Hitting the road

Commonwealth Ultra-distance and Mountain Running Championships

I like to think that I'm both an ultra distance and a mountain runner. Unfortunately, for the Commonwealth championships in Keswick last weekend it was a choice of one or the other. The mountain races were short: an uphill-only race to the summit of Skiddaw, and a lapped up-and-down course over Latrigg; while the ultras were firmly on the tarmac: a 24-hour event on a 1 km course around Fitz Park, and a 100 km route on a quiet road along the back of Thirlmere.

The championships kicked off with the 24-hour event. It started at 12, and after a while we sauntered down to watch the competitors gently jogging in circles around the park. Then we got bored (and dizzy), so we went back for an afternoon snooze. A leisurely meal. A cup of tea. A quiet evening chatting and reading books. As I climbed into my comfortable bed some time later I spared a brief thought for them still circuiting the park – and drifted off for 8 hours deep, restful slumber. In the morning we lay in awhile, did justice to a substantial breakfast, and sat around to digest it. Finally, we went back to the park to see how they were getting on. We'd almost forgotten they were still racing.

The closing stages of a 24-hour race are messy. Vomit-stained zombies shuffled slowly around the perimeter, bloodshot eyes staring hollowly from saggy grey faces. Just one or two competitors could still manage a painful jog. The winner though was approaching a staggering (in more ways than one) 160 miles – an astonishing distance to cover on foot in a day. Just a shame to do it all in circles.

I didn't see much of the uphill mountain race that afternoon, much though I would have loved to climb Skiddaw to watch. Better to save my legs for the 100 km race. Lucy Colquhoun and I had both been selected to run for Scotland – though for this race we'd be swapping our Vasque trail cleats for road flats and seeing how fast we could run on the level for a change.

A number of other competitors from the Vasque series were also running – the English team included Jez (currently leading the series with four race wins so far this year); Allen (not far behind with three wins) and Matt Giles (joint winner with Allen at Marlborough). But with some fast road runners joining them, plus the cream of ultra-distance runners from Canada, Australia and New Zealand, it would be interesting to see how our home-grown talent would compare. Personally, I was just hoping for a solid run and a reasonable position, for I knew I wouldn't be among the leaders on a tarmac course (far from my favourite terrain) with a field of elite international runners.

It was a good race, with the early lead being taken by a Canadian runner. By halfway though, the English runners had pulled through, and Matt Lynas was edging away. Not for long; his lead was soon being devoured by a fast Matt Giles, who then opened up a gap himself. By 95 km the distance was telling on both Matts though, and it was Jez, running his usual steady pace throughout, who came through to the finish just a minute ahead.

My own race was also nice and steady to the 75 km marker – not quite up in the leading pack, but not too far behind, and running smoothly. I felt like I should be able to keep that pace to the end - but my legs began gradually to seize up, and I lost a fair bit of time in the final quarter. I was still only just outside my personal best though, on a slower, hillier course, and my 12th place was good enough to help my Scottish team-mates pip the Canadians to the bronze team medal. In the ladies race Lucy ran an exceptionally strong race to take the ladies bronze (and lead the Scots to the team silver), so the Scottish squad had something to celebrate that evening.

I stiffly, gingerly picked my way up Latrigg to watch the last mountain race the following day. This was more my sort of racing: a forest track, a steep grassy climb, a sheep-track through the heather. Just a shame it was a short course and over so quickly! If this marriage of mountain and ultra-distance running is to spawn a second championship - and it was a great event, so I hope it does - surely a long trail race could be an appropriate addition? I'll be the first to sign up!

Closer to nature?

Lakeland 100

As I climbed up the slow steady rise out of the valley from Boot a startled vole scurried out of the pool of light from my headtorch into the dark rough grass of the fell. You're certainly closer to nature in races like the Lakeland 100 – when was the last time you saw a vole? Or a badger, like the one that trotted nonchalently ahead of me for a while along the footpath from Blencathra. Normally badgers are stiff, bristly boards occasionally encountered lifeless by the side of busy roads. It comes as a revelation to see instead a warm-blooded animal snuffling about the country at night.

If you believe in living life to the full, it would be hard to find anything more full-on than running across 103 miles of fell and footpath through a soggy night and through a grey dawn. Though what life is filled with during a race like the Lakeland 100 is perhaps harder to quantify. Often, it's not fun-filled. Dragging your shivering, sodden self from the bog that has half-swallowed you; being lured foolishly from the path by distant homely lights and having to clamber through a felled forest and wade a river to get back on track; the anger and frustration that well up when the mists come down on a high col and you are unsure of the correct path to take – and shortly find you have taken the wrong one; the long periods when, simply, you are cold, and tired, and hurting, and no end is in sight. None of these are fun.

Yet the joys of life are heightened too in these races. The sense of comradeship with a fellow runner who has run with you through the night is something you might never feel for the office mate you have sat next to for years. A cup of cheap, luke-warm coffee in a styrofoam cup thrust into your hand in some scruffy outbuilding by a checkpoint marshall is a sweeter nectar than the finest expresso served in a swanky bar.

To me what matters more than those though is the joy of being in wild places, of experiencing the wilder corners of our country in fair weather and in foul. Wading through damp bracken might not seem fun at the time - but the memories will be far fonder than memories of a weekend watching the cricket. And when the clouds do part and the beauty of the mountains around is revealed, blisters and fatigue can be for a moment forgotten.

Of course the competition makes a race too. I can understand why the road runner runs. But for me I would swap the tarmac for the fell and the bog and the forest and the rocky trail any day. Give me the wet and the wilderness.

Team Vasque dominate Lakeland 100/50

Team Vasque had a great performance at the Lakeland 100 & Lakeland 50 at the weekend.

The 100-mile race has been reported as "one of the country’s toughest mountain races" and is inspired by the Ultra-Trail du Mont-Blanc. The Lakeland 100 involved a 103-mile circuit around the Lake District from Coniston, to Keswick, Pooley Bridge & back to Coniston with 23,000 ft of climbing. The 50-mile version started at Dalemain (near Pooley Brige) and covered the second part of the route.

Team Vasque scooped the 1st male & female positions in the 100-miler & the 2nd male & 1st female in the 50- mile race.

Andy Rankin, Martin Inge, Martin Beale

In the 100, Andy Rankin set a new course record, finishing in 22hours 46 minutes & Rachael Lawrance was the 1st and only women finisher in 31 hours 47 minutes, setting the first women's course record time. In the 50-mile, Martin Beale finished 2nd in 8 hours and 46 min (the winner was Mark Palmer in 8hr 29min) & Martin Inge finished 5th in 9 hours 31 minutes. Lucy Colquhoun also set a women's course record for the 50-mile race finishing 1st lady in 9hr 41min (9th overall) and Mandy Calvert finished 5th lady.

Rachael Lawrance

Look out for race reports to come on our blogs & in the race report section of the runfurther website.

Another free t-shirt

IAU World Trail Challenge, Serre Chevalier

Does anyone else get fed up with free race t-shirts? I've lost track of the colossal quantity of unneeded and unworn kit I've gained this year. The 'May Hill Massacre' t-shirt was the first if I remember rightly, with a tasteful dripping chainsaw logo. Draycott Water 35 and a local 10k soon followed with some fairly naff shirts covered with sponsors logos.

My Wye Ultra finisher's shirt is at least a reasonable training top; the Galway 100K t-shirt is moderately wearable. But then for Galway, I was also given a Scottish vest, tracksuit, shorts and a Scottish Athletics t-shirt. It was the end of March, and my wardrobe was already close to exploding.

Joining the Vasque team, I was given three more tops to wear for races – a vest, t-shirt and a long-sleeved top so to have something for any weather. And a fleece to wear afterwards. Oh, and a whole load of socks, and a few pairs of Vasque shoes. And then a month or two later, along came another two t-shirts, and a couple more vests... plus a windproof top, another fleece... and a few more pairs of socks.

Hurrah for the Highland Fling, which gave us bottle of champagne for finishing. Full marks too to the Fellsman (nothing but a cup of tea), Marlborough Downs (a nice hand-made mug) and the Girton 5K (banana). The Picnic marathon a few weeks ago however compensated for these far more sensible races, netting me a naff sunhat and a canary yellow training top (not to mention some non-wearable rubbish). Though, to be fair, it did have a fine picnic afterwards too. But why can't race organisers just charge a smaller entry fee and make the t-shirts and tat an optional extra?

But running for your country really takes the biscuit. A fortnight before the IAU World Trail Challenge in the Alps last week, UK Athletics sent me a kit form. Foolishly, I ticked the boxes for everything I was entitled to, and two days before the race, an enormous package arrived. For running one little race for them, I got a vest; a short-sleeved running top and a long-sleeved running top; a cotton t-shirt; a long sleeved cotton shirt; a polo shirt; two fleeces – white and blue; a jacket; a couple of pairs of shorts; two pairs of leggings (long and short), a couple of sets of tracksuit bottoms and five pairs of socks.

It's all nice enough stuff, and the shorts, vest and socks I wore for the race were very comfortable. But the rest is really terribly wasteful: I'm never going to wear most of it.

I suppose it is quite an honour to be swaddled so comprehensively in the colours of the union flag, so I shouldn't grumble. My only worry now was running well enough in the race to justify my selection - I knew that while in Lizzy Hawker and Angela Mudge we had an exceptionally strong womens team, us blokes were considerably less strong. Neither of us had run internationally before, and in the selection race Allen Smalls had come third, and I had trailed along gently in fourth. I was well aware that if Jez Bragg hadn't decided to run Western States instead, I would never have been asked – and that there are a fair number of runners in the country faster than me who hadn't for various reasons gone for selection.

I thought I should at least enjoy the experience of running at an international level now I had been given the honour though, and Serre Chevalier was a fantastic race setting. Lots of memories will stay with me - the start with a thousand runners jostling in the darkness along the narrow track out of town; the switchbacks up the Col du Galibier, and the steep rocky ascent to the pass; labouring across the high screes and patches of snow in the thinner air of nearly 3000m altitude; the fast loose descents off the cols; the awesome views to the mountains; the smells of forest and meadow as we climbed out of the valleys.

Having gone off from the beginning fairly hard, I managed to stay ahead of the girls – though not by much. They were certainly the stars of the British squad, with Angela taking the ladies silver, and Lizzy – despite not being on her best form – the bronze. Given the standard of the opposition I was pleased with my 14th place in the overall race (7th in the IAU competition), and Allen came around halfway through the International field too despite the terrain not really suiting him.

As I crossed the line, sweaty and tired from 42 miles of running and 3500m of climbing, a French girl smiled sweetly and handed me a finisher's momento. I glanced down.

Just what I needed. Another t-shirt.

Three Peaks Yacht Race win

We had come to the realisation after the Scafell Pike run that we were out of the running for the king of the mountains trophy and decided to pull out all the stops on the sailing and running to try to win the overall prize: it was a gamble all strategy.

Late on Wednesday evening, it looked like our strategy had gone horribly wrong. It seemed like a line of wind was pushing the chasing fleet towards us as we were rowing in dead calms. We managed to escape the clutches of the Lynn of Lorn tidal gate as the others got within a mile of us. We rowed desperately up Loch Linnhe as we watched the other boats assemble at the Lynn of Lorn tidal gate: the Gates of Lorn.

We rowed up Loch Linnhe for hours until we picked up a feeble wind. We watched the other boats trying to battle their way out of the Gates, but progress seemed slow. It appeared as though one white sail made it out through the Gates.

After hours of rowing and feeble winds, we suddenly got involved in a force 7 blowing down from Glencoe. EADS Innovation Works heeled right over and shot off. These were the only strong winds we had in the whole race. The Martins woke up as the heeling began and we set about manically stacking charts and electronic kit that was lying about the boat. Things were flying everywhere. It brought back fond memories of the 2008 race. North of this wind were the Corran Narrows: the final tidal gate before the finish. If we could get through this with no other boat around, we'd have a clear and substantial lead.

The wind inevitably died down (maybe to force 3) as we went through the Narrows. The spring tide rushes through The Narrows at 4 to 5 knots and is a true tidal gate. Geoff worked his magic and negotiated the gate. At one stage, Geoff was apparently so close inshore that the crew could have picked flowers from the shore! I can't say I was asleep while all this was going on: I was dozing. I couldn't get to sleep: John kept shouting out our progress over the ground (from the GPS). My spirits would rise with sounds of forward progress and fall when John exclaimed that we were going backwards. When I could take the suspense no more, I got up, popped my head out of the hatch into the cockpit and saw the Corran Narrows behind us: what an uplifting sight. Geoff taking EADS Innovation Works through there in light winds, against a spring tide was a work of pure genius.

We sailed and rowed up the upper part of Loch Linnhe. We had maybe 3 more hours of rowing: mostly sailor powered, but some powered by the runners. We were greeted by a beautiful dawn at the head of Loch Linnhe and eventually by the even more beautiful sight of an Fl(2) red buoy: this marked the limit of where we could get our engine on and was a huge relief to everyone.

Within 10 minutes, Team Vasque were stepping ashore onto the pontoon, ready for the final running leg. We had a 2 (or so) hour lead on the next yacht.

I was extremely sceptical of how well we'd run given all the rowing we'd done, the night watches, the lack of sleep. In 2008, I knew that something was wrong as soon as I stepped onto the pontoon. This year, I bounced up the pontoon: this felt promising.

We had a nominal race plan as ever: 30 minutes to Achintee House, 90 minutes to the top, 50 minutes back to Achintee House and 30 minutes back. The most important thing was to get up and down in one piece: to not do anything too clever, too special, too flashy. The race plan was secondary to the main goal.

We could see Ben Nevis 5 miles away, patches of snow covering its summit. The initial issue is a 4 mile road run to the base of the mountain proper. We ran this well, getting to Achintee House in less than 30 minutes. I was then surprised that we wanted to run up the path towards the Ben. I just went with the flow. As we ascended, we never got to the stage where things seemed difficult: the hours of rowing and lack of sleep seemed irrelevant as we raced up Ben Nevis, leading the Three Peaks Yacht Race on a perfect day in the cool of the early morning.

We had a tactical decision as to whether to take the zigzags or climb directly to the summit. We were ascending well on the zigzags and just stuck with that plan. We were really enjoying it now and powered up towards the top, clipping the summit checkpoint less than 2 hours into the run.

We made a little detour on the way down to admire the view down to the CIC hut from the summit cornice. A huge gulley, flanked by slabby cliffs and snow fields, dropped into the abyss, clouds swirling around the adjacent crags. It was a beautiful sight, well worth the detour.

We descended directly, running down scree slopes to meet the main path again, then legged it back down towards the mountain base. This was really enjoyable running, bouncing over the rocks as gravity took us home towards the finish line. In the distance, we could see other yachts making their way up Loch Linnhe towards Corpach. Below the Red Burn, we passed the first set of runners coming the other way: this would be a hot and tiring ascent for them.

Martin turned on the style as we ran along the road sections back to the finish. I tucked in behind and followed him all the way. I thought we ran pretty well to the finish, finishing in 3h20m.

The finish line was a welcome sight: our crew and support crew were there. We were sprayed with bubbly as we crossed the line. It was a fantastic feeling to have won the Three Peaks Yacht Race. This had turned into a life ambition and now it had been realised: you can't be unhappy with that! I was especially happy to win it with Geoff and Gary on board EADS Innovation Works. We'd shown loyalty sticking together and sticking with Lightning Reflex (aka EADS Innovation Works). It might have been possible to find a bigger, faster boat, but it was important to me for us and Lightning Reflex to stick together.

I thought we'd stood a good chance of winning the Ben Nevis leg with our time of 3h20m. In any other year, that would have been a stand out time. It is a testament to the quality of the runners in the race this year that 3h20m seems to have only got us third place and that many running teams have posted sub-4 hour times.

The day has been taken up with chatting to the other crews, lounging around in the sunshine, eating haggis burgers and the obligatory trip to the local pub: where three of us fell asleep at the table - according to team tradition. The finishers' party starts tonight: I need to stay awake. Tomorrow, I can sleep on the long trip back to Bristol.

Slow progress east of Lismore Island

Progress has been slow up the east side of Lismore Island. There was a good gust of wind half way up that had us tanking along at 8 knots, but that died almost as soon as it started. We then got to the Lynn of Lorn which is a little strait at the north end of Lismore. The tide turned here.

Things were looking a bit desperate. Objects on the land were transitting oh so slowly. The GPS showed us stopped in the water. The Lismore ferry came over and offered us assistance (we've had about ten offers of assistance from other mariners and all seem somewhat bemused when we explain that we're intending on rowing to Fort William). When we declined their offer, they told us that the tide was turning and we'd need to move quickly. We were only a few hundred metres from open water.

This somewhat desperate situation got us motivated. We got all four oars out and started rowing with some determination. We started moving at 2 knots through the water, seeing objects on land slowly transitting. Inexorably, we passed the northern tip of Lismore, out into Loch Linnhe and our first sight of Ben Nevis which is so near, but so far.

We have seen other yachts come up behind us. They have made good progress in the band of wind behind us. This has been pretty demoralising. Our hope is that they will have a battle on their hands getting out through the Lismore tidal gate. Out in Loch Linnhe, we seem to be making progress against them, but who knows?

The marine life continues to be very exciting. We've seen beautiful jellyfish sculling for whatever they eat, otters swimming around watching us and seals that seem to pop out of the water, clap and dive. I like to think they're cheering us on.

The ideal scenario now is that we get enough wind to progress while the rest of fleet suffer in the calms of Lismore. This might sound unsporting, but we've had our fair share of rowing and it's only fair that they have to do their penance.

The nightmare scenario now is that everyone gets strong winds. The mile or so that we've pulled in front through hours of rowing may count for only 10 minutes in strong winds. In a dead calm, the mile advantage will keep us an hour ahead. This is an hour that the runners will need given the effort that we have put in with the rowing.

I can't comment on current conditions for competitive reasons. We keep our spirits us, show plenty zeal and hope for the best.

A seal or otter dives in front of Ben Nevis as the sun sets and the runners prepeare to sleep. Whatever happens, we'll have a battle on our hands on the Ben and we need to rest.

Exciting developments coming soon

I've been trying out a pair of the new Transistor shoes that should hit the shops in early 2010 - it's exciting stuff!! They are super light and built using a different technology that means no insole and a much lower profile. The lower profile means that they offer great stability and, although intentioned as a road/trail crossover I have already taken them through their paces on the Canyons section of Western States course twice - they give great confidence on the descents. Despite the lower profile and weight they offer good support and good cushioning (even for my ageing knees). I now have a pair with a bit more grip and forefoot protection for those pesky stones and plan to try them out on the traditional sufferfest that is the Hardrock 100 course recce - imagine, no acclimatisation, 3 and a bit days on trail carrying everything, loads of elevation,scree,rocks, snow and thunderstorms and all the while worrying about bears! Ah well, what doesn't kill you makes you stronger and I'll have my new shoes to keep me happy :) Look out for them - they rock!!

Mark:.....Blog: www.markhartell.blogspot.com

Rounded Mull of Galloway

We rounded the Mull of Galloway several hours ago thanks to the tide and some feeble wind. We've been chasing patches of ripples on the water. These ripples indicate where there is wind. The scenery is all very nice, but it would be nice to see something different for a change.

We're among a fleet of Three Peaks Yacht race boats. GFT Adventure are very close on our starboard side. Both us and them have been rowing on and off to try to get our yachts into the ripples and hence into the wind. As I type, we've hit the wind and have thankfully speeded up. This is good news for me as it means that I am off rowing duty for the next few minutes. I periodically get asked to move from one side of the boat to the other. Apparently, this can beneficially alter the shape of the sails. It is good to know that I am useful, even if only as ballast.

Spirits rose at midday as we got the music on and we sailed, or drifted along in the sunshine to the sound of country and western. I have even more respect for Geoff now I know he listens to Tammy Wynette and Dolly Parton. I am pleased that he has been sharing this music with us.

The tide will turn in the next couple of hours. Unless we get some more wind, we might end up going backwards. I'm hoping that we make the Mull of Kintyre by tomorrow morning. We should then have a nice upwind sail up by the islands of Jura, Islay and Mull towards Fort William. One thing's for sure: we should be well rested when we arrive for the final run!

Rowing through the Sound of Luing

There was little wind through the Sound of Luing. We could choose between saving ourselves for the next run and rowing. Rowing was the more likely way to win the race overall and so we opted for that. We've done about three hours rowing. There is going to a price to pay for this on Ben Nevis. If we are sufficiently ahead on the water, it will have been a price worth paying.

The tide really pushed us through the Sound of Luing. Although we were only doing 1 knot through the water, we were managing 6 knots with the tide. The tide race in this region might get a bit dodgy for the following boats: there is an infamous whirlpool called the Corryvreckan whirlpool that some of the other boats might have to contend with as the tide builds. For us, this problem is over. There is one tidal gate to go through: Corran Narrows. After that we will be on the homeward stretch to Corpach and the final run (which will be a real test).

The scenery we are sailing through is spectacular. There are mountains and islands to our sides. We aren't commenting on boat speed or conditions out here for competitive reasons: the rest of the fleet will find out for themselves sooner or later. The Team Vasque Martins just need to rest and ready themselves for the run to come.

Nightwatch

It' been an eventful night....

There was a tacking match between the lead boats along the coast of the Mull of Galloway in glorious evening sunshine. We got to see this beautiful, but relatively unknown, coast up close: a mass of slabs, zawns and pinnacles. We were sailing up here against the tide and against the slightly onshore wind. When there is a strong tide out at sea, the tide inshore is often less and hence there is advantage in sailing as close to the coast as possible. Hence we tacked close inshore against Ulula and Hazard Chase for a couple of hours. They were ahead of us. The goal was to round the northen tip of the Mull of Galloway: we'd then get out of the strongest tide and be able to make better progress.

The wind died by the northen tip. We saw the two lead boats in a wind hole: in glassy seas. Then we smelt land and the wind flipped to the other side of our sails. The wind had suddenly changed. Geoff steered EADS Innovation Works towards the open sea, towards the ripples and away from the lead boats. EADS Innovation Works sped up and we tanked past the lead boats at 6 knots to become the lead boat ourselves. That land wind was a godsend: cow poo never smelt so good!

We sailed across the mouth of the Firth of Clyde in the setting sun: Ailsa Craig and Arran to the north, the Mull of Kintyre to the west and Northern Ireland to our south. The sky was beautiful: pretty much cloudless and lit up red and orange as the sun set behind the Mull of Kintyre. There was a beautiful beam wind which gained us speed. The other boats dropped off behind or down towards Northern Ireland. As Geoff commented: if you're behind or downwind, you're behind.

Until the Firth of Clyde, we hadn't seen any especially fancy marine wildlife. There had been loads of jellyfish and the odd seal, but nothing to write home about. But in the mouth of the Firth of Clyde, we saw a fin rise out of the water and then the body of a whale arcing into the water. I'd never seen a whale before in any shape or form, so seeing one in the wild, in this race, was special.

Given that the race was likely to take some time, we'd decided that the plan would be to let the sailors get some rest overnight, so they would be able to race our yacht as well as they possibly could up the Sound Of Jura towards the finish.The runners could then get some sleep during the daylight, ready for an evening run up Ben Nevis. This made sense as it was unlikely that the runners would win the king of the mountains trophy after GFT's run on Scafell Pike. We might as well place all our eggs in one basket and just do everything we could to try to win the overall race.

I shared the first part of the nightwatch with Geoff, EADS Innovation Works tanking across the Firth of Clyde on a flat sea, under an orange sky, with the spinnaker up. John took over as we approached the Mull of Kintyre itself. The wind died and we spent some time rowing in the dark. When the wind reappeared, it had shifted. We got the genoa up, the wind built and we were on our way again: no other yachts in sight.

The Mull of Kintyre in the first light of dawn (which happens in the northern sky up here at this time of year). From seaward, it is a triangular massif, rising on both sides to a pinnacle summit. We saw it as a black silhouette against an orange sky: an amazing sight. It feels like a reaaly significant turning point: a british Cape Horn.

We turned the Mull of Kintyre sailing at 8 knots, doing 12 knots over the ground with the tide in our favour. The wind became really strange with hot and cold gusts. The wind then flipped through 180 degrees. We followed the wind and ended up pointing back where we'd come. As the wind shifted, we swap from pointing at the Paps of Jura (the right way) to pointing at the Mull of Kintyre (the wrong way). It was all extremely confusing! I was getting tetchy by now and I knew that the best thing to do was for me to just go to bed. Gary was woken up quickly and so John, Gary and the other Martin sorted things out while I went below.

It is now Wednesday morning. We are sailing along in a good wind. Nunatak has closed on us, but they've recently hit a wind hole and fallen back. It's going to be cat and mouse all the way to the finish. I hope that the sailors will be able to keep us going and keep us in the lead. I just need to rest now.

Stop press: we've passed loads of beautiful large grey dolphins. The wind has died and we're rowing like mad. There's a slight concern that another boat has gone the other side of Islay, but we'll soon be in the same water which will destroy any advantage they may have. Cruising boats all around Are motoring along offering us tows that we cannot accept. It is always a concern when they appear on the horizon as they seem to be going quickly and we think they may be in the race.

No sleep till Ben Nevis!

Tactically anchored

We're currently anchored in Luce Bay near some rocky islets ominously called The Scares. This is a tactical anchorage though. There is almost no wind at the moment and we have a strong tide against us. We had been going backwards with the tide. Given that we are in reasonably shallow water, we've been able to drop anchor. This hasn't been possible for some of the competition who are out in much deeper water with the same strong tide. On board EADS Innovation Works, we are watching them slowly drop backwards. It is something of a revelation to me that you can race by standing still. If only life were always like that!

It's nice sunbathing weather out here. Martin has been sitting on the stern, dangling his feet in the cool water. This is a great opportunity to admire the Galloway coast. Our old friends from OMMs of yore, the Galloway Hills lie to our north east, the greywackie cliffs off the Galloway coast are due east and the Mull of Galloway lighthouse is tantalisingly due west of us. The Lake District hills (and our old friend, Scafell Pike) lie in the distance astern and the Isle of Man is clearly visible to the south of us.

The sailors have been up all night. Gary is still on deck chilling out. The last time he slept was 30 hours ago. John sleeps below after 24 hours awake. Geoff has just got up and has prepared the sails for when the tide turns and we get underway (this is strictly a lie: Geoff has supervised Gary getting the sails ready from the cockpit). There was too much maintenance work and shopping to be done for the sailors to get any sleep when we were in Whitehaven.

One thing that is slightly frustrating for us is that we don't really have web access on board. We're able to update the blog via email but can't log in to sleepmonsters to check on our position. We get sporadic updates from friends. Last year's sailor, Ken Fitzpatrick has been especially helpful. We have really appreciated the messages of support that we've received from the sleepmonsters website and that were printed out for us in Whitehaven. It was nice for me to know that my nieces were watching us sailing in Bardsey Sound at midnight on Saturday night.

The tide has now turned. We'e got the spinnaker up. The anchor has been hauled aboard which was a real fight and took three of us hauling. We're sailing slowly in very light winds. We have our running kit (supplied by Oceanworld: it' very snazzy with the Three Peaks Yacht race logo and our race number resplendent on the front) drying on the boom ready for the next run. This might be along time coming at this rate.

It's nearly bacon buttie o'clock. The sailors never refuse!

Scafell Pike: enough of that

We're down from Scafell Pike and I'm happy. I'm not happy with the result: I'm happy that it's over and I'm happy with the run. We were well and truly beaten by GFT's runners: Allen Smalls and Chris Sennel. They had a magnificent run to which there was no answer. They beat us by 30 minutes in 6h33m (we did 7h03m). Although some of that time difference could be attributed to a puncture repair we had to make, there is simply no getting away from the fact that theirs was a totally class performance.

We set off on our bikes in the mist. Martin set a cracking pace and I did evrything I could just to hang onto his tail. He was very good to me and would slow down to let me slipstream him. It took us 1h07m to ride our mountain bikes to Ennerdale youth hostel: where I was very glad of the enforced 5 minutes break.

As ever, we had a plan: 1h10m to Wasdale Head, 1 hour up Scafell Pike, 40 minutes down and 1h30m back to the bikes at Ennerdale.

We set off up the track to Black Sail YH at a good pace, Martin leading the way, waded the river and then set off for the graunch up to Black Sail pass. This was hard work but it was soon over and we were greeted with a lovely view of the clouds clearing Yewbarrow as we went over the pass. A quick trot down to Wasdale Head saw us in 2 minutes ahead of plan. Unfortunately, we found that we'd lost 15 minutes on GFT since Whitehaven.

The ascent of Scafell Pike was incredibly sapping. The sun came out and the day was warming up. By now, we were nearly 3 hours into the leg and the miles were telling on us. We watched in envy as 3 other teams descended, but just stuck at it aiming for the top. With a little sharing of rucksacks to equalise speed, two very tired runners finally got to the top of England's highest mountain: 8 minutes behind schedule. There was no time for summit pleasantries: we were straight back down the way we'd come. At least the tourists were impressed by how we were running.

I think we ran down the mountain well. I don't know how, but we seemed to be on a good surface most of the way down. I was sure we were catching GFT and when we got to the Wasdale Head checkpoint, we found that we were indeed the fastest up and down the mountain itself. This lifted our spirits for what seemed like the long run back to the bikes. We had descended well and were back on schedule.

The run back didn't just seemed like a long way: it was a long way. I remember steep grassy slopes, sun, sharing rucksacks, wet feet, sweets, miles of track and willing my GPS to count down to the finish. Winning the running leg was out of the question now, but winning the combined sailing and running leg was a distinct possibility (or a straw to grasp at) and performing for our sailors now provided us with the motivation.

Ennerdale YH was a great sight. Seeing Nunatak's runners leaving was a better sight: this meant we were just 5 minutes behind them: progress. We had got back bang on schedule in 4h20m: faster running than the record we set last year - incredibly (it felt slower than last year). This turned out not to be enough due to GFT's storming run. Happy thoughts of a run well executed were soon dashed. After our enforced 5 minutes break, we went to pick up the bikes only to find that Martin's front tyre had picked up a puncture. The most plausible explanation was that the heat of the sun had caused the air to expand in the highly pressured black tyres and this had caused the puncture. There were reports of spontaneous bangs coming from the stored bikes!

The puncture repair cost us between 5 and 10 minutes. I cannot say that I felt any more rested for this interlude. The ride back was purgatory. The initial hill was fiendish, for the rest of the way, I just slipstreamed Martin and willed Whitehaven to appear: which of course it eventually did. With one final spurt, we raced to the finish caravan where the sailors cheered us in and we had time to collapse and feel both sorry for ourselves and elated (the latter sentiment only flowering quite some time after the event). The efforts of Pete, our support driver, were greatly appreciated. We're extremely grateful to the support he has given us.

The lock gates at Whitehaven wouldn't open for another hour and a half and so we were able to relax with a shower, a pint and a pizza (not all together!). Martin and I were casually grazing on pizza on EADS Innovation Works's decks when the sailors suddenly appeared from the cabin (living quarters down below) untied the mooring lines and set sail. We headed straight to the lock, parking up behind a couple of fishing boats. The lock gates closed behind us and we were the first boat out of Whitehaven!

It almost goes without saying that we grounded in the Outer Harbour, but I think we only just grazed the bottom. Seeing Geoff deal with the situation was to watch a master at work. As we lent over the side to heel the boat and with the mainsail up, Geoff wiggled the rudder and revved the engine. Within 10 minutes and thanks to a friendly swell, we were off and motoring out of the harbour in first place.

Since those heady moments, the wind has dropped. We seem to be wallowing around in very light winds. It is all very reminiscent of yesterday. At least we have the promise of a sunny day on deck tomorrow. A slower sail up to Fort William will give us runners time to recover, but in terms of recovery, there's a mountain to climb.

I'm still in awe of GFT's time on the Scafell Pike leg. They ran a fantastic race. It's great to see a Vasque series competitor (and 2007 series winner) doing so well in this race. I've always thought that the ideal runners for this race would come from an ultra running background and it looks like Allen (and Chris) will prove me right. There's still one more mountain to go though and anything could happen....

A frustratingly windless night

It's been a quiet night abord EADS Innovation Works. There has been little wind and at times it has been like a mill pond out there. These conditions are really frustrating. It feels like you're not getting anywhere, mainly because you really aren't getting anywhere.

The wind comes in shifts. At times we have some wind and we're moving while the other yachts are stationary: we feel like we've got the conditions mastered. Then the wind dies and we see ripples by the other yachts as they shoot off and we grind to a halt: the frustration sets in. It has been like that all night.

The sailors have kept focussed during these difficult conditions. It is amazing to see them coaxing that extra 0.1 knots out of a boat that is doing 1 knot, tweaking this, fiddling with that. Geoff knows his boat really well and he seems to know exactly what to do as the conditions change. He spends a lot of time looking at sail shape to get the most drive out of whatever wind we have. I only really know how Geoff coaxes EADS Innovation Works: I tend to share my watches with him. John and Gary coax the same while I sleep. We've been keeping up with boat maintenance as we've been going along and have a well ordered ship.

We had a long stint of rowing yesterday evening. Gary and John were on for about 4 hours, then Geoff and the Martins had stints on and off. When the sailing speed dropped below 1 knot, we'd get the oars out and manage about a knot under oars. It would be a relief when the anenometer at last showed the wind picking up allowing us to stow the oars and let the sails do the work.

We're now approaching St Bees Head. There's a yacht on our port side. We've been told that three yachts have either made it to Whitehaven already or are very close. They will have got there after the start of the first tide and it is unlikely that they'll make it before the end of this tide. As long as we get up and down Scafell Pike before the start of the next tide, we should be in the leading pack on the sail to Scotland. We know what we have to do and we have a plan to achieve that (classified information!). In a couple of hours time, we'll be on dry land again and we'll just go for it and do our best.

As I write this, there has been another lull in the wind, boat speed has dropped from 6 knots to 1 knot when we are frustratingly close to St Bees Head. John and Gary are rowing again. It's been like that all night.

Another ten minutes go by. The wind is back. We're heeling over doing 7 knots. I can hear the rudder humming as EADS Innovation Works powers towards Whitehaven again....

Sailors do the biz in Menai Straits

The EADS Innovation Works have done us proud in the Menia Straits. We were 15th into Caernarfon, 9th out and now we've made it out into open water, beyond the Straits, we are currently in 4th place and doing about 7 knots. It's great to be back in the race.

The Menai Straits are a pretty technical place to sail. There are loads of rocks around, wind shadows and tidal eddies. There was a real sense of conentration amongst the crew as they nuanced there way around the rocks: there was hardly time to eat bacon butties! As I worked in the galley, I could see other boats slip by behind us through the window: one was even going backwards.

We're now in for the long haul up to Whitehaven. The sailors reckon this passage might take us 15 to 20 hours. I suspect we're in for the long haul as the wind drops. The thing I need to do now is to get some good sleep before the next big run.

A game of three halves

We'd been getting nowhere in Bardsey Sound, finding it impossible to get through a tide race at the northern tip of the Lleyn peninsula. We thus gambled on going around the west side of Bardsey - along with a few other boats. This gamble didn't work. Once we'd rounded the island, there were maybe 15 stern lights ahead of us. Maybe they'd caught a gust of wind at just the right time to push them round...

And so we raced up the north side of the Lleyn peninsula in the dark with our light spinnaker up, slowly reeling in the rest of the fleet. The Martins slept, ready for what would almost certainly be a fast Snowdon leg. We docked at 7:30, "jumped" off the boat, got kit checked and then set off.

I make a plan at the start of all these Three Peaks runs. The classic plan for Snowdon is: an hour to Snowdon Ranger, an hour up, 40 minutes down and an hour back. This would give us a time of 3h40m which should be pretty hard to beat.

I'm not a road runner. I don't claim to either be particularly good at it or to particularly enjoy it (the Chippenham to Stanton run excepting). There's 8 miles of road to the Snowdon Ranger path. My GPS counted the miles down for me: I ran. 58 minutes to Snowdon Ranger: ahead of schedule - good job. A surprising thing about the run in was that we overtook no-one: showing just how much time we'd lost at Bardsey.

I never navigate with GPS: it just counts down the miles for me. We navigated up Snowdon by map alone in generally good visibility. The navigation was spot on (for the first time in the Three Peaks Yacht Race for us): it was like a work of art. 1h58m at the summit: ahead of schedule.

If the navigation on the way up was like a work of art, nav on the way down was a dream. It's down the Llanberis path so you can't get lost, but the devil's in the detail and we had the detail right. We had recced running down the railway, but the organisers were really not up for this, so we were on the main path all the way. Running down the railway is pointless: the path's quicker. 2h36 to Llanberis: right on time.

The 8 mile road run back to Caernarfon was purgatory. Martin was dragging me along as the GPS counted down the miles. Despite some unpleasant clearing at Llanberis, the weather settled into a perfect refreshing incessant drizzle. We couldn't have asked for better. We were tired when we got back to Caernarfon quay (to see EADS Innovation Works gliding along to pick us up). Our time of 3h35m was ahead of schedule and much faster than I'd managed in previous years. We couldn't have asked for more from ourselves.

We're now sailing slowly up the Menai Straits at low water. There is a vicious tide against us and we are almost stationary. The sailors look wet on deck. I'll be making bacon butties in a minute. There are 9 boats ahead of us, but they're all in the Straits, stopped by the tide. This is good for us. In essence, the race restarts in an hour's time when the tide turns.

Our run seems to have kept us in the overall race. We've learnt that the GFT runners beat us by 6 minutes in 3h29m: an excellent effort. We are not despondent though: we show good courage. If we'd done last year's time of 4h06m, we'd be out of the running for the King of the Mountains. As it is, we're right in there. I still think we've got a good chance. Our best mountain is to come. If we have some luck with the weather, and we can play to our strengths, I still think we can pull something out of the bag on Scafell Pike.

We're committed to it, the sailors are committed to it. We've got a race on our hands. We lost the first leg, but it's a game of three halves and there's everything still to play for. Bring it on!

The whites of their eyes

I was lying in my berth trying to sleep. The sea was getting bumpier which the mariner in me said that we were in the Bardsey tide race. "Watch out Piers" meant we were asking Hazard Chase to give way. We were probably in the lead now. The sea went calm which probably meant we were round. I got out on deck to check how we were getting on. There were five boats ahead of us and we were going backwards in no wind.

We had got to the north western tip of the Lleyn peninsula in the lead and the tide just took us and shot us a mile back behind the fleet in no time. We rowed back towards the shore, picked up the wind and started sailing again.

The cliffs above us were looming higher. The lights of onlookers on the headland seemed to be waving at us as if to warn us off. I could see the waves breaking white on the rocks by the light of the moon. When I could almost have jumped ashore, we tacked and headed to safety. There can be eddies close inshore and our skipper, Geoff, was trying to take advantage of one of these.

We tried to make progress closer to the shore, but with the tide strengthening, this was futile. As EADS Innovation Works pointed north west, we tracked south west out of the sound between Bardsey Island and the Lleyn peninsula. There was a fascinating view of Bardsey lighthouse up close, but that's not what we're here for.

A significant proportion of the fleet now seems to be stuck in Bardsey Sound as we sail around the outside of Bardsey Island. It's a bit of a gamble, but if the conditions stay like this, they'll be there all night. In a couple of hours we'll find out if our gamble has paid off.

In Geoff we trust!

Whatever happens, we'll be going up Snowdon in daylight now: hopefully after a good night's rest.

Sailing at last

We're underway at last. This race (And the old county tops) has really been the focus of the first half of the year for me so it feels good to be racing at last. I am pretty nervous too: when you invest a lot of emotional energy in something and it doesn't go to plan, it can hurt.

We drove up last night and stayed at the Climbers' Club hut in the Llanberis pass. This let us acclimatise ourselves to the rain and cloud and allowed us a drive by recce of the road sections of the Snowdon leg. There's a lot of road running to do and I'm glad that I've got a nice new pair of bouncy trail shoes to run in.

There was a race briefing at 11am and we made this with minutes to spare. Looking around the room, it's pretty clear that there are some good runners around. We're going to have to run well to get the result we want. I look forward to having a race on our hands.

The day was spent shopping, eating, chatting to other crews and to friends and family. The Three Peaks Yacht Race seems to be the major annual event in Barmouth and there were loads of people at the harbourside to see us off: and a great drum band.

We got out to the yacht about 4pm and then spent an hour manically packing and stowing. All the yachts motored out of the harbour with hundreds of people and the drum band on the breakwater: a great send off for the teams. Best of all, my nieces were there to cheer me off.

The start was all a bit fraught with loads of very expensive yachts passing very close by at speed. They all seem to have this etiquette, knowing who should be tacking out of the way and whether they'll hit or not. I just try to keep out of the way when all this bacchanal is going on around me.

We got a good start and were in the top 5 on the line. We're now sailing along nicely. I think we're either in the lead or pretty close. The sailors are all switched on and we don't seem to have put a foot wrong yet. From up on deck, I can hear discussion of Journeymaker's progress. I think we're doing well. We're going to get our first really good idea about how the race is shaping up for us when we get to Caernarfon: maybe in 8 hours time.....

Live Three Peaks Yacht Race blog updates

We're hoping to be sending live updates from the Three Peaks Yacht Race to the Team Vasque blog. This requires three things to work in our favour:

1. we work out how to get Martin's phone to send emails
2. we have mobile phone coverage
3. we have the energy (and the phone has batteries)

Update: Martin's worked out how to use the phone so now we just need mobile coverage and energy. Yippee!

Fingers crossed!

Three Peaks Yacht Race ahoy!

The countdown to the Three Peaks Yacht Race is well underway. In under 3 days time, the Team Vasque Martins are going to be setting sail on EADS Innovation Works (aka Lightning Reflex).

The focus at the moment is on getting well rested, getting the kit together and most of all getting psyched for it. We are having nervous glances at the weather forecast. It looks like we'll be getting some light winds. This should make the seas quite kind for us runners (fingers crossed), but we don't know how well Lightning Reflex will respond. One of my worries is that we'll have to do quite a bit of rowing at times to make up for the lack of winds.

So, what of our preparation for the race? I think we've been doing pretty well. We've won three races together as a team: Wuthering Hike (pairs event), Calderdale Hike and Castles and Islands Challenge (in slightly unusual circumstances described in a previous post). We've had good detailed recces of the Snowdon and Scafell Pike legs and I'm pretty sure that I'll have the navigation wired this year. We've been out doing quite a bit of sailing (the Nab Tower race in Lightning Reflex and the Castles and Islands Challenge) and seem to be able to handle that side of things.

The Three Peaks Yacht Race isn't just about preparation though: you have to ride your luck. We didn't do this in 2008: we lost the race ten times over with little things that went wrong. Hopefully we will be attuned to these problems and avoid them this year (for one, I shall be more careful on my Snowdon navigation and I've got some much warmer sleeping kit).

It's time to get nervous. I think we're running well. I'd like a different result to last time. I guess we've just got to go for it and give it our best shot. I'm looking forward to it: it's a great race. I just need to get some sleep now!

------------------

The race is being tracked on www.sleepmonsters.co.uk and www.threepeaksyachtrace.co.uk. Team Vasque are racing with EADS Innovation Works.

Castles and Islands Challenge

Yachts anchored off Low Newton in the Castles and Islands race

There have traditionally been two significant running and sailing races in the UK: the Scottish Islands Peaks Race and the big daddy of them all - the Three Peaks Yacht Race (that I know well and will reacquaint myself with on Saturday). The Universal 500 is being resurrected this year as the South Coast Yacht Race: Team Vasque are entered (Martin Beale and Tim Laney). The new kid on the block is the Castles and Islands Race.

The Castles and Islands Race is organised by the Coquet Yacht Club in the far northern reaches of Northumberland (it's far enough north that you get to see the "Newcastle, The South" signs on the A1). The Northumberland coast is notable for a profusion of castles and islands (not to mention miles of sandy beaches, large sand dunes and quaint little harbours). The Castles and Islands links these castles and islands. The idea is to sail round the islands (Coquet Island and the Farne Islands), to run round Holy Island and to run to five of the major castles: Alnwick, Warkworth, Lindisfarne, Bamburgh and Dunstanburgh.

The race comprises the following legs:

• [run] Alnwick via Warkworth castle to Amble (where the yachts are met)
• [sail] round Coquet Island then up to Holy Island via Staple Sound (between the Farne Islands)
• [run] round the perimeter of Holy Island, taking in Lindisfarne castle
• [sail] via the Inner Sound of the Farne Islands to Seahouses
• [run] along the beach and round Bamburgh castle
• [sail] to Low Newton
• [run] to Dunstanburgh Castle
• [sail] to Amble and the finish
• [drink] sailing races always end up with a celebratory reception at the yacht club for the parched sailors and the Castles and Islands is no exception

You're actually allowed to do the runs in any order, but the above order seems to be generally adopted. The yachts have to drop their runners off via a dinghy (this is basically a big rubber inflatable boat - a grown up version of those inflatable boats that kids play in at the seaside) and are expressly not allowed to motor while their runners are on board. The rules state that the runners need to be on board from start to finish: this is an all round test of sailing and running ability. The runners need to run each leg together.

The Team Vasque Martins had done the Castles and Islands race in 2008 and were back for more in 2009. We were back as part of the Flying Pig team with sailors Rob (skipper and owner), Mike and Alex. Flying Pig is a Wharram Tiki catamaran. While being a veteran of the Scottish Islands Peaks Race, she looks like she belongs in the pacific islands, her lines having been inspired by those of the polynesian outrigger boats. She is spacious and fast in strong winds, though slows down in light headwinds. We had light headwinds for much of the 2009 race.

Flying Pig under full sail

I had been sailing my yacht, Cervisia, the week beforehand. While this had made me akin to life on the ocean wave, my distinct lack of sleep suggested that I might not be running at the standard I would usually ask of myself (that's the excuses dealt with).

At 7:30pm, we were at Alnwick castle ready for the start. We got a really good start, leading for the first two miles (despite a navigational error on my behalf: the competition were mainly local to Northumberland and knew the route: we were running on mapwork). We settled in behind a couple of Morpeth Harriers and chased them along paths and tracks through the Northumbrian countryside towards Warkworth castle and the coast. With a loop of Warkworth castle, there was just a mile to go and we finished with a blast along the coast road to Flying Pig. We managed the undulating 8.8 mile run in just under an hour in second place (an average pace of 6m47s / mile). I was happy with this, though I had clearly been holding Martin back.

We ran along the pontoon, jumped onto Flying Pig and then we were off on the main sailing leg. As we slipped out of the Coquet River at Amble, we could see the rest of the fleet coming out behind us. Sailing round Coquet Island, we watched spinnakers being raised in the evening sun as Flying Pig was being buzzed by puffins (truly beautiful birds).

A Northumberland sunset: running into Amble

Flying Pig and Team Vasque leaving Amble after the first running leg

I am unable to write anything about the sail from Amble to Holy Island, apart from to report that Flying Pig is a perfect boat for a tired runner to sleep on, being both spacious and stable. I was out for the count, snuggled into my sleeping bag, under my duvet. I was woken at 2am as we approached Holy Island.

I managed 10 hours of blissful sleep during the race

We were bleary eyed as we got into a cold dinghy and Mike rowed us to the shore. As Mike put the effort in, we could see the peaceful sight of the yachts' anchor lights in the Holy Island anchorage as our thoughts were focussed on the navigational challenge of running through the Holy Island sand dunes in the dark. Mike dropped us off at the slipway (entailing getting salty wet feet: I don't count myself as a prima donna, but I don't like getting salty wet feet and then running - you have to be prepared to suffer in these sailing and running races).

There are four checkpoints on Holy Island and you can visit them in any order. The traditional circuit is clockwise, but we elected to take an anticlockwise route as we felt this would aid navigation. Finding the castle (SE point) and Emmanuel Head (NE point) was easy (this is the reason we went anticlockwise: Emmanuel Head is easier to find from the south east). We then ran west onto a broad Northumberland beach in the the dead of night. Leaving the beach, we were lucky to find a good path through the dunes to another beach. Another cut through the sand dunes would lead us to a third beach. This passage was more trying as the paths died out and we were left in a sea of sand dunes on a dark night with only our compass to guide us. After wallowing around in the dunes for a while, we cut our losses, turned north straight for the beach and were then able to run along good firm sand towards the NW checkpoint (Snook old light) which Martin spotted in the first light of dawn. A blast along the causeway road then saw us back to Mike and the dinghy at the slipway.

Mike rowed us back into a sea of anchor lights, searching for Flying Pig. It was a relief to catch sight of her polynesian outriggers and then haul ourselves on board and straight into our bunks for a much needed rest.

Rob helming Flying Pig as I head down to my berth

The sailors did a good job of sailing us to the next harbour, Seahouses, in a strengthening headwind. We were dropped off in the dinghy with Mike, close to the harbour entrance and were rowed ashore once more, clambering up ladders onto the harbour wall. The run started at the landward end of the harbour wall and we knew we had to put in a good performance round Bamburgh Castle against the Morpeth Harriers (who we felt we had reeled in on Holy Island). I find this run to be a real test. It is fast in places (when on the wet sand exposed at lower tide or on land sections) and is slow through powdery shifting sand dunes or the dry beach sand at high tide. The run was really telling on me as we hit the drier and softer sand near the castle, but I put everything into it. We made a slight navigational error around the castle (you can't tell from the map where the good paths exist: only local knowledge helps), but generally navigated better than in 2008. This is an out and back leg. This is painful. If you find the run out to be hard work, then you are guaranteed to find the run back even harder: this is how things panned out. We put a creditable performance in on this leg, though by this stage, it was clear that I was holding Martin back. A very tired Team Vasque met Mike and the dinghy at the harbour wall for the row back to Flying Pig and our hardworking sailors who had been up all night (the runs are too short to give the sailors any real rest).

We sailed in the morning sunshine a few miles south to Low Newton and the drop off point for the final run to Dunstanburgh Castle. It was here that we were met by a sight that was both incredible and dreadful: the Morpeth Harriers were aground on the rocks, their beautiful long keeled yacht heeling over and being pounded by the (thankfully gentle) sea. The inshore lifeboat was out to help recover the yacht and was later followed by a Mersey class lifeboat. I knew how these guys felt: we had run aground in the Three Peaks Yacht Race in 2008: all that effort that you put in as a runner can come to nought due to a small navigational mistake or the whim of the tide. For a runner, a navigational mistake can mean floundering through sand dunes. For a yacht, the consequences can be more severe....

The grounded Morpeth Harriers at Low Newton as Flying Pig enters stage left

Rescuers stand by as the Morpeth Harriers' yacht is rescued (Flying Pig exits stage right)

The rescue of the stricken Morpeth Harriers' yacht continues as a dinghy stands by to disembark the runners (the race goes on...)

Mike rowed us ashore onto a sandy beach and Team Vasque started the final 5 mile run to Dunstanburgh Castle. We ran inland, across footpaths and the golf course in the heat of the morning sun. We touched the gates of Dunstanburgh Castle after nearly 20 minutes and set off back. The run back was pure purgatory for me. The previous week of little sleep was exacting a heavy price on my running ability and I was clearly slowing Martin down by this stage. I just focussed on the finish and got on with it: the harder I ran, the sooner it would be over. I collapsed into the dinghy at the finish for Mike to row us back to Flying Pig. With my last ounces of strength, I hauled myself onto Flying Pig's deck and crawled off to bed.

Runners paddle back to their yacht after the Dunstanburgh castle leg. These Advanced Elements inflatable kayaks are the business: all the other runners were totally jealous of this kit

I knew little of the final sail back to Amble, save to say that it was into a light headwind and took quite some time (all of which I slept). As we crossed the finish line (15 hours after the start), the wind suddenly picked up and just for the fun of it, we careered off downwind, letting Flying Pig show us what she was capable of.

By 5pm, we were moored up at Coquet Yacht Club and touched land once more (which seemed to be rocking back and forth gently!). By 8pm, the finish party was well underway and at 9:30pm, the prizes were handed out. Team Vasque were handed the running trophy (and Flying Pig won the multihull trophy). It was a somewhat bittersweet "victory" for us. The Morpeth Harriers were 4 minutes faster overall, but as their yacht had not completed the whole course, they were disqualified from the running prize. My heart went out to them. They had done everything required of them and a twist of fate had conspired against them. They've vowed to come back again in 2010 and right the wrong. Team Vasque will be back, in a rested state, for the rematch.

Martin Beale / Martin Indge: Team Vasque

Yon bonny banks and braes

Highland Fling, 2009

It's no ivry race gives ye the option o' yer race instructions in Doric, jist fae the benefit o' the chiels fae the north-east. It's no ivry race gives ye a whoppin ' greet bottle o' champagne fer crossin the line. An' a wee beer as well - no' to mention a plate o' stovies an' an iver-lastin supply o' tea fae the wee cafe at the finish. An it's no ivry race dis aw this - fer ainly a tenner! (Mind, it's a couple o' quid mair fir the Sassenachs fae doon sooth - unless ye wan' tae cough up tae jine Scottish Athletics).

That's enough of the Scottish accent. But it's good to be running on home turf, and the Highland Fling does have a special character all of it's own. It's run with a sense of humour - the race instructions really are available in Doric. It's relaxed - there's no kit list specifying the dimensions of the triangular bandage and the number of spare pairs of socks you need to carry. It's friendly. It's got a Ceilidh at the end.

Come to think of it, a Ceilidh is a pretty sadistic form of torture when you're just run 53 miles. But the champagne has an anaethetising effect, and if we didn't like pain what did we sign up for?

And the running itself? Well, it's hard to beat that too. Milngavie railway station might not be the most inspiring start, but soon you're leaving the rolling foothills of the Highlands for the real thing. Conic Hill marks the start of some breathtaking scenery as you descend to Loch Lomond and tak' the high road - or is it the low road? Seems the path along the bonny, bonny banks really can't quite decide. One minute it's heading off up the Ben, the next it changes it's mind and plummets to the Loch again. It doesn't half dither - none of the climbs are long, but the boulder-hopping really does destroy any chance of pegging along at a steady rhythm. Still, the Loch doesn't quite go on for ever (though it's not far off), and from Beinn Glas farm you know you're just got the long steady climb up Glen Falloch, and the last few winding miles through the woods to that welcome beer at the finish arch.

Jez won, as he usually does. A new record too - 4 minutes faster than last year. Sarah Ridgeway won the ladies race. Allen Smalls was beaten back to third place in the mens race by a remarkable run from Scott Bradley in his first ultra distance race - definately someone to look out for in future! And I followed the fine example of Good King Wenceslas by coming fourth; happy enough with that in a fast field.

I'm sure the Fling will be in the Runfurther calendar again - if not, it will certainly be in mine anyway. A great race.

[posted by Andy]

Successful Calderdale Hike

Team Vasque had a storming Calderdale Hike with Martins Beale and Indge winning the men's race in 5h39m and Rachael Lawrance winning the female race with an impressive sprint finish.

It was the perfect day for an ultra: warm, but not hot, with a cool breeze on the tops. The ground was generally dry, leading to quick running.

The course this year was quite different to last year, not just in terms of where the checkpoints were, but also in character. The only significant road section was the last 2 miles into the finish (and this was pretty much a sprint finish for all the Team Vasque runners: to hold off Wendy Dodds in Rachael's case, to get the best possible time for the Martins). The bulk of the course was over good tracks over the Pennine moors although canny recce-ing could pay dividends in places.

Calderdale provided a great race yet again. There's good running on this race and when the sun shines, there's an excellent atmosphere in the event centre at the finish: the grass of the Sowerby cricket club.

[posted by Martin]

Pushed to the limit at the Four Inns Walk

Team Vasque presented with the Four Inns President's Trophy

A common theme of British ultras is that they are often called a "hike" or a "walk" despite their being nothing of the sort at the sharp end. The Four Inns Walk fits into this theme. The Four Inns Walk has a proud, though at times tragic, history stretching back more than 50 years. The race is for teams of 3 or 4 people and crosses the length of the Peak District from Holmbridge to Buxton. Team Vasque arranged a scratch team consisting of two Martins, Stephen Watts and Neil. Three of us had won the race in 2008. We got a last minute entry on the day and the latest possible start time of 7:34am.

We ran well from the start, running uphill almost all the way to Black Hill. Once off the now-paved Pennine Way at the summit of Black Hill, we hit the peat bogs and continued well, passing lots of teams on the way to Crowden. We followed the main Pennine Way (along Torside Clough) most of the way up Bleaklow, despite most of the competition being well off to our right. Swatts navigated a blinder across these wild moors and we seemed to run along good bouncy paths all the way. Despite some extra distance and some extra height gain (we almost summitted on Shelf Stones moor), we gained further places before hitting the Snake Pass road.

The Snake Pass road was typically dreary, but we ran quickly down it and were soon starting the graunch up to Kinder. I could tell at this stage that Neil was starting to suffer and so I carried his rucksack up the hill. He got cramp at the top of the hill, but after a couple of gels, he was on his way again. Over the top of Kinder, we looked down on a beautifully lit Edale valley and the hills towards the Cat and Fiddle Inn in the distance. Fifteen minutes later, we were running into Edale. There is an "out and back" to the Edale village hall checkpoint and it was here that we passed the Macclesfield Harriers coming in the opposite direction. I looked at my watch and when we ran past the same point (on the way out), I noted that they were 5 minutes ahead of us (though having started 18 minutes ahead of us, we had been 13 minutes quicker over the course).

Edale is more than half way in the race, but for Neil, it was only just beginning.

Neil was looking somewhat tired in Edale village hall. Swatts and I split Neil's rucksack between us soon after. This certainly made a big difference to me and made me feel decidedly less sprightly. It had the same effect on Swatts. There is a big hill out of Edale to Chapel en le Frith and we all struggled up this, but Neil seemed to struggle more than the rest of us. On the way down to Chapel, Neil was heard to say "at least we'll get a good time to Chapel". What did that mean.

We got into Chapel and Neil suggested he retire: the wheels had come off, he was spanked. He argued that if the other three of us continued, we could finish the race and claim a moral victory. Swatts was having none of it: "if you retire, we can't win a trophy. Get that cheese sandwich down and get running". Neil didn't answer. Neil got running. Our lead had been whittled down to 8 minutes.

In an ultra race, you'll typically hit a low some time during the race and Neil had hit that low big time. The problem for Neil was that his other three team members were bounding along. In order for us to beat the Macc Harriers, we'd have to run as a team and nurse Neil to the finish. Along the railway line to Combs, we let Neil slipstream us and kept up a good pace, but the hill up to White Hall was a physical and psychological killer. With energy reserves rapidly draining away, Neil slowed down significantly on the hill. I could just picture the Macc Harriers bounding off into the distance like little lambs. Something had to be done. I broached the subject of pushing Neil up the hill. This wouldn't work with some people, but Neil was well up for it. So I got my hands on his buttocks and pushed. We speeded up. I pushed and pushed and we started moving well up the hill: good effort Neil. We were moving again. I was huffing and puffing with the effort, but it seemed like we might as well all cross the finish line as knackered as each other, so I just went for it.

We felt like we stopped the rot at White Hall. We were 7 minutes in front which meant that the Macc Harriers weren't pulling away quckly anymore. We took turns in pushing Neil all the way to the Goyt valley reservoirs. Neil showed good courage and ran well downhill. We optimised time by someone always running ahead and opening gates so Neil could run through unimpeded.

It all came down to nurturing Neil, who was showing some real character in the way he kept up to it. I ignored Swatts when he said he was suffering a bit: I knew it was nothing like what was happening to Neil. Martin ran along on a cloud as he always does.

There's a big hill from the Goyt valley up to the Cat and Fiddle and we pushed again. It was a long gruelling push that Swatts and I shared. Then Neil succumbed to cramp. Oh no, after all this effort, it can't end this way. I had some Deep Relief gel in my rucksack and whipped that out. Martin and I were on the ground, each massaging one of Neil's calfs, hoping that we could get him going again. He got going again after a minute and we continued to the Cat and Fiddle with the clock ticking.

Swatts was given a food and drink order from the team at the Cat and Fiddle checkpoint. There would be no time to lose. We had to get in there, report to the marshalls and get out. Neil showed signs of lingering, but I was having none of it and bundled him out. We were too early for sandwiches at the Cat and Fiddle, but Neil must have looked in such a state that a marshal ran out after us clutching a handful of custard creams: "take these, take these". We checked our time with the marshals: our lead had been cut to just 2 minutes. This was not good. We had about 4 miles to go. We had one pretty exhausted team member and we had a 2 minute lead over a team who were clearly going better than us.

It dawned on me though. If we were two minutes ahead and there were 4 miles to go, then they'd have to run 30 seconds a mile faster than us to win. If we could keep a decent pace, like 7m30s / mile over rough tracks, then they'd have to run something like 7 minute miles and that seemed unlikely. The plan was thus hatched: we'd just try to keep our pace above 7m30s and that might just do the trick. And so we ran downhill as a closely knit team, urging each other on, Neil running free at our sides.

There's one last gentle hill up before the drop into Buxton and this could be a stopper. We saw a team ahead (Rolls Royce Harriers) who had been split apart by the hill. We timed them and realised that we were catching them. We were in with a chance. Maybe we'd stopped the rot. The hill was too gentle to push Neil up, so we switched tactics and started pulling, Swatts pulling one hand and me pulling the other. And so we ran to the crest of the final hill down into Buxton, making sure that Neil had the best terrain to run along (on the rocky track) and the pullers taking whatever punishment they received on the rocks.

Down into Buxton we ran, hand in hand, pulling. By this stage, we'd sent Swatts off ahead: the last thing we wanted now was a navigational disaster on the run in to the finish line. Martin and I pulled. We were tanking along at less than 7 minutes per mile. The Macc Harriers surely couldn't have been going much faster than this. Swatts crossed a main road at some traffic lights and sniffed out the finishing line. We saw him on the other side of the road as the lights changed. The traffic started moving. The gods were with us, the traffic parted like the Red Sea and we were across to the promised land. We ran along the final road to Buxton school seemingly on a wave, on a rollercoaster of emotions. We were really tanking along at this stage, hand in hand, with the finish almost within our grasp. We made a mental note to not stop running until we'd handed out tallies into the marshal on the finish line. And so it was that we ran into the school and the finish line and the clock stopped for us: 7h23m.

The Macc Harriers were there at the finish. They were looking strong. We knew that the finish was close. We just hoped that we were the right side of the line. The marshal went away to consult start times and then we were told:

Team Vasque: 7h23m
Macc Harriers: 7h24m

We'd done it by the skin of our teeth. I was so happy. It had all been worth it. I felt it was a great team performance and what amazing courage Neil had shown. I also felt sad for the Macc Harriers: they'd run a fantastic race. Those lads are going to be difficult to beat in 2010.

Phew!

[posted by Martin]