Simon's Seat and Dales Way hike, 11 mi

In a quest for a mega-weekend of training, I am following up the 32 mile Wuthering Hike yesterday with another day out on my feet.  I had actually meant to drive down and do the 15 mile route of the LDWA Walk to 'Ell and Back.  However, on Sunday morning, it was cold and raining, and my sore legs were not very motivated to get soaked out there.  Sorry, blogger Deb, there goes my chance to meet up with you...  So I slept in a bit longer, then discovered that the sun was actually supposed to come out that afternoon. 

 

Sure enough, it did get sunny, and so I had my chance to explore some local trails near my neck of the woods, which usually take a back burner to the route dictated by my races.   A friend had mapped out a good route up to Simon's Seat, and I convinced my husband to come with me and take pictures (he's really the photographer, not me).   Secretly, I was hoping to find a really boggy section of trail for him to walk through, as I keep complaining about bogs during my races.   He has yet to see fall into one.   Oddly enough, my route from Storith's up to Simon's was short on bogs, and long on a nice smooth rocky track.  There was also a scenic trail along a creek, and a short section through some deep woods, where we saw pheasants and some deer. 
The rocks around the trig point at Simon's Seat gave us a chance to hunker down out of the mild breezes and take an untimed tea break (it's nice to not be in a race while out on the trail sometimes).  From there, we decided to take a longer route back to the car by dropping down to the river and picking up the Dales Way for a section of it.  However, our slow walking pace + frequent stopping breaks for photos meant that this was going to take us right into sunset.  It didn't help that the navigator (um, that's me), throught for a second that we had missed the right trail on the way down the steep hill from Simon's Seat.   It seemed like a no-brainer at then time, to go heather-bashing across the moorside in an attempt to avoid back-tracking.  After a few hundred feet of this, I reevaluated the map and decided we hadn't missed our trail at all!  So we bashed across some more heather to get across to the stile that marked the trail, and the only way down into the valley across the stone fence.  

Simon's Seat Trig Point



We had hoped that getting down into the valley would be a little warmer than the breeze over the tops.  But by the time we got down to the river, the sun was low enough that the evening chill was creeping in.  Tired from the day before, I couldn't stay warm in the mild temps, and put on rain jacket and pants (it wasn't raining), in an attempt to keep some heat in.  We then walked a little faster, drank the last of our hot tea, and had a fine sunset hike along the river.  Once again, every time I get out on the trails around here, the scenery is gorgeous.  Even if it's a little chilly....



Knee-deep in heather



The Dales Way

Wuthering Hike (a.k.a. Haworth Hobble) 32 mi, 12 Mar 2011

Well, among the list of blogs I read, it seems that at least 5 of you have also completed the Wuthering Hike this last weekend.  Click to read Mike's, Nick's, Simon's, Ian's, Mike S, and/or Derby Tup's accounts of the race.  Perhaps that is too much race recap all at once...but they did have some nice photos, and since I forgot my camera, I don't.   Now if I just knew what all of you bloggers looked like (insert joke here about how all sweaty runners in spandex look alike), I could say hi on the starting line or afterwards over a cup of tea. :)

I wasn't feeling particularily energetic the week leading up to the race, perhaps becuase of the mega-exercise I'd had the week before in Fuerteventura.  I guess the warmth and sun inspired such levels of exertion that I had nothing left.   But back to the race, my low energy level sort of carried on to that as well.   On the drive over to the start, which was nicely under an hour for once, I drank a whole bottle full of hot tea, which is definitely not normal for me.  My stomach didn't really deal with all the liquid before the event commenced, either, and I could feel water sloshing in my innards every time I picked up the pace and ran.   Bad idea.  Note to self:  don't drink so much before a race.   My stomach never did digest all the water, so I ate some food to try and damp it down.  That didn't help either as I started cramping as I ran.  And then of course I got thirsty because my mouth was dry, and drank more water.   Ah, well, let's just say that running down hills, usually my strength, was quite painful and jolting.  Once I figured out that it would be a slow day, I gave in at one checkpoint and took a jelly-filled donut.  Not really great to eat on a sloshing stomach, or really during any long run in my opinion, but boy did it taste good!   I did sort of gag at the thought of eating multiple hot dogs, though, which were being handed out at one checkpoint.  I can't imagine eating a hot dog while running...much less three of them in one huge bun.    

The race, which was forecast to be hilly (not a surprise when the route goes any where near Stoodley Pike), was even more hilly than I imagined, or really wanted.  I stayed close to my hoped-for pace of 5 mph for the first couple of hours, then hit several hills in a row that were wickedly steep and went on and on and on and on and on.  By the time those were over, I was miles slower than my predicted finish time.   Yet the weather was nice, cool but not cold, cloudy but not rainy, and it was much less boggy and muddy than I had seen elsewhere.  It seems that every time I get out on the trails in England, there is always a surprise bit of scenery that is amazing to behold.  See the pictures of those suprises here, oh wait I forgot the camera.  Suffice to say that I did enjoy the scenery, even when I was huffing and puffing up the hills.  So I kept plodding onwards, and made up a bit of time in the flatter sections nearer the end. 

This was the first race of the Runfurther Series (I may do all 12 one year, but this will not be that year).  The race photographer stationed himself on a hill and entertained himself by trying to get us to run up it for his photos.  Needless to say, mine are not very flattering.   Luckily I don't even feel tempted to paste one of them in here as they are copywrited, and won't let me :) 

As there were always people around me to follow, I never did pull out my map and navigate for myself.  However, my recall of the route description and my map plottings the night before was surprisingly clear, as at each intersection I had to guess the correct route, I was right.  And thanks to a few tips before the start at tricky junctions, I saved myself and a few others some wrong turns by heeding Nick's advice. 

Fellow Reservoir Runner Peter and his teammate Jacqueline finally caught up to me with about 8 miles to go, after saying that they would "take it steady" from the start.  I was glad to have some company, and they helped push the pace a little, so the last few miles (which can take forever in an ultradistance race!) seemed to pass quite quickly.   The raindrops waited to fall until we could taste the stew back at the finish line.   At that point I didn't care if it rained all the way driving home (it did), as I had made it round, in just over 7 hours.  Sloshy stomach or not, my legs felt strong, and I think I am starting the year out fine, towards my soon-approaching goal of the 100 miler at the end of May.

Windy bicycling and kayaking, Fuerteventura, Canary Islands

Unlike our first trip to Fuerteventura, where there wasn't a cloud in the sky and the wind was calm, we got a full dose of wind and clouds this week.  But it was still warm and dry, and I wasn't about to lose an opportunity go to bicycling outside, instead of on my trainer.    I rented a mountain bike in downtown Corralejo, and since all roads lead south from here, well, I headed south.  The strong winds were at my back, and the sun came out enough to make my arms start to burn.  So it was a fast journey at first. 

I had it in my mind to go about 100 miles on my dusty rental, just to get down to the mountain roads that I had enjoyed so much during the last visit.   However, the bike shop hadn't opened until 10 a.m. that morning, so I knew I would be running short of daylight if my pace dropped.  I climbed steadily to the highest road on the island, and my favorite curving road through Betancuria was just down the other side of the hill.  Stopping at the overlook, which was chock full of other bicyclists and busloads of tourists, I realized that the wind was going to significantly slow my journey back home, and that I probably would end up riding after sunset.  With no light, that wasn't a great idea.  Change of plans.

Luckily, my husband and our friends were out and about in the car, and we agreed to meet at a tiny black sand beach they had discovered the day before.  Heading back to Las Molinas against the wind, I was lucky enough to arrive within minutes of their rental car. We played on the beach for a while, watched the waves crashing high on the cliffs, and then had a late lunch in the tiny unnamed restaurant serving the fresh catch of the day. 

I had saved myself a few minutes by shaving some miles out of my intended route, but I still had a long way of fighting the wind to get back to the hotel.  I left my companions still shooting photos of the waves, and headed out again.  This time is was a very slow pedal back again, going at half the speed and cursing the wind.   But, the roads were wide and smooth, the traffic minimal, and the desert scenery was awesome. 

I do admit to a feeling of relief as I hit the last hill down into town after 67 miles, with cracked lips and a strong desire to escape from the buffeting winds. 



Trying to safely get through the surf into open water



A few days later, I noticed that there was a kayak near the hotel pool, and asked if I could rent it.  The surf and winds had been high all week, so conditions weren't great. But as a future Adventure Racer, I figured I needed all the experience I could get with paddling, as it's harder (and colder) to get into the water in England.  I think it should have been possible for me to take the kayak out to sea and around Isla Los Lobos, which isn't very far away, but the staff convinced me that the conditions and currents would be very rough and quite dangerous.  After getting into the kayak and starting to paddle, I fully agreed with them.  The waves were quite high, and paddling against the wind and surf took a lot of strength.  I'm sure I could have made it out to the island, but getting back might have been another story altogther....

Anyway, I had a rough hour's paddling out into the bay, and then called it a day.   Unfortunately for me, the next morning as we were flying out, the winds dropped and the ocean was much calmer.  I would have had a much easier time of it then...asi es la vida.



My kakak and I getting lost in the waves

View from our airplane window as we were leaving...



Sand dune run to crater summit, Fuerteventura (times 2!)

I won't be in the Sahara this April for the week-long Marathon des Sables, but I thought it would be fun to experiment with how hard it might be to run in the sand.  I have been contemplating running the Marathon des Sables someday, although it is frightfully expensive and also has a long waiting list.  That doesn't stop me from dreaming about it, so a sand run sounded like a great challenge. Luckily, I again found myself visiting Fuerteventura in the Canary Islands.  This time our hotel was right on the edge of Corralejo, with a large area of sand dunes just a few meters away.  


Starting the run was as easy as crossing the road in front of my hotel and heading south.  At the distant end of the dunes was a large crater, which gave me a reference to head for even in the dune valleys. The sand in the dunes was quite firm, as I zig-zagged around a few bushes and cactus.  Winter in the Canary Islands is the wettest part of the year (it's still a very dry desert), and recent rainshowers had caused a few new green shoots to pop out of the sand.  I tried to avoid stepping on any of them, growing things are hard to come by around here.

 

A large crater to head for as I start into the dunes

 There are a few issues with desert running, namely the sun, the heat, the wind, the hot sand, and the blisters.  Out in the dunes, it was windy and sandy, but the clouds kept the sun and heat to a very minimal level.  I think this made it easier to run without getting hot feet and blisters (and I didn't).  The clouds make the dunes very monochromatic, and my depth perception was way off.  It was sometimes hard to tell if the sand in front of me was sloping up or down.  But once in a while the sun would peak out, throwing some wild colors into the dunes with dark blue skies behind them.  It was magical.

The crater's not that far away, why not climb it as well?

As sometimes happens when I head out, the running felt really good, and the end of the dunes appeared way before I was ready to turn around and head back to the hotel.  I decided to turn it into an epic day out.  So I started assessing the volcano crater I had been heading for, wondering if I could make it to the summit as part of my run.  This particular crater sits alongside the road that runs through the dunes, and I had been eyeing it each time we had passed in the car.  So it wasn't entirely a surprise to me that my feet continued heading straight for it. 

To get there, first I had to cross a low ridge of hills covered with jagged volcanic rocks.  They were dark reddish colored, but covered with lively shades of orange lichen.  I concentrated on not breaking my ankles as the rocks rolled around beneath my feet.  Then I came to a cliff overlooking a dry river bed.  It wasn't too high, so I picked my way down along some rocks that had fallen off and made piles along the edge.  The other side of the wadi was the start of the hill, and the slope was pretty gentle, although covered with more small rocks.  There were also all sorts of shells and other strange bones on the ground, although I hadn't seen even one other person out there. 



Shadows in the sand dunes

The wind, which had blown at my back all the way through the dunes, picked up viciously as I neared the horseshoe lip of the summit.  I had great views of the island and ocean, the dunes far below me, and the neighboring islands.  Corralejo and its hotels were tiny specks in the distance.   The wind flapping my windbreaker ensured just a short stay on the summit, though, and then it was a quick run down the side slope and over to the road. 

To continue the feeling of adventure, I crossed the main road and stayed alongside the beach, which wound all the way back around to my hotel.  But I quickly sort of regretted this choice, as the tide was high, and the sand on the beach was soft and very hard to run in.   Unlike the packed sand of the trackless dunes, this had been churned up by countless beachgoers.  With the wind blowing in my face, I was reduced to a walk.  But hey, I was still on a beach on a desert island...it was great watching the waves crash on the shore, and the kiteboarders do their thing out on the water.

My route came out to about 13 miles of sand, sun, wind, and rocks.  It was such an epic journey, that I did it all over again the next afternoon!  And no blisters yet.  Sahara, here I come (someday).





Returning along the beach, with Lanzarote in the distance

View of the crater and some of the dunes from our plane window as we left :(

Mad, Bad, and Dangerous to Know

It was quite a coincidence to have a friend loan me the above-titled autobiography of Ranulph Fiennes, just before I was heading out on the night recce of the High Peak Marathon.  Mr. Fiennes has been quite a fixture in the HPM, (a night-time navigational challenge through the bogs and moors of the Peak District), although that seems to be the least of his accomplishments!

Ran, as his friends call him, was the first to journey around the world via the polar axis (through Antarctica and the Artic ice-caps).  He later was the first to cross Antarctica on foot, by pulling a sled behind him weighing up to 500 pounds.  He has also summitted Mt. Everest, climbed the north face of the Eiger, completed 7 marathons in 7 days on 7 continents, and participated in a few extreme adventure races. 

I quite enjoyed the book, I found his writing to be conversational, witty, and easy-to-read.   I also seem to be (quite unintentionally at first) educating myself in the history and lore of British sport, at least where long-distance running is somehow involved. 

At times I think of myself as an extreme athlete...or at least my more moderate friends and coworkers do!  However, after reading this book, I can safely say that there is a lot of extreme-ness left in the world that I have no desire to emulate.  For example, I don't want to pull a heavy sled over ice crevaces in antarctica, or get frostbite from falling into melting ice-slush in the Arctic.   I don't think the 10% chance of dying after summitting Mt. Everest sounds like very good survival odds, nor do I want to bivy in a flimsy tent in -50 F temps while wearing the same clothes for 1/3 of a year in a row.  But that's just me.  It is quite entertaining to read about, though, from the safety and warmth of my living room couch!

Mountain Biking, Hamsterley Forest

The journey I took today marks the farthest north I have penetrated into England, as we loaded up the mountain bikes for a day out in Hamsterley Forest.  I actually had no idea where it was until I got back today and looked it up on the map.   A day out like this does wonders for biking confidence, though, so I'm glad I took this trip, in the name of preparation for future Adventure Races...

Hamsterley Forest, sitting on the east side of the Pennines, immediately reminded me of the deep, dark forests that I loved so much in Germany.    England tends more toward open moors, so it was fun to be pedaling under the tall pine trees.  On the other hand, once the fog cleared, the sun actually came out, but we didn't see to much of it in the shadows. 

Hamsterley Forest contains many miles of purpose-built mountain biking trails, including beginner up to expert singletrack, plus a down-hill only trail where the big boys get some serious air-time.  We started out with a short skills loop, where the brave can navigate obstacles like bridges, rocky descents and sharp turns, and the not-so-brave can ride next to the obstacles and swear to never go over them.  Then we headed out on the red trail, which is a medium-hard course, about 12 miles long.  It consists of hill-climbing, forest trails, and single-track, with a newly added swooping downhill adventure loop.  

It has rained a lot recently, so we were splattered with mud right from the start.  After getting warm on the climb up the first hill and through some muddy singletrack, I attempted to cross a swollen stream.  The high water concealed the fact that there was a deep crevasse in the rocks, and as my front tire settled into it, I found myself cavorting over the front wheel and onto the rocks.   In slow motion, I then realized that I had landed on the other side of the creek, but that my feet were still in it, and now soaking wet.  The bike was fine and so was I, and since I was wet already, I also attempted to cross the next ford, a bigger stream, instead of taking the bridge.  Unfortuately I forgot to pedal when I hit the deeper water and cobblestones in the middle of the rushing water, and walked out instead, wet up to my knees.  I took a little ribbing from the group at my mis-adventures, as least until another member got stuck in a bog and took a header into the muck, eating a faceful of black mud.  He looked like a member of the black lagoon until we got back to running water in the bathrooms by the car park!

The rest of the day was an attempt to keep my body warm, but I faced a losing battle with my feet.  Our group of six had a varying ability set, so we stopped often to allow everyone to catch up, and I could never seem to warm up.  Even the thrills of the newly created singletrack and the banked corners weren't enough to warm me up.   We liked it so much that we climbed the hill to do it again, and I tried running (and pushing my bike) up the hill to get my feet to feel anything but numb.

It was a relief to return to the final two-way section of the red course and get back to the parking lot.  We hosed off our muddy bicycles and changed into dry clothes for the ride home.   As I've determined to now buy a mountain bike, as part of my dream to complete an adventure race this summer, I hope I can come back and ride this trail again to improve my biking skills.  I will however, try to find a day when it isn't 40 degrees and very muddy.  Oh, and I'll try to keep my feet dry!

Open5 Adventure Race, Yorkshire Dales, 6 Feb 2011

What an EPIC day out!   Today was the kind of day where normally I wouldn't set foot outside the house except to run to the car.  Horizontal rain, gale force winds, floods, more rain, bigger floods.   Oh, yeah, except I had a running/ mountain bike race over the tops of the Yorkshire Dales fells.

The UK has been battling through some high winds the last few days, hence the 68 mph wind gusts recorded near my house on Friday.  But I was hoping that they would blow through and be gone, and the ever-changing forcast reflected my hopes, with projected calm winds for the duration of the Open5.  That is, until the morning of the race, when they suddenly jumped back up to gale force and beyond again. Oh, and rain.  A lot.

This, my second adventure race, was held in Kirkby Stephen, in the Yorkshire Dales.  I recruited my friend Adrian to go around with me so we could suffer participate as a team.  As we left my driveway with the windshield wipers already waving furiously, we sort of looked at each other and shrugged, like, hey, we paid for it already, why not go do the race.  Hah.  At the start hall, the signs were up notifying us that we were required to carry waterproof clothing, and warning us not cross the ford on our way to the race start but to use the footbridge.



Photos courtesy of Open Adventure

 With maps in hand, we stayed warm and dry a few minutes more in the hall, going over possible routes and other team decisions.  We decided to bike first, as the wind was predicted to get stronger later in the day.  But before we could start the race, we had get to the start/finish/transition area, which oh, by the way was three(!) miles up the road from where we had to park the car.  The rain continued, so we layered up with full waterproof top and bottom, gloves, and hood.   The puddles were already full as the rain continued, so even on the bikes, our feet were totally soaked in those first, uncounted three miles.   Along the way, we came to the ford and footbridge, where the rushing water already looked like it could carry away a car, and we slogged through ankle deep water before carrying the bike up and over the walking bridge. 

The transition area was a farmer's field, so saturated with rain that every step sent more water surging into my shoes.  We wrapped our transition gear in a plastic bag to keep it dry while we raced, but the wind gusts blew open my bag while we were gone, soaking it all.  By the time I came back to it, I was totally soaked as well, so it didn't really matter.  We headed out on the bike first, got the list of control point descriptions, and hurredly replotted our route based on the points each were worth.  Our first point took us back over the ford footbridge, and then up onto the moorlands.  It was at that moment that we discovered the wind was much stronger than anticipated, and blowing the worst over the tops of the fells.  At times it was all I could do to push my bike up the hillside, trying not to get blown over sideways, enduring the stinging pellets of horizontal raindrops, and barely able to see through my fogged-up sunglasses.

It was a sufferfest during the hours we were out on the mountain bike. At times we found ourselves barely moving forward, even going downhill, as the 60 mph+ wind gusts impersonated a solid wall impeding our movements.  But on occasional sections, we were on paved roads with the wind at our backs, and really flew.  I swear the wind actually blew me UP a few hills and I wasn't even pedaling.  Many of the roads had major flooded sections (flat roads + high curbs + rain = standing water), and I learned that I could actually ride through water so deep that each turn of the pedals gave my feet a dunking.  After a few such episodes, I started hitting the flood sections at full speed, laughing hysterically as a V of water jetted up from my wheels.

Photos of the day, none of me :(  are on Open Adventure's Facebook page   They brilliantly show the floods that I can only describe in words...

Oh, and here's an actual video of the event, thanks Simon for posting this!

After three hours, our feet were frozen and it was time to get some running in.   We ditched the bikes, and Adrian got to experience his first Bike-to-Run transition, which as you can imagine, hurts quite badly.  We started out as a shuffle, picking our way up the moors until our feet got some pins and needles of feeling back in them.  In a moment of insanity (it was worth a lot of points) we aimed for the control at the Trig point on the fell summit.   The winds were blowing even harder by that time, and each step required leaning into the wind.  We then scoured the map for points in the valleys instead, and started heading down with the wind.   The screaming wind, I should add, prevented me from hearing a single "beep" of the dibbler controls the entire day...at times we couldn't even shout to each other and be heard, and I kept a death grip on my map lest it end up at the North Pole in Scotland.

I have never experienced such a wet, windy day in my life.  After a short time, my feet were so wet I couldn't even tell I was squelching through water anymore.   Normally I kind of dance around muddy gate openings, but it didn't even matter this time....over 5 hours, I probably stepped in or pedaled through thousands of puddles.  Amazingly enough, my shoes never got sucked off my feet.  And my bike by the end, far from being dirty, was cleaner than when I got it out that morning.  A 5 hour car wash, of sorts! We finished with a few minutes to spare, packed up our soaking kit from transition, and congratulated each other on surviving.

The final three miles back to the car, we had the wind gusting at our back, busting through more sections of flooded road and generally soaking anything not already wet.   Arriving at the ford, we were shocked to see that it had risen even higher, requiring walking in water over our knees to get to the start of the footbridge.  A river in flood is a very scary sight.  Turns out that it had crested just at the moment we were going over it. (See chart below)  

Check out the peak of the flood stage - 15:00, right when we were finishing the race

   
At some point during the day, Adrian turned to me and said, "There is no way that anyone will understand how bad it was out here...it's undescribable."  The entire day was about surviving.  The wind, the rain, the puddles, the floods, the fog, and the chill.   We speculated that if it had been a few degrees colder (it was about 45 degrees out) we would have become hypothermic instead of energetically pedaling through the puddles to keep warm.

We were pretty happy with the 300 points we collected, and hoped that the atrocious weather had kept a few of our competitors in bed so we could win a prize.  But alas, it seemed all the fast teams were there as well, and our best effort put us 6th out of 29 in the mixed team category.

Today, I've finally found the answer to the question.  You know, the question that everyone has been asking me since I started running marathons, then ultramarathons, then triathlons, then Ironman triathlons, and now my real dream, adventure racing.  They ask, "Why do you do it, when it hurts so much?"

Well, these were easily the WORST conditions I've ever experienced outdoors, and when I found myself not just surviving, but thriving, I couldn't peel the grin off my face.     I felt ALIVE.

But I'll still keeping looking for the answer...just in case there's a better one.  :)