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Spine Race 2015 - part 2, Hawes to Alston

Push

The Spine Challenger is the Spine Race's little brother.  Teasingly called "The Fun Run" by some, it's 106 miles and finishes at checkpoint 2, Hawes.  Catching the tail-end of the Challenger race had given me great encouragement through the morning from Horton to Hawes.  I left Hawes at 3.30 pm and knew that there was probably no-one catchable in front of me and no-one I could see ready and about to leave.  I was looking forward to a night alone on the fells.  The temperature was dropping but the afternoon was clear and the visibility looked like it should last.
One of the glories of walking the fells at night is to watch the sun go down; to see the light fade and change slowly; to watch the colours come and go.

Climbing Great Shunner Fell this night was a treat.  A red sky at night that hinted at a spell of more stable weather, a fantastic sunset over the Yorkshire Dales and steel blue sky out to sea kept me rapt.


As darkness fell, the temperature dropped and ice started to form on the slabs that marked the path. Picking out the dry from the wet from the icy was a test of eyesight and concentration. 

Once or twice I thought I saw a head-torch beaming behind me but it was always quickly lost in the undulations of the hill.  

The questions facing me at this point were how long could I go on this evening, when and where could I eat, where was I going to sleep when I eventually did stop?

I was still feeling good despite having been on the move since 5.15 am - over 12 hours ago.  I told myself that the reason for this was the good meal and good night's sleep I'd had in Gargrave and Malham the night before.  These thoughts gave me sudden impression of how far I'd come and how well I was progressing.  I'd been telling myself that I'd been going for three days (and should be further along) when in fact due to the late start on day 1, I still had most of my third day left to go.

I stopped trying to work out where I was against my original plans.  Was I ahead?  Was I a day behind?  I started to focus on the practicalities of the night ahead.  Could I get to Tan Hill Inn while they were still serving food?  I knew another evening of pub grub by the fire would be a fantastic boost to body and spirits.  Passing through Thwaite on the way to Keld, I tried to remember how long this section had taken on the recce.  When would I arrive at the pub?  What time will they serve food until?  

Leaving Keld around 7.30 pm, I reckoned on getting to Tan Hill at about 9.30 - 10 pm.  Too much of a gamble to arrive there tired and hungry and likely to find the kitchen closed.  I knew there was a cosy barn just about with a hayloft for sleeping.  I took 30 minutes out to cook tea.  Chicken soup followed by pasta bolognese. Yum.  The right choice to stop, I think.  

Back on the trail, I was caught up by Neil Rutherford, a Scot from south of Edinburgh.  The company was appreciated and Neil was great company.  More of a talker than a listener, Neil told me of his training runs starting from Kirk Yetholm and working down the Pennine Way as he got more confident in his strength and navigation.  Following Neil was tough.  He had a head of steam up and was stopping for nothing.  As I walked along I was trying to pick the easy lines and avoid the worst of the bogs and puddles.  Neil relentlessly ploughed on, stopping for nothing with seeming no regard for the ground he was crossing.  He set a cracking pace which took us to Tan Hill Inn for 10.45.

There were a number of comedy moment through the week and this was one of them.  Neil met up with his partner who was supporting him - providing food, drink, clothes, emotional support and a car to escape from the weather.  I went into the pub to grab a warm drink and have a sit down.

After getting a coffee, I sat down with Neil who'd come into the pub and started chatting about this and that.  After a few minutes Neil says, "I'm sorry I didn't get your name"
I say, "It's Paul, I've been walking with you for the last 2 hours!"
"Oh Christ!  I didn't recognise you with the lights on!"
So much for my distinctive northern accent.

I forgave him and we made a pact to cross Sleighthome moor to the A66 together.  The first 5 miles of this crossed blank, indistinct, boggy moorland following the shallow contours of Frummington beck.  We didn't quite pick the fastest lines through this but we were never far from the route.

Despite the pace Neil was setting, I was starting to feel the cold.  It was past midnight and I was starting to fade.  I knew it was time to get some rest and food.  Neil tempted me with the prospect of a cup of coffee when we reached the A66 and I agreed imagining a his partner producing a hot flask as we arrived.  In fact we woke her as we got to the A66 and she started to sleepily assemble her camping stove and look around for water.  Already shivering, Neil kindly suggested I might be better moving on and I was quick to agree.
Keri and Rob arrive to disturb my night's sleep

Now on my own I was looking for shelter; somewhere where I could get out of the weather for a while.  It had steadily been deteriorating for the past 2 hours and now there was snow filling the air and the wind was gathering again.  I knew about a shelter in a shooting hut about a mile or so north of the A66 but I had never been to it.  Neil had assured me that I couldn't miss it.  In the descending mist and swirling snow, I wasn't so sure.  On top of that my head torch batteries were fading.  I pressed on hoping I would find the shelter where I could sort out my kit in relative comfort.

The downside was that I was scared of missing the hut.  I was moving slower and slower as I neared the river where the hut was marked on the map and consequently getting colder. Good sense eventually got the better of me and I changed the batteries.  With a strong beam to re-assure me that I wasn't marching past the shelter, I upped pace a little and just as I was starting to feel a little desperate, I saw the hut.

My feet steaming when I took off my Sealskinz socks
I was cold and hungry but I had time to sort myself out before morning.  I cooked up some dried apple and custard.  This was the best food I ate all week.  I followed it with some hot chocolate and got some sleep. The hut was cold.  The floor was concrete and sucked the heat out.  I couldn't get comfortable and my sleep was fitful. I started to wonder if I had another 3 days of this in me. An encouraging thought appeared that I was probably about the halfway point and I'd been going less than three days.  I'd probably managed an hour or two of sleep when the hut door opened and Rob and Keri, the Kiwi couple I'd seen a few times already, appeared.  My kit was everywhere .  I tried to organise my stuff while not waking up or moving my arms out of the sleeping bag; I was none too helpful. A need to go to the toilet got the better of me and I reluctantly got up.

It was about 5.30 am.  I decided to eat some more and get on my way before light, to push on the 10 miles or to Middleton and arrive in time for a second breakfast.  I had some porridge.  I had a hot chocolate.  I fiddled with my feet.  I had a couple of minor blisters but the blister plasters were in place and doing their job.  I decided on another hot chocolate.  During this time Keri and Rob had got into their sleeping bags, shivered for a while and decided to get up.  I offered the shivering Keri a sup of my hot chocolate.  A minute of so later, it was clear that I wasn't going to get any of it back as she and Rob drank the half-cupful.  Good karma is better than calories, I hoped.

Reluctance to put wet socks back on was slowing me down but at last I got myself sorted and under way. It had been a cold, tough night and I was feeling footsore.

Fortunately, it was a morning to lift the spirits. There was a light dusting of snow, blue skies and a crisp, light breeze.

Progress was a slow plod.  My feet were sore. Blisters weren't a problem, they just ached from being wet and battered for (nearly) 3 days.

I was still enjoying myself though.  Watching the sun come up over the reservoirs and having the whole hillside to myself felt like a treat.

Around 2 hours after leaving the shelter, I passed the next barn that I'd scoped out for an overnight shelter.  I felt glad that I hadn't had to push onto here the night before.

The miles seemed to pass slowly but my progress was clarifying in my mind.  I was over halfway in under 3 days.  All was good.  This was fine.  I could do this.

The checkpoint in Middleton-in-Teesdale was a mile up the hill through town off the route of the Pennine Way.  It was probably a mark of how tired I was becoming just how much I resented this diversion. 

But this was Checkpoint three, 140 miles done in under 72 hours.  I could take an hour off so to let my sore feet recover, eat lots and get some drier socks on.

The news on reaching Middleton was that the weather was closing in again.  A storm was forecast to hit in the next 24 hours.  A diversion avoiding the scramble up to Cauldron Spout was being enforced and a cut-off  at Cow Green car park of 10 pm was being imposed.  Anyone arriving after this time would have to take a short-cut to Alston avoiding the highest summits of the Pennines across Cross Fell.  10 pm was a generous allowance but I didn't want to risk being close to the cut-off, so I got myself moving as quickly as I could.

The miles along the upper Tees past Low Force and High Force waterfalls is gently rising and picturesque trek on a good path.  Trying to push the pace along here with throbbing feet was a dull and painful task, lightened by fabulous view.  As I gained height, I could feel the weather getting colder and the skies greyer.  On the diversion route to Cow Green an outrider of the storm hit.  The head wind made any progress difficult and the snow was thick in the air and settling fast on the ground.  I reached the car park at dusk, around 5 pm.  I was taken into the Mountain Safety team bus and offered a coffee and piece of Dundee cake.  Hearing that Dave Dixon was only 5 minutes ahead of me and knowing how useful his footprints in the snow would be, and also how soon they would disappear in the snow and wind, I scoffed the cake and pushed on.  Later I was to learn how lucky I was.  Keri and Rob arrived at Cow Green less than an hour after me but were diverted onto the road to Alston.

After a bleak 15 minutes or so, the weather settled and I was treated to a glorious night-time traverse to High Cup Nick and down to Dufton.  The stars were stunning and the snow-lit fells were spectacular.  Frustratingly, I lost Dave's footprints in the middle of the crossing.  The GPS told me I was close to the line of the Pennine Way but I knew I wasn't on the best line.  Care was needed as I reached High Cup Nick, a point with some treacherous cliffs and a number of alternative paths.

As I dropped down towards Dufton, visibility returned and the lights of Cumbria came into sight; another beautiful view.  I was unaware that there was an intermediate checkpoint in Dufton.  My plan at this point was to push on over Cross Fell and sleep when I reached Greg's Hut after Cross Fell.  On entering Dufton, however, I was signed down the road to an unannounced checkpoint in the village hall.  It was 9.30 pm.  I took the decision to get my tea at this point and made up a sachet of goulash and a mug of chicken soup whilst I had a supply of hot water and a warm place to sit.  I took off my boots to allow my battered feet some respite.  There were a couple of chaps asleep on the village hall floor and I decided that I would join them and have "just a couple of hours" sleep before pushing on.

I woke around 12.30 and made some "breakfast", porridge and hot chocolate (same mug / same time). As I was getting my kit together Dave Bamber, who was running the checkpoint, awoke and came over to tell me that I wasn't allowed to leave on my own.  I must wait for the other chaps asleep in the hall and we could only travel across Cross Fell as a threesome.  I was disappointed by this and frustrated knowing that if I had pushed on as planned after tea that I would not have been held.  There was nothing to be done but go back to sleep. 

Just after 1.30 am, I was woken by Dave Bamber and told that Dave Dixon was wanting to leave now and we would be allowed to proceed as a pair.  So, up again, I took on some coffee and got on with sorting out my kit.  Putting on my boots, I noticed that the insoles were missing.  The cogs whirred round slowly.  The last I remembered was taking them out of my boots to dry at Middleton. Had I walked the last 20 miles with no insoles?  I checked the radiators in the hall but it seemed that I had. My feet had swollen so much that I hadn't even noticed when I put my boots back on without them at Middleton.  "Oh well!", I thought, "I guess that means I can do another 20 miles without them too."

Dave and I set off to traverse Cross Fell at about 3 am.

Dave had set a cracking pace along the Tees that afternoon and had proved impossible to stay with over High Cup Nick but now was suffering with a sore leg and I found the pace we fell into together felt fairly steady.  This was not something I was unhappy about.

We stayed on the road over Great Dunn Fell to avoid the possibly deep and drifting snow.  We stopped briefly on Little Dunn Fell for photos.  
I think the i-phone won the battle of the cameras. Or maybe Dave was just cleverer with the lighting.

We got dawn just before we reached Greg's Hut. We poked out heads round the door to find a couple of spiners asleep and pressed on.

Dave's Spine story of the previous year, where he stopped just three miles short of the finish, is now the stuff legend.  It was a privilege to spend this time on the hill and be part of his successful attempt.


The wind was biting by now.  I was wearing all my clothes and was none too warm but we were treated to another delightful sunrise.

Dave pulled ahead of me as I paused for a toilet break.  I caught him up 10 minutes later and chatted on to him for ages about nothing of any consequence.  Thinking he was a bit quiet, I looked around to discover that I'd been talking to my shadow for the last 5 minutes.

It was round about now that I kept thinking that I was being overtaken by cyclists.  Maybe, I was getting a bit tired.

We were off the high ground and in good light and visibility, so there was no need to stay together.  I stretched my legs as much as I could and hit out for Alston.  It would be good to get beyond there and maybe get to Greenhead in the Tyne valley today, I thought.

I reached Alston shortly before 11 am to be told that we were being held until the next storm passed. The mixture of relief and disappointment is difficult to remember accurately.  I remember thinking that the rest and food would be welcome but was frustrated to be held.  The non-stop nature of the race was what made this event unique.  I wasn't complaining.  I had no doubt that the decision was right and was prepared to make the best of it and drink coffee and eat doughnuts until I exploded.  It was also a great opportunity to get to the other competitors, staff and volunteers a bit better. No hardship, certainly.

end of part 2.

Part 3 will be the finale...I promise.


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