Ever so slightly inclement weather conditions (OMM Borrowdale race report)

For those that don't know, mountain marathons are a particular (British?) kind of mountain or fell running event. They are held over 2 days and require all participants to be self-sufficient in terms of clothing, tent, cooking and fuel, water - everything. Each day involves orienteering between checkpoints (CPs) along a course - either a fixed course or a 'score' course (no fixed sequence of CPs. I was running the 'A' course, the 2nd longest of the 4 fixed courses - approximately 30km with 1800m of ascent each day over rough (very rough - through / over bushes in places) ground. More info on the OMM site.

Pre-race

The drive up to the Lakes was pretty hellish. It took us 8.5 hours from Milton Keynes as Eilidh is teething badly just now, something I have learned causes babies poo to come frequent and very er loose. Thick and fast they came I wish, more sort of very runny and fast. We spent hours just changing nappies at service stations on a journey that I'd expect should take 4-5 hours. Anyway we arrived at Grapes Cottage in Cockermouth at 20:30, our holiday home for the next 5 days and waited for my folks to arrive. They arrived just after 21:00.

My Dad then drove me the 13 or so miles from Cockermouth, up and over the high Honister pass (~ 1200' altitude) to the event HQ at Seathwaite farm near Seatoller village in Borrowdale to drop me off. The weather was windy but no rain. He seemed to drive quite slowly but given it was dark and the road has a 20% incline on both sides of the Honister pass this is quite understandable really (thanks for the lift Dad). Anyway, dropped off I met my partner Ian who was replacing Marco at short notice (bet Marco is thanking his work now given what happened!) and we went straight to bunk down for the night. Our start time was 08:37 - the race has a staggered start with competitors on each course heading off at 1 min intervals from ~ 08:00.

The night proved very windy and the VW camper van we were staying in shook like something from an exorcism movie. The wind was actually that strong it tore a rent in the tarpaulin that connects the hard, raisable roof to the body so we had an er well ventilated nights rest.

Event headlines

Before regailing you with tales of my adventures on Lakeland fells during the event I'll start with the headline weather stuff. The event was cancelled about 12pm on day 1, about 4 hours after the first competitors started. The video clip below will give you some idea of the conditions on a less exposed area - the road up to Honister from Buttermere taken sometime on the Saturday afternoon. The conditions on the fell tops and plateaus were much worse - driving painful rain and winds gusting regularly at strengths which either buffeted you and made movement very difficult, blew you uncontrollably sideways or just blew you straight over on your back (happened quite a few times mid-race to Ian and myself).



Most of the press coverage blew the seriousness of the event cancellation out of all proportion - talking about the Lake District being turned into a morgue and all sorts. Nonsense really even though the weather was so extreme. Richard Askwith of the Independent, a fell runner himself, gives a more balanced account here.

Other reports to look out for are the various reports, photo sets and videos available at Sleepmonsters.

Seathwaite to CP1 at the source of Tongue Beck at the eastern end of Ennerdale

The race started about 5 mins walk up the valley from Seathwaite, where lots of tight wearing folk of all ages were congregated, waiting for their start time, huddling against the wind. Ambient temperature was fine but you could tell that up higher the wind would be freezing so no-one had bare legs. I decided to wear waterproof pants over a pair of shorts, my hairy scottish legs giving me proven levels of insulation.


Picture of the OMM Borrowdale start from http://climbing.me.uk/

We were off shortly after our alloted time of 08:37 running up the valley struggling to fold and orient our maps as is the norm with events that involve orienteering. The path was rocky but easily runnable and we gradually over took folk as the 450m ascent up towards the bealach between Base Brown and Green Gable on the way to CP1 began. Ian was moving gradually ahead of me but I just kept my pace. The OMM is not an event to kill your legs wtih 'too fast' ascent lactic acid too early on, so although the competitor inside me wanted to keep up my brain remained engaged.

I had my first gear failure about 5 minutes into the climb. My laces came undone - aaagh, bloomin annoying and something that would keep happening throughout our run. I really hate laces coming undone despite your best efforts to jam them solid.


Picture of Styhead Gill on the way up to the bealach between Green Gable and Brandreth, looking back down towards Seathwaite (from http://www.geograph.org.uk/)

Laces tied we soon reached the point where we had to leave the relatively soft incline of the path and head on up over steeper rough ground to reach the bealach. Taking a few folk here we were rewarded with great views of Brandreth and Grey Knotts at the top. Still sheltered from the wind we countered round rocky and grassy ground on Green Gable towards the head of Ennerdale. I went over on my right ankle slightly and had to stop briefly but the pain subsided and I carried on fine.


Gillarcomb Head above Ennerdale with Pillar the background, just above CP1 (from http://www.geograph.org.uk/)

Rounding onto Gillarcomb Head the wind was screaming up Ennerdale and made descent to CP1 at the mouth of the Tongue Beck tricky. My partner Ian was blewn flat on his back as we jumped our way down tufted ground to the CP. I dibbed in and turned 90 degrees to head to the summit of Brandreth and towards CP2.

Brandreth to CP2 on the slopes of High Spy

The wind buffeted us constantly on the plod up the short grassy and rocky slopes of Brandreth, making Ian and myself bang together accidentally several times. We had to stop a few times and brace as gusts became to strong to move in but we were soon over Brandreth and onto Grey Knotts, checking compass bearings on the move, climbing over a fence and running on over mixed bog and rocky outcrop.

The summit of Grey Knotts (from http://www.geograph.org.uk/)

The view down to Honister Slate Mine at the top of Honister Pass from the descent of Grey Knotts (http://www.geograph.org.uk/)

The rain was coming in with the wind now as we made our way down the 300m descent over grassy ground with outcrops to Honister Pass and I had my second gear failure. I had forgotten that upon descending the Kamleika pants I was wearing have a very annoying habit of falling down, due to their being quite heavy material and the fasten not being tight enough. Mental note - must either buy new trousers or only wear these with braces. Then my shoes laces came undone again. Gaagh!

Anyhoo we reached Honister slate mine and passed a few folk stopped to put on their waterproofs before heading straight up the shoulder of Dale Head. The wind was constant but the gusts not too bad so we ate and drank as we climbed ~ 150m gradually heading east onto the broad, boggy plateau of High Scawdell.


Picture of the sheep fold (beneath crags) containing CP2 at Dalehead Tarn (from http://www.geograph.org.uk/)

We didn't route select particularly well over the plateau and ended up to our mid-calves in boggy water at several points, starting the lack of feeling in your feet that I think is ubiquitous amongst mountain marathoners mid-event. Our going was good though and we reached CP2 in fine fettle.
Dale Head tarn to CP3 at Greenup on slopes off Maiden Moor


From High Spy looking down to Derwent Water (from http://www.geograph.org.uk/)

We had a choice of routes here. Either contour round towards CP3, or head up the 200m or so ascent to the top of High Spy then head north towards CP3 and drop in on top of it. We chose the latter as I knew contouring would take in rough ground and would involve a climb at the back end anyway to avoid the precipitous Blea Crag, just south of CP3.

It was as we gained higher ground on High Spy that the wind really kicked in. As we progressed along trying to stuff energy bars in our mouths, drink water, take compass bearings and ignore the fact that we hadn't felt our feet for some time now due to their submersion across High Scawdell we were quite simply just blown around. You'd try to place your feet and your legs would be blewn, making you trip, stumble and sometimes fall. At other times you were simply blewn along or plain over. The gusts were becoming more frequent and stronger so the 150m descent from Narrow Moor down to CP3 over about 150m horizontal distance gave welcome shelter even whilst it destroyed my quads.


The slope down from Narrow Moor to CP3 (from http://www.geograph.org.uk/)

From Narrow Moor to CP4 on Causey Pike

A quick CP stop then off back up the 150m, struggling to place feet securely amongst the dead bracken which covered the slope. Nearing the top I had to use hands to gain decent purchase and then into the gale force wind once again, quads and calves burning and fatigued from hard climbing. Quick compass bearing to check where we were and we were off stumbling, half running, half blewn along over the top of Maiden Moor and down its north west flank, my b****y waterproof pants half way down my legs and me trying to hoik them back up whilst descending and trying to drink. Laces then undone again but more and more difficult to retie with quickly numbing clumsy fingers upon exposure to the wind and air.

The path then road past Little Town and across Newlands Valley were a welcome bit of ultra style plodding, allowing me to drink the last of 1.1l of water I started the race with, knowing dehydration would already be taking its toll on my performance (1.1l over several hours of hard exercise isn't much). I could feel my quads were pretty tired now.

We gained the track and started to climb up the hellish slope of Birkrigg Brow towards the summit of Causey Pike. Now this was the hardest climb so far. 300m of ascent across about 300-400m horizontal distance over some of the densest, shrubbiest heather cover I have come across. The wind was driving stinging rain into our faces from the south west and buffeting our bodies, making the difficulties in foot placement basically impossible. Climbing was a slow process of taking tiny inch long secure steps or longer ones which inevitably resulted in a loss of balance and stumbling or falling over. My legs were burning and I had no water to drink.


The top portion of the heather filled slopes of Causey Pike (from http://www.geograph.org.uk/)

From Causey Pike to the race HQ

Unbelievably the wind seemed stronger as we crested the main eastern shoulder of Causey Pike and contoured round then down a hundred feet or so north to CP4 in relative shelter. I dibbed us in and then trudged back up the 100 feet or so to the shoulder before trying to communicate with Ian about our route to the next CP. However as soon as I reached the shoulder I was blewn uncontrollably with stinging rain visibly in sheets down the shoulder to the north east. I sat down to stop myself and Ian sat down too. We agreed to head down the valley to Rigg Beck diagonally south west over very steep dead bracken covered ground. He began to peel away, both of us stumbling, falling again and again due to poor footing and the strength of the wind.

My laces came undone again and I had real problems with numb hands this time in re-tying them. I caught up with Ian who was bunkered down deep amongst the heather and bracken. We both looked up the valley to Rigg Beck. The sky was darker and the rain was lashing in. Ian asked whether we should bail.

We mulled it over. It was certainly attractive (the thought of beer had already entered my head) but also safer we felt. This was not weather for camping at mid-way. So we bailed. Continuing on would have meant committing to some serious and exposed terrain. Bailing at that point left a 12-13 mile road run back to the main HQ. Easy. Or so we thought.

We ran round the road under Cats Bells and met up with 2 other 'A' course competitors bailing. Both had completed the UTMB so we had a good bit of banter on the way back about that. Both were planning to enter the WHWR for 2010. The rain was steady but we were sheltered from the wind so the going was pleasant enough. We turned onto the main Keswick-Borrowdale road and started going through increasingly large puddles. The puddles soon merged and by the time we were a few miles from Seatoller the road had become a river from 4 to 12 inches deep, flowing from sodden fields. A landrover stopped to tell us the event had been cancelled a few hours before and that flooding was much worse nearer the main HQ so our only mission now was to get back to safety and warmth.

The road/river got steadily deeper and our feet got steadily colder and colder. By the time we turned off the road onto the higher path to Seathwaite I hadn't been able to feel my feet for a good 30 mins. By the time we reached the race HQ we had been running / walking with our feet fully submerged for an hour or so and numbness had transcended into a sort of cold pain. We could see tents blewn down and cars almost flooded out in the fields as the race HQ came into view but luckily Ian's VW was on higher ground.

I checked us in and we were handed hot food and drinks vouchers to redeem on site. I gave ours away as we had supplies in the VW.

The winds and rains continued to gather pace and didn't die down until the early hours. We kept the VW roof down to keep water and wind out and slept on the same bunk. The van shook like a van possessed in an exorcist movie again but we were warm and cozy, if a little trapped on site.

Getting out of Borrowdale on the Sunday (easier said than done)

After getting back to the race HQ and drying off I ventured out to see if there was a public telephone to contact my wife to say I was OK and to arrange for transport out of Borrowdale. It was p*****g it down and there was one public phone with a queue. I stood, gradually getting wetter and wetter, my boots filling up until it was my turn. Chucking in a bunch of 20ps, my only cash I dialled the number then noticed the machine had just eaten my money and had no intention of letting me call anyone. Aaagh. I left the machine slightly miserably, not wanting to start faffing around with reverse charges. I knew the queue was long and people were very keen to use the phone.

After a few hours the rain eased a tad so I stood in line again. I ended up chatting to a Royal Marine behind me and asked whether the army might send in transport trucks to get people out if the flood waters rose any higher - many of the Seathwaite fields were knee high or higher. He said there weren't any transports leftin the country so unlikely. Apparently everything decent from tanks to tin openers is in Afghanistan, so there's nothing left.

I eventually got on the phone to discover you can't reverse charge calls to mobiles so I had to reverse charge to a friend in Edinburgh, who took a message to contact Kirstin and arrange for my Dad to pick me up in Seatoller village at 9am. I had no idea whether they managed to contact Kirstin because there's not even the slightest hint of mobile signal anywhere in Borrowdale. Thanks for relaying the message though Ian and Kirsty.

In the morning I put my 35l kit rucksack on my back and my 25l racing rucksack on my front and hiked off down the road to Seatoller. I expected from reports the night before to have to

wade waist deep in water to reach the village but luckily only a few bits of water remained. The rest had drained into the swollen lengths of the Derwent.

Not knowing whether my dad would arrive at 9am british summer time, or 9am winter time (the clocks had been set back overnight and I forgot to specify when on the phone) I set off to meet my Dad at 9am summer time. He wasn't there and being a 20 minutes early kind of chap I decided to start walking towards Cockermouth by walking up the 275m ascent to the top of Honister Pass then down the otherside into Buttermere and onwards.

Hordes of OMM'ers who had spent the night sheltering in barns and the old slate mine were coming down the hill towards me like a stream of refugees in a war zone. Lots of bleary looking eyes and cheery faces though with some good banter as I headed the opposite way.

An hour came and passed, with no sign yet of my Dad. Hmm I began to wonder. Did the message get through? I had to assume not. Or perhaps the road is flooded and impassable at some point. Possibly. No matter really. I had food, water and the weather and scenery were fine so I wandered onwards. I reached about 1/2 mile beyond Buttermere before a van with 2 fellow OMM'ers in it stopped. They were heading to Cockermouth so I gladly accepted the offer of a lift, my ankles were hurting from bruising sustained the day before and I would rather not have walked the remaining 7 or 8 miles on top of the 5 or 6 from Seathwaite to Buttermere.

It turned out my Dad had been a real trooper (thanks Dad). He'd tried both the Honister approach to Seatoller and found it flooded and impassable, then the Keswick approach and found it flooded and impassable too. With no available approach he had no choice but to retreat to Cockermouth and wait. He was so relieved to hear from me when I called just after 11am winter time. My wife didn't seem perturbed at all - haha!

Post race mullings

Since the event I've been mulling over whether mountain marathons or trail ultras are harder. I've come to the conclusion that its not an entirely sensible question as they have different qualities - long trail ultras are never that intense physically (puffing and panting) but require an ability to keep trudging through constant pain hour after hour after hour.

Mountain marathons are a different kettle of fish altogether. The repeated very steep ascent and descent over rough ground kills my legs as there are no sustained hills with 400m + climb around where I live so I find them very intense physically. In addition having to put up with the intensity of exercise whilst dehydrated (inevitable after a few hours when the water you carry runs out and you must find more) and navigating in generally poor weather makes mountain marathons very challenging indeed. There is something also very committing about them - no support crews, no water provided, nothing except for a course.

I first and last did the OMM in 2006. Having competed again in 2008 I think I will make the OMM a regular fixture and maybe look to add in another mountain marathon per year. Trail ultras are probably my favourite thing but mountain marathons come a very close second.

Finally, do I feel a bit soft having decided to bail before knowing the event was cancelled? No. In these kinds of events you must always be thinking about the risks of continuing over rough ground with no support and of pitching a tent and surviving overnight. The weather was pretty atrocious and definitely not the kind of weather for sheltering in a tent. Mountain sense would direct anyone sensible to search for buildings to shelter in (or a pub with ale!). I reckon having recognised the severity of the weather early on helped my partner and I achieve the best outcome given the situation - a warm bed and food for the Saturday night. I'd much rather that than have arrived at the mid-way camp only to be told to head to HQ only to be told at the top of Honister to seek shelter in barns as happened to those who finished their course.