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Thread: High Cup Nick Fell Race

  1. #281
    Master mr brightside's Avatar
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    Quote Originally Posted by Travs View Post
    Its a nice thought... however it will already be my 3rd race in 7 days, then got to look towards the following weekend which is one of my main targets for the entire year....
    Shame, you could have watched me disappear towards a live firing range with an old OS and a can do attitude.

    Don't know if you've ever done the show race before, but get yourself on the front row at the start. There's a tight descent through a wood that will hold you up.
    Luke Appleyard (Wharfedale)- quick on the dissent

  2. #282
    Master ba-ba's Avatar
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    Yep Feb weather made the car parks unusable I think.
    The rearranged date sounds like a good dirty double!
    Nic Barber. Downhill Dandy

  3. #283
    Master mr brightside's Avatar
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    High cup gill is a right mire in winter and it's so bloody slow, as are the fields on the way back. If any of the Keswick lot come over there could be a new record.

    I should be on for a PB, last time i ran it there were gales and a blizzard up on the nick, it was shite.
    Luke Appleyard (Wharfedale)- quick on the dissent

  4. #284
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    Doesn't really look like a stacked field for this one, unless morgz is accepting a rake of hung over EODs. 161 pre entered.

    With the gill bottom not being a wretched stodge fest, my alternative route may not pay off, but it will have good recce value for wet years. I diagonal line from the stream CP should deliver me to a gate, finding the gate is key I don't want to be climbing walls.

  5. #285
    Master mr brightside's Avatar
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    Now and again, fell racing gives you a keyhole glimpse at what it is like to be thoroughly tested. It gives you an impression of what it is like to be Steve Backshall, someone properly hard who will kayak down a gorge in Papua New Guinea that the local tribes walk the long way round. No plan ever survives contact with the enemy. Ever since first running the High Cup Nick race, i've wondered whether a line up to the right of the gill off the stream CP was on. In february the gill bottom is slow and sodden which slows me down dramatically, a diagonal NE ascent out of the wretched pog to meet the scar, followed by a flat blast on to the nick would save you from the awful stodge...in principle.

    When i dib at the stream, my race is in good shape. It's not a very loaded field, and it shows. I had planned to break from the race route shortly after the stream around a wall junction, and then pick my way diaginally toward a small plateau near the beginning of the scar by utilising flats and terraces to keep me running in between short bursts of walking climbing. If i can give myself plenty of time to make the ascent by opting for a diagonal line, i can keep running, which will be good for overall economy. Within about a minute of leaving the race route the shit starts to hit the fan; the going underfoot, even on the flat, is so rough it's hard to stay running, and worse still the race route actually intersects my line further on so i may as well have stayed on the trod. There are rocks poking out of the grass everywhere and plenty of cattle divots.

    I stick to the plan and lean into the main bulk of ascent; the runners i was behind are now a long way off in front of me, this is the first sign i'm going slower than expected. The climb is awful to put it mildly, the scree slides and boulder fields are only covered by a small layer of turf and it would be simpler if the grass wasn't there at all. Every step up results in half a step down due to slipping off the edge of something and into a hole. There are absolutely no defined routes, no obvious terracing, and all obstacles are obscured by the long grass. Contouring is impossible, and a straight up route requires more leg power that i want to commit due to the consistent need for big steps. It's a far cry from the side of Winder, which is what i was expecting, and it's taking ever such a long time and draining my energy quickly.

    I arrive at my first target features, a series of scree chutes below a black crag, which are easier to cross and climb than the grassy side of the gill, and before long i find the plateau which is key to my line leading to a stile. The plateau turns out to be a hillock, and before long i'm descending which i do carefully as a crocked ankle at this stage might see me spending the night there. On the final draining climb i startle an enormous hare, which makes short work of the terrain as it runs off. My navigation is spotless and i find the stile first time of asking, which means i am now at the same elevation as the scar and no further ascent is needed.

    My plan is to make up lost time by tearing up the grass on the flat run in to the nick CP, but i'm goosed, my legs are dead. As i look down into the gill below i can see that i am level with the back end of the field. I rejoin the race route at the CP and try to claw back some places, which works initially, but by CP3 peeping hill i've run out of petrol, my body's energy reserves are depleted. The climb has twisted my knees on several occasions and both are suffering connective tissue straining from trying to push off unstable surfaces over and over again. On the way back into dufton i stop and tell the tale to a clubmate who is warming down, there's no point rushing, and i walk over the line barely able to run full stop.

    I relay my story to Morgan, who looks at me as if i'm a total moron. I manage to negotiate two slices of cake in the hall and, once eaten, i lay down on the floor to allow the sugary goodness to replenish me. A guy asks me if i'm ok, to which i reply "i am, just about", and he tells me he's sending a paramedic in to see me. The paramedic sits me on a chair and listens politely as i regale him with my story of hardship and woe, and many people keep asking me if i need any help. I think i might have gone a bit pale at one stage.

    As i sit there, trying to reason with my experience, i wonder of there may be any conditions under which my route would be quicker. It would be slower in the rain, slower in the snow, tricky in the fog; even if half way up the gill bottom you had to sit a 50 question open book exam on Studmarks on the summits with an 80% pass rate, the gill would still be faster. My printout made eye watering reading, CP1-2 took 37 mins, and i was well over an hour to the nick.
    Luke Appleyard (Wharfedale)- quick on the dissent

  6. #286
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    Fantastic report Mr B.

    Get it sent to The Fellrunner editor forthwith.

    Just the sort of content they should include.
    Visibility good except in Hill Fog

  7. #287
    Master mr brightside's Avatar
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    I may do, yes, but they'll only publish it if I can find 3 pictures of myself, and given I was off the race route for a long while, that may not be possible.

  8. #288
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    That is a brilliant report.

    Brings back the feeling of "why did i manage to get myself in this mess" which often accompanies a madcap idea of finding a revolutionary new route!

    I've often thought of trying something at Kentmere, going straight up the valley instead of onto the horseshoe, then climbing direct up to the first checkpoint on Ill Bell..... but quite frankly i don't think i can handle the humiliation when it inevitably ends in a dnf or something equally shambolic...

  9. #289
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    Quote Originally Posted by Travs View Post

    I've often thought of trying something at Kentmere, going straight up the valley instead of onto the horseshoe, then climbing direct up to the first checkpoint on Ill Bell..... but quite frankly i don't think i can handle the humiliation when it inevitably ends in a dnf or something equally shambolic...
    But then you wouldn't be doing the Kentmere Horseshoe, Travs.
    Visibility good except in Hill Fog

  10. #290
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    At the risk of going off-topic, I should point out that Mr B isn't the only one to have had a really bad run this weekend: http://jasminfellrunner.blogspot.com...utmb-2022.html . Sometimes it even happens to the people we imagine to be superhuman.
    In his lifetime he suffered from unreality, as do so many Englishmen.
    Jorge Luis Borges

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