Originally Posted by
MattPo
Thought folks might like to read this report of a recent round by an Otley resident. Good effort.
Solo, unsupported BG.
Easy words, different in execution.
I struggled though the shit storm of covid19. Trying to find some positive focuses was wearing me down. I spent last summer on the subs bench due to a self induced stress fracture. I don’t do anything by halves, i broke it enough to have to have three months off running: this news made me cry. This year I had many plans in my head, baked from the frustrations of sofa sitting and sideline watching of last summer. I feel bereft of this summer of opportunity.
So, I made a list, and entered some races and drifted though the ballots, then covid hit and the list got shorter and shorter. I’ve always liked the idea of a solo Bob Graham. My BG was one of the best days I’ve ever had. I wanted a really big adventure, one to really test me. I set a few dates, the weather didn’t play the game and they drifted away, along with my confidence. Kim (Collison, coach) did the bigging up thing and kept getting me to set another date. Finally, the weather played the game, a Friday set off with wet everything or a Saturday night with wet feet, pretty easy choice. I wanted this to be as scaled back as possible: just me, absolutely no support, no GPS, map and compass only and no watch. Just me, challenging myself in the big hills. Simon (husband) wanted me to have a tracker, ‘I want to be sure you’re ok’: this seems reasonable, if not quite 100% in keeping with my scaled back idea: so I agreed, although I don’t remember this being part of our marriage vows ��. It would take a long time to find me if I’d been missing for 24 hours and didn’t arrive back. But mostly I didn’t want him to worry. For the same reason, I brought my phone, charged but turned off. If you need mountain rescue to scoop you off the hill, the politest thing to do is to tell them where they can find you.
Bob Wightman said go, work finished up for the week, we headed West to stay with friends. Saturday night came, the weather isn’t change to anything that made me chicken out, and, suddenly and very slowly, I was at Moot Hall, with Kim, Simon and the usual number of non-social distancing drunks grabbing a late pizza, beer and snog. Off I set, down the pink alleyway, though the carpark, over the park, over the bridge and out. Escaped from Covid and off on an adventure. Halfway up Skiddaw, I realised I had a hole in my sock, at the back of my ankle and my mind tried to tried to make this into a catastrophe. My necessary kit and food for a day hadn’t allowed for luxury items such as blister plasters. I fought it a little, then started an ear worm to shut it up. I looked at the stars and the lights of Keswick and decided that the world was ok after all and that I was going to be fine and enjoy my adventure. The two big tops on leg one were clear on the way up, but both claggy by the time I got there. i cursed my decision to not bring my GPS and had a wander around Blencathra, to find the stream direction I could hear and confirm my location on my ascent. Then was concentrating on minding myself and filling up my water after Halls’ fell and had another wander around before hitting the track to Threkeld. I tried hard to avoid getting annoyed with myself about this, the challenge was always to challenge me, this was my opportunity to manage a little suboptimal nav. The sun was starting to rise half way up Clough Head, that beautiful streaky pink sky in the East, followed by a big ball of intensely coloured sun. The kind one forgets about in summer as one is rarely up. Back up into the daybreak clag on Clough Head and the Dodds, I floated by, reminding myself to eat, drink and nav and catching occasional glimpse of the rising sun through the clag. it was nice to turn off my headtorch and widen my views and enjoy myself. I got to Dollywagon Pike and didn’t feel great. I managed to convince myself that I had lost lots of time on my little nav errors and moving too slowly during the night. I sat down and made myself eat ‘breakfast’ while looking over at Fairfield. I managed to avoid talking myself out of any contemplation of anything but getting up there and bumbled along to it. Back to Seat Sandal and down to Dunmail Raise.
Leg three started with an overtaking by two runners, one of whom i had run some of the Lakeland 100 with in 2015, we chatted and they drifted onwards. It was nice to have a little friendly interaction. I wondered why I was doing this solo. I started counting the tops I’d done and realised I was close to halfway and used this to spur me on. I wandered around the noblets of Sargent Man and eventually found the top. I’d forget to eat much and then eat lots of a half hour and then forget again, but it all seemed to work out ok. My backpack was getting lighter and my mind was focused and clear (well, for about 10 seconds every hour or so ��. I contemplated the long ascent to Rossett Pike and then Bowfell and tried not to let it overwhelm me. I climbed well on both and got to the top. I asked a man sat on the top the time and he said ’12.01’. Shite, halfway with over halftime, I needed to get moving again.I slipped on the way off and hyper-extended my finger, ouch, but just keep moving Carol. I could make a fist, but it hurt a little. I needed to shuffle stuff around my backpack and needed to eat, I wandered off the line. This was hard work, concentrating on naving myself, minding myself, eating, drinking, carrying and keeping positive. I corrected my error and moved on the the area in my head I call ‘The Rocks’. I began to really understand the difference between supported and not. Scafell Pike was like central station, with folk queuing to take photos at the trig, i ducked in and out and headed from Lords’ Rake. I pointed a man in plimsoles looking for Lord’s Rake towards the tourist path and told him to go down about a mile (cheeky, but kinda felt like I was saving him from himself, he was never going to head back up to look for it after descendng a mile). It was nice to be away from the crowds and up to Scafell. Lovely views to Wastwater and the whole valley and most of leg four. It was hot in valley, I filled one water bottle up and not the other. Then realised halfway up Yewbarrow my mistake and hope I didn’t run out. It was jacket on- jacket off weather from Scafell onwards, either cold in the wind or too warm in the sunshine, I was damp and worried about my water. Yewbarrow was challenging, I felt my climbing was really slow and my legs felt a bit flat and powerless: i sat near the top and tried to eat, with minimal success, I checked the time and realised I made some up on the Rocks. This was game on for an under24 hour finish, I made myself get up and keep climbing. Onwards and onwards. I kept counting the tops and living with the ear worm that I couldn’t remember why I planted it. i replaced it with the irish national anthem (well, all few lines that I know). I chanted it upRed Pike, Steeple, Raise. I ran out of water completely. I had done leg four on Kim’s successful 24 hour round the previous week, I knew there was a trickle in red gully on the way up Kirk fell and took a chance it was clean enough to drink. I turned my phone on on Great Gable, as I’d promised Simon I would do. Back in my backpack, my phone began to sing and chant. I used this to spur me on and drifted off Gable on a line no Borrowdaler would ever admit to. It was getting colder and colder in the wind. I tried to move faster on the tops. Stopped eating again, starting and lost focus coming off Grey Knotts and took an even worse line than off Gable. ‘It’s ok, it’s ok’ I chanted at myself, trying to stay positive. Dale head tested me. Three to go, nearly two and a half. Do I stop to put on plastic bag trousers now? I questioned and questioned myself. keep going and keep warm, stop and get warmer. debated over and over in a tired head. My phone chattered in and out of reception. I cursed not putting it on silent and made myself eat sweets. I kept my head down, hoping I’d just crash into the tall cairn. Eventually I saw it, touched it with my head (my fingers were too cold to pull them out of my jacket. I took off towards Hindsgarth. two to go. Robinson looked huge in the sunset. I dipped in out of the wind and made myself eat more sweets. Last top, last top, last top I chanted going up Robinson. I felt a bit guilty and changed it into ‘I love Robinson’ I got distracted b thinking about Mary Robinson (ex president of Ireland) tried to think of all the good things she had done then and since. All distraction from my blister, tired legs, dodgy stomach and some dehydration from running out of water earlier and all those little aches and pains than come at the end of a long run. I thought about Simon and how much I was looking forward to seeing him and telling him about my adventure and listening to his take on it and how his day was. All the distraction was worthwhile, there was the top. I struggled to decide how to come off, opted for dropping at the tree and let my legs loose on the lovely grassy run in. I hit the road and my stomach had a last rebellion. I ran a bit, felt like I’d vomit, walk and it was better. I put my phone close and checked the time regularly, mainly because I couldn’t remember the second I put it back in my pocket. I turned the last corner, more drunks and John, Martyn, Helen and Simon all there to clap me in: heart warming emotions. What a fab adventure, but, wow, a massive one. 23.18. Solo. Unsupported. BG Round.
Carol (Morgan)
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