When I found that I had another commitment on the day of the Cardingmill Canter, I looked for an alternative season opener. I have been seeing the Llantysilio Mountain race on the calendar for years, and thinking that it looked interesting. So this was to be the year, and as a bonus, there was an English Championship race the same day and a Welsh Championship race the following day, so Llani Boy and a lot of the other competition wouldn't be there; although the pre-entry list did still feature a good proportion of M/W60's, and one M70, who was actually the 80-year-old John Morris.
Sometimes going to a fell race seems like an excuse to go for a cycle ride in a pleasant part of the country that I might not otherwise visit. I set off this morning from the Wrexham Travelodge in bright sunshine, and passed through several industrial villages on the way to the higher ground above the Dee valley. I stopped for a natter with a lady admiring the view, which extended to the Long Mynd, the Wrekin, and even the western edges of the Peak District; then continued onto the road along the terrace below the crags of Eglwyseg Mountain, before dropping to the Dee valley and on to Rhewl, as cloud cover increased.
Little did I know that the RO had cleverly arranged for rain during the race, but not before or after. Indeed, he had even organised the heaviest rain to fall while we were on the most exposed part of the course, the main ridge of Llantysilio Mountain; as a bonus, there was a cold cross-wind to keep us well ventilated. As far as I can remember, this is only the second time that I have ever put on waterproofs during a race (although on other occasions I have started with them on). Any doubts that I had as to whether it was worth so much travelling time to get to the race were soon expunged: this was the true fell running experience.
I had been wondering if the cycle ride (more than 90 minutes, slow but with plenty of ascent) had taken too much out of me. However, the morning's fuel intake (flapjack, banana, granola, rye bread, Moldovan honey*) turned out entirely adequate to get me round the course without feeling exhausted. However, my descending seemed to be even worse than usual, and I must have lost ten places between Moel y Gamelin summit and the finish, where I was 35th out of 59 starters. Apart from the dreaded downhill tarmac at the end, it's a great course, with plenty of steep climbs and descents, interspersed with sections of flatter running.
Finally, there was a gentle cycle ride, mostly along the Llangollen Canal towpath, to just miss a train at Ruabon.
* Moldovan honey: not available in this country unless your son has a Moldovan girlfriend who regularly goes to visit her Grandma who keeps bees in Moldova
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