thanks to Will Golding for his write up
Last weekend saw 9 of us head up to the Langdale Valley in order for 4 Harriers to compete in this tough Lakes Long which packs 2,130m climbing into 13 miles. To make things worse, the first half is uber rocky (Bowfell, Esk Pike, Gt End, Scafell, Scafell Pike) and the second half goes super boggy, grassy and tussocky as racers cross Upper Eskdale – a real unexplored gem in the heart of the Lakes.
The background for this race is there being a small handful of us in Belper Harriers who really relish these low key, stripped back but really challenging lakes fell races. They really distill the essence of what fell racing is – pitting yourself against the mountains with minimal kit whilst maintaining a certain level of mountain craft to even get round the correct route – they’re not signed or flagged. As you can see from the route profile below, there’s lots of climbing….
Will Golding has very kindly taken time to capture the spirit of the race so set 5 mins aside and enjoy…
The Britannia Inn, Elterwater, was the designated watering hole to which 4 competitors and 5 supporters migrated last Friday night. We were all glad to arrive after braving the bustle of the M6 north and sat down to compare notes for the next day’s expedition; the final running of the Great Lakes Fell Race (repeatedly advertised as ‘only for experienced fell runners’)…
After several pints of Cumbria’s finest (or sad glasses of lime and soda for all runners except Chris, who fuelled like a proper fell runner) and much discussion of lines and gullies, we turned in to the bunkhouse to get some preparatory kip.
I was pretty nervous before this race, not because of the technical running of some of the tallest mountains in England, but because of the navigation required to traverse the second half of the route from Slight Side to Pike O’ Blisco. This is a marshy wasteland of about 4 miles crossed by the river Esk and Lingcove Beck, which in clag would be savage to negotiate. I was counting on following an Ambleside AC or Helm Hill vest… probably not the best race plan!
We started up The Band from Stool End Farm in scorching heat, and before checkpoint one there was a route choice – straight up the nose of Bowfell to the summit or left to three tarns before turning right to the trig. I chose the latter and was pleased to see Marcel and Alan waiting for us on the first summit. Following this it was a turn to the north west, across the boulder scape and on to Esk Pike. I took a poor line here, loosing far too much height to the west (foreshadowing of later events)!
Esk Pike was summited in a mixture of drizzle and sunshine, before the same bearing took us on to Great End. A glance over the left shoulder here showed the familiar bulk of Scafell Pike (with her distinctive summit cairn) against the sky, with the Broad and Ill Crag massif in the foreground. I crossed paths with Wyke as we summited Great End; he appeared from behind with smiling face and great energy to run with me to the top of the fell, before disappearing ahead of me in a whirl of Dynafit gear towards the summit of England (helpfully showing me the perfect line to take across Ill Crag as he did so).
There is a depressing coll between Broad Crag and Scafell Pike, and tourist dodging mixed with extremely technical ground made this sacrifice of hard earned elevation difficult to bear. But bear it we did, before picking our way across very rough ground to the summit, and thence to Mickledore (the ridge that connects Scafell Pike to Scafell; home of the notorious Broad Stand). Local knowledge was an advantage here, as several local runners took a very different line to the mouth of Foxes Gully (check point five). I took the longer route, past the Mickledore stretcher box and left, down a very loose scree path towards Eskdale, before veering right to the entrance of Foxes.
Three points of contact are required for Foxes Gully, and despite it being the least dangerous route between the Scafells, it is still a decent scramble. The climb up the chasm leads you to a small plateau, where the very underwhelming Foxes Tarn resides. From here it is a lung and leg busting push up treacherously steep scree to the saddle of Scafell, where we turn left to take in the second highest summit of the race.
The ground gets grassier between Scafell and Slight Side (the penultimate summit), and I was able to let the legs get loose for the first time in a good many miles. On the race map, there is an annotation that reads ‘run south for 200m after Slight Side to avoid Horn Crag – DANGER!’. Confusingly, however, the marshals at this summit seemed to direct us towards and over the very crags we were meant to be avoiding!
This is where my race took a sour turn. I took a truly awful line off Slight Side and got stuck on an exposed rock face with a fellow runner from an unknown club, Ben. We had to retrace our way using all fours until we could access a scree gully that would take us down to Great Moss, and towards the all important bend in the Esk that was the key landmark to take you on towards Blisco. During this descent my right hamstring started to cramp badly. I can only assume that I had sweated out all my electrolytes in the first half of the race, and hadn’t a shred of salt left. The bad news… we still had about 6 miles to run.
Great Moss is a relentless squashy marsh, surrounded by the giants of Lakeland. An unrelenting trudge that must be overcome to reach the race finish. I had a race target of 4 hours to try and keep, but as I stood at the bottom of this long and arduous pull it seemed like only a faint possibility. Little did I know that at about this point Finlay Wild was already crossing the finish line in a new CR of 2.29! What a machine.
By the first river crossing my legs were spent, and the cramp had set in to both limbs. I could see my quads fasciculating with each step, and it was all I could do to keep walking, never mind run! There was a steady stream of runners following the same pathless line towards Pike O’ Blisco, so at least I was in good company. Despite a pack of salted peanuts I was unable to shift the cramp, and reached the point where I had to sit down for 20 seconds. At this point, what should I see but a pair of distinctive sunglasses coming towards me across the bog, and Wyke appeared again! Feeling rejuvenated by the presence of a club-mate, we set off upwards together, him telling me that his misplaced trust in some local runners had led him on a 1.5 mile detour – deep kudos in recovering so much time Wyke.
After a few hundred yards together Wyke disappeared ahead once more. I was really hurting at this point, and found myself spread out from other runners on the final ascent of Blisco. As we passed the last race photographer just below the summit, I simply said to him ‘I’m broken!’.
On summiting Blisco, the tantalising view of Oxendale Beck and Stool End Farm came into view, impossibly far below us. I asked the marshal for the best line, only to be told ‘I’m not sure, quite a few have followed that trod over there’. Following this rather vague advice, I set off stumbling down Blisco, and eventually managed to find the VERY steep but grassy buttress that leads directly back down into the head of Langdale.
Through a combination of stumbling and sliding on my backside (the short-shorts didn’t provide ANY protection against the abrasive sward of Pike O Blisco!!), I made it back to the valley bottom and (not before falling into a bog) past the cheering faces of Jo, Nathan, Marcel, Wkye, and the camera lens of Alan. From there it was a little trot down to the finish, where Amy (my partner) and Bear (my trailhound) were waiting. I crossed the line in 4.34, and must admit I shed a tear or two of relief.
The legs were sore and the mind was exhausted, but a pint of Loweswater Gold and a Cumberland sausage and mash in good company that evening at the Elterwater Hostel went a good way to repairing them. A brutal race. Can’t wait for the next club trip!
Results here, Will’s Strava here, Full race video below