December 5, 2020 George Foster

Chasing Giants – unedited

This year I achieved a fell running dream, to have an article published in The Fellrunner. I ramble a bit, as you may have noticed, and so the article in question was edited a touch as it took up too much space and detracted from the feel of the rest of the magazine, such was its’ drudgery. I have just read it and feel it misses some of the key points needed for context…and some my best gags!

Fear not, however, as I have reproduced it below in all its glory!

“If nothing else events this year have been, to put it mildly, fairly unexpected. I didn’t expect to be wiping the whiteboard in my classroom on the finish of a Friday afternoon’s teaching in March and not be writing on it again until the start of September. Likewise, when I discussed plans for a ‘fast’ Bob Graham Round with my coach, Martin Cox, on hearing of the cancellation of the GB World Long Distance Mountain Running Championship Trials (that’s a grand title for an event that’s almost as long to read aloud as it is to run!) in early September, I didn’t expect to be writing this article, for this publication.

Expect the unexpected, I suppose.

I knew that I was in good shape and was keen to have a crack at bettering my previous, and only, time on the Round back in 2015, where I managed a very uncomfortable, backwards-facing-descending-down-the-fells time of 20hrs 52mins. I’d had an excellent period of training, which was pretty much uninterrupted since March / April, and had ran some long efforts on the fells that I was pretty pleased with. I was also lucky to have snuck in some time in France and Switzerland over the summer at a poor man’s altitude training camp with Matlock AC’s Dan Haworth, culminating in our hanging on the coat-tails of Stephan Wenk at the Matterhorn Ultraks race towards the end of August.

However, it was only really since that first week of September that I gave ‘the Bob’ some serious thought, dropping it in almost as an afterthought when chatting through plans for the winter ahead. What followed was, what can only be described as, a shit show of ‘organisation’ – I’m not the best with admin – trying to cobble together some kind of schedule and hope that I could coax, coerce and flatter some of the best fell and mountain runners in Britain to help me on the day.

We were blessed up here in the Lakes with two cracking weekends of dry, bright, cool weather at the back end of September, which I was able to use to the fullest for getting out and reacquainting myself with some of the knackier lines of the Round. I was also acutely aware that the longest run I’d been on in recent memory was the Old County Tops in 2019, some 16 months previously! The recce’s went well enough, complemented by the sage advice of folk like Kim Collison (whom I’d suggest knows the fells fairly well after his Lakeland 24hr Record in June) and Neil Talbott. These culminated in one of those purple patches you sometimes get in running where I was able to go round the whole thing over two days (Legs 1 and 2 on Friday, and 3, 4 and 5 on Saturday) in a time that was a bit under Billy Bland’s incredible record from 1982.

That changed things a bit in my head. Squeaky bum time.

The confidence gained from those recce’s, alone for the most part and carrying all food, was enough to alter the schedule that I’d originally farmed out to the ‘Dream Team’ from a sub-15hr possibility to a sub-14hr possibility.

An anxious period of weather-watching followed (I’m pretty much a qualified meteorologist now) and the slim smidgen of a window cracked open for the middle weekend of October – Sunday 11th to be more precise. A last minute change of start time was enacted on the (prophetic) advice of Neil Talbott and, by 0455 (maybe a little bit later – told you my admin was shite), I was stood at Moot Hall fannying about with my headtorch (well, Ben’s headtorch) about to do my best not to waste everyone’s time and make a complete fool of myself!

Leg 1 – 0500 (and a couple of seconds…)

Pacers: Jacob Adkin and Billy Cartwright

Almost took the wrong ginnel out of the market square (I realise this is starting to read like I’m making it up, but it was dark okay?) but soon we found ourselves basking in the early heat of an October morning on our way up Skiddaw. It was a lot warmer in the lower ground than forecast but the fresh (-6 on the summit, allegedly) wind proved that a hat and gloves were a good call once we’d left the familiar shadow of Skiddaw Little Man. We were up on Skiddaw after 54 minutes or so (53 minutes on Jacobs watch, but who’s counting…) and heading off towards the peaty trenches and the climb up to Great Calva. The ground here was pretty sapping and we did well enough to get to the second summit a minute ‘up’ on my 14hr schedule. The line off Calva was perfect and we hit the crossing of the Caldew at an ideal spot for a refreshing dip and swig of water before the long drag up to Blencathra. The sunrise to the east was absolutely incredible, a genuinely life-affirming spectacle to witness. We were lucky that the sunrise, and with it the dawn lightening of the sky, had begun before we reached Blencathra as Ben’s headtorch (it’s ‘my’ headtorch when it’s working, and ‘Ben’s’ when it isn’t) chose this time to pile in, right as we were descending down the Parachute Drop. No bother, Jacob and I had recced this section enough to know it pretty well. 12mins 30secs later and I was at the beck at the bottom and charging onwards to the A66, which I reached sans Jacob (and Lord knows where Billy went), three minutes after.

Leg 2 – 0720

Pacers: Jacob Adkin and Neil Talbott

No stopping here. We met Ben and Britta on the lonning by the cricket club, out for a morning dog-walk, where headtorches and hats were deposited, before carrying on up for a morning brew off Paul and Lou, waiting with their dogs on the fell under Clough Head. That’s a bugger of a climb as you’ll all know, but it went quick enough I guess, with us being (now a three – Jacob had waited for Billy to fetch my ‘win sticks’ for me) over the worst of it and on the summit by 0756. The Dodds passed relatively quickly, though we unfortunately lost Jacob to a slight feeling of illness – he’d been immense on the first Leg – leaving Neil to be the steady head that I needed to help consolidate on this section. It was very tempting, in the new dawn light, to keep pushing on, but the guidance and experience of Neil paid dividends and, although we were managing to stay ‘up’ on the times, the splits felt comfortable (the only time I’ve ever said that in my life, and totally out of context) and controlled. A brocken spectre on the ascent of Whiteside provided a magical image, and good omen, for the day. I’m not a fan of Leg 2 usually, and this was no exception, so I’ll skip much more detail here, suffice to say that Fairfield was crap as it always is and Seat Sandal, where heinous calf cramp set in, can go stick itself where the sun doesn’t shine…

Leg 3 – 0959

Pacers: Ben Abdelnoor and Tom Simpson

…and what a glorious sunshine it was down at Dunmail.

My calves were still giving me a bit of bother and I confess to having a minor (read: major) hissy fit (my wife’s used to it) when trying to change shoes and de-robe the fetching three-quarter length tights in favour of some ‘Colin Valentine specials’ (short shorts). After around five minutes we were a merry band again and on our way up Steel Fell, the summit of which we were up on by 1020. The boggy sections between Steel Fell and, pretty much, High Raise are still there, so nowt new to report. I had no real idea of how I was ‘going’ in relation to times, Billy’s or others, simply content with knowing that I wanted to be at Wasdale no later than 1400. My legs were starting to get a bit annoyed at me, which in turn channelled itself to annoyance from me towards anything that I happened to see; I was thinking bad thoughts about Tom and Ben when they lost my soft flask between the Pikes (I’m really sorry guys!) but this soon passed. Tom’s line from Rossett to Bowfell was a game-changer for that Leg, retrospectively gaining us a full five minutes on Billy’s split for the same climb. A chance encounter with some of the Ambleside AC lads around Ore Gap provided some light entertainment as they didn’t realise what we were up to and thus we were a bit lacking in social skills. The rocks from Bowfell till Scafell were bone dry, which was my biggest source of concern in the lead up to the day, and allowed for some quick progress past Ill Crag and Broad Crag and through the thronging hordes of walker’s on England’s highest peak.

Paul Cornforth, resplendent in tighter-than-tight-tights, and my good buddy Liam Taylor were there to greet us on Broad Stand – Ben having pooped his pants at the thought of climbing anything more exposed than his staircase and heading off down Wasdale – with a flask of coffee and some pork pies. The long descent off Scafell was despatched a bit slower than hoped as cramp once again forced itself to the fore, the calves seizing up on anything that bordered on ‘steep’.

Britta and Lou were there to meet us at the NT carpark where I was treated to an ‘out of body’ experience with Ben and Paul emptying my shoes of scree and rubbing my feet whilst I stood wolfing down rice pudding. That’s above and beyond what mates should be asked to do, especially given that my feet can only be described as ‘anti-sexy’.

Leg 4 – 1353

Pacers: Calum Tinnion and Kim Collison

Yewbarrow’s a bit of a bugger but I kind of enjoy it. Wasdale is one of the most beautiful places on Earth and the view you get from halfway up the fell at the start of this penultimate Leg is hard to beat. That said Leg 4 does sometimes feel like you’re stuck in some kind of vortex, the Leg is a rough semi-circle and it’s only after you’ve descended off Gable that you stop seeing Wasdale down to your right. I was really lucky with Cal and Kim being on this Leg, they both have a huge amount of pedigree on the longer stuff and know the score; I was starting to have an inkling that it could be ‘game on’ for a respectable time. I was beginning to feel more than a bit fatigued by now and was in danger of making some damaging decisions on the fuelling front, which until now had been going well – my legs were still moving in a generally uniform way and in a forward motion, so that was the benchmark. It took some urging and prompting (and some Ready Salted crisps) to get me over the slight thoughtless patch and we were soon back ahead of schedule, careering (poetic license excused) up Great Gable in a time that would trouble the stragglers in the Wasdale race. The third most incredible sight was waiting for me at Honister. No, not Martin Mikklesen-Barron in luminous, box-fresh, never been worn before Scott shows, nor even Dan Haworth with a headtorch on his head in broad daylight, but a line of the entire Lucozade original collection in all sizes waiting for my eager fumbling. Kim could finally bin the litre and half bottle of Coke that he’d been lumping around the western fells for me for the past three hours!

Leg 5 – 1656

Pacers: Martin Mikklesen-Barron and Dan Haworth, with best supporting actors Cal Tinnion, Kim Collison and Jacob Adkin

So, to the final Leg. Got a bit of a jog on up Dale Head…well, you know. The remaining tops passed by in a bit of a blur to be frank. My legs were quite sore and I was getting a bit bored of gels. I was getting some great encouragement from the lads on support, urging me along, but it kind of felt like being a tourist in a foreign land, getting shouted at by friendly people but not really comprehending or understanding what they’re saying, with the result that everything sounds aggressive and scary! I was running scared by this point, acutely aware of how close things were getting to Billy’s time and not knowing it I was ‘comfortable’ or not. We had found a great line off Robinson, which saved my legs from the steep descent from the col in a reverse of the Anniversary Waltz route, and were soon ploughing along on the road past Newlands church – a beautiful building – and up the travellator to Little Town. I was so lucky to be joined here by friends from Keswick and the earlier Legs; Billy Cartwright, Nic Jackson, Neil Talbott and Sam Hill. It was only at Portinscale that I realised that as long as my legs didn’t fall off (expect the unexpected remember!) I could nudge in front of Billy’s time.

The final run up the streets through to Moot Hall were simply amazing and I’m not afraid to admit that I had a good old cry on the steps under the green door.

I didn’t want this to be a ‘big thing’ and hope no-one feels slighted or disrespected by my not getting in touch beforehand to ‘announce’ it. For starters I didn’t know what I was ‘announcing’, the plan was to go death or glory and I guess it kind of went from there.

There is also NO WAY that this could have been done without the support and friendship of the following people, who helped me more than I can ever hope to repay…Esther, Martin Cox, Jacob Adkin, Billy Cartwright, Neil Talbott, Ben Abdelnoor, Tom Simpson, Paul Cornforth, Liam Taylor, Britta Sendelhofer, Lou Roberts, Calum Tinnion, Kim Collison, Martin Mikklesen-Barron, Dan Haworth, Sam Hill.

There are wads out there that could do some damage to Kilian’s benchmark, I hope this thing will catch on.”

Wow.

That’s a whole lot of shit right there. Still here?! Congrats, you must be in the same physical state after reading that as I was after running the thing.

Photos from Tom McNally, Sam Hill and some folk on the fells (really sorry, didn’t get your names!)

Comments (3)

  1. Alex Fawcett

    Wow that’s an incredible round and a fantastic write up, well done and also fair play to your support runners.

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