Windy Gyle Fell Race
My wife and I have a shared fondness for Northumberland. Although for reasons we cannot fathom it had been ages since our last visit. Therefore a couple of weeks ago I arranged a trip and attended the Roman Wall Show fell race. Unsurprisingly once we’d been reacquainted with Northumberland’s historical charm and sparse landscapes we were adamant that England’s northernmost county would be frequented more often in future. We didn’t have to wait too long as Windy Gyle fell race was on the horizon.
Following a tiresome week at work, fell running was the last thing on my mind as I found myself relaxing on the couch at home. I stared vacantly into a plume of steam whilst wrapping my hands around a large mug of hot black coffee. My lounging was inadvertently interrupted by a hushed whisper as my wife inquired, “a penny for your thoughts”. Without hesitation I replied, “why is toothpaste not called teethpaste?”. Alison nonchalantly shrugged and said, “the same reason why footwear isn’t called feetwear”. I was none the wiser but I appreciated her input and nodded my approval, then took a larger than anticipated swig from my brew. I regretted this immediately and convinced myself that drinking molten iron from the lip of a blast furnace would’ve been less painful. Unable to resist passing comment, my wife said “you look fed up to the back teeth…or is it fed up to the back tooth?”.
The next morning we awoke early for our second trip up north in as many weeks. My wife hadn’t slept too well, for during the night she’d noticed a huge spider in the bathroom and feared it would go on the prowl and devour her. She’d christened the spider Cotton-Eyed Joe because she wanted to know; where did he come from and where did he go? I changed the subject to calm her nerves, by referring to a conversation I remembered listening to on a radio phone-in about insomnia. A member of the public had rang in to discuss his childhood fear of the dark. Basically, as a youngster he couldn’t sleep unless the landing light was switched on. Then one night his dad refused to leave the light on, telling his son he was too old for such childish nonsense. The boy pestered like a fly but to no avail. Without compassion his dad told him “it’s the snakes under the bed you should be worried about, not the dark”. After telling his story the caller then confessed he’d suffered with insomnia ever since. He was now middle-aged and understandably he didn’t have a strong relationship with his dad. Unfortunately my wife didn’t appreciate me regaling her with the callers story. I apologised as I’d forgotten she dislikes snakes more than spiders. She did ask if insomnia is a serious condition? I said, “there’s no cause for any alarm”.
Trying to lighten the mood I asked my wife if she’d join me as I brushed my teeth, as 9 out of 10 dentists say brushing alone won’t help fight tooth decay. I then informed Alison that apparently a person’s personality can be worked out by how they squeeze a toothpaste tube. I noticed she’d gripped the tube and squeezed from the middle, thus indicating she favours comfort and affection. She then dried her face with a fluffy towel and instigated a hug...point proven. I squeezed the toothpaste tube from the bottom, thus indicating I’m thrifty and don’t like waste. I then noticed that I was wearing a thirty six years old Iron Maiden tour T-shirt and I’d completely emptied the tube...point proven. Whilst on the subject of hygiene, just a quick word of caution to stick deodorant users: it seems that the instruction to ‘remove top and push up bottom’ may be open to misinterpretation.
Admittedly my wife was sceptical about my toothpaste credentials but seemingly the distraction had erased the memory of Cotton-Eyed Joe and snakes under the bed. I didn’t dare tell her the spider was still lurking in the bath. And yes, he was huge!
During the drive to Windy Gyle we passed some time playing a movie game I’d devised. Basic mathematics are required to workout your favourite type of movie genre. You could try it yourself, here goes....
Pick a number from 1 to 9.
Multiply by 3.
Add 3.
Multiply by 3 again.
Now add the two digits together to find your predicted favourite genre in the list below...
1 - Action
2 - Drama
3 - Thriller
4 - Science fiction
5 - Comedy
6 - Western
7 - Romance
8 - Horror
9 - Pornographic
My wife did the mathematics and questioned the authenticity of my game. I told her my formula doesn’t lie, but she remains doubtful and extremely secretive about her result.
Given the remoteness of Windy Gyle and the recent humidity we’d decided against wild camping for fear of midges. Instead we stayed on the nearby campsite at Clennell Hall Hotel. It was worryingly busy with a motorcycle club taking up residence for the weekend. Whilst puffing out my chest I promised my wife that if the bikers became rowdy they’d suffer the consequences - their punishment would be delivered with maximum efficiency. After witnessing my bravado, Alison experienced a fit of hysterical laughter and almost choked on her Moretti, but she still managed to mutter the word “bollocks!”. Surprisingly we didn’t hear a peep all night and in the morning my wife said, “them hairy-arsed bikers must’ve sensed your menacing presence”. I then experienced a fit of hysterical laughter and almost choked on my porridge, but still managed to mutter the word “exactly!”.
With the exception of Jura, I can’t recall doing another race as remote as Windy Gyle - which was my 563rd different fell race. An isolated roadside sheep pen marks the start location. On arrival I instantly felt energised as I surveyed the unspoiled sparse surroundings. I always take great joy from low-key events and this race certainly ticked all the boxes. Windy Gyle is an archetypal inexpensive back to basics fell race with rolling hills and breathtaking views...beltin’.
Many thanks to Phil and all helpers!
Interestingly those who like my ‘race reports’ are happier, more intelligent and better looking than those who don’t...according to a study I’ve just made up.
