Scottish Islands Peaks Race (SIPR) 2016

Humans, and especially athletes, derive a lot of motivation through making sense of the story of their own lives. After my disappointment at the Highland Fling (legs gave in after 30 miles) I badly needed to regain the narrative. Thankfully, on cue, the Scottish Islands Peaks Race (SIPR) did just that for me. Having now done this race 10 times (starting at the age of 19) the SIPR is definitely part of my story.

"Obedient" - our home for the weekend

Sailors tell me that there is no sailing race like it. There is certainly no running race like it. The SIPR is a unique blend of disciplines whose value comes to so much more than the sum of the two parts. It can be a cruel race too. Imagine running your guts out on Mull to get a half hour lead, only to find yourself then caught in a "tidal trap" opposite the Corryvreckan, allowing a whole load of other teams to efforlessly catch up with you (yes, this happened to us this year). 

Toward the end of the 4.5 mile "Prologue" outside Oban

We were fastest runner on the short run round Oban, so left Oban harbour with the whole fleet of 40 boats behind us

As recounted in a previous blog, I came to this event first by happy (and slightly daunting) coincidence when I was drafted in as a last-minute replacement in 2003. The 2016 race became my 7^th completion of the race (from 10 starts). The team with whom I did my first 10 SIPRs decided to stop doing the event after the 2012 race, and I missed the event from 2013-15. This year, I was with a new team (skipper Iain Baird with sailors Gordon Baird and Ben Shelley), on a new boat (Obedient), with a new running partner (Es Tresidder). The race rules are slightly complex, and can be read about elsewhere. This year’s event contained a good measure all the aspects that make the race so special. I will summarise these as unpredictability, wilderness, and challenge.

Unpredictability:

Something that makes the race so exciting for runners is having very little idea when you will be landed on an Island and required to run. This is clearly something we are not really used to with the well-defined start times of most running races. In 2010 we landed on Jura at 11pm and ran the entire course in the dark (on a dry night the Paps are fantastic in the dark by the way because as you run down the thick scree the rocks collide into each other and generate sparks). On other years I’ve been woken from sleep in the cabin by sailors and advised that we are 30 minutes away from landing on Arran: then suddenly the wind drops and 3 hours later we are still no closer to the pier.

This year the winds were light and sailing times relatively long. Somehow we landed on all islands in daylight and didn’t require our head torches once. On the other hand there were more unexpected sources of unpredictability in this year’s race. At 400m altitude, halfway up Ben More on Mull. Es and I ran straight into a “cast sheep” (a sheep that has fallen onto her back and can’t get back onto her feet). We decided to haul her back onto her feet again (though she was clearly severely weakened by the experience). This is the first time I’ve ever up-righted a sheep in the middle of a hill race!

Wilderness:

The Islands of the West Coast of Scotland represent a true wilderness, and the SIPR is an amazing way to experience this. On this year’s race we met a short-eared owl from extremely close range when we nearly ran into her nest in the early evening on Mull, a huge pod of porpoises between the Mull of Kintyre and Arran, and seals in the Sound of Jura. In past races we’ve seen Sea Eagles on Northern Jura.

Calm seas on Sunday morning. Very pleasant but not getting us anywhere fast!

Challenge:

The SIPR involves running 96km over a long-weekend. Clearly the challenge of this is something that I find very attractive. I’ve also created an additional challenge for myself by targeting the race's running records. In 2012 together with Robbie Simpson I broke the then 22-year-old record for the fastest total running time for the runs on Mull, Jura, and Arran (reducing the “King of the Bens” record from 9 hours 34 minutes to 9 hours 17 minutes).  That year we also broke the record for the leg on Mull (from 3 hours 25 minutes to 3 hours 12 minutes) but we were slower than the record times on Jura (3 hours 4 minutes held by Rigby/Ferguson) and on Arran (2 hours 54 minutes held by Maitland/Farningham). Robbie and I were flying that year, so this year I had no ambitions to target more records. It therefore came as a bit of a surprise to me when we started running on Arran. Both Es and I were moving fast! We got to the summit of Goat Fell in 1 hour 32 minutes, then back to the bottom in under 2 hours. It had taken us 43 minutes on the way out to get from the run start in Lamlash to the foot of Goat Fell just outside Brodick. Now we had 54 minutes to get back in record time. As we hurtled through the streets of Brodick a lady said to us “Good luck!” I turned to Es and said “It’s not going to take luck. It’s going to take a lot of pain.” We made it back to the pier in Lamlash in 2 hours 44 minutes 39 seconds (almost 10 minutes faster than the record).

Looking back to Gaotfell on leaving Lamlash

We couldn’t have done any of this without the amazing support of the sailing crew: Gordon, Iain, and Ben. They make a fantastic team and they worked incredibly hard all through Friday and Saturday nights to get the boat (and us) round the course in a great time, in conditions not suited to catamarans. As a team we finished 3^rd overall, and first in Class 1 (multihull boats), beaten only by North Star (Class 2) and Clockwork (Call Rounders).

Clachnaben and Jura

The Scottish Hill Running (SHR) Championships got under way this weekend. The SHR Championships is a series of 6 hill races - 2 categorised as "short", 2 as "medium" and 2 as "long." To complete the Championships runners must finish 4 races, including one from each distance category. The first race of this year's Championships was a "medium" race, called the Clachnaben Hill Race, run from a just outside the small village of Strachan in Deeside. 8.5 miles, climbing a total of 2100 feet over 2 hills, Mount Shade and Clachhaben - both rounded, heather clad, and not very steep: Clachnaben made interesting by a distinctive granite Tor, which is visible form the city of Aberdeen, 20 miles away.

Clachnaben, with Mount Shade in the foreground

This race is the epitome of the low key but fiercly competitive Scottish Hill running scene.We arrived by bus (courtesy of Westerlands club) just over an hour before the start. The extremely overweight bus driver seemed totally baffled by the experience of driving from Glasgow for 3.5 hours to the middle of nowhere to allow a bunch of skinny runners the opportunity run up and down a medium-sized hill. To get to the start from the bus involved a half mile walk from the main road along a forest track. When we arrived at the start there were just a handful of race organisers and a small tent there and that was all. Over the next 60 minutes things gradually hotted up and just after middday we were counted down from 3 to start.

The pace was fast from the start, with the main contenders myself, Jethro Lennox, Ali McLeod (all Shettleston), and Sam Hesling (Highland Hill Runners) pushing on through the boggy forestry trails in the first couple of miles. The first mile of running is quite entertaining, runners have to leap over fellen trees and through streams.

400m into the race

After a mile and a half the course ramps steeply upwards through a firebreak in the forest then out onto the heathery slopes of Mount Shade. As I pushed on up this climb and I was soon aware that only Jethro was holding onto me. I reached to summit of Moutn Shade a few seconds ahead of Jethro but he soon joined me on the descent. As we were ending Moutn Shade descent and reaching the point where the path starts to countour West towards Clachnaben we were joined by a third runner, Al Anthony, who had had a strorming descent off Mount Shade. Knowing that the hard but runnable climb up Clachnaben would suit me I sat in with Jethro and Al until the path went upards again and then I pushed on. By the summit of Clachanaben I had a 30 second lead which I then managed to hold to the finish. Al finished second and Jethro third. Full results here. It was great to be aprt of the winning men's team, Shettleston Harriers.

Shettleston winning men's team

The next race in the SHR Championship is the Isle of Jura Fell Race. Despite having visited the Isle of Jura 8 times previously as part of the Scottish Islands Peaks Race (SIPR) I had never been round the Jura Fell Race route until last weekend when we took a family weekend trip to Jura and I ran the course as a recce on the Sunday morning. Having left home at 7am on Saturday morning we found ourselves on this magical, peaceful island before 11am. It is quite an experience to be transported somewhere so remote so quickly. We had fantastic weather all weekend and I was reminded why I find this island so special. Finding good route off the tricky screes is essential for success in the race so I'm glad to have had a chance to look at it. I'm really looking forward to going back out to Jura twice more in May (once for the SIPR and then again for the Isle of Jura Fell Race).

The Paps

The beach

Ben Lomond

Mountain runners tend to become quite attached to their nearest high mountain. When we lived in Inverness, Ben Wyvis was it, and I probably ran up there 20 or 30 times in 2 years. Now that we are in Glasgow, Ben Lomond has assumed the role. As Ben Wyvis does from Inverness, Ben Lomond frequently dominates the view to the north when the skies are clear, inticing the runner to get out there and go up it.

View to Ben Lomond on a cylcle home from work one winter's day in 2015. Greylag geese taking flight in the foreground.

Ben Lomond above a cloud inversion from Earl's Seat, December 2015

I'm currently training for the 53 mile Highland Fling race. The trouble with deciding to do such long races is that you have to go for long training runs to prepare. The good thing about that is that it encourages to do do adventurous things that you normally wouldn't consider. Looking at Ben Lomond one day a couple of week's ago I suggested to Grant MacDonald that we run up it from home. And that's what we did last Sunday (from his home, not mine, which is 3 miles closer to Ben Lomond). We set off at 10am, planning to run along the West Highland Way to Rowardennan, go up Ben Lomond and return via the Ptarmigan Ridge to Rowardennan in time to catch the 1645 Cruise Loch Lomond passenger boat to Tarbet, from where we could catch a train back to Glasgow.

The weather wasn't great to start with, but things brightened up. 3 hours into the run as we approached Rowardennan we got our first view of the mountain.

After 24 miles of running in 3 hours 40 minutes we set off up the Munro. The great thing about this is that next time we reach Rowardennan on the West Highland Way in the Highland Fling race it will seem like we've been let off lightly, not having to climb a 3000 foot mountain (just a 27 mile run to Tyndrum, easy!)

Summit selfie

Loch Lomond

After 5 hours 43 minutes, 32.3 miles, and 4491 feet of climbing, we arrived back at Rowardennan, both of us feeling quite heavy legged on the descent off Ptarmigan ridge. We dutifully waited for the 1645 Cruise Loch Lomond boat to Tarbet, but it never made an appearence. At 5pm we gave up and I went over to ask an elderly couple who were just back from a walk if they would kindly give us a lift back home. They did, which was very gracious considering how badly we probably smelt.

D33 Ultra

Summit ridge of Ben Lomond 07.03.2016

View to Arrochar from Ben Lomond 07.03.2016

Why would a "Mountain Runner" choose to run 33 miles out and back along a flat disused railway line on the outskirts of Aberdeen when he could be somewhere like this (Pictures taken on a run up Ben Lomond earlier in the week before the D33 race on Saturday)? Good question. Well the weather wasn't as good as this on Saturday so I don't think I was missing such great views. The main reason though is that I had planned to use the D33 race as a build up race to the Highland Fling in 7 weeks' time. I've decided to do the "Fling", a 53 mile race along the West Highland Way from Milngavie to Tyndrum as my first attempt at racing over the 40 mile distance. The Fling is the UK trial race for the World Trail Championships which will be in Portugal this October. Doing races like this is part of my longer term strategy to get better at running longer distances in the mountains (more on that to come hopefully... :))

So the D33 took place on Saturday morning, kicking off at 9am. A very "straightforward" race - run 16.5 miles from Duthie park in Aberdeen along the Deeside way to a point about 1 mile East of Banchory, then turn round and come back. Having not done much road running for a while (i.e. since Rotterdam marathon in April 2013) I wasn't quite sure how this race would feel. I didn't have a race strategy as such, just to set off at a pace that felt sustainable and try and keep that up, and hope that the whole experience would do me some good in terms of endurance.

Last year's D33 was won by Ross Houston, 2h:18min 2014 Commonwealth Games marathoner. He did the 33 miles in 3h:10min. 7 weeks later Ross went on to run the 6th fastest 100km time in British history in the Anglo Celtic Plate race (6h:42min). Pretty impressive stuff. I had no illusions about keeping up with Ross's time in the D33, but I did wonder if I could keep up 6 min/mile pace and break 3hr:20mins. I was pleased to be feel able to comfortably keep this pace to the halfway point, . After turning round just outside Banchory I'd been running for a good 4 mins. before I saw second placed runner Lee Muir, so I figured I had a good 8 min. lead. After Lee the others came thick and fast, and the support I got from them all was fantastic - loads of cheers and high fives. This really spurred me on the try and keep up the pace. I did keep it up quite well until the 23 mile mark, but after that my left hamstring started to tighten up and I slowed down to more like 6:20/mile. The last 10 miles were quite painful. Still I was delighted to win and to finish in one piece, with a time of 3 hours 21 minutes. I'm looking forward to running considerably more slowly in the Fling ;). Full results of the D33 here. http://deesidewayultra.webnode.com/. Thanks to all the organisers and supporters for putting on a great event.

Crossing the D33 finish line 12.03.2016

Ben Lui the long way

Ever since the LAMM 2010 I'd been keen to make a return to Glen Fyne in conditions of good visibility and approach Ben Lui from the south. The LAMM 2010 was a race I won with my brother Andy. I think we went fairly close to the summit of Ben Lui on that occasion but I didn't really appreciate that that the time, since we were running in thick mist with 10m visibility.

Approaching Ben Lui from the south involves a reasonably long run in up Glen Fyne. You then have to cross a couple of miles of nondescript peat bog before climbing the mountain itself. In these early March conditions the mountains all look very impressive, but Ben Lui at 1130m definitely stands out. I had my brother-in-law Grant for company and it was a great day out. A great advantage of this run is that it starts and finishes at the Fyne Ales Brewery, so we had the perfect post-run refreshment.

From the 700m point upwards I had the chance to try out a new pair of microspikes made by Nortec. These had been sent to me courtesy of Lyon equipment. The model I' trying out are called the "Nordics." Microspikes like these are probably life saving when running in Scottish mountains at this time of year. http://www.nortecsport.com/product/nordic/. The lightweight crampons fit easily into a small running rucksack and are a doddle to take on and off. As soon as they are on your feet you are capable of running straight over sheet ice without slipping. The last 400m of climbing on Ben Lui was all ice so without the Nortecs I wouldn't have made the summit.

Glencoe Skyline 2015

At 0500 my alarm sounds. I’ve been sleeping on one of the Microlodges (A.K.A. “Hobbit houses”) in the car park of the Glen Coe Ski Centre about 100 metres away from the start/finish line of the Glen Coe Skyline Race. When I break out of the lodge, the carpark is already bustling with activity. Runners and their support crew are silently making their final preparations - checking all racing kit and emergency equipment is where it should be; taking on the last of the many pre-race carbohydrate loads; a few stretching, but no one “warming up” with any real intent. The race is too long for warming up, every joule of energy too precious. The sense of anticipation is palpable. Looming three miles to our West is the Eastern face of Buachaille Etive Mòr, the iconic peak that guards the head of Glen Coe. Most visitors to Glen Coe gaze in wonder at this near perfect pyramid of rock as they comfortably drive past on the A82. Today for us, our only passport to Glen Coe is to go straight up it. The grade 3 scramble of the “Curved Ridge” route is something not one of the 160 competitors in the race will be taking lightly. No running race in the recorded history of UK sport has ever taken on a route of this severity. The runners know this. They know they are taking on the unknown. But Curved Ridge will really just be the start. Afterwards comes mile after mile of running through challenging and often highly exposed terrain – including a two kilometre section along the Aonach Eagach ridge. The Aonach Eagach is widely regarded to be the most exposed ridge on the UK mainland. The whole race totals 52km, with over 4000m of ascent. Runners are expected to take between seven and 14 hours to get round. No wonder there are a few nervous-looking faces. I am especially nervous. When I heard earlier this year that the Glen Coe Skyline Race was going to take place I immediately made it one of my key objectives for the season. Like most other competitors I had taken time to go up and visit Glen Coe to “reccy” the course – attempting to accustom myself to the route, prepare my legs for the inevitable battering, and prepare my psyche for the vertigo-inducing exposure. Yet right now I feel glad to just be on the start line. On July 16th, just over five weeks before the race, I was training in the Conitson Fells in the South Lake District when I had a freak accident. My right leg went down a hole in the ground that I hadn’t seen, and the twisting motion with which I fell caused my knee to hyperextend (bend the wrong way). I immediately knew it was serious. I was unable to run again for the next three weeks. Having missed out on two planned reccy trips because of the injury, and with far fewer miles in my legs than I wanted, I am feeling decidedly uncomfortable about what now lies ahead. Will my knee last the distance? Will the rest of my body last the distance!? (I’d never actually done a single day race lasting longer than four hours before…). At 0700 we are off, the first mile taking us down the road from the Ski Centre and onto the West Highland Way. 7km of straightforward running on a well-built path lies between us and the Buachaille. As expected, the nervous excitement causes the front of the field to set off at an unsustainable pace, with the first mile covered in under six minutes. As we move along the path, many chatting and joking, the towering Buachaille comes ever closer, increasingly dominating our view, reminding us that there is no escape from it. After about 45 minutes of running we turn abruptly to the right and start scrambling up the lower slopes of Curved Ridge. I had been keen to be in a good position at this point so as to minimise the risk of being hit by rock fall, and to avoid any congestion on what would be a strictly single-file ascent. A group of three of us form at the front with Tim Gomersall quickly assuming the lead, and scrambling up at lightening pace. Knowing that Es Tressider is a far more experienced climber than me I invite him to pass me after the first section, and the two of us set off in pursuit of Tim. Es, Tim and I all reach the summit of the Buachaille Etive Mòr together after just over 70 minutes of running. Strangely I felt a lot less vulnerable climbing Curved Ridge today than I had during my reccy – I put this down to not having had time to look around and see what was below.

For the next 90 minutes the three of us run together, the route taking us along the wide saddle of Buachaille Etive Mòr before dropping down into the Lairig Gartain then ascending again over the saddle of Buachaille Etive Beag (Etive Mòr’s sister peak) and into the Lairag Eilde. The three of us are moving well together, our paces well-matched, and we even spare the time to chat and be sociable as we run along. Tim is a medical student at Dundee University, where I graduated from seven years ago. After the Lairig Eilde the course heads south and into the highest peaks of Glen Coe, the towering beasts of Stob Coire Sgreamach (1072m), Bidean nam Bian (1150m), and Stob Coire nan Lochan (1115m). On the climb up Stob Coire Screamagh I am feeling strong and I start to pull very slowly ahead of the other two. We climb into the cloud and I lose sight of them altogether. How far ahead I am I have no idea. There is one out and back section of the course to Stob Coire nan Lochan from Bidean nam Bian. It is here that I am at last able to get a time check on my rivals. I have been descending two and a half minutes before I come across Es on his way up to the summit, so I conclude that I must have at least a five minute lead. After Es, the runners come thick and fast. I see the first lady Emilie Forsberg at the saddle between Stob Coire Lochan and Bidean nam Bian. Jasmin Paris, the second lady is hot on her heals, perhaps less than a minute behind. When I realise that I have a five minute lead my whole mentality changes. Briefly I get quite emotional as it dawns on me that I can win the race, then I remember that I am only just over three hours in – less than half way. I remember that my worst foe from now on will be either injury or hypoglycaemia (A.K.A. “bonking”, running very low on blood sugar). I resolve to be very sensible from now on, taking great care over where I put my feet, especially looking after my right knee, and consuming lots and lots of energy gels. I descend the 1000m to the A82 crossing cautiously. The path on this descent gets gradually more treacherous as you near the bottom as the rock gets slippy and wet. It is here that I come closest of all to losing the race. As the path crosses through a stream I lose my footing and slip sideways, banging the left side of my head against a rock. For two or three minutes I feel quite dizzy, but I emerge unharmed. The atmosphere at the road crossing is incredible. A huge crowd has turned out to cheer us on. I drink two cups of Cola at the aid station and make my way up towards Sgorr nam Fiannaidh and the start of the Aonach Eagach ridge. This is without doubt the hardest section of the course, the runners having to gain 900m of altitude in just over a mile. Not a section to try and run! As I assume a race walk through the heathery slopes my legs start to feel quite heavy. Am I starting to bonk? Or are my legs just bound to feel like this when I ask them to climb such a steep hill more than four hours into a race? I decide the only way to tell is to eat an energy gel and then see how I feel at the top. It is a huge relief to reach the summit. I take refuge in the realisation that or the next two kilometres as I scramble along the ridge my limiting factor will not be energy levels or leg strength, but my scrambling skills. In a strange way the Aonach Eagach is like a rest for me. As I make my way purposefully but cautiously along this very narrow ridge I start to really enjoy myself for the first time. For a while it is just me and the mountain. However somehow I do feel more vulnerable here than I did on Curved Ridge. Perhaps it is because I am now out on my own, or perhaps it is because there are some sections of downhill on the ridge so not looking below is not an option. Either way I am glad to reach Am Bodach, the peak at the Western end of the ridge, knowing that all the danger sections are now behind me. I am told at the Am Bodach checkpoint that my lead had been twelve minutes on Sgorr nam Fiannaidh. I say to myself that all I have to do is get to the finish in one piece now and the victory should be mine. I eat another gel. It is along slog from Am Bodach along to the West Highland Way at the Devil’s Staircase, then the 7km return to the Ski Centre. At checkpoint 15 with 7km to go I am told that Emilie has overtaken all the other men in the race and is now closing in on me! Lovely though she is I decide don’t want to be caught by her so I pick up the pace, crossing the finish line in 7 hours 36 minutes. Just eight minutes later Emilie finishes, just a handful of seconds ahead of Mark Harris, recent Tranter Round record breaker.

My overall reflections on this race are that the route was absolutely phenomenal. I can’t think of anywhere else on mainland UK that could offer such quality of extreme mountain running. It is no overstatement to say that this really was a first for us in Britain. Elsewhere Emilie has already given her thoughts on how it compares to other races of this distance across the globe. To organise this event was of course brave, given the objective danger involved. But bravery often pays off, and you can mitigate against the dangers, as the organisers did, by taking appropriate safety precautions and vetting participants carefully. The competitors were in fact this event’s true strength and I would like to pay tribute to everyone who made it round. This was a massive challenge. Both Emilie and Jasmin are incredible athletes and it is truly humbling to realise how close both of them were behind me. Es and Tim were fantastic company in the hills; and Mark, though I never saw him all day until he came bounding up the finishing straight, ran so strongly. For reasons expounded on above I don’t think I was able to enjoy this event as much as I should have, purely because I ran the whole event in fear. Fear that my knee would give in, and fear that I wouldn’t last the distance – more than fear or falling off! Now I know that I can run hard in the mountains for more than seven hours, and this realisation excites me. I look forward to taking on more events like this. And I look forward to coming back next August to Glen Coe. If the race reaches the profile that it is expected to, the men’s field will be substantially more competitive in 2016, so I will have to up my game significantly. Now there’s a challenge.