Most dramatic moment.

Fell racing always carries the chance of a dramatic moment. Could be anything.
I'll start off.
It was the Ben Nevis race. 89 or 90, not sure now. But I was having a stormer. Had zoomed down the grassy bank and was now flying down the last few zig zags to the valley floor. I was mapping the terrain several yards ahead, my feet finding their own way....except they didn't. It was the perfect tap tackle. One foot clipped a rock, pinged into the other leg and that was it. I was launched head first into a sweaty slightly clad missile with no control but heading straight towards 2 large boulders. This was gonna hurt! Except somehow I flew into the gap between them and got wedged by the shoulders. Adrenaline numbed the pain and I struggled free and finished the race in a PB time. Only afterwards did the pain kick in along with the realisation that I had had a lucky escape!

Had a similar fall on the Black Mountains Race, descending off PYGF in shocking weather.... slid, fell perhaps 40ft at quite a rate, but no comedy ending like yours...

Cross Country seems to be good for some drama... "Grand National 1993" type starts with people going flying, people stuck in mud unable to move.

The start of the National Cross Country is a sight to behold, and must be the most dramatic sight in British Athletics, not to mention actually being in the middle of it!

The first Kinder Downfall race, 1980. Racing another runner along the path from the top of William Clough to the Downfall, arms flailing and accidentally touched him, which knocked him off balance. You expect anyone who falls over to just get back up and carry on running; instead, he stayed down, screaming "My knee, my knee"; and I could see that his knee was dislocated.

This was long before any RO would expect you to take extra kit on a BM race in benign weather. I realised that I was no more than half a mile from the Downfall checkpoint, so I just told him that I would get help, and raced along to the Downfall. Fortunately, not only were the Marshalls there, the Mountain Rescue team had stationed themselves there, so it wouldn't have been too long before they got to him.

I recognised the runner on the start line the following year; he said that he had recurring problems with that knee, and there were no hard feelings towards me.

That's rather unfortunate Anthony. But good to hear he was reasonable about the incident.

I did similar at football... Broke an opponent's ankle with a fairly innocuous 50/50 challenge... Worst bit was hearing he was self-employed and it was likely to affect him financially.

Well that stimulated a torrent of fell running related reminiscences!😄😄

Most dramatic moment? I'm torn between two or three in particular:- Dropping out of the mist on Lingmell with the whole of Wasdale spread out below me after several hours navigating. Or the inversion and then the brockenspectre of the ridge dropping from Crag Hill (complete with runners shadows) on one of my early races. Or maybe a glorious sunny day when for some reason everyone took different lines up Wetherlam on 3 Shires and the whole fellside was a mass of brightly coloured club vests - or maybe just the views on Jura on a good day. To me dramatic doesn't imply dangerous or frightening, just spectacular.

Sierre-Zinal a few years back - I had accepted the offer of a free massage at the finish, and my quads were being put through agony, but I was able to watch the finishers coming in. A chap about 70 came in - he had blood all over his face, and he was clearly in a bad way - he kept muttering things in French, could not keep still, and was resistant to any offers of help. I felt so sorry for him, and of course hoped I would never be in the same position.

Y3Ps a year or two later - final descent - still a long way to go, tired legs, a tendency to relax too much - that sudden trip, down I went, managed to turn my head to the left to protect my face, my glasses cut into my right temple, my shoulder hit the ground and tore my Haglofs top, touching my face there was blood on my glove ... I felt OK in myself and finished, and went to see the paramedics - a quick wipe down to remove the dirt, no bandage - as I was walking back to the car a fellow runner commented "You need to see the medics" - "Ive been!"
The chaps I was car sharing with took some photos for posterity. I tried to claim on insurance - prescription glasses and the Haglofs top - but they said fell running was an extreme sport and was therefore not covered.

I did a similar thing on a run over Steel Fell not that long ago - the edge of my glasses cut into my eyebrow this time - I now wear glasses with lenses that are literally bullet proof. I should have learnt the first time - it is not if, but when.

Quite so Mark...I chose the adjective with that in mind😉

You learnt a lot from that little adventure!

I think you learn more when things go wrong...

My biggest lessons learned come from three days out when things went wrong and had potential to be really nasty...

A full winter conditions day out on Snowdon.
Wasdale Fell Race 2016 (when i think about a third of the field retired)
A disastrous overnight run/bivvy on the High Street range.

One local chap tells me he found himself "misplaced" on an evening run and ended up on steps in complete darkness. He had to sit on each step, feel down with his hands/feet, move down a step, feel down - and so on. No fun - always carry a head torch!

My own wake up moment was during a rescue in Langdale in the 1970s. We had gone to assist a group of yougsters on the side of Harrison Stickle - no drama, just a bit exhausted and in need of help getting off the hill. When we arrived some of us were getting them ready to move off and the rest of us hunkered down for a few minutes to wait. I distinctly remember looking out across the valley and being able to see the white buildings of the Lowwood Hotel in sunshine in the distance. Within an amazingly few minutes we were overtaken by an incredibly severe storm of hail, sleet and high winds. Visibility dropped to zero and movement was virtually impossible. We were literally pinned down. We got the party and ourselves in to bivi bags and simply had to sit it out. I was in a bivi with Colin Mortlock (who will be known to some of you) who told me that the conditions were as bad as he had experienced in the Arctic. After about half an hour or so it eased slightly and we made the decision to get off the hill while we could but even the relatively short evacuation from there was an epic.
It taught me just how scary and bad the weather can get how quickly and has probably contributed to me carrying too much kit ever since.

Great Lakes 2012. From the rousing race briefing before hand, to spending 4h in a washing machine, to descending from slight side, dropping out of the clag and seeing the whole field spread out across Mosedale infront of me - I'd only seen 2 other people for much of the race from Bowfell onwards - to charging into the swollen river Esk shouting 'FOR GONDOR' as others supported each other across, to taking on most of the final descent of Blisco face first on my belly. What a day - I still count it as the day I properly realised this was for me.

I went on holiday for a week after, my wet kit stuck in my car at Liverpool Airport. Needless to say it stunk when I got back.

A couple of years ago I managed to flip a particularly sharp piece of rock with one foot and simultaneously wedge the other between two rocks. The sharp rock hit the other leg and split the skin just above my ankle quite impressively. This was coming down off CMD, just above the col between it and the Aonachs. I was out on my own and there was definitely a moment of "Shit, this doesn't look good!". Thankfully it was deep but not bleeding too much. I washed it out in a stream and made my way rather gingerly down to Glen Nevis and a slow jog back to the campsite (resolving to carry a large dressing on future runs). Then it was a bus to Fort William and a few stitches in A&E (and now a scar).

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Originally Posted by ba-ba

Great Lakes 2012. From the rousing race briefing before hand, to spending 4h in a washing machine, to descending from slight side, dropping out of the clag and seeing the whole field spread out across Mosedale infront of me - I'd only seen 2 other people for much of the race from Bowfell onwards - to charging into the swollen river Esk shouting 'FOR GONDOR' as others supported each other across, to taking on most of the final descent of Blisco face first on my belly. What a day - I still count it as the day I properly realised this was for me.

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I was there too, it was especially ‘wet’ and altogether epic. Especially having to form spiders with other runners to cross the raging torrents that were the “becks” in Great Moss/Moasdale. Unfortunately my group in the race ascended stonesty pike too far to the right and ended up, as we subsequently found out, off the side of the Pete Bland race map in thick hill fog and of the course the monsoon like rain. Anyway we went down, because if we were on the map where we thought/hoped we were, we were expecting a slight descent. This soon ended up clearly the wrong way but by then, feeling battered and drenched, a few of us carried on and my final route to the finish ended up via Wrynose

Great times, great times :)

Wasdale 2016 was a bit of an epic. perhaps not quite so severe as Great Lakes 2012...

I posted in detail at the time so won't repeat everything... but driving over the passes from Ambleside i could tell it wasn't going to be pleasant. Up until Seatallan it was just that... "unpleasant", but from there the fury was unleashed. Got lost around Pots Of Ashness, but navigated onto the col between Haycock and Scoat Fell.

Here hit the weather, wind/rain/hail, at some point between Scoat Fell and Black Crags i'd got completely disorientated and turned a 180... which i didn't realise until i bumped into Fiona from DPFR (a clubmate at the time) coming in the opposite direction.

By this point we'd passed numerous groups of retirees, people who'd got borderline hypothermia, or fell in the slippy conditions and banged their heads, a group of army guys who were heading down... we'd missed the cutoff for Pillar, so myself, Fiona, and FellUpFellDown of this forum, collected together everybody's tags and sent them downhill fast, and we went onto Pillar to "clock everyone in" with the marshalls so they knew where we all were, and to officially retire. Then headed down to Wasdale via Black Sail.

My dad had walked up to Sty Head to see me through, obviously i didn't get there, he made it up there but said it was the worst conditions he'd ever experienced.... i did point out that we'd been over 1000ft further up and more exposed!

There was a guy who posted on the forum from the same race... he'd had much a closer call, getting lost coming off Scafell Pike and being in a much worse state, think he needed an ambulance.

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Originally Posted by Mike T

One local chap tells me he found himself "misplaced" on an evening run and ended up on steps in complete darkness. He had to sit on each step, feel down with his hands/feet, move down a step, feel down - and so on. No fun - always carry a head torch!

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Absolutely. Experience has also taught me to always carry a small, second, back-up torch (e.g tikka or e+lite) after having had my main nao play-up.

Getting tripped and ending up on the floor at the start of Wansfell, one of the most congested starts there is.

Amazing how adrenaline can mask physical pain!

Something similar happened the first year i did the Devil's Chair Dash (Boxing Day 2018 i think)

In essence a very short fell race, up and down to the local Devil's Chair summit, probably about 20-22mins winning time.

But it is also a big event for the village, and attracts several hundred walkers/families, as well as the usual 100-150 fellrunners.

It is usually all very civilised, and the fellrunners will line up near the front in some kind of logical order, like you would see at most races, and the mass of walkers line up further back.

On this occasion a father decided that he was lining up on the very front row, complete with his two young children and a couple of dogs.

He had every right to be at the front the same as anyone else, but the RO did have a quick word in his ear that he might not be making the wisest choice. But he insisted.

The horn went, which startled the dogs and they lurched sideways, dragging the father and the two children... the mass of runners shot forward and this young family were just consumed in the melee... i was only two or three rows back so could see it unfolding (and predicted it beforehand), but most runners couldn't see what was going on, so it just increased the pile-on...

I don't think anyone was hurt, but he's probably put his two kids off racing for life...

People running with dogs put me off my local park run. Not too bad at the start but on an out and back course, which my local one is, they are a pain in the arse.

I'm not anti dog, I've got two, I just don't expect others to have to put up with them and have their enjoyment spoiled.

I was ran down whilst spectating the local town parkrun by a guy running with a dog.

I saw him on the first lap being an arse and basically shouting people out of his way. On the 2nd lap i was standing well off the path and he came down the grass, over the brow of the hill, and wiped me out... well actually he went flying and i didn't really move.

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Originally Posted by Marco

Yes, it's disturbingly similar and it doesn't take too much thinking to see what's going to happen



I have never used, or even thought of using, drugs to improve my sporting performance. I can report, however, that a large dose of shock and adrenaline will make you run faster... until it wears off and you really pay for it.

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I cut my hand open on the descent from Scafell in the Borrowdale one year. The only way I could stop the bleeding was by gripping a palm sized stone. This got me down to Styhead where a Marshall had some tape which did a better job. I thought adrenalin wore off after a short while but I actually had my best ever second half run in that race. The carry on afterwards to get it repaired was a minor epic of logistics involving my bike, a friend's car, my campervan and a kayak - a bit like the old proverb about getting a fox a hen and a bag of grain across a river.