpoints on the northern edge of Kinder Scout before finishing via the Pennine Way back to Snake Pass and down Doctor’s Gate to the start. This plan survived intact for about the first third of the event!

We reached the checkpoints in the quarry easily enough, walking steadily up the hills and walk/jogging the flatter sections, and got to PK with 25 points in the bag after 1:09, and no navigational errors. We descended NE from the control to pick up the Pennine Way, but had a minor delay as we saw something we thought was the path but turned out to be a track to some grouse butts about 100 yards short of the main path. This was probably the main story of the night for me navigationally – I just kept coming up short, thinking we’d covered more ground than we had. I think it was a combination of the terrain, our pace over it, and the darkness, but we just weren’t making the distance we usually do per stride. Anyway we rached the Pnnine Way and I realised we could take in an extra control, RE, for only an extra 200m of distance by diverting off the path at an obvious fenceline, crossing Torside Clough, and heading for the fence on the ridge just north west of the control. This worked out ok if a bit rough, but we’d climbed into thick mist at around the 550m contour.

I wasn’t too worried by the mist because if we followed our fence about a kilometre we’d meet the Pennine Way again which would take us right to the next control at the 633m summit of Bleaklow Head. We reached the point where the fence should have been adjacent to the Pennine Way, but I couldn’t identify the path. The visibility was around 5m to 10m and we just couldn’t positively ID the path. Instead I got the best fix I could on our location by checking the alignment of the curving fence and set a bearing which should take us straight to Bleaklow summit (the “summit” might be difficult to find as it’s actually just the highest point of a area of land about 2km x 1km all above 615m). This should have been safe as the paths shown approach from NW and NE in a “V” – if we missed the summit but reached a path I could check its direction quickly and identify which way to turn along it. From the map I thought it was around 300m to the control so we paced out 350 paces, then 400. 500 then 600 passed and I started to think we’d overshot. There as a slight clearing in the mist which revealed torches in front of and above us, and so we continued on in the hope these were close to the CP – it’s the highest point after all so going uphill did make some sense. We came out about 50m south of the summit, realised it was that way to the control from the voices around us in the mist, and made it. I have no idea even now, having checked the GPS track, why it seemed so far from the fence to the control. As we came back we met two teams on the B course who were looking for our next control, SR. They’d been looking for a considerable amount of time...

We now had 40 points and had been going for 2hr40. I was pretty shaken by the experience really. We headed south along the Pennine Way which should take us within 150m of the next control, SR, which was at Wain Stones, a location I’ve visited before. The map didn’t show an awful lot of detail for an attack point but it seemed that if we headed around 600m along the Pennine Way there would be a sharp left turn on the path which we could use. We spent a lot of time here walking slowly and trying to ensure we were still on the path – it’s very clear and well defined in daylight, but in very poor visibility in the dark all you can see is peat and heather. We reached what we thought was the attack point and took a bearing to the control, heartened when we heard celebrations from the direction we were headed. But there was no control and Zoe thought she heard the voices say it was a false alarm. We quickly decided we weren’t going to spend lots of time searching for a 5 point control and that orienteering in the mist was almost impossible. Checking the GPS we’d come up short again, turning off the Pennine Way about 200m before we should have.

We now headed down SE on the Pennine Way, stopping frequently to check we were still on the path. We met another pair and checked our locations. I was more sure than they were, and I was right, soon enough we met the Hern Clough stream and then climbed away from it to a knoll at 578m. This was on my map and was my attack point for control PT. It was clearer but still not great visibility here. I was shaken by the difficulty of hitting even low scoring point controls on Bleaklow. This was probably the only point at which I made a genuinely poor decision. We finally accurately knew exactly where we were again 40 minutes after leaving Bleaklow summit. But the checkpoint I was aiming for, PT, was a small pond 750m away. There was only a boundary with a couple of slight angles shown on the map to use as an attack point. What if the mist closed in again? What if the boundary was a broken wall and we walked straight through it? I knew the Pennine Way path got more distinct further down, and that we could access the mid-scoring controls on the north edge of Kinder via Snake Pass and another very distinct section of Pennine Way. And I thought we could extend if we had time, or run up the Snake Road if we were in danger of being late. But from where we were this would mean doing a figure-8 with very little in the way of points along the fast running section of the Pennine Way, or on the run-in.

Anyway we finally got a bit of momentum, dropped down out of the mist and reached control BA (5 more points taking our total to a massive 45!) which was at the crossing point of our figure-8. We stopped for a moment to finalise the re-plan. We’d used nearly half of our time so we’d need to get a shufty on but we could run to Mill Hill, control KM, then along the northern edges as I’d thought up at the knoll (GQ – HK – AQ) and then down from Fairbrook Naze to the river junction between Ashop Clough and Lady Clough (control DY on the footbridge over Lady Clough), with a short section of forest to bring us to the support point, control AI. From there I planned to either pick up PJ and PT and drop into Doctor’s Gate and the final control FE to finish, or to head up the A57 road to the Doctor’s Gate path if we were short of time to speed up the finish.

Progress on the slabs across Featherbed Moss to Mill Hill was fairly quick, although Zoe and I both put our feet between slabs a couple of times where the gaps were hidden by black peaty standing water. Zoe took a nasty tumble at one point and battered her knee. We reached Mill Hill easily enough and dibbed the control, then had a rapid ascent to the next checkpoint, a knoll with boulders at the 600m contour on the extreme NW corner of the Kinder Plateau. Zoe located the control quickly and we moved on having claimed our first 20 pointer of the night, a mere 4hr36 after starting. We were going to have to move quickly now, but the terrain was sapping – there was a generally obvious path, but it ran through peaty hags and there were frequent rocky steps too. Zoe was struggling a little, her confidence dented a bit by her earlier fall and the difficulty of the ground.

We were now aiming for control HK, a stream junction about 100m SE of the Edge, just before an obvious nose contour feature. I guessed 20 minutes of running from the boulders – it was about 2km. We found the stream, there seemed to be a nose. The stream seemed to flow over the Edge in the right direction. We headed upstream to find the control – first 100m then 200m with no joy. It couldn’t be this far in. We came across a little dam of stones across one of the tiny tributaries. We’d been warned to stay off the plateau as there are 600 new dams as part of a National Trust restoration project. They are re-wetting the plateau to help re-establish vegetation lost through years of over-grazing, but for runners in the dark, the bogs this has created could be extremely hazardous. So we went carefully back down the stream and checked another tributary. No control here either. I went back to the very lip of the Edge and realised that the direction of the gully I’d noted earlier had been an illusion. It headed north, not northwest. We were at the wrong stream. Again my distance estimation, this time based on travel time, had proved wrong. We were looking in Upper Red Brook and the control was in Nether Red Brook. There were other clues on the map too, if I’d taken more time to look at it and less time running around searching for the control. When we got to the right stream,, having wasted probably 25 minutes at the wrong one, the control was obvious and exactly as shown.

I checked the time, knowing we were down on where I’d wanted to be. We did have my final ace in the hole – a very rapid in route from the support point – 2.5km of road and 5.5km of easy path. 8km. Even tired and with hills we should be able to make that in just over an hour. I figured we’d need another ten minutes to divert to and find control FE (off the path on the way in) for an easy five points. So we needed to be at AI, the support point, with an hour and a half to go. We were short of time, but not desperate. Any chance of either looping to FY or doing PJ and PT had evaporated though – it was pretty much a race to the line.

We ran as hard as we could for another km along the Edge to control AQ (finally a high scoring 25 pointer!). Now we had 110 points, but we only had 2hr14 left. We hunted for the way off the cliffs of Fairbrook Naze for a couple of minutes, back and fore, before I saw the start of the trod. A little scrambling and we were running down steep ground on a muddy track. It was a bit faint, and it bent to the NE just as shown. We persevered as the path faded just as the map promised, then I set a bearing for 100m W (left) of the river junction we were aiming for. There was a flatter section of moor covered in deep heather and cut by several deep drainage channels we had to scramble in and out of, then the very aptly name “Rough Bank” down to the river.

Zoe came up trumps here, battered by another fall and very tired, but she just waded in and crossed with no real qualms. The control was on the footbridge 100m downstream just as expected. There were taped markers on the next leg up through the forest to the support point. We ran most of this. It would have been pretty under other circumstances but now we were on a mission. We reached the checkpoint and the welcome sight of several marshalls with 6hr26 on our clock. We could make it to the finish without having to push too hard! Somewhere deep in my subconscious though, I had a doubt. I check with the marshall that we could use the road, and was crestfallen to hear the reply – he pointed out the clearly marked uncrossable boundary. The forest itself wasn’t marked out of bounds, but no, if we used the road we’d cross a “barrier” and we’d be DQ’ed. I’d wondered why there was a control at JW, just a hundred metres (and 60m of climbing) north of the support point. Now I knew why – it was to ensure that folks heading north left the forest by the correct route. My heart fell as I tried to explain to Zoe that we’d have to climb to JW (only 5 extra points) and then contour along the edge of the forest and drop back down onto the road. No fast running!

And it was horrible. The climb wasn’t too bad, in fact we gained ground on a pair in front of us, but the traverse was dreadful. There was a faint trod, probably just what had been levelled by the forestry workers erecting the fence. But we were off balance, forced into the side slope by the barbed wire fence. The hillside was rough and tussock and no better further up. This was a dreadful 1.5km, and all the time we knew we needed to push. Eventually it was over. Zoe had another fall heading down to the road and I could tell she was pretty much done in. I didn’t feel much better. To cap it all it was around 4:45, the time when I feel lowest on my overnight runs. We got on the road. Zoe speeded up a bit, as I’d expected. Suddenly I was the one who couldn’t keep up. We dragged ourselves the kilometre up the road to the point we’d divert onto the Doctor’s Gate path which would take us the remaining 6.5km to the finish. We had about 50 minutes. We weren’t going to make it.

We passed control BA at the top of the path, not dibbing as we’d done that three hours earlier before the Kinder loop. Almost straightaway I knew we were really in trouble. I could run this path, but Zoe’s legs were shot. We played tag with another couple of pairs on the way down the steep, rough, boggy track. Eventually they headed off to visit control FE, but for us there was no time.

When we reached the valley bottom we had 3km to cover on better paths but only 16 minutes left. We could travel side by side here, so I let Zoe catch up and started to jog, then run. I didn’t need to tell her how far we had to go or how much time there was, we were going as fast as we possibly could. Through a couple of gates, over a stile. A smoother section of track, and then I could see the factory and the lights around the finish area. We passed two photographers. Then I could see the finish tent.

Finally we had made it in. I checked the watch. Were we on time? Maybe. Maybe a minute or so over, but there wouldn’t be a huge penalty at least. We’d put two 8:30 miles together on a rough farm track, carrying five to ten kilos of kit at the end of an eight hour run. It’d have to do.

The finish staff were brilliant: hot sugary tea pressed into my hand, a brief interview into an iPhone, offers of biscuits and sympathy. Ten minutes to gather myself and then a walk back to the event centre. Zoe seemed more composed and more ready to get back there.

At the event centre, we were greeted by both the course planner and the event organiser. We handed over our dibbers and got the download print out. We'd finished in 8:01:13 and lost 6 points for being just over a minute late! Despite this at the time of our download 119 points was good enough for 3rd of the 12 who finished. 

Equipped with tickets for a free cooked breakfast at Glossop Cafeteria (very nice), we dossed down in a squash court for 45 minutes. Breakfast was good. We stayed for the presentation where Adrian Moir and Ellie Salisbury took the mixed pairs prize (but we got a Marmot hat each), then said our goodbyes and headed off.

Results went up on SPORTident later in the day and we found to our delight we'd finished fifth of the twenty teams, and second mixed pair.

This was a great event and is highly recommended for experienced mountain marathoners. You need to know how to look after yourself in the hills and to have an almost bombproof ability to navigate and to relocate.

Next year I'll be back, and I'll find a better route option and have sussed out the distance estimation... Half an hour with the map in the warm and the dry today identified a 240 point route which was 1km shorter than our 125 pointer. If we'd got even close to that we'd have won.

A big thank you to Shane Ohly and all his team. I'm looking forward to the Marmot 24 already, and I'll hopefully be back for Dark Mountains 2015.

[Pics, map and results to follow…]

Marquee Races Weekend - 24 and 25/08/2013

A great weekend of racing in Yorkshire and the Lakes...

August Bank Holiday weekend is the peak season for the "Marquee" Fell Races, short and sharp races associated with village shows or sports and often with good cash prizes (not that that concerns me, but it makes sure a lot of elite guys come out and tow us mortals round at a reasonable clip).

Mercia planned a weekend away to the two most classic of these very traditional events: Burnsall Feast and Grasmere Sports, both of which are well covered in "Feet in the Clouds".

Burnsall Classic Fell Race

1.5 miles, 899'

21:01; 57/152

Grasmere Senior Guides Race

1.6 miles, 886'

20:35; 93/195

More details and pics to follow...

Hornindal Rundt - 06/07/2013

Looking fairly composed five minutes before the start!

The advance publicity for this race offered a "38 km fjelløp. 2 900 høgdemeter!" and a "75 km ultrafjelløp. 5 600 høgdemeter". I don't think a lot of translation is required but a fjelløp can be roughly equated to a fell race. I found the event on the UTMB qualifying events list (not so much because I wanted to gain UTMB points but because it's a great way to find events), and entered early this year. The main event of the "season" was the LDWA 100 and this was six weeks later, so I figured there would probably be enough recovery time to get it sufficiently together for a big fell ultra. After all I'd done Brecon 40 and the Tour de Hellvellyn, both at 40 miles and about 10,000' feet of clibing, not to mention last year's CCC at 56 miles and 19,000' so 45 miles and 18,500' should be do-able, right?

I organised to travel over on the Thursday to give Friday to settle in / recover and reccie a small section of the route, then race on Saturday, recover on Sunday and travel home on Monday.

It all went fairly straightforwardly and I arrived in Grodås (the main village in the valley of Hornindal) as planned on Thursday night, and spent Friday doing a gentle reccie of the final section of the 75km full round and registering then attending the race briefing.

Saturday morning dawned dry and hot and we all gathered at the start. There was a delay while some chips which had been wrongly programmed were cleared, but at 09:20 we were off.

The first section headed out of town along a road  before an undulating bit of forest road.

Five minutes in, on the road out of Grodås

Right after the first checkpoint though it ramped right up and a steep rough path led up through the forest to about 2,000' where we came out onto open fell (fjell?). Looking back there was a great view to Hornindalvatnet, Europe's deepest lake

Climbing Middagsfjellert, about 650m up

A more steadily graded section (but still rough underfoot) led to our first summit of the day.

Summit of Middagsfjellert

From the top the descent was initially fairly similar to Scottish fell running conditions, fairly soft underfuut, but rough with lots of rocks and peat hags, but it soon steepened. The next section dropped about 500m steeply down on a very rough, narrow trail which was rocky at times. Pretty soon we were down in the valley and running a 1km out and back to CP3 on an easy forest road. I took the opportunity to walk for a few hundred metres, rehydrate and eat a cereal bar. Another section of forest road took us gently up past some lovely hay meadows towards CP4.

An easier section, the gravel road near Grothaugen between CP3 and CP4

Norwegian barn at Grothaugen. This was the easiest going for 25km.

After CP4 we started the climb that would eventually lead to the high point of the race at Gulkoppen. The first section was a steep climb up through woods to reach a large wet meadow and aother short haul up under power lines to get on the west ridge of the Saetrehornet.

Doesn't look too bad up the power lines onto the west ridge of the Saetrehornet,
but this was rough ground and a faint track which was boggy where it wasn't rocky.

Just onto the Saetrehornet ridge, looking back

I made a bad mistake on the ridge - I was in a fair sized group and I knew there was a checkpoint coming up but I just assumed that I'd see it as everyone stopped to make sure their electonic tallies had registered. Head down and climbing hard I must have gone straight past CP5.

Climbing the Saetrehornet, just after I'd missed CP5. I went up almost as far
as the peak on the right before I realised and double backed.

I continued on for about twenty minutes, covering about 1.5km and 200m more climbing before I realised that I must have missed it. A quick chat with a fellow competitor confirmed that I'd gone past it, so I had the heartbreaking job of running downhill past maybe fifty competitors to get back to the checkpoint and register my tally. I then started back up and had tob try to forget about it. I lost 35 minutes in the end, and probably went a bit too fast on the re-ascent too - never get angry on an ultra, it can lead to some really bad decisions. Anyway I got it back together and went fairly well up to CP6, taking back a few of the many places I'd lost...

Small snowfield just below the 1102m summit of Størehornet.

CP6 at the summit of Størehornet with Niels.

Niels kindly took a picture for me.

At CP6 I took a few pictures and while I was doing that weighed up how things were going. I'd probably gone too quickly up the climb and I was blowing quite hard with my heart racing. I was concerned I wasn't recovering as normal, so despite a brief stop my HR wasn't dropping much. I decided to take it easy and make sure I enjoyed the next few legs and see how things went. Taking it easy wasn't particularly straightforward on the next leg - the last stage of the massive 1,100m climb to Gulkoppen. We could see the snowfield that unlocked the approach to the summit with many tiny figures climbing up it. As we got nearer we passed a guy from the local mountain rescue all kitted up ready with a stretcher! I took a bit of care on the snowfield, which was very steep in the centre section... We were soon up it though and a short jog along the ridge led to the summit.

Tiny figures climbing the final snowfield on the way up Gulkoppen



On the snowfield, this was steeper than it looks!

The gradient on the top section of the snowfield did ease off somewhat!

Checkpoint at the summit of Gulkoppen (1,304m) - the end of a continuous
3,600' climb.

The descent from Gulkoppen was almost as big as the climb, initially with huge open vistas across boilerplate rocks and small snowfields to the peaks in the distance. I went down at a reasonable pace to start with, speeding up and passing people as the oack and snow gave way to mud and bilberries and then to scrubby woodland. There were two out and back sections in Knutsdalen, first downhill through the open birchwood to CP7 at Holskardsaetra. There was a good crowd here and a nice vibe, but I only stopped for long enough to register my tally.

The start of the descent from Gulkoppen gives an idea of the vastness of
these landscapes. 

High mountain lake Holskardvatnet with Holskardhornet (1,247m) behind

Back up past the waterfalls to the end of the out-and-back and I noted a lot of dumped rucksacs which seemed a bit unfair - if you're asked to carry kit to my mind you carry it all the way round. Anyway the route now climbed quite steeply up to the next chackpoint on the Daurmålhornet. The total ascent was only about 300m (the smallest on the whole route) but I felt absolutely spent here and couldn't manage anything more than a slow walk up the hill. It wasn't even that steep or particularly rough by the standards of this route anyway. The Daurmålhornet (890m) is a rocky plateau rally. We crossed the northern edge of it, clipping at the checkpoint by the cairn.

The next leg took us down 120m to another out-and-back, this time starting with an uphill section over rough moor and boulderfields to a cabin by the picturesque lake at Kupa. I was tired but managed to run much of this, drinking loads of clear cold water from the river near the lake outlet and taking five minutes to sit in the shade on the hut's veranda and eat a KitKat and a gel.

We now had a 280m descent over the next 2.6km through scrub and bog to reach a lovely wooden bridge over the river in the bottom of Knutsdalen. I swapped places with a nice local lady who I'd been with on the climb to Daurmålhornet a few times over this section. Finally at about 28.5km we hit the first bit of forest road in 15km. Another 300m and we were at the first manned checkpoint (A), Sandgrova, just a cluster of cabins and a rather disinterested marshall (he may have had a mechanical on his car because his head was under the bonnet - I'm not sure how he logged my time but he did).

Looking up Knutsdalen with peaks in the 1,300m to 1,500m range

Hornindalsrokken from just above manned checkpoint A, with some
 typical race terrain in the foreground.

From Sandgrova the climb up to the next CP was just unbelievable. It started fairly steadily, but ramped up until the slope of the ground around us must have been close to 45°. Even the map shows a section of about 300m horizontally where the climb is 200m vertically. All I could do was grind out 50m or so of climbing then stop and rest for half a minute, then do it all over again, still having problems con. Towards the top I caught up a guy called Mattias and we chatted which helped pass the remainder of the climb. There was a local lad called Rolf with us there too - he couldn't have been any older than 17 and was doing great. The checkpoint was on the top of a hill called Muldsvorhornet.

Crossing the river in Knutsdalen

On the summit of Moldsvorhornet, looking to Hornindalsrokken

Rolf and Mathias at Moldsvorhornet

By now I had decided that given my difficulty with the climbing I'd call it a day at the halfway point rather than risk having problems late on in the event on the exposed section of mountain terrain around Hogenibba where there would be the least amount of light (the Norwegians call the peculiar light when dusk merges into dawn "the grey light"). So having made that decision there was only one thing to do coming off the final summit - belt it down. I had a pretty good descent, taking aorund ten minutes off the competitors who were with me at the top in 4.3km. I reached my final checkpoint at Horndøla bru at 18:08 for a total time of 8:48. I'd done 41km and 3,100m of climbing (25.5 miles and 10,200').

Little Saetra with typical old time huts above upper Hornindal

All done for the day at Horndøla bru

There was hot soup and chocolate milk for the finishers (and for those going on to do the full loop Ultra Fjellop). I got a lift back to Grodas with the Race Organiser and arrived with plenty of time to snack and lounge about, then take pictures of the leading guys finishing the full round. My neighbour in the B&B, Mattias Gärdsback, finished an awesome second and he and his grilfriend Caroline shared dinner with me in the late evening. I popped back out to the finish line to see a few more guys completing the round including another I had chatted to in the B&B before the race, Per-Einar Roth.

Winner, Kristoffer Normark just beyond the end of the final descent

Second place was Mattias Gärdsback, my neighbour in the B&B

I went back in the morning and saw the last finishers come in, three locals, just before the presentation, then had a great afternoon out on the hills which form the last quarter of the full course.

Final finishers, Stian Løkken, Anne Raftevold, and Inger Margerthe Nordskov
after 25 hours 50 minutes out on the 75km course

Brilliant race organisers!

Men's podium

I'll definitely be back to complete the full round.

Lessons learned

I struggled with hydration, drinking a lot of water (all from streams and rivers on route) but I think my salts got out of balance a bit. I forgot to take any salt tablets with me and only managed to buy some Ritz biscuits as a substitute. Although I ate several at one point I don't think they really were as good!

I also didn't really take account of how I was feeling early enough and went too hard on the first climb and descent when I lready felt I was struggling.

And finally I do really need to sort out my health issue which may be underlying the odd off day when I can't seem to control my HR. That's twice I've had a problem, once on the CCC which I put down mostly to being mildly hypothermic but I had very similar problems at Hornindal - maybe it's when there's additional stress (heat, dehydration / salt depletion) as well as the normal ultra running issues.

I did have a great day, and actually a great trip with good runs the day before and after the race too, and a fairly smooth journey in each direction. More details of the race are at: http://www.hornindalrundt.no/