Spine Challenger North Trail Race
Report by Victoria Morris
I was reminded at the club last week that I owe a trail race report for the Spine Challenger North. My apologies for not doing this sooner; my excuse is that I was asked to write an article for www.ultrarunnermagazine.co.uk, and I was hoping to use that as my trail race report as well, but it hasn’t been published yet (as far as I know). So I’d better get writing again… I realise that everyone else seems to know more about it than I do, but in case you aren’t familiar with it, the Spine Challenger North was a new race this January, covering the top 160 miles* of the Pennine Way, and was run over the same dates as the Spine Challenger (south), Spine Sprint, and full Spine race in early January.
* Actually, the inaugural race was only 145 miles, because the Forest Commission had decreed that, as a result of Storm Arwen, the trees in the north Pennines were extremely unstable, and ***under no circumstances*** was ***anyone*** to go ***anywhere*** near a tree (in case it fell on them).
The organisers did their best with diversions, but for the section in the Kielder forest they couldn’t think of any viable alternative to shuttling us by vehicle through the dangerous tree-infested terrain. The diversions were pretty disgusting (muddy byways) so I think I’ll take my chances with the trees next time.
Having run the southern end of the Pennine Way last summer, it seemed a good idea to run the northern end this January, to ‘tidy things up’ a bit. I knew I could do 100-mile events, but could I manage something more like 150? Oh, and you get a badge – I have a weakness for sew-on badges and will do pretty much anything to get one. The race itself was very challenging, but overall I’m glad that I did it – and even more pleased that I completed it.
Probably the most challenging thing was the variety of weather that got thrown at us… The road was flooded on the way to registration on the Saturday, and during the race itself parts of the riverside path approaching Cauldron Snout were underwater, so we had to scramble over boulders and try not to fall in the river (I managed to steer my only serious wobble into a cold puddle instead) – I think some later runners were diverted along a nearby road for this section.
On Cross Fell there was a fairly deep covering of snow, which I found pretty exhausting; after Cross Fell I felt like I was moving like a geriatric snail! But I think everyone felt the same – my husband told me that everyone slowed down a lot after Cross Fell. Then on Hadrian’s Wall there was a really stiff, cold breeze coming in from the south, and in the Cheviots we had one of those perfect winter days with frozen ground and bright, clean sunshine. My general strategy with really long events is not to run any sections that are going to make you tired, i.e. no uphill running! The only bit that I ran seriously was the downhill on Great Shunner Fell, near the start. After that, the downhill stretches were either covered in snow, or through deep bog – or both – so I ended up walking most of the way. From Hadrian’s Wall onwards, the cold wind made my chest fill up with gunk, so that I struggled to breathe, especially when going uphill, and running was out of the question.
I got a full medical at the Bellingham checkpoint (where the medics were waiting to have something to do) and lay down for a bit to let my chest clear, which made things a bit more pleasant for the final stretch through the Cheviots. I navigated mostly using a paper map, which worked fine when I was awake; however, about 6 am after the first night, I think my brain was telling me that it wanted to go to sleep, so I made some pretty poor navigational decisions – once even taking a path on the wrong side of a river – which left me meandering around in boggy fields, unable to find any stiles, gates or signposts, and feeling really despondent. I phoned my husband, really wishing he’d let me retire, but he basically said “Well, Uncle Nigel’s really enjoying watching you on the tracker, so you just have to keep going!” But having a quick cry down the phone made me feel a lot better. I was on my own for most of the race, but I think having another runner to talk to would have worked equally well. Anyone watching the tracker will have noticed that I also took the wrong route right at the end – I followed the high-level option into Kirk Yetholm, whereas we were supposed to take the low-level path – again because I wasn’t using the GPS. So, when I got to the end my main concern was whether the organisers were going to make me go four-and-a-half miles back up the high route in order to come down the correct way; I’m relieved to say that they didn’t.
As with the summer race, I was subjected to numerous interviews, which didn’t get used, presumably because I give all the wrong answers; and because no-one likes to admit that the winning “runner” walked most of the way!