I managed a mile before i retired exhausted, felt ok driving over but realised very soon i was not going to get very far. I tried to call you all to say I was going back and did so at first road junction but you did not hear. As usual am coming back from tiredness to soon. Time to rest again for a few days then start again.
Thanks for setting this up anyway Trig.
Coniv-8 not knowingly evidenced to improve performance
Phew!!! It was great to see you AS - we were pretty sure you had turned round but all felt bad we had nt seen you back ok.Originally Posted by Antisocial
The dogs were having a great time - must set up a canine specific recce soon....
Steve
Good to cross paths with you and your bunch of runners as we were reccieing the Hebden.
If Anne's running the actual race, shall I tell all the other lasses not to bother! I see that she is on fire at the moment!
I was pleased to leave Daz after Broadhead Clough as he only had about another 8 to do as well as jogging back up to Midgley, and that was after him doing 22 during a LDWA yesterday, heh heh. I'm not sure about that (mile?) sprint back along the road in fell shoes for the half Hebden. Still looking forward to the easy version tho.
Catch up for a reccie soon mate.
Clive, Hebden Bridge
Ha ha! Fancy bumping into you two! The hills are alive with sound of recces.
Great to see you and Darren; there were also PBW recces today too.
Our next big Heptonstall Recce is SUNDAY Jan 29th (Soup run format) - hope you can make it.
Was just googling and found this fantastic article on Canterbury Harriers website; worth a read....the July 7th A-short Heptonstall Festival....see my next post....who was the mystery Calder lady??
Last edited by Trig; 09-01-2012 at 12:01 PM.
Race....ADRENALINE SPORT: FELL RUNNING……..Francis Maude (Canterbury Harriers)
The inaugural Heptonstall Festival Fell Race was held on Saturday 7th July this year. The Category A race
was held over a six mile (approx) course, thus qualifying as “short”.Climb: 1500ft. Entry (£4) on the day only, at the race HQ in the White Lion inHeptonstall, a convenient three-quarters of a mile from where we were staying, nearthe Blue Pig at the bottom of the valley.Carrie forwarded me to the organisers’ website, which offered a tempting description:The 6 mile course should be an instant hit with fell runners, featuring some of the best scenery in the area on little known paths and rights of way; the unusual double-descent format starts at the White Lion Pub with a quick run up the cobbles, followed by a 500 ft descent to the Blue Pig. After the 1000 ft ascent to High Brown Knoll runners turn tail and head back to Heptonstall the way they came.Set against the iconic backdrop of Hardcastle Craggs, Heptonstall, and Stoodley Pike,Peckett Well War Memorial is a real highlight. As the race progresses from Peckett Well to the summit of High Brown Knoll runners will be clearly visible from Heptonstall. Standing at 1453 feet, and 120 feet higher than Stoodley Pike, High Brown Knoll and its moorland flanks provide classic fell running, whilst offering festival-goers with binoculars the unique opportunity to monitor the race from the comfort of the finishing field in Town Field Lane. (weather permitting!). The return ascent to Heptonstall should be a real test of runner’s endurance on the final, and steepest climb from Midgehole to Lee Bank. Who was I to know better what it would be like: classic fell running, best scenery in the area, Timothy Taylor’s Landlord on draft at the finish. I decided to enter. I squelched up a muddy track in the pouring rain to the start in my nice new road shoes. As I passed the entrance to the car park a cheery marshal spotted my Harriers vest and apologised for the weather, which secretly I was disappointed by, as I had been hoping for the proper “it’s grim up north” misery of a hailstorm at the very least. At the White Lion, I poured the water out of my shoes before going into the bar and handing over a distinctly soggy fiver, in exchange for my race number and an instruction to look at the map to see where the course went (the contour lines were suspiciously close together), and the race rules (No Dogs Allowed…). An old man with a flat cap and a whippet shook his head at me and asked if I had really come all the way from Canterbury just for the race.Actually, I made that last bit up. Heptonstall and the adjoining town of Hebden Bridge lie at the centre of West Yorkshire’s muesli belt, on the commuter line between Manchester and Leeds, and there are coffee shops and organic cafes full of mums with out-of-control toddlers every few yards. The runners were comprised of members of the local clubs (Calder Valley, Todmorden Harriers, Bingley etc) in their club kit, looking forward to exercising away the frustrations of a week spent at a desk.A little before eleven, the rain stopped and we went out into the cobbled street for the start. I hovered at the back, and asked the man standing next to me if he knew the course. He didn’t: it was the inaugural race (i.e. What a stupid question you have just asked); but he did advise that it was quite in order to walk up the steepest parts of the hills, and the race was won by those who dared fly downhill the fastest. Good Luck!
The horn blared, and we were off, up the cobbles to the top of town, then right into a field of long wet grass, up some more, over the top and then slide down to the road, across another field, across the road again and into a wood. Total hills so far, about the same as the Stelling Minnis 10k, total distance, half a mile. The leaders were about 50 yards ahead, may be not even that far. We were now following a scramblers trail down to the Blue Pig. I wanted to walk to avoid the risks of tripping over exposed roots, breaking a knee on a rock, sliding on some wet leaves or colliding with a tree. But No, this is the moment when you must up the pace, or be left further behind. Already in the first fifteen yards two competitors had skipped deftly past, judging perfectly a four inch wide rabbit track at the edge of a precipice. I leapt to the other side of a narrow ravine to some better ground, then dodged some boulders half the size of a car, skidded on another rock, twisted down , sideways, round, and caught them both up just as we joined an old pack-horse track, with half the cobbles missing: keep your eyes open and don’t trip up. Lengthen stride, try not to loose control in the race to the bottom, out of breath, exhilarated. Overtook a lady in a stripy Calderdale top. Note to self: buy trail shoes next time. I’ve reached the bottom, level ground past the Blue Pig (WMC) (Closed). I can run faster now, all those nice flat fields in the south have been preparation for this. And Elliot Hills. Thanks Gerry! Turn right over the river, past the house we’re staying in, Carrie is shouting “Come on”. I am not last. There are a lot of bemused weekend yompers staring at us. It is starting to rain again.Now for the 1000ft climb. No idea how to pace myself for something like this. I set off up a steady one-in-ten climb along a track running between a pair of stone walls. This is fine for a couple of minutes. We then leave the track for a somewhat steeper path. I am still keeping up, indeed have caught up another runner. The path steepens further, I go round a bend and can see another ten runners, all walking up what now approximates to a disintegrating flight of stairs. I will keep pushing, I will catch them up, I tell myself. I push on, choosing the clean boulders to put my road-shoe clad feet on. I gain slightly, I push more. Gasp, gasp, gasp, I do not believe this is really good for me. I would have been nicer to come on a dry day just walking along to enjoy the view. Presently, we leave the path by climbing up some boulders, then rise almost vertically through the trees. I pull on low hanging branches and shrubs to increase speed, and wonder whether crampons would have been useful. I catch up another runner who is leaning against a tree, holding one foot off the ground at an uncomfortable angle. He has lost his shoe, which is caught between two rocks nearby. I press on, and after about six or seven minutes climbing emerge from the trees to pass the Peckett Well War Memorial, where a marshal is shivering under an umbrella. There are some fields rising in front of me, then some houses, then more fields beyond, an isolated farm, and above that open moorland leading to the summit of High Brown Knoll about a mile away. The leading runners must be a third of a mile ahead, on the upper fields. The ground is level enough to run on, and the rain is easing off. It was only a brief shower. I make it across the first set of fields to the road past the houses, where there is a short downhill stretch, then turn up to the second set of fields. There are various narrow gaps between the fields where the path runs, and we must go in single file. It is bad form to push past through. Another five minutes later, and things are going quite well. I have caught up a group of half a dozen runners and overtaken them running through a farmyard by leaping a cattle grid and putting on some speed, to reach the next gap in a wall ahead of them. It’s now open moorland up to the top. The ground is not so steep, and the main difficulty is the tussocky grass, which makes it impossible to judge what angle your feet will land at. A good breeze chases the
clouds away and the sun comes out, and presently the wet ground starts steaming. I keep position and after a further five minutes I reach the top, where a marshal directs me to a track which runs along the ridge.It has taken twenty-five minutes to climb a thousand feet, and to travel about two miles. This is the halfway point. CONTINUED ON NEXT POST
Last edited by Trig; 08-01-2012 at 05:28 PM.
CONTUNED FROM PREVIOUS POST: I enjoy the immense views across the moors, down the valley and across to Heptonstall, some 500 feet below. I stop concentrating on running and as a result am overtaken by the lady in the Calder top I caught earlier. I try to stretch out my legs after the climb, but it’s hard, and it takes a while to gain any momentum. I lose about 50 yards in about quarter of a mile, at which point I pass another marshal and begin the descent. The slope is gentle enough to enjoy the run at this point, and we race across the hillside, picking up more speed as the gradient increases. The route follows one side of a drainage gulley, but the ground is clearer on the other so I jump across and get to the stile into the top field first, where we rejoin the route we took on the way up. I see a lot of exhausted runners are still on the way up, whereas I had seen none of the leaders on the way back when I was going out. This thought cheers me. There are no other runners visible in front of me now, and I keep up a good pace to keep gaining on Ms Calder behind. It seems to take no time at all to return to the road at Peckett Well (short uphill stretch here…), and then to cross the lower fields.At the war memorial I can’t find the path down; the Calder runner catches up in about ten seconds and I see where she is heading so I can push on just keeping in front, to enter the trees where I now loose all self control and jump from rock to rock and dive between trees grabbing branches to keep my balance. Now, a five foot jump down to the path, which is clearer. I try to focus on where my feet will be three or four steps ahead and go as fast as I dare, almost skipping now, and sometime hopping,with each pace a different length to take advantage of the most level and driest looking rocks. It is strangely exhilarating to know that a misjudgement will mean a twisted ankle at best, and broken bones at worst. In what seems like moments I am at the bottom running along the track past the cottage we are staying in, across the bridge over the river, past the Blue Pig (still closed), and am at the bottom of the 500ft climb back up.I run up the cobbles of the old pack-horse track, and after less than a hundred yards am reduced to walking. Come on! Come on! It makes no difference. I find that I have no energy left. I can only walk, turning up the steeper trail we came down before, through the trees. I am not racing any more. I am just putting one foot in front of the other. Ms Caldercomes past. She is walking too, but energetically, purposefully, looking ahead up the hill to where she can resume running. I have been overtaken by a pedestrian! In what is supposed to be a race! I am only looking one step ahead, plodding. I have stopped caring about anything other than getting to the finish. By the time I come out of the trees, she is already out of sight. I wave at the marshals in fancy dress on the road and summon up the reserves to chug up the fields over the last half mile of the course. I seem to be on my own. What happened to the other runners? At length, I reach the top of the hill, and see the finish a couple of hundred yards away at the bottom of the next field. I embrace the attractions of gravity and hurl myself down the slope and into the finishers funnel. I have survived to reach the end. I came 49th out of a field of 93, in a time of 1.07.35. This is not very quick for a distance of less than 10k. The Calder runner was at least a minute faster, all gained in not much more than the last half a mile. The winning time was 53.01, achieved by a seventeen year old with young knees. The key question, though, is Would I do it again? Absolutely Yes, but I think I should get some trail shoes and spend time training on the cliffs at Dover!:thumbup:
WELL DONE FRANCES - GREAT STORY - REMINDS ME OF THOSE DISTANT SUMMER SHORT RACES -CAN'T WAIT FOR JULY!
SO WHO IS MS CALDER?????
Last edited by Trig; 08-01-2012 at 05:40 PM.
More Free Soup????
Next big Heptonstall Recce is planned for Sunday 4th March - meet at White Lion at 09.00am - pub will be open from 08.30 to keep warm and store bags.
Look out for a new thread......if we get enough interest.....40 were out on the last one...........
Another chance to polish the route across the moors! I'll check my 'events diary' - can I physically cope with another go out with the running powerhouse that is the Jedimaster though... He's like a gazelle over the tussocks! The force is definitely strong with that one.
I'll be up for this again: decided against rushing into the Thames Path 100. That way, injuries lay, I'm sure!
Am I right in thinking that for the first climb out of Hardcastle Crags, you are allowed to cut up to the CP before getting to the round benches and taking the path? I seem to remember you saying so on last yr's recce, but on the day never had the nerve to do it: the prospect of admonishing tuts from my fellow fell runners scared me off.
Last edited by southernsoftie; 02-02-2012 at 11:26 AM.
"The best shield is to accept the pain, then what can really destroy me?"
http://garyufm.blogspot.co.uk
I'll be up for this again: decided against rushing into the Thames Path 100. That way, injuries lay, I'm sure!
Am I right in thinking that for the first climb out of Hardcastle Crags, you are allowed to cut up to the CP before getting to the round benches and taking the path? I seem to remember you saying so on last yr's recce, but on the day never had the nerve to do it: the prospect of admonishing tuts from my fellow fell runners scared me off.
I know excatly where you mean, and I have my own opinion on the best line, but will first lobby the guys who are in charge of our CP's and flagging to avoid issuing duff advice. We will soon give a bit more clarity on this and one or two other grey areas.
Great you are up for the March 4th; feel free to encourage all those good CLeM peolple (Steve Mc, Andy A, Neil etc)
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