Crewing at the West Highland Way Race 21/06/08 & 22/06/08
This from the website...
Essentially the object is simple, you start at Milngavie Railway Station (7miles north of Glasgow) at 1am on 21st June & run/jog/walk to Fort William Leisure Centre by noon on the 22nd June, 35 hours to cover 153km (95 miles) including 4499m (14760ft) of ascent (OS software). Along the way you pass through checkpoints within time limits. In order to participate you must have your own motorised backup, consisting of at least two people, one of which must be capable of covering the last two sections with you (or find you) if assistance is required or during the hours of darkness.
Adrian Stott offered me the chance to be one half of his support team for this year's WHW race and knowing very little about it, save that it is 95 miles long, I accepted the offer. A number of friends are dipping their toes into the ultra scene and I felt it might be interesting to get front row seats for this monster event without having to run it. I don't really understand the motivation to run this sort of thing and felt maybe I could broaden my perspective which has until now been summed up by Mary's mum who said a “95 mile race is surely a Bit Much?” Absolutely. Then some.
I travelled with Adrian and his support crew regular Alan Young to Milngavie on Friday night. After a briefing from race organiser Dario, (like Cher or Prince he requires no surname) 127 folk with head-torches (and an air of tension) are set off at the rough end of the West Highland Way to head North for 95 miles. Its 1am. Normal folk are going to bed.
Adrian in the red giletAs the runners emerge from the underpass and head off into the dark cool night the support crews do something of a Le Mans start – running to their vehicles to set off for the small lane that the runners will cross a few miles down the route in about 30 minutes. When we get there the leaders pass in ones and twos then the pack come along the narrow track, blue-white head-torches bobbing in a long line, an almost reverential silence in the dark. Its an impressive sight somewhere between Christmas lights and the procession in Fantasia (to Ave Maria.) And if that sounds overtly religious make no mistake this race can be a highly charged spiritual and emotional journey.
However, back to basics and we check with Adrian as he goes past whether he requires any of the many things we have in the car to make a 95 mile run more relaxing and enjoyable. The runners then go up the road a bit, turn right into a field and we return to the queue of support vehicles trying to get back out the lane and off to the next venue.
There are 7 Official Checkpoints which support crews will attend but plenty more optional stages in between to visit that give the runner a series of short distance targets to achieve. Adrian favours about 21 which means about 3 ~ 8 miles of running before deciding on a change of kit or a drink. Occasionally a hot drink or solid food. Favourites are lined up on walls beside the car: a bowl of fruit, a piece of cake, a sports bar. The general pace and plan has to be tortoise rather than hare: go off too fast and you will crash and burn before even halfway.
5am Loch Lomond
Rowardennan: Checkpoint One. Note midgey hoodsAlan Young is very experienced in the support game, regularly crewing for a small group of top athletes in some mind-numbingly long events. We have a folder from Adrian with his estimates of requirements at each station but Alan supplements these with other treats which he judges will help or encourage, depending on Adrian's well being or demeanour at the last rendezvous. I had thought the support game would be long bouts of driving after which we put our feet up, read a book or do a little fishing while we wait on Adrian to appear. Wrong. Missing a night's sleep I eventually flop and snore for 40 minutes around midday Saturday, but Alan is awake, alert and anticipating his assignment until after Adrian has gone to sleep.
Chatting to marshal Lucy, Adrian takes a rare break.
There are so many stops I lose track of where they are, where we've been and where's next. However we get into a rhythm and begin to recognise the runners just ahead and behind our man. Places change slowly as some grow strong and others weary. 30 will drop out during the day. The weather is pretty much perfect and the sun shines in the cool air till after midday.
Baked potatoes provided by Real Food Cafe (who have taken over from the Little Chef at Tyndrum now providing a great alternative to the pricey Green Welly place. Review here Website here)The afternoon brings some low clouds and about Victoria Bridge, just beyond Bridge of Orchy, I put my trail shoes on to accompany Adrian for a bit. He has run 64 miles and has all but stopped chatting, not a good sign. (Think of 64 miles as two marathons and two 10ks.) He is fuelled up on a couple of different foodstuffs and drinks, and we set off at a walk along the drovers road that climbs up above Rannoch Moor. Regularly we break into a jog for a bit and in the next few miles overtake several eventers mostly in pairs now. Unclear whether runners or crew. I feel like a fraud every time I suspect I am being mistaken for a runner rather than crew. After a time the food revives Adrian and he starts to chat again. I had been quiet myself, knowing how mindless banter towards the end of a long run or marathon can be very irritating. I am carrying a backpack with kit and waterbottles for us both. “Pacers” are discouraged for the top ten but this year Adrian's lack of training won't allow such a high position.
As we push on, the dark grey clouds to our back grow bigger and closer. By the time we descend into Glen Coe and the Kingshouse Hotel it is time to change from shorts to tights and put on waterproofs. Its going to be a long night. We leave Glen Coe via the Devil's Staircase – a good stiff hike up a long ascent that must seem endless after 70 miles.
Snow on the Buachaille looks like its had a window fitted.
Good view of the Buachaille across the road behind and of the Mamores ahead. I slip into a hypnotic trance on the long descent then am suddenly shaken out my reverie when Adrian trips on a rock and stumbles forward, just managing to throw himself to the left of the rocky path where the grassy heather breaks a heavy fall. Clearly shaken he lies still for a while, before I help him sit, then stand, all the time assessing the damage. Nothing serious other than an early view of the stars, although a bumped knee is a potential hazard. We proceed with caution eventually catching the couple ahead as we approach Kinlochleven. I recall nostalgic memories from a previous trip camping in the hills above, swimming in that pool below the bridge. We shadow the pipes of the Aluminium Reduction Plant that run down the hill and my head is off making up rubbish about an internalised river running up and down the hillside. I take a couple of photos in the last light of the day.
It is after 9pm when we get to the Kinlochleven checkpoint and Adrian is weighed at the surgery. Competitors are weighed to ensure they are taking on enough food and water to offset the day's exertions. One who made a stop at the chip shop is found to be heavier than start weight! Most are a few pounds lighter. (One runner (large bloke) is found at the end of the race to have dropped a stone.) We have some food and drinks while the event doctor checks Adrian's knee. The spell indoors with warmth, light, friendly faces and hot food do not inspire a hasty return outside where we know another sharp climb into the darkening hills awaits. I knew Adrian would continue without me if needs be, but the more interesting question was would I want to continue if Adrian wasn't pushing on? I knew we had quite some way to go but I was thinking maybe we could do it by midnight. Adrian gave me the bad news – that we had four to five hours ahead of us - as we found the WHW post marker that led us up the climb. My heart sank but I didn't say anything. I had already been out walking and jogging for around 5 hrs (exchanged a night's sleep for a 40 minute catnap) and felt I'd had probably as much fresh air as I required for the day. Another 5 hrs into the dark wee hours was not a promising prospect. However since Adrian had done all I had, plus another two marathons and two 10ks before that, it felt churlish to say anything. Onwards and upwards and by the time we got to the top of the climb out of Kinlochleven we were both feeling revived by the recent food and drink and I began to retrieve the groove.
Just as well; the Lairigmor is a dreadful place to be as the night sweeps in. The wind was howling but luckily to our backs, urging us to run along the road. The surface of the road, lose stones littered with puddles, easy to trip on and I worried that Adrian might fall and break something in his tired state. I didn't even follow through on the thought of how to proceed with a broken runner. Too hideous to contemplate. I think get out a sharp knife and do yourself in. Around midnight we put on our head-torches as it was getting too dark to see the ground. I took time to change my dying batteries and was rewarded for the fiddly task by a happy pond of light in front and around me. I also carried a small powerful torch but saved that for the woods in case it only lasted for a couple of hours. I tried to remain positive; enjoying the adventure of jogging through a wild and windy remote environment in the middle of the night with no sign of a soul for miles rather than the alternative thought, “MUMMY!!!”
Travelling along the road your eyes are glued to the ground watching for trips and puddles, which is just as well. When you look up and out into the dark green surroundings you see a couple of boys on a seasaw. Then you realise its just your tired brain seeing a broken gate, only its not broken, only its not a gate. Time and again lizards slither off the peripheral vision. Rocks turn into a giant pincushion cat. What is a pincushion cat? The mind wanders. If you're inclined, spirituality creeps in. There's a good chance of alien encounters and communing with the superior being of your choice. I don't ask Adrian about how far to go because he knows very accurately and its always longer than I would prefer. I tell him any happy thoughts flitting through my head but mostly I am shut up. We can see an orange smudge on the underside of a cloud way ahead that means Fort William is over the next hill. The Lairigmor continues for longer than I feel possible. I think it maybe goes halfway across the planet. But as the morale dips, so it occasionally rises and with that lift I reflect it could be worse. Here we are and since the pace is leisurely I have not one ache in my whole body, the wind is behind and helping us, its not raining, my feet are dry and warm with no blisters; what a piece of good luck. How marvellous to be here! It is more difficult shortly, when we turn a corner and the wind swept rain starts lashing in our faces, to hold this thought.
However we pass the sheep pens and soon are heading towards an orange glow. A huge bonfire to guide us on our way and here's Alan with hot sweet coffee (how does he do it?) and then back onto the path and some more wet wooden stiles and deer fences to cross.
But then we are in and out the trees. I get the torch out and shine it up into the crossed laticework of intertwined branches above. The smell of pine and mud. An owl hoots. More up hill. Lots more, and the 20 foot theatre stage we illuminate rotates underfoot to produce a continual 20 feet of fir-and-mud tableau. A long ways back we passed the ruin of a cottage which had eerie potential and lurking shadows but the woods are cosy and warm and keep the rain off. I am disappointed to see only 3 frogs and one bouncing mouse the whole night (excluding hallucinations) all other wildlife being indoors in such weather. I think about the rabbits snug downstairs in their earthy ovals lying together as furry spoons. We stomp across the piney world towards the orange lights of Fort William. But its never just there all of a sudden. There's a diversion wiggling along a small muddy path then a big gravelly road that cuts back left and then about a mile more dipping down towards the streetlights. Briefly a couple of head-torches up ahead. We realise they are not coming towards us but fellow competitors who saw our lights and turned to look. We catch them 5 minutes later and they are unable to return our cheery “not-far-to-go”s through their damp dismal weariness. So we're not the most damaged out tonight. More then more then more of the same and then we meet Alan and his car in Braveheart car park which he pronounces Braemar carpark which I neither understand nor question. Though when he drives off without us in his warm car I have an inkling I missed an opportunity. No that's right we're out in all this crappy weather in the middle of the night for the pleasure of it, the sheer joy of life itself.
Despite the small size of Fort William we spend ages getting from the outskirts to the inskirts. Its nearly 2 in the morning and there's a couple standing outside their house under a broad umbrella in the teeming rain like they're waiting on a son coming home from war. We salute going past and know we must be near. Last few streets and into the Leisure Centre where my involuntary thoughts of alcohol were second guessed by sponsors Glengoyne Single Malt who have left a bottle and a quaich from which to sup. (Presumably to quaich your thirst.)(By the way sponsors a bottle each next time would be even better.) Various folk stand around shell-shocked and big eyed. Shaking hands and dripping. Before my thoughts turned to more whisky we were herded into Alan's car for a long overdue run to the hotel and shower and sleep before the head hits the pil......
Reflections: The prize giving is Sunday 12 noon and the most notable thing is the stiff legged walks from most of the competitors as they go up to collect the goblets for completing the race. Because of the distance and time (and lack of sleep) there is a massive emotional involvement for all concerned and Murdo McEwan (5th equal and first o/50) in a very impressive time of just over 19 hrs, spoke of “blubbing like a schoolgirl” at the finish. I think it is this dimension that gives the race the feel of a pilgrimage or spiritual quest. Its certainly the right landscape for the job and I can at last understand the reason the race is oversubscribed every year. It was very interesting getting a front row seat for the spectacle – in fact at various points I forgot I hadn't run the first 64 miles – but I'll have to try a few shorter distance ultras before I go anywhere near this one. Next week is the 28 mile Lairig Ghru by the end of which I expect to have returned to my “not on your nelly” point of view re going long. We'll see.
Many thanks to Adrian and Alan for the chance to crew, and hats off to all who take part whether running or crewing. It was good to see this race attract international runners Jens Lukas and Donna Utakis who won both first places but interesting to see they didn't come close to the amazing course records set by Jez and Lucy.
Report and photos pb
Results and all you need to know here
SA news report here"Having run several 100 mile trail runs back in the States, I have to say this is the hardest race I have ever done."
Donna Utakis 1st woman
