16th September: Ben Nevis Ultra - I came, I saw, I was conquered.

I knew it would come to an end some time, and the longer you go the more likely it is to happen, and so today it came to pass that my heretofore unblemished record of finishing every race I have started was ended when I was hooked from the course of the Ben Nevis Ultra after 33 miles @ CP3 ... Was I surprised? No not really. Was I disappointed? A little.

I had set myself a target of getting to the halfway point before the inevitable but fell a stop short, although I was far from being the first to drop and by the time I got there I was ready to stuff the race up the organiser’s arse using a mallet and no lube. Only 16% of starters officially finished the race (although 28% managed to eventually finish the course when you include those who managed to get down off the mountains outside of the allotted time) which showed how badly wrong the race was planned for timing in relation to its difficulty... So here’s my take on the race itself and my tuppence-worth on everything following after.

When the race was announced I was absolutely buzzing to have a go - initially I had planned to run this with ‘Dora the Explorer’ with whom I had run the UT110 & UT55. Entries opened at the VERY steep price of £150 promising a 100k race with a time limit of 20 hours with only some video snippets of the course revealed at first... It was only after the event had fully booked and a couple of months before the race that they then decided to extend the course by 20k but keep the time limits as they were. At this point Dora (wisely) bailed and sold-on her entry as she felt it was too high a chance of a DNF to justify spending that money on the trip! But I fancied a galavant up in the Highlands anyway as It had been a while so stuck with it... Stuck with it even after it took me 22 hours to finish the UT110 which meant to finish this race I would have to go 10k further than I ever had in 2 hours less time!

Looking up at the Mamores.

At least I knew I was heading for a DNF from the start and weighing things up I set myself a target once the course was revealed, of finishing all the parts of the route I have never covered before ‘C’, halfway as a ‘B’ and anything beyond an ‘A’ of which I would be more surprised than a very surprised thing!

In the weeks leading-up to the race I received a message from running friend Theresa who had just finished her PhD and was entering this as a last hoorah before heading back to the States. This year she had already achieved something nearly as massive as her qualification in representing Scotland (qualified through residence) in the home nations plate 50k Ultra and I was looking forward to catching up with her one last time before she flew away.

View from the car park of the event base.

The Ben Nevis Ultra was part of the race card for the Skyline Scotland event where some of the world’s finest mountain runners were to compete on a 22 mile course the following day. The full event started on the Friday evening with the vertical kilometre race (the VK) the Ultra and the ‘Ring of Steall’ on the Saturday with the Skyline on the Sunday, where my friend Kirsty-Jane who was sitting top of the UK Ladies Skyrunning standings was looking to pit herself against some of the international big-guns. The event base is in the lovely village of Kinlochleven which is on the West Highland Way halfway between Glencoe and Fort William at the foot of the Mamores.

After I worked my way through the very smooth registration, kit check and tracker tagging (where I was greeted by the familiar friendly face of Richard Lander-Stowe who was marshaling for the weekend), I met-up with Theresa where she informed me they were now doing an early start of 5am for those that wanted it instead of the 6am main start - shame this was not communicated earlier by the organisers as I would have chewed their arm of for that as it increased my chances of getting further into the race, but the only coach available for this had booked-up already so I could not get on it.

I gave Theresa a lift back to Fort William and took myself to the Grog & Gruel for a pre race burger & beer with the place heaving with those up for the Skyline and the normal Friday night custom. All fed I kipped in the van till it was time to drive back to Kinlochleven stupidly early and to get the bus to the start.

Awaiting.

We all stood there shivering in the pitch black on the southern shore of Loch Ness at Fort Augustus waiting for the briefing. A little after the allotted start time we had it, where we were told to follow the flags, “not that you can see them in the dark but you will when it gets light” before we were then told that our trackers had the emergency buttons disabled, so pressing them will not achieve anything!.. This was the only briefing we had, a complete joke. We were also starting 15 minutes late on a day where time was the most precious of commodities which riled an already hostile crowd even further.

A saltaire-d up Theresa ready for the off.

The mood of all the runners was somber to say the least, except amongst the paid elite athletes who were looking at another day at the office, albeit with different scenery. As we all headed off under headtorch light, they all shot away and the rest of us silently trudged onwards. Everyone already had a face on like someone had farted in a packed lift, so I thought I’d break the tension of the moment by saying loudly.

The pink of dawn.

“Jesus this must be the most fucking morose start to a race ever... Anyone else shitting themselves about not finishing?”.. The unanimous reply was yes - it seemed outside of the pros, the whole field was resigned to failure and the chat turned to where everyone was planning to get to before they were hooked from the course having timed-out. The chat the previous night with competitors in the other races were such that they were offering condolences to us running the ultra, as everyone realised we had been stitched-up a treat by the organisers with the race impossible to finish for those outside of elite standard, which was not how it was advertised! We all enter races with the element of jeopardy that you will not finish - it’s part of the challenge, but being set-up for failure before you have had a chance to start after they take your cash is plain wrong.

Loch Ness behind us.

My plan was to go until I was hooked from the course - I was confident on my pace over distance of reaching the halfway point at the foot of Ben Nevis where I could take the ‘fast forward’ option rather than climb the mountain if I was at the aid station by a certain time. This would mean I had traversed all the parts I had not been over before and the fairly flat benign military road I had already run before, so I would feel I was not be missing-out on anything new so-as-to-speak. Hitting around 37 miles in the stunning surroundings of the highlands is still a good day out!

Remote.

The sun rose behind us over Loch Ness as we wound our way up into the mountains, the gorgeous pink tinged light that you only ever experience in the Highlands and never truly translates into photographs bathed everything. Soon I was nearly at the back of the field, which I could see from looking back on the switch-backs, but comfortably on my target pace. As I ran along looking down across the valley I watched a herd of red deer gallop though the heather, something magical to behold.

Into the cloud.

As we climbed we soon made it into the cloud line with the temperature dropping noticeably, although you still remained warm enough not to bother putting a layer on.

The surface underfoot was mostly wide access track so pretty solid underfoot crossed with streams and the occasional large puddle with a line of electricity pylons to guide us. The only sounds were just your feet on the gravelly track, the sound of your breathing and the rumbling of water in the nearby river - a total absence of any man-made sounds, a true solitude you rarely ever experience unless you are able to escape to the wilderness.

Not last!

Eventually the path led us down from the Corrieyairack Pass to the first building we had seen since leaving Fort Augustus; arriving at Melgarve and the first checkpoint of the day around 14 miles in.

Turning off the track we picked up the path following the River Spey towards its source and the lush green surrounds of the valley floor was all around us - unfortunately this brought a problem: bog.

 

 Bog.

Squidgy bog!

We were running along a flood plain, a sodden flood plain so we were dipping in and out of bogs varying in depth from ankle to waist deep as we blithely followed the flags that marked our path. From the steady ease of progress of the first leg we were slowed by 50% where what would have been a 10 minute mile before on the flat now became 15 wet minutes of wade...

 

Follow the flags.

These soaking miles were punctuated by getting even wetter with a couple of river crossings - proper thigh deep refreshing wades through the waters swollen from the rains of the previous day... Still, our feet were soaked through, so you did not mind this; the real difficulty was the strength of the water pulling you off balance or a loss of grip on the slippery stones that formed the river beds. At least the freezing cold of the water anaesthetised against any foot pains!

One crossing took us right to the door of the picturesque bothy of Luib-Chonnal - it was pretty tempting to nip inside for a moment to slack-off, but time was the order of the day so I moseyed-on past.

Bothy ahoy.

This leg provided us racers with a big shock - as we followed the path at one point I took a step forward and the ground disappeared... I found myself for that fraction of a second sinking down with a gasp with no idea if I would hit the bottom of the bog and would I do so before I went fully under? Fortunately being 6ft of idiot it had only came up to my chest when my feet found the bottom, but I had to stumble/ swim over the uneven invisible depth to get the few metres across to the other side of the bog where it began to shallow and I could walk and clamber out the other side properly drenched.

Mid river view.

Eventually the path began to firm-up as it rose slightly above the flood plain so it was back to just wet feet rather than total immersion and an attempt to move as quick as possible to keep body-heat up and to dry off through warming-up with increased effort.

After 22 miles I reached the first aid station and the sights of the first people for ages with those running the station. When I arrived I heard a familiar voice: Teresa was there amongst others who had decided to bail from the race distinctly unimpressed with the fact you could not run through 10 miles of bog, as we had all just discovered, combined with a warning from those manning the aid station that we had plenty more to come on the next stage, as well as her experiencing difficulties in keeping warm when soaked to the skin!.. There were also a couple of casualties there with competitors suffering from turned ankles caused by stumbles in the bog.

Bidding Teresa goodbye I began the climb away from the aid station, heading up in to the hills and away from the bog of the flood plains onto paths that were streams with all the water on the ground and a different kind of bog: peat marsh.

Soon I was in the wilderness once more, picking my way over the path where there was a path, passing some stunning small waterfalls, jinking and scrambling around and over some rocks to make it to a bridge over a small gorge. I made as much progress in as rapid a time as I could... Until the peat marsh arrived. We were faced with a climb over a hillside that was pure peat. There was what was left of a wire fence marking our way up. The single top wire was long gone from the iron stake posts, now lying on the ground or part buried in the peat where it had fallen, it occasionally acting as a tripwire if you approached the line of stakes to closely.

Follow the 'fence'.

This was a proper wade through the mud, a mix between ankle and knee deep. I tried to move from tussock of grass to tussock but it wasn’t working... coupled with the gradient this was a soul destroying slog. Looking at my watch I knew I was timing-out but trying to make any pace on this leg was not possible. Eventually I summitted and started on the slippery descent where a path had sort of become visible. Eventually it led us to a field where following the flags it led us closer to a river. Soon I found myself beside it and waist deep in water once more as the field had become a paddy. There was no way across and I was not willing to try swimming. I took stock and realised I must be off-track but I could not see any flags marking a correct path.

I retreated back a little and made my way to a fence that bordered the field and eventually climbed across it finding a footpath and a route onwards, realising as the final hour for this section of the race ticked by that as soon as I hit the checkpoint my day was over... The path soon led to a fire road, past a caravan sitting in the middle of nowhere. From here I could hear the sound of cars so figured I must be close to the A86 and the checkpoint. Sure enough, down a steep sloping quagmire of a field I found myself at CP3 and timed-out of the race by an hour.

Where I was, was about 3 miles from where I had holidayed a few years ago just outside Roy Bridge and about a mile to the east of where I had crossed the A86 when running back to there from the top of Ben Nevis.

I had successfully negotiated the part of the course I had never explored before, but cold now I was no longer moving, wet and hungry from my effort over the 30 something miles, my day was over. I was ushered into the support vehicle to warm-up and recover as I waited for those behind me to arrive and the course could be closed and us drop-outs could be driven back to the race base.

To be honest I was a bit gutted to have ‘failed’, but I was more fuming about the organisers and the time-limits than my lack of pace... I know I am not quick by any stretch of the imagination, but I am good enough to finish one of the toughest 50 mile races in Britain twice in a row within qualification times for its 100 mile counterpart, so I am by no means out of my depth. I felt I had been cheated, although I had managed a good 33 mile run/ wade across some stunning landscape that for me was heretofore unexplored... Its a case of balancing things out in my mind... and enjoying a lovely hot cup of tea in the marshal’s warm vehicle covered in a blanket to warm-up.

So that's my 'review' of the race experience, below is my view on the event:

I was very disappointed with the Ben Nevis Ultra, especially when you consider the good reputation of the Skyline Scotland and the Ring of Steall have managed to build in a short space of time. From speaking to others in the race I know I am not the only one to have the same concerns, either all or in part.

There are huge areas of attention that are needed to be addressed for any future iteration of this event to prevent people feel that they are not being ripped-off by being set-up for failure in something that appears to have been cobbled together in a half-arsed manner.

Don’t get me wrong, the marshals on the course and at the aid stations were all very noble and able, being drawn from experienced runners/ climbers etc. and the support they had on the day from the race HQ cannot be faulted - the registration process was smooth and efficient and the race base well managed and run. The problems lie with the forethought and planning that went in before the event by the organisers.

The main areas of concern I would say are:

Disabling the SOS on the trackers when you are having people going through miles of bogs that in places are up to your chest on a 6ft man when you are at the most remote point over 7 miles through such terrain (either backward or forward) from the nearest help/ human contact.

The wisdom of not allowing at least one drop bag in a 75 mile race which meant those that made it to Ben Nevis without being timed-out had to climb into freezing conditions in soaking wet shoes/ socks/ clothes.

If you are wanting us all to be self-sufficient in our food/ drink so you do not need to provide food in quantity or variety at aid stations, then you should allow drop-bags so the full weight is not needed to be carried over the full distance.

A proper safety briefing for the event rather than “The course is marked but you can’t see it at present cos its dark, but follow the markers when you see them in daylight, until then follow the lights in front.” given 5 minutes after the race should have started.

Stating the race to be X distance when people enter then changing it to X+ distance after everyone has entered and not adjust your timing accordingly is also not the most helpful of moves either.

Fall.

If you are putting on an event deliberately so difficult that you have a 16% finish rate within your stipulated ‘course closes’ time, then you should be vetting entrants so only ‘elites’ can enter, especially as you set your time-limit to exclude anyone but these from finishing… We all paid £150 to enter a fair race with jeopardy that we would not finish, we did not pay £150 to enter a race that the vast majority had no hope of finishing before we had even started. The organisers need to decide whether it is an ‘open’ ability event or to be treated in the same way as Skyline. There was a very bitter taste in the mouth of us competitors as we felt we were rinsed to pay for the likes of Killian Journet’s appearance fees. I understand the costs involved in putting-on an event like this, but to not have any hot food at aid stations, food that was just crisps, biscuits and jam butties and not allowing drop-bags just smacked of this whole race being a bit ‘Heath Robinson’ and put together as an afterthought. As good an idea as it was on paper, it was poorly translated into reality from a competitor’s perspective.

Funky rock stripes.

The idea of an ultra in the surroundings as part of Skyline Scotland is a sound one, but this was a disaster that will have put a lot of people off considering returning - a sizeable proportion of the field was from overseas and is now returning home feeling let down and disappointed by their experience having spent a lot of money for a DNF!.. If a realistic time-limit had been put on the event (24 hours would have been more appropriate) then there would have been a vastly improved number of finishers which would have amounted to around 75% as far fewer would have been timed-out… The final third of the course was very close to the event base with the finish there, so this part was manned or very easy to man/ marshall over the whole weekend and therefore would have been able to cope with the course being open for longer.

I did address all these concerns directly with the organisers who replied to me (and others) with a lengthy press release piece that was full of obfuscation and twisting of stats to suit their own ends. For balance this can be read here - I have also rebutted this point-by-point to other people on the trail-running scene who asked if it was accurate from a competitor’s perspective.

Having spoken to the marshals on the day and the person who set-out the course I know they were instructed to make the path as ‘difficult as possible’ and with local knowledge they said there was always a recognised path/ trail within 50-100m that could be used as an alternative - but we were instructed to follow the path as set and not doing so risks a DQ!

I also saw the paperwork issued to the marshals and saw the anticipated drop-out rates and finish times of the organisers - the finish time of the winner was SEVERAL hours slower than they anticipated and the drop-outs, which they anticipated to be around a half was a far more extreme 84%!

Speaking with the man responsible for the trackers, he confirmed that the SOS buttons were disabled due to reliability issues at their end, mostly due to the tech requiring a signal that they knew would not be able to be guaranteed over the full length of the course and I fully get why they did this as there would be nothing worse than people putting blind faith in something they knew was highly likely not to work especially in an emergency - he did say there was a team continually monitoring the progress of all the trackers and anyone stopping for periods of time was causing them a lot of worry as they were aware of how remote the course was and they had med teams on a standby to react as quickly as they possibly could… Unfortunately this did mean NO-ONE was guaranteed to find you should something happen. Case in point was the lady who timed-out behind me; she fell into the bog where I did and went down to her neck. She said her instinct was to scream but she stifled herself as it was pointless as there was no-one around who could hear you!

Caravan in the middle of nowhere.

Since I wrote this, the 2018 edition of the ‘Ben Nevis Ultra’ has been announced and is ENTIRELY different in length, location and terrain, so it seems the organisers have realised how badly the inaugural event went from a competitor’s perspective and hopefully a repeat experience will be avoided!

Would I return? Not for a good few years and only if the event has consistently run without issues for the majority of competitors outside of weather related problems on the day.

Eat pies.
Drink beer.
Run far.