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The Old County Tops Fell Race

JIM GARSIDE 19 MAY 2015
News Details

38 miles, 11,000 ft ascent

My finisher's T-shirt says Helvellyn, Scafell Pike and the Old Man of Coniston, but that's because it isn't big enough to list every fell we climbed over.

The OCT is organised brilliantly by Achille Ratti Climbing Club and starts in Great Langdale. Having passed through kit check at 07:45 all the teams gathered on the start line for the 08.00 prompt away. I'd teamed up with Kerrie with Chris teaming up with Stobbsy. It's an intimidating start line with Scott Crag on one side and the Cumbria Way on the other. We were informed of the sad news that Arthur Daniels had passed away. His passion and love for the OCT was the main reason the event was still running. He was given a hearty 30 seconds applause which seemed the perfect tribute to him.

The route begins with about half a mile of farm track and road before turning sharp left up Thrang Crag running on a single track across Silver How to the north of Grasmere. It's a tough start to a race and the following 1.5 mile of flat road was a welcome break before the ascent of Great Tongue en route to Grisedale Tarn. Kerrie and I were moving well and happy being close to the back of the field.

We'd planned for a 12 hour day and wanted to pace the day from the start. From Grisedale Tarn it's a tough climb over Dollywagon Pike traversing across and skirting round Nethermost Pike before finally heading up and up to the Helvellyn checkpoint. The views were amazing but unfortunately so was the wind! As we turned to run off Helvellyn it was obvious that the wind was going to play a big factor over the next 10 hours. The descent off Helvellyn hurt! It's something I'm just not used to. So steep and absolute torture on the toes. By 10.35 we'd made it to Wythburn car park. I forced down an oaty flapjack and two cups of juice. My recent eating issues on the Fellsman were in the back of my mind. I didn't feel 100% but at least I was drinking.

It was six miles to Angle Tarn from here and we had 2hrs 45mins to make it. Sounds easy. But only one word describes this section: BOGS. The trail climbs about 1500ft heading for High Raise. It's an obvious trail but very spongy and extremely precarious under foot. At one point we both ran into a bog that came up to my rib cage. I couldn't feel the bottom and I could tell by the look of shock on this guy's face that he thought I was in bother. They say at times like this your fight or flight reaction kicks in and your survival instincts take over at any cost. Well I'm ashamed to say mine kicked in at Kerrie's cost.

With the possibility of my 43 years meeting a watery death right there and the image in my head of my girls coming out to lay flowers on the bog, I decided the best option was to use WHATEVER means I had at my disposal to evade the Reaper. In short, and rather embarrassingly non-heroic, Kerrie (who was also stuck) was all the leverage I needed to haul my body out of the mess I was in. As I dragged myself out and lay in the moss looking up at the sky quoting Ace Venturas "I'm alive!" I felt a hand on my ankle? I looked up to see a not so happy partner dragging herself by her finger nails out of the bog towards me! "Sh*t...Errr, God I'm so sorry about that!" Kerrie laughed but she cannot have been happy.

With High Raise directly in front of us we headed north and skirted round the side continuing to lose then gain height. We had about 1hr 45 now to reach Angle Tarn. It was gonna be close. The Angle Tarn CP was looking good then Kerrie's energy reserves hit a real low. We plodded and walked for a mile whilst I constantly looked at the map and my watch wondering if we'd navigated wrong or if someone had moved the Tarn? Kerrie was feeling worse by the minute and for the first time I thought we were in bother. Finally! We reached Angle Tarn checkpoint with 30 mins to spareā€¦but at what price?

I'm not sure if Kerrie was ever close to pulling out but she did not look good. Forcing down cheese and gels we decided to keep moving and just see how we felt. From there to Cockley Beck you only have 2.5 hours to get up Esk Hause over the rock garden to the summit of Scafell Pike and beyond. We'd accumulated an extra 30 minutes but even so it was gonna be really close. As we left the CP and started the long ascent to the trig we could see teams behind us getting pulled out. Our plan to pace and stay just inside the cut-offs was working well but we were riding a timing wave and it was slowly catching us up. God, it's a long rocky climb to the top of England's highest mountain. It was fantastic to finally make it. I've run over it before but never when it's been so busy, there must have been 60 walkers sat about.

Having checked in we made our first and only bad route choice of the day. The plan was to double back down Little Narrowcove and head for Bield, but ended kidding ourselves that straight off was the best option. It took us 50 minutes to scramble and climb down 3000ft of rocks, boulders and scree to Lingcove Beck. It was agony but more worryingly our time was ticking away fast. My quads were really tightening now and we were rewarded for our brave ascent with another energy sapping section of bogs and wind until (with 22 minutes to spare) we reached Cockley Beck.

I was suffering bad AGAIN. Why? What's going on with this eating rubbish? I love eating! I've been known to polish an 18" pepperoni deep pan pizza before, no bother. What I'd give to get one poxy gel or sandwich down now. I tried but it was no good. So with the 2500ft high Grey Friars looming in front of us we set off.

This is the hardest ascent I've ever suffered. I was literally throwing my cramping legs out, one in front of the other whilst counting 50 steps in my head. Kerrie had got her head sorted and was moving really well. She kept about 20 paces in front of me and just left me to curse and shout at myself.

I've run over the North Yorkshire Moors, the Pennines and Calderdale area since I was 13 years old. It's what I feel comfortable on. What the hell was I doing here on an event like this? I should leave races like this for the proper fell runners who are nine stone, wet through and have ankles like Joss. The guys and gals who can navigate on the move whilst putting full waterproofs on and eating Kendal mint cake at the same time.

I knew all these negative thoughts were making matters worse but as Kerrie slowly (unintentionally) pulled away I couldn't help thinking of my pillow, a bath, a pint, anything but where I was. But then I stopped to look back at where we'd come from. All the pain and eating trouble went and the feeling of humbleness and pride I got from the view made me realise that actually, there weren't many better places to be in the world than limping up a mountain in Cumbria.

Over Calf Cove, across Levers Hawse and on to Brim Fell. So many Pikes and Crags and Fells passed just getting to the three main ones. As we traversed across the fellside heading for Brim Fell, Kerrie spotted Stobbsy and Chris coming down from the Old Man of Coniston. We stopped briefly to chat to a very relaxed looking Pete and what can best be described as a not too good Chris. I asked Chris if he was okay but it was clear he was far from that. He'd been ill for a while but was still going and determined to make the final cut off. We didn't hang about as I felt like Chris looked.

The Old Man still looked miles away and we only had three hours to get home. Even if you make it to the finish but over 12 hours you don't get a finisher T-shirt. I wanted that T-shirt! We all have a drawer stuffed full of tees that never see the light until the hallway needs painting but this puppy I wanted bad. After about 40 minutes of negative thoughts and sickness we finally checked in at the Old Man with 9hrs 45 on the clock! Just 2.15 to get home.

Please, come on hold it together now Jim. I'd not eaten in five hours, I was very dehydrated and suffering from dodgy eyes due to the high winds. Every time we dipped out of the wind it was such a relief. Then we were back up into it. I suffered a spell of dry retching across Swirl How which took some hard words off Kerrie to get me back on my feet and running again (thank you!). We worked so hard down to the Three Shires Stone. This marks the original spot where Lancashire, Cumberland and Westmorland joined at the summit of Wrynose Pass.

From there it's a painful 1.5 miles of very steep road down the pass before veering off left to Blea Tarn. Kerrie hit another real low along here. She was running one step forward and two to the side! She had to sit down before she fell down. We hobbled past the tarn and round Side Pike before heading down off the fell to the much welcome sight of the Old Dungeon Ghyll Hotel. From there it's only a mile on road back to the finish.

As we approached the home straight I could see one of the marshals waving at the tent to rally support for us. We were cheered in like we'd won the event - they were genuinely elated for us. One of the marshals patted me on the back and said "Brilliant guys, well done you've finished!"

God! What else is there to say?

The Old County Tops fell race is savage and majestic in equal amounts. We checked in 7.31pm with 29 minutes to spare - perfect pacing I say! It took everything I had on that day to finish this event. The results page doesn't tell the full story of an event like this. Everyone who gets back in under 12 hours is a successful finisher but a number of runners pull out or get timed out and don't make it back to Langdale. We debriefed with fish and chips in Ambleside before Pete drove us home.

Out of the 35 marathons and ultras I've done it is definitely the hardest. Would I do it again? Absolutely!

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