14th April: Exmoor

Following my normal plan I parked-up at the event having arrived shortly after midnight. This time I realised I had bagged a prime spot right next to the event marquee so there was going to be no walk to the start or the facilities... Happy Days!

As I left the car to stretch my legs I looked up to see the most wonderful blanket covering of stars in the cloudless skies. Down here there's no light pollution so you can see the firmament in all its glory, unlike back home where the glow of the urban conurbations of Reading and Amazingstoke and not forgetting the looming London just over the horizon seek to obscure most of what you should see.

Getting back in to the car and out of the cold night snuggled-up in the sleeping bag under the duvet and slept for the night.

Whilst being next to the event HQ has its obvious benefit, there is the draw-back in that you are awoken by the crew arriving to get everything started at the crack of dawn!.. Light was upon us so I got myself up and wandered across to the toilet block behind me to change - The National Trust have put some pretty good toilets there with hot and cold water and room inside to change, so it seemed rude not to take advantage.

Kitted and breakfasted I went in with the ultra-runners for registration and the briefing to head off on an early start. It seemed that a good half of the marathon field had the same idea and the place was pretty heaving with the numbers looking on a par with the South Devon race. All of us sheltering from the rain shower in the marquee. This time there were no warnings of deaths on the course or air-liftings to hospital. Just a general keep safe, oh, and a 'beware of the goats'… It seems there are 'wild' goats on part of the course and with it being birthing season, they can be a bit feisty if you get too close to a mother and her kids, so we were advised to steer clear!

Milling around.

In no time we were off and the throng of runners headed off on the latest adventure. The course headed off down the bottom of the valley following the river, until we crossed a stone bridge, then we were on the long ascent to the top of the cliffs.

The bridge

The going was single-file only and seemed to be a snaking line of a hundred people stretching for a quarter mile up the slope.

The start of the long walk to the top.

The field was quite compact at this stage!

Single file!

As we neared the top the terrain levelled-off and the path became a rocky goat-track barely a foot wide and with a steep plummet to the rocks and water a couple of hundred feet below.

Down the valley the quick way.

Goat track.

The scenery around here was stunning, the problem though was the wind: The direction of it was such that every now and then as you rounded a headland you would be caught by a gust that was blowing out to sea and you had to lean in to the wind to prevent yourself from being blown over the edge to your doom!

As we ran I was able to see freshly arrived migratory swifts and swallows flying round the cliff-sides after their journeys from Africa for the summer. With the cold and wet it must have been disappointing for them having left the warmth of their winter residence for here, with scant food available as spring certainly has not sprung in these parts just yet.

Soon we turned inland for the scaling of the highest part of the course and on to Dartmoor itself. The wind here was far stronger and the sun and light cloud of the very start of the race in the valley bottom had been replaced by low grey clouds of light drizzly rain… It was pretty grim as we ascended over the peaty boggy soil to the top and the cairn that marked a left turn and the fact we were approaching the first checkpoint.

Drizzly boggy cairn.

Up on the moor you could hear the skylarks with their chirping call as they rose and fell, or just hid in the heather. Every time I hear a Skylark singing I can't help but think of High Hopes on the Division Bell album by Pink Floyd with the opening to a track of a skylark on the wing… Its either that or a spot of Ralph Vaughan Williams with his 'Lark Ascending'.

Heading back.

In no time we were returning down hill through the woodland tracks to the valley bottom and the start completing the first part of the figure of 8 course. On this downward stretch I got chatting to a guy called Ed who had driven all the way down from the north of England for the race and he recommended the South Downs marathon to me, (which I am down to run) and advised that chances are it will be pretty hot but not as tough as this and definitely one for the 'walk the ascent' tactic. Ed had attempted to run it all and pretty-much wiped himself out with exhaustion by the end and whilst chatting to a fellow finisher who was an hour quicker than he was, the man in question revealed that he had walked every serious climb, just conserved his energy for faster running on the flat and downhill sections.

The next section took us back up again only on the opposite side of the valley, past Lee Abbey, some bunch of god-botherer's retreat complete with a trio of 30ft crucifixes on the cliff over the sea. The very steep lung-bursting walk up the side to the top of the cliffs afforded some shelter from the wind for a good 20 minutes or so, eerily quiet until going round a headland to find the wind and rain was hiding there in ambush!..

Lee Abbey

Soon we were in the imaginatively titled 'valley of the rocks' which is certainly not in the 'Ronseal' category of being exactly what it says on the tin… The whole 'valley' thing reminded me of the 'Holy Stone of Clonrichert' episode of Father Ted and I found myself laughing out loud as I realised 'this is it?' as I ran over some grassland with a couple of boulders sticking out of the ground!

Once up high it could only mean that we were down low again and after CP3 we ran down in to Watersmeet, a beautiful National Trust property, an old fishing lodge surrounded by ancient woodlands and a fast-flowing rocky shallow river. Then we were out on to the coast at Lynton, running through the streets of the village before getting up on to the coastal path on the cliff-side returning to the start. As I ran along here I was overtaken by two ladies, who chatted for a bit before steaming off in to the distance. Both had ultra-runner boyfriends. One was in the ultra race, the other there as moral support whilst not competing. This made me think that its a shame I cannot share these particular adventures with LSS, however she assures me that one day she will come down and cheer me on at an event… Some day… In the future… Maybe!

It was along here that I spotted some of the goats we had been warned about. One was about 10m away camouflaged on some burnt ground whilst another two were way up on the cliff above me so they were no bother just minding their own business.

Goats in sillhouette

Camo goat

The path took us around to Lee Abbey again, only this time past the front door of the place rather than viewing it down from up on high, and along the Tarka trail. As I jogged along here I was chatting to a scouser of similar build to me but a good 10 years older who recommended the Jurassic Challenge that I am considering for next year (more on that another time!). He had just run a 2 day ultra the previous weekend and was doing a 10k the following day as a warm-down after today's ultra! An amazing example of what you can do if you put your mind to it!

The last photos I took on the run were of this wonderful waterfall we had to run over as it poured across the path. Something struck me about how peaceful and beautiful this was, the only sound the rush of the water.

The waterfall

I spent a couple of minutes here taking some shots before jogging on… And suffering equipment failure. I knew the end was approaching but the bunny cord on my hydration pack failed so I had to spend a good 5 minutes effecting a repair that would hold my first-aid kit on to the pack securely as I completed the run.

Once over the finish line I sat on a boulder in the middle of the river by the Hunters Inn, watching those finishing after me and applauding them home whilst munching on my scotch-eggs and quaffing my protein recovery shake and dangling my feet in the water to cool them off… 

Cooling dip

Looking back to the Hunter's Inn.

A fellow finisher about to cross the line.

I'm really not finding these particular trail shoes the most comfortable of footwear. They are great at gripping, I cannot fault them on that - its just they are rather sparse on the cushioning front and boy do my feet feel it by the end, even with a layer of insoles put in them!

I watched as one marathoner I had past about a mile before the end. He was obviously in a fair bit of pain from what looked to be a strained muscle that had ruined what would have been a good race time, but at least in the spirit of Endurancelife, he never gave up and hobbled across the finish line.

After a change I went to the Hunters and enjoyed a pint of the local Exmoor Ale.

A well-earned pint.

Nothing else for it after this but to have a kip in the car for an hour then the drive home after reaching the half-way in my challenge: 6 down, 6 to go.

I found after the event a photo of myself taken by the official photographer. Whenever I can I tend to do 'the moose' for a camera and today was no exception!