The Runaway Train or “An Honourable Journey”

Wake Up

Edward woke up, blinking. He looked about himself with a grimace, where was he? The first thing he heard upon waking was a continuous click-clack sound, the tell-tale sound of moving along railway tracks, which made him assume he was somehow on a train. Glancing around confirmed this, he was indeed lying on a chair, in a 4 person cabin, onboard a train carriage, but that made no sense to him. The last thing he could remember was the bar and drinking that first pint of beer at the meeting. So how did he get here? Where was the train going? The cabin was decorated with wooden slats and the seatings were made of felt. There weren’t any motifs, maps or posters around to give any clues as to his location or destination. The seats with their blue background and scarlet stripes bordered on the hypnotic and after a few moments of staring at them Edward rubbed his eyes. He stood up and turned the cabin door handle. He peered outside and then stepped into the narrow corridor.

All Empty, But One

He explored along the carriage, glancing at the passing countryside. He had expected to see some fellow passengers accompanying him on the train, but the other cabins in this carriage appeared to be empty. Looking out of one of the carriage windows he saw a lone boy on a bicycle waving from outside as the train passed by. Edward tried opening the window shutter to get some air, but found he couldn’t move it, so he gave up and continued his journey along to the next carriage.
He opened the connecting door between the carriages and stepped in, once again he found the first two cabins empty. He was then startled by a sudden jolt, as one of the doors ahead began to slide open. He moved towards the door and spied an old man slowly pulling the handle to let himself out, he had a kindly look about his face. Edward assisted him with the door, asking, “Excuse me sir, do you know where this train is going? Where might be the next stop?”
“Oh yes very good!”, laughed the old man, “I saw you asleep earlier, you must have a far bolder constituion than I to be able to sleep at such a time as this. I am Kevin, pleased to meet your acquaintance”, the man chuckled as they shook hands.
The man continued, “I’m just going to see the others in the dining car and I’m guessing you are coming too? No doubt you’ll be very well received!”.
“The others?”, replied Edward, somewhat confused. The man seemed oblivous to Edward’s confusion and started to walk towards the next carriage. Still at a loss as to where he was and with no other direction, Edward simply followed the man, thinking that perhaps these ‘others’ would be able to give him some answers.

Meeting The Others

They passed through one more carriage and then entered a dining carriage.

Edward was greeted by a somewhat surprising sight. A small crowd of people were either sitting or standing around a sizeable bar area. Normally this would not be unusual, but it occurred to Edward that the train seemed to be entirely unoccupied except for this dining area. Why would that be? Upon the bar itself lay an arrangement of food, snacks and drinks. A custom beer tap and two open Champagne bottles sat at one end. A neat stack of glass tankards, crystal wine flutes and a silver bottle cooler decorated the other end. Towards the centre of the bar stood a guilded sign stating “Welcome Honourable Guests”. The word Honourable was in a slight italic typeface. Edward assumed that these people must be rather wealthy to have such luxuries on-board a train. He then thought to himself, maybe somehow, mistakenly, he had become one of these ‘honourable’ guests, maybe there had been a mix-up in the invites or something like that. Yes, he thought to himself, perhaps there had been a mistake and that was why he was here. He pondered the thought a while longer, then sighed, as he considered himself anything but honourable. If only they knew the truth about his current life situation.

Looking across the bar area, Edward counted seven others, three women and four men. That made nine people in all, including Kevin and himself. The seating layout in the carriage consisted of two felt-covered benches, each adorned with the same styling as the cabin he had woken up in. The benches were adjacent to the carriage windows, where three people sat. The rest were at the bar, helping themselves to the various snacks and drinks. A tall, broad man, the most prominent of the group, reached and grabbed a handful of nuts, shoving them into his mouth. The movement of the train swayed the liquid in his glass as he chewed the nuts. He quipped a joke from the side of his mouth to which the others, especially the women, laughed. Edward was just under 6ft tall, but had a stooped, shy manner and the other man although only slightly taller appeared to tower over him. These “others”(as Kevin had described them) had been in various elements of conversation, but the arrival of Edward and Kevin sparked their interest in him.

An Introducing

“Hey look who I picked up on my way back!”, announced Kevin to the crowd.
“Hi Richard!”, a unison of voices called towards Edward.
“Good to see you’re awake ‘at last’. I’m Kerry, nice to meet you at last!”, said one of the girls in a drawl emphasising the words “at last” both times.
“Indeed, I’m very glad Mr.Snorer is awake ‘at last'”, quipped an upright lady with long tousled auburn hair. Kerry and a couple of others laughed or nodded at this.
The woman continued brashly, “You were in the carriage next to me and your snoring really was incredibly loud. I am Mrs Sian Matthews for your information.”. Kevin nodded amusingly, giving Edward a wink to indicate he was dealing with a difficult character.
“Thank you, very nice to meet you all”, began Edward with his arms upheld in an attempt to silence any further comments about his snoring, “…but my name isn’t Richard, my name is Edward and I think there’s been some kind of a mistake”.
The tall man who had been drinking at the bar then joined the conversation, “Sorry pal, old Kevin here told us your name was Richard and he said you told the guard that was your name!”. Before Edward could reply the tall man leant back and continued , “So unless your surname is ‘Richard’, which would imply your full name is “Edward Richard”, which sounds kind of funny, you are not making any sense!”. He ended this remark with a big smirk on his face, causing the women to chuckle once again and Edward to frown.
A man in late middle-age with a goatee then confidentally stuck his head forward and chimed in, “Let me interject and say ‘No sir’, you are wrong, there has definitely been no mistake! When you turned up this afternoon, you told me your name was Richard only seconds before you ‘fell’ into your assigned carriage! John C Powell does not forget introductions as memorable as that!”
“I told you that, really?!”, was Edward’s immediately question, raising his eyebrows in surprise.
A man with a foreign accent and a colourful cloth jacket then said, “Yes and besides the guard would have checked your ID card before letting you on this train, they do not make mistakes!”. The man looked Edward in the eyes kindly and as he reached forward to shake hands he added, “They call me Peter”.
Edward gladly responded to the man’s warm handshake, but was still left quite confused. None of this made any sense to him. Why would he have told them his name was Richard? He then started to feel around his pockets for his wallet, maybe the answer would be in there.
As he was doing this, a large man with red cheeks who had been sitting on one of the benches stepped forward and said, “I am Derek and I heard the porter let you on the train”. The man finished his introduction with, “You sounded in a real good mood, when I say that, I mean you sounded drunk to me!”.
Edward stood in a daze at this remark, but immediately afterwards a short lady with a pleasant smile spoke up, “Oh this young man seems very confused and we should be nice to our new friend, we are all in this together. I am happy to call you Edward, if that is what you would prefer”. Edward nodded a quiet thank you to her, to which she responded with a smile, “As long as you call me by my name, which is Chloe, we can all be happy”. Edward uttered a thanks this time and decided that he liked this lady most out of all the group, her kindness relieved him somewhat.
Sudddenly the tall man shouted, “Yeah I agree with Chloe!”. His volume caused everyone to look towards him, as he continued, “Richard…Edward, whatever! if you want to be called Marilyn Monroe, we will call you that!”, he smirked his biggest smirk of all at this remark. “I am Gary Nero, that’s my full name pal!”, the man winked upon saying this, “We are all in the same boat or rather train as Chloe says, so makes no difference to me! Glad to meet you, Edward”. He finished his remark with a joyful grin and another swig to finish his beer.
Edward was speechless at all this attention and still utterly confused. At this point he pulled out his wallet and found an ID card. He peered at it and scratched his head. It was his brother’s ID card. Why would he have his brother’s ID card in his wallet? At least that explains why they think my name is Richard, he thought. As he held the ID in his hands, the man named John with the goatee lent forward again and proudly pointed towards it. Thrusting a finger onto the card, he said scathingly, “You see, You see! It clearly says ‘Richard’, make no mistake, sir, make no mistake what John C Powell can see with ihs own eyes!”.
Edward sighed and tried to explain that it was his brother’s ID card, but John had already turned to one of the women and re-confirmed his certainty about the ID card, “John C Powell does not forget this kind of thing!”, he repeated, “It clearly says ‘Richard’ on the ID card!”.

1. Not enough training rides – I did a whole 3 practice rides in total before the event – the longest one being 65miles and that was about 6 weeks before. This was due to a lot going on the previous month(including driving to Switzerland and back) and not having enough spare days to train. So my bike training for a 100 mile century ride was 1 x 38 mile ride out to Redhill Aerodrome and back, 1 x 65 mile ride from Worcester Park to Milton Keynes, 1 x 38 miler around Box Hill and back via Epsom.
2. Moved house 2 days before – yeah great timing
3. Hardly slept the night before – so was quite tired for most of the ride – didn’t get to bed until around midnight due to sorting out new house stuff and then woke up at 4am as had forgotten to prepare some food for the day – usually sleep quite well the night before events like this, but this night, I was wired.

Anyways I got up at 5:20am – there were allegedly 3 trains from Wimbledon(or Raynes Park) station on a Sunday morning that would get me to the race start on time – one at 5:56am, 6:17am and 7:08am. Despite the race email saying my arrival time at Buckingham Palace should be 7:50am, I opted on the side of caution and went for the 5:56am train, but when I got to the station there were NO TRAINS! :O

Journey to the Start Line

Yes, I cycled the 3.5 miles from home to Wimbledon to station, getting there 10mins before 5:56am, only to be greeted with the news from the departures screen that there were no trains going to Waterloo(due to engineering works). My immediate reaction was that this meant I’d have to cycle the 9 miles to central London, which I really wanted to avoid if possible as I was already quite tired and really didn’t fancy any extra miles before starting the ride. So, I headed off down Alexadra Road and saw a big Rail Replacement bus at the bus stop. Deperately wanting to avoid biking all the way to London, I took a punt and asked the driver if I could put my bike on the bus and amazingly he agreed(Big Thanks to this Bus Driver!) – some other passenger then said, “You’ve got a friend already on the bus”. It turned out fellow rider “Kat” had already parked her bike on the bus too I chatted to her as we journeyed up to London via Vauxhall, getting off at Waterloo, cycling across Westminster Bridge(despite the guide saying this would be closed) and then making our way across to Victoria to the start queue. Kat had an earlier start time than me and I could tell she was a faster cyclist, so she headed off into the main queue shortly after we got to the start gates.

A Worryingly The Late Start Time

Just a quick note about starting times – to add to everything else I was also quite annoyed at being given 9:05am as a start time! the main reason for this is because I predicted I’d take at least 8.5hours to finish the 100miles and had read about stage “cut-off” times! Cut-off times essentially mean if you don’t get to an appropriate stage of the race within the specified time, in this event you would either be sent on to the shorter 60mile route or not allowed to finish. The times seemed quite tight given a 9:05am start time, which made me fret somewhat.

My start details were:
Start colour: YELLOW
Wave letter: G
Arrival time: 07:50:00
Load time start: 08:20:00
Load time end: 08:40:00
Start time: 09:05:00

Cut-Off Times Location / Distance / Time before you’re not allowed to finish

1 Woodford Green – Mile 18 11:00am
2 Four Wantz Roundabout, Chipping Ongar – Mile 32 12:20pm
3 Felsted School – Mile 53 14:00
4 Writtle – Mile 63 15:00

Considering all the above, I had a quick snack and then decided to join the starting queue anyway – yes I was early and the brochure hollered you’re not meant to start earlier, but as mentioned I was quite concerned about the stage cut-off times. I then saw another rider from the “G” Wave, so thought it must be alright to do so. Ironically the queue was huge and we had to wait at least an hour to get anywhere near the start line. If I’d taken the later train or decided to wait until the proper time I’d been given, I wouldn’t have crossed the line until probably well after 10am, meaning I’d probably have missed half the cut-offs. Apparently they were releasing waves of X thousand cyclists at once and this took more time to organise than expected. Anyways, being in the queue with thousands of other cyclists was fun, it was a nice morning, a great atmosphere and there was some most amusing banter heard from behind as a bunch of Essex Boys from the Hornchurch Cycling Club waited to set off. What I also found interesting was that most of the bikers seemed quite serious cyclists, including one guy who said he’d run a 2:38hr marathon and he did look remarkably fit. To add to the scene a couple were having their engagement photos taken by the Thames, funny thing to do on a Sunday at 8am, but there you go.

The Event Starts

So I eventually crossed the Start Line around 8:45am – it wasn’t much of a start line to be honest, you were cycling along one minute, passed a load of portable toilets by the Thames and the next minute you’d passed the start line Anyways with the 11am cut-off time in mind, I sped as quickly as I could towards “Woodford Green” to cover the first 18miles! I seemed to be pushed along by the crowd and other riders somewhat, trying to keep the pace up as best I could. Let me say I was feeling noticably fatigued/tired and was very concerned that later in the race I’d have to give up, as it felt doubtful my legs would be able to keep going at such a speed for 8 full hours. My whole aim and motivation at this point was to make it to the checkpoint 2 hours ahead of the cut-off time. I figured if I had a 2 hour leeway gap at 18miles, I should just about be able to make the finish in time.

Anyway, somehow I made it to the 18 mile Woodford Green first stage checkpoint without stopping and was about an hour inside the cut-off time(on the day I actually convinced myself it was 2 hours inside the cut-off time). My whole strategy plan for the race was to stop for a rest every 20miles(as had done in training), but as nobody else stopped at 20 miles I decided to keep going to get to the first major stopping point at 25 miles – which was in Epping town – arriving at 10:50am. There was a great reception for us bike riders – hundreds of people out on the street and a real celebration atmosphere. Here I stopped for a much needed Starbucks tea! I had hoped a nice cup of tea would wake me up and it did a bit, but not as much as had hoped. Anyways I had no other choice than to keep going.

We proceeded through Epping Forest. When I say “we” I mean me and thousands of other bike riders, this was a huge event and seemed to have a lot more people than in 2018. Anyway Epping Forest was meant to be a highlight, but to be honest I found the place to be rather uninteresting. Yes there were nice trees on either side, which were pleasant enough, but there wasn’t anything else, no animals or buildings of interest(none that I could see anyway) and we were cycling along a plain straight road all the way through it. Surrey just seems a lot more leafy and varied, suppose it might also be the case that I’m more a fan of technical tracks and really not much of a speed rider, I simply prefer cycling along rocky hill paths or sandy lanes than in a straight-line on a road even if it is through a forest.

After Epping Forest the ride opened up onto farmland, sprawling fields and small hills. Now this was very pleasant to begin with, at least for the first hour of so. You were in the country, there was fresh air, no cars to be seen, it was nice and quiet, well, except for the thousands of other bikes on the road. The only thing is this scenary style(if you can call it that) went on and on and on, for a very long time, for miles and miles, again without much variation. Maybe it was my general wearyness making me tetchy, maybe it was the hot sun beating down on my face sans sunglasses(why did I not wear any?), but I grew a bit tired of it, I wanted to see some skyscrapers or an airport or something. As stated it was a hot sunny day and I didn’t have any sun-tan lotion on either, so that probably didn’t help either. Oh man, it sounds like I’m complaining awfully, but please put this mostly down to tiredness and being annoyed/anxious about the cut-off times.

Half Way Happiness

I got to the half-way 50mile point at 12:58pm and was very happy to have made it that far, but really I wanted to get to the 75mile point Shortly after that and just before the Felsted School rest-point I stopped at the Palm Trees restaurant and bar – had a quick sandwich and a major drink of water. The Essex police were there checking the roads for any errant cars and I overheard them say that some people had complained that so many roads were closed – found this a bit amusing as allegedly the Ride-London-Surrey was moved to Essex because Surrey residents had moaned about how their village roads were closed for the staggering timespan of 4am – 7pm one Sunday per year.

Getting to the Felsted School pit-stop at 1:20pm (40mins within cut-off) was another enjoyable experience – except for the long path you had to follow to get into the bike park area, but no complaints as once again it was a fab atmosphere, surrounded by hundreds of other cyclists + we got free bananas and numerous free gels. I grabbed a load of them and all was good.

Should say shortly after the Felsted stop, I decided to start taking these gels and took them every few miles until the end of the ride! In a marathon I restrict myself quite strictly with gels, but today I was in no mood for such restraint, in fact prob took more gels than have ever taken in my life! I sudder to think what my blood glucose level must’ve been by the end or how many gels I actually took, especially the last 15 miles. I took them not only for my legs but to keep me awake too, so very healthy reasons.

Half an hour after leaving Felstead I sailed past Mile 60 at 2pm, then half an hour later passed through Writtle. Tried to look out for Writtle college, where my niece went to college, but had no real time to look around the place, there were 40 more miles to cycle.

Getting to the final rest-stop of Chipping Ongar High Street(Mile 73) just after 3pm, I stopped for a sit-down, another much enjoyed tea and finished the sandwiches I’d bought with me at the start(yes many people say 9 hour old ham sandwiches are unhealthy, but I disagree). This stop was in an Arts Centre grounds – they served hot food both outside and inside – there were rides for kids, a bar cooking burgers and again a real party atmosphere going on with lots of people enjoying themselves.

Getting Overtaken by Everyone

The theme of this ride seems to have been that everyone must overtake me. I got overtaken by literally everyone – like all shapes and sizes of cyclist, young and old, fit and unfit looking, those with far better bikes and those with far worse bikes, everyone. Found this even more confusing than in 2018 where something similar happened, lots of people who looked much less fit than myself overtook me with ease, except on the hills where I gave most of them a good beating. After that experience I asked some friends and was given a good answer – these rival cyclists were wearing cycling shoes – yes those shoes that clip on/off the bike pedals – apparently they can give 30% more power per cycle and I did remember seeing most riders wearing shoes, which would explain things. This time, however, was different! Many people that overtook were definitely not wearing cycle shoes – so I just had to try to accept they were either on drugs or perhaps I was just a plain slow cyclist these days. I even wondered if my bike hadn’t been oiled, but it had been.

Revenge on the overtakers!

Leaving the Ongar rest-stop, countryside still surrounded us, but during the final 2 hours of the ride, the scenary gradly became more built up as we approached back into London. As when we got within 20 miles of the finish, I also began to wake up! Maybe this was relief of getting to within a finishing distance, but for some reason it took me about 7 hours of nearly non-stop cycling and goodness knows how many calories burnt to kick my morning tiredness. This coincided with there being a few more hills than the previous 80 miles, which meant I began getting some revenge on those who had previously overtaken me, by overtaking them and over-taking those folks even slower than me – it really wasn’t much revenge really as many other folks still overtook me on the flat, but it felt like some justice was served at least.

Girl decides to fall off in front of me on the steepest hill

As mentioned this final 20 or 15 miles there was a notable increase in hills. Now, this ride is billed as not being very hilly and I’d have to agree with this – there are a few hills but not many, nothing like the Surrey version anyway. Ironically the biggest hill is at Mile 85 near Woodford! Now I quite enjoy going up steep hills and this one I attacked with a bit of relish, it was fairly steep but nothing overly difficult in my opinion, it was fairly long but I’d conquerred far worse. Anyway as I’m going up there were lots of signs saying “Keep right to over-take”, but due to slower riders getting in my way I was forced left just as I was over-taking a girl. Unfortunately she thought I was going to clip/crash into her and unfortunately she was indeed wearing those infamous cycle-shoes and couldn’t eject herself from them in time, so she fell over. Balancing on the pedals I asked if she was alright and she replied she was, thank goodness – bailing out at 85miles would suck and on I pedaled.

Personally I found the most difficult and annoying hills to be specifically approaching the Olympic Park. London Docklands and Wapping area which weren’t actual hills but annoyingly long and slow going road fly-overs. The one bonus was you got a fine clear view into London from these fly-overs and it was great to see Canary Wharf and other buildings.

Starting to Enjoy the Ride at Last

Following the final annoying fly-overs of the Lower Lea Crossing and the Docklands + having finally and fully woken up + being in the best mentally enhanced state all day thanks to all the gels taken, I started to finally enjoy the ride. Speed cycling through the mile long Limehouse Link tunnel and clocking up to 40kmh(25mph) was certainly a highlight, even overtook a speed biker there too!

The Finish Line

Eventually we got to within sight of the Thames and following the A1203 meant we were nearing the end, a quick turn left and there was Tower Bridge! cycling over this iconic landmark to cheering crowds and seeing Bronwyn amongst them was great stuff. Once past the bridge though, there was a bit of confusion as to where the end actually was! much like the start line, there was no indication of where the finish line actually was – you kind of assumed you had passed it, before having to dismount, collect the well-earnt RideLondon-Essex medal and walk our bikes to a street exit. Despite all that was in a most happy mood, especialy as apparently 20 minutes later Tower Bridge was opening its gates for a ship and so they re-routed the finish line at 6pm to the other side of the river(you miss out on crossing Tower Bridge if that happens) – so was very glad to have made it to the official finish line in time, wherever it was

Onwards to the Ironman

Following a Guinness and some food, I decided to be like normal people and just go home on the train, but…then I changed my mind and realised that it’s really not often I cycle 100miles and my ambition of completing an Ironman triathlon in a year would be significantly aided if I clock another 15miles today! So I cycled home via London(this involved a lot of map-checking and muttering to myself) and then around the block a few times – eventually clocking up about 119miles just to be sure Yes I was called various names for doing this and it took until 10pm but whilst you may laugh I only have to swim 2.4miles and run another marathon to complete an Ironman!

Lessons Learnt & Things To Consider

So there you go 100 miles ridden and probably gained more cardio fitness in 9 hours than in the past year, but what tips would I have for next time? Well, to start with, definitely do a bit more training, go to bed earlier and perhaps don’t move house the day before

As mentioned above and similar to my experience in the RideLondon-Surrey 2018 – what I found most confusing was that everyone, like the entire world, all levels of athleticism and non-athleticism overtook me – at least until the final 20 miles or so when I managed to overtake a few people and that was generally only on the hills – when they were tired and I had woken up. After some research it looks like the answer is quite simple – rather than relying on past athletic ability, James must actually go out and do some 2 hour practice bike rides and do these rides each weekend for several months. This makes obvious sense really, it’s the same with almost anything else, from playing tennis to playing the piano – do either of those for 2 hours a week for 6 months and you’re guaranteed to seriously improve, even if you don’t think you have. Allegedly there are no real short cuts with cycling(as I was hoping) but doing those 2 hour rides will increase your speed, sometimes impercetably and it’s almost certainly what most of those regular folks who overtook me had been doing. I suppose that’s what most normal people would do when preparing for a 100mile bike ride, give themselves 6 months to prepare, rather than relying solely on 3 practice rides to be enough

Related to the above, most of the way it felt quite imperitive to reach the 70mile marker, so perhaps a couple more long bike rides of 70+ miles would’ve really helped give confidence in this area too.

The other major potential improvement, should I venture to do anything like this again, would be to change my actual bike. The bike is a Bianchi Via Nirone 7 – which was gifted to me by my niece’s husband for the 2018 ride(he didn’t ever use it). This has been a fantastic bike, I’ve now done two century Ironman rides using it, as well as numerous other long-distance trips and it’s saved my bacon getting to Wimbledon train station on time and elsewhere on many occasions. The only problem is that it’s officially a bit too small for me, everyone who knows much about bikes comments on this. It’s a 55cm frame when ideally my bike size should be larger at around 60cm. It strikes me that if I were to dedicate myself to those regular 2 hour weekend bike rides, investing in the correct frame-sized bike would be a sensible and beneficial idea – another obvious one, I guess.

Links

Ford RideLondon-Essex 2023 Event Guide and Route Map

Gallery

Met my church friend Beryl at Victoria station and we got to The Mall around 11am. We were very lucky to get to the front row (well she got the front row and I was 2nd row). After viewing this very emotional event, I decided to join the queue to see the Queen lying in state. Beryl was not interested, as, like many, she had heard the headlines about it possibly being 5 miles long and 30 hours queuing time. Undeterred I crossed Lambeth Bridge(where we saw those very first people in the queue – who had been queuing since Monday night and had been featured on TV) and trekking 3 miles down river to the edge of London Bridge – where I joined the end of the queue! After about half an hour, the queue started to rapidly move and we eventually stopped around Waterloo Bridge. This was where we were finally handed wristbands (I think they must have run out earlier, which was quite concerning to those of us for a while, as there would be nothing to stop any criminal queue jumpers).

My Facebook Summary: For those that may want to know the queue took 7 hours, but am very glad to have done it. It was a very moving experience, there were remarkable things to see along the way and you got quite a few minutes for the actual walking past. To describe the queue experience: The 2 – 3 hours along the river is quite alright and moves surprisingly quickly, some people even had a beer & you chat to all your new queue friends so time goes surprisingly fast! once you cross Lambeth Bridge and hit Westminster Palace grounds, things do slow down, the 2.5 hours of shuffling along queue lanes was a bit tough going, but then you finally get to the airport security and the police there cheer you up! their bag scanner tried to eat my bag and they thought this was very funny. Once past there, you know you’re in the last hour and the end is in sight.

Tips are: check where the end is on the “Her Majesty The Queen’s Lying-in-State – Queue Tracker” YouTube page or Twitter link. Wednesday night I heard it was around the Tate Modern(that’s shorter than where I started, but a similar time length) and make sure to get a wrist band! A friend ended up joining the queue at 6:30am Thursday morning and got there at 11am. My niece queued on Thursday night just before 10pm, the queue by then was in Southwark Park (past the Tower of London) and queued for nearly 11hours, walking at 8am in the morning. A couple of hours after her, David Beckham spent 12 hours queuing(what a Super Star that man is) and later that day they ended up closing the queue for several hours due to reaching capacity, queue times increased to 24 hours, but are now down to about 11 hours.

Legend for the list :

NONE = no COVID requirements are necessary to enter ie. you can visit unvaccinated or be vaccinated with a dose that has likely expired (as will be the status of many UK residents who were vaccinated in 2021).

VACCINATED = you are required to be vaccinated against COVID to enter the country. Currently the most contentious nation with this status seems to be the USA, where COVID is endemic and they have also officially acknowledged that immigrants entering via the southern Texas border do not require the vaccine.

PCR TEST = you can enter the country whether vaccinated or not, but a negative PCR test is required to enter and possibly to leave.

CLOSED BORDERS = the borders are still closed for these countries, entry and exit is only permitted for nationals – whether you are vaccinated or not.

QUARANTINE = some nations are still requiring a period of quarantine to visit.

Note: the “Conditions” column is meant to list other conditions of entry and still needs filling out. As requirements change on a weekly basis, this is an on-going work in progress, but maybe you will find it helpful for travelling or just to give you some ideas about where to go. Please double-check with the Foreign Office website for the very latest information.

Notes / Tips

I added some extra onions (half a red and half a brown onion).

This is quite a cheap dish to make, other than the cost of the sausages, the pack of 4 Focaccia breads from Waitrose were £1.80, but you only need 1 and a half for this recipe, so means you can use the left-overs for nice toasted sandwiches later in the week.

I had to rush the oven part and added perhaps a bit too much water(you can see in the pics), but next time will just add a cornflour to thicken the sauce up.

Recipe

Simple recipes that don’t take a lot of effort and are so delicious! This one is a simple sausage casserole; takes so little effort and is amazing.

• Slice up a whole punnet of cherry or vine tomatoes and put in a roasting tray.
• Add a can of cannelloni or mixed beans, several diced garlic cloves and a splash or red wine vinegar, Worcestershire sauce and water plus a little olive oil.
• Add torn chunks of focaccia bread and mix with hands.
• Slice up half a dozen quality sausages and distribute on top so they go brown in the oven.
• Add a sprinkle of rosemary on top and cook at 170c for about 30 mins.

Voila! You have an amazing flavoursome dinner for 3-4 people or just add a few more sausages and bread for more people.

It makes its own juice as it cooks. Make sure to season to liking with salt and pepper before it goes in the oven.

Can always serve with a side salad. Ticks all the boxes and tastes great!Hope you all try it!

The Scenario

That day I was alone, nobody knew where I was or where I was going, as I hadn’t told anyone. The mountains were quite empty too, being November 2007. The day before I may have told my Dad I was heading to the Lake District, but that was about it. My provisions included some chocolate, some biscuits, some bread “sandwiches”, some Kendal Mint Cake and some water. The weather was quite pleasant to start with and I set out reasonably early for once. Having not hiked a proper mountain for a quite a while, I thought it would only take a few hours to climb England’s highest mountain and using the official Scafell Pike Ordnance Survey map, assumed the trek to be fairly straight-forward. How wrong I was!

The Prelude Hows and Whys

So how did all this start? well due to everything going laughably wrong in my work, tennis, love and home life, I decided to go and climb Ben Nevis. Figured a time away from everyone and everything in the Wilderness would be a good change. As everything else was going dismally wrong it was no surprise when the mountain weather forecast (www.mwis.org.uk) turned out to be particularly rubbish for the Ben Nevis region that week, in fact they were forecasting snow up there – making the climb impossible!!! Well, I’d just had enough and decided to head to Scafell Pike instead come what may.

This account is in diary format because it’s from my diary of the time, so pls forgive the grammar…

Monday 5th November 2007 – Heading Off

After much packing of food, pots and pans, clothes, my tent(cos I planned to go camping) etc into my beloved Peugeot 306 and then being delayed some more due to having to pay my road tax at the post office(those were the days), I finally left Wimbledon around 3pm and drove for 7 hours non-stop up to the Lake District. The last 2 hours was heavy driving rain, but it completely cleared up as I reached my destination. I’d booked a spot in the newly advertised Murt Camping Barn (from the Independent Hostels website ) in the village of Nether Wasdale near Penrith. It was described as somewhat of a barebones barn, which was 5 miles away from the Scafell Pike classic mountain trail at Wasdale Head. It was very cheap back then and being November was off-season. This was in the day before Google maps and I had to locate the place in pitch darkness, using just my old fashioned map, some sparse directions given in the Murt booking email and my car headlights. After driving along various country lanes, my headlights luckily spotted a hand-written sign stuck to a tree at a crossroads which pointed to the barn. Just as I got to the sign, rather oddly I got a phone call from a friend inviting me to join him on the “Landmark” course, which I didn’t take up. It was remarkable really because beyond this point there was virtually no mobile signal in the area at all and he’d phoned me just at that minute. Anyways, after a bit more searching the barn was located down a driveway.

The Murt Camping Barn

First memories of this place are being amazed at the stars and the clearness of the sky, definitely the best since I lived in Australia!
The barn was also a lot better than expected – it had two floors – the bottom having a toilet, a coin-operated shower and sink (allegedly with hot water). Upstairs having a wooden picnic table, 5 matresses and an eating area. It even had electricity and lights! I cooked some soup using my gas pocket-rocket stove and went to bed, pitching my sleeping bag upon one of the mattresses.
Brilliantly my sleeping bag turned out to be a summer sleeping bag and it was a very cold night, but I was young enough to have slept moderately well and it was a bright morning to awaken to!

Tuesday 8th November 2007 – A Nice Day To Climb Scafell Pike

Opening the barn door I was stunned by the view, it was nothing like expected! surrounded by countryside and mountains, there were chickens in the back yard, with fresh eggs too (don’t forget I’d arrived at night). Shortly afterwards I set off in the trusty Peugeot 306 down the road toward Wasdale Head, the drive past Wastwater lake is spectacular as well as somewhat daunting with the huge lake contrasted by giant slate mountains surrounding both sides. I honestly didn’t think you had mountains like this in England, but you do. I parked at some random parking area and hoped that was alright. I discovered and let me emphasize – there is nothing at this Wasdale Head place, except a pub(The Wasdale Arms), a small Inn hotel (which looked closed) and a hiking supplies shop. I visited the hiking supplies shop and bought some Kendle Mint Cake, along with the Scafell Pike Ordnance Survey OL6 map, because the lady in the shop said it contained more info than the simple “walkers map”. This was probably my first mistake. So this OS map, it shows all the paths up and around the mountains and how to get to the summit of Scafell Pike(978m high). Let me point out there are quite a few other peaks in this area.

The Trek Begins

So I set off walking. First problem here I noticed was that there were no signs to anything! this was unlike the treks I’d been on in Australia and New Zealand. Anyway, I eventually found one saying “Scafell Massif footpath” so I followed that and crossed the nearby river and decided to turn left cos I couldn’t make out the right hand path very well and the map looked to me to take the left path anyways. Now what happened next was because I didn’t read the map properly or rather I didn’t know how to read the map properly at all! I mistook a waterfall on the map for the river I was next to and ended up walking almost around the base of the mountain for about an hour!

After this hour I’d noticed I wasn’t actually going up any mountain at all, so I tried to work out where I was using my compass, but to no avail! I then decided rather angrily that the map/path was wrong and I was going to climb the mountain face literally The angle of the hill here was about 70degrees and I think here was where I pressured my knee joints too much the first time! Even worse I got to this place with some rocks, to have a rest and a snack, putting my backpack on the aforementioned rocks and the friggin’ thing fell off and rolled down the mountain slope and I had to chase it downwards, luckily it stopped after about 100m’s, but that was still most heinous!

Anyways I carry on trekking up hill as that seemed the sensible thing to do. It was quite tiring, but I like to push myself so I just walked and walked. Eventually I get to some “peak”, which I assume might be Scafell Pike and it’s here that I spot the first 2 people I’ve seen all day long. I must’ve been walking for nearly 3 hours by now. From a distance I holler at them asking where Scafell Pike is and they point towards these 2 distant peaks.

On The Run From The Mist

Most heinously I notice that the mist is starting to come down on the peaks they pointed at, like rolling clouds covering everything, was an amazing sight. Now it was also about 2:30pm, in November and whilst I wanted to out-run this mist, more importantly I was very determined and to me more importantly was to get to the top!

After going cross country some more I finally find some semblance of a path, which is good, as at this point I am getting most annoyed at the lack of paths in this place! again I look at the map and have no idea where I am on the map, but I follow the path and come to some cairns (which are stone markers) which I follow, as these are usually a good and helpful sign of going “somewhere”.

The Mist Catches Up

Now what amazed me was the speed the mist caught me up and soon it covered all my surroundings. Visibilty dropped to about 5 metres, as everything else was engulfed in cloud. I really didn’t care though, as getting to the summit is what mattered and the path was going upwards at least.

I then meet this bloke and his dog heading in the opposite direction and ask him where the Scafell Pike summit is and he indicates to keep following the path and says “yeah you can’t miss the summit”. I also ask how to get back down and he says take the right path. So I keep following the path am on, eventually getting to a kind of highest point area and then the flippin’ path divides in two! Marvellous! It is marked by the biggest cairn ever seen and I assume this MUST be the top, I am most annoyed by this cos again I’ve no clue where I actually am and there’s no markings or anything on it indicating this is the top, but I just have to guess this is the top(it wasn’t the top), which would be just typical of this place which refuses to have any signs anywhere!

Don’t Panic – It’s only freezing with 0 visibility and you’re lost, alone and wearing shorts!

Despite being at the alleged top, here is where a minor panic starts! I take a photo of this alleged “summit” and decide pronto is the time to leave! Despite the calmness of these words, let me describe the scene – the mist has seriously descended even more, visibility is about 10feet, the temperature is probably below ZERO, my fingers are numb and the wind is kicking up at hurricane force. I’m also alone, wearing shorts and gloves that aren’t water or wind proof! More importantly I’ve got about an hour of daylight left to get to ground level from a place where there are no defined paths or routes to anywhere that I can find! The path I’m on is now forked and I’m really not sure which one to take. I have to say, this is the scariest outdoors situation I can remember. I pretty much felt that if I got stuck out here in the dark I would be in BIG trouble. At this time I was also most concerned about reports of Panther’s and other wild animals out on the moors! Beforehand I was very cynical about how you can possibly get lost on a mountain, all those stories about folks getting lost for days or having to be helicopter rescued etc. sounded quite stupid to me, but now I know how it can happen! So I decide to follow what the dude on the path said and take the right turn. So I hop down this path as fast I as I can, becoming very conscious of the dimming light.

One Fluke Moment As The Mist Clears

Eventually I find a wooden hut amongst the rocks, open the door and it’s some kind of an “Emergency Shelter” and…NOW THIS IS THE BEST, I look on the map and the ducking thing isn’t on there!!(well I couldn’t find it) Frantically consulting my compass, I look over to where the path goes(South) and in the distance across the mountain I see what looks like a road, “oh good” I say to myself, that must be the correct way home, HOWEVER, just before setting off again I notice at the side of the shelter and in the total opposite(Northly) direction is a sheer cliff which has mist and gale force winds rocketing up from it. Intrigued by natural wonders like this I randomly decide to peer over the windy and cloud swept precipice and just as I do, the mist clears for about 20 seconds! I glimpse the edge of a lake! Hang on I think, there’s only one lake round here. Quickly looking again at the map, I confirm there IS indeed only one lake around here and that’s Wastwater and hang on, what is that shiny silver object? that looks like a couple of cars parked next to it! Again luckily I had my big binoculars so I check it out, it IS cars, it IS Wastwater!! I decide I’m taking those binoculars on every mountain trip ever from now on! Once again the clouds engulf the area and the view of the lake and the cars disappears, but peeking directly downwards(in the direction of the lake) I see a path at the bottom of this sheer cliff!

Only One Option – Jumping Off A Cliff

Now I realise that due to this somewhat desperate predicament there’s only one option – I have to descend this 80 degree ducking cliff and get to that path! With an intake of breath, I kind of ease myself down and jump off it, literally into the breach of rocks! adrenaline takes over as huge winds blast against me as I fall/descend! it was here that I tragically lost my beloved 2002 US Open Heineken Day Cap, blown off by the wind and despite an attempted search it was never seen again I end up spending a good 20minutes on my hands and knees slowly sliding or surfing on scree(loose rocks/stones)!!! it was totally Nuts and upon reflection somewhat mad and staggeringly dangerous, but I HAD to get to that path or get stuck/lost on the mountains all night long.
At one point I see the path below is bordered by a flat wall and lined with a wire railing, I had visions of being stuck on the wrong side unable to get across, but somehow I jump down over that and land on to the path. Relief ensues, as this is clearly a path winding downwards to the safety of ground level. After this cliff descending “event” my hands/knees/legs are not in the best condition and I then have the pleasure of walking another 3-4miles as night fall begins. The path eventually leads back to the bridge I crossed originally and I get to see the waterfall what I thought was a river on the map. By now it is very dark and I realise where I’d gone wrong on the map!! it dawns on me how easy the hike should be if you go the right way and find this path, oh well I ponder, maybe I’ll do it tomorrow

Staggering Into The Pub

I roll into the Wasdale Arms pub, totally shattered, ordering a nice pint of ale and a beer & beef pie plus mash. Man, was I grateful for that pie! reckon I must’ve walked 15+ miles that day including several miles on a serious uphill slope. Consulting the OS map, it turns out I was possibly about 1metre from the summit in height and probably 3m’s away from the stone monument that marks it !!
I later discover that if I had followed that path by the Emergency shelter South, I would have ended up on the other side of the mountain. The ‘road’ I saw was actually another river! And there’s NOTHING out there for about 20miles! It would have been a true test of my survival skills. To be fair I did have a thermal vest and trousers and food in my backpack and I’ve always considered the SAS survival skills I learnt as a kid would save me in such a situation, but I think cos of my general low confidence and stressed-outness I didn’t fancy this at the time. Anyways, let me state back then it took an awful lot to really physically tire me out, I’ve planted sugar cane all day, played tennis for hours on end, run to Kingston etc and not been too bad afterwards. The only comparison I can make to this “Scafell adventure” is possibly when I did the insane Grand Canyon “walk” with Nathan back in August 1999 where I only survived because I’d bought a t-shirt and in the end was totally exhausted!

End of a Wonderful Day – More Fun Back At The Barn

After all this I went back to the barn, discovered the frigging heater on the shower didn’t work, honestly only wanted one thing that day, a hot shower, BUT NO NO NO, couldn’t have that, so went to bed.

After Thoughts – ALWAYS BE PREPARED

So Why was I so badly prepared? Well simple answer is I was oblivious to how the weather can change out there combined with having no idea how to read an OS map properly. That’s just how I rolled back then so to speak too, despite my Dad telling me endlessly the scout’s motto “Always be prepared”. In my defence I’d done a “bit” of hiking in Australia and New Zealand, where the weather was way better. I hiked the Overland 110km trek in Tasmania on my lonesome over 8 days wearing regular trainers, no need for any of bonefide trekking boots for me like what everyone else I met on the trek had. Apparently if it had rained it would’ve been big trouble, but it didn’t rain As an illustration of my lack of preparedness suppose should admit on the Overland I became known not as the guy in trainers, but as the guy who didn’t have a gas stove and had to hike an extra 20km to the start and back on the second day to buy one. Well, sure I’d read somewhere they had free gas stoves on the way, ah well.

Since 2007 the other thing have always wondered is how/if I would have survived the night out there on the mountains. Despite my obliviousness to other things, my actual survival knowledge/skills surprisingly shouldn’t have been at a bad level. Oddly inspite of only having been in the Cubs 3 weeks and having never been a scout or doing any adventure training whatsoever I was brought up camping, learning to make fires etc. As kids, my younger brother had the original SAS Surival book by John “Lofty” Wiseman and we both read and learnt every page in that book from trap making to which fungi kills you. Before he owned it, we often used to borrow it from the library, put it that way. I also had an Osbourne Survival skills book and still remember a lot from those books and those days, this was way before TV shows like Ray Mears or Bear Grylls, so we were kind of ahead of our time on this one. If I had taken the wrong path it would have been like being chucked in at the deep-end after practicing in a paddling pool, a real interesting test.

DISCLAIMER – Important

I suppose I’d better not recommend doing this to anyone else, so if you’re visiting the mountains anywhere, take with you all equipment needed and learn to read a map BEFORE you go + tell someone where you are going, in case you do get lost. zzz

Gallery

Anyway, here it is (click below). The backing track is Lost Souls by Lee Grizzle.

The Knoydart Penisula is on the North-East coast of Scotland, not far from the Isle of Skye and is considered the last wilderness in Britain – nowhere else in the UK can you hike for 2 or 3 days and not see anyone else nor be disturbed by any roads or cars. There’s no mobile signal either, no phone boxes, nothing

Access to the Knoydart is from a small village called Inverie, which you can only get to by hiking 27 miles cross-country or by taking a 45min ferry from the port of Mallaig. So why go to this place? Well, the original reason was the same as most visitors there – to see what is claimed to be Britain’s most remote pub “The Old Forge“. Having visited “The Nutshell“, the smallest pub in Britain, in Bury-St-Edmonds and various other unusual pubs, Bronwyn thought I’d like to see this one too.

Getting to the Knoydart Penisula and Inverie Village

The most popular way to get to Inverie is to hike the aforementioned 27 mile track – which runs from Glenfinnan railway station to Inverie – taking 2 or 3 days to do it. Glenfinnan is accessed via the Fort William <-> Mallaig railway line and most people park in Fort William and take the train to Glenfinnan to start the hike…BUT we decided to do it the other way round, because…I had just run the Loch Ness Marathon the day before! Yes, well time was short and whilst many “normal” people might want to take it easy after running a marathon, that’s just not my style, pal. I worked out that in-theory by doing the hike “in reverse”, I could give my legs a day’s rest! Therefore, the proposed plan was to park at Mallaig, take the ferry from Mallaig to Inverie, have dinner at the pub, camp the night at the camp site, hike 6miles the first day to Sourlies Bothy, hike approx 9miles next day to In’Cha Bothy in the forest(or camp somewhere nearby) and get up bright n’early to cover 13miles the final day to Glenfinnan Railway Station, catching the 4:57pm train – back to Mallaig and the car.

So we drove from Loch Ness to Mallaig, parked in the Long Stay car park there and took the 2pm ferry. My legs were a bit tired after the marathon, but feeling better by the minute to be honest. It was a pleasant boat trip with a lot of very enthusiastic people – who even pointed out seeing a Gannet dive into the water to catch fish! most of these people were staying in the Wee Hooses(see below), although one guy had his bike and was camping.

Shortly after landing, we discovered Inverie is indeed a very small village – pretty much consisting of :

• A restaurant called The Look Out(which also has some lodging rooms collectively called “The Gathering”)
• A cafe that makes a good cup of tea
• The famous Old Forge pub
• “The Table”, which is located opposite the pub and was set up as an alternative somewhat bus-shelter-like-“pub” by locals who really dislike The Old Forge’s owner
• A bunkhouse(which was annoyingly closed)
• A few rather expensive “Wee Hooses”(small houses) to stay in.
• and a Post Office where we purchased some food/supplies. Must mention, despite no mobile signal the locals kindly offer free wifi in a room next to the Post Office, so you can book your return ferry trip if needed

We lugged our backpacks the full mile to the camping site from the ferry port, stopping at the Old Forge to take a selfie and bought some supplies at the Post Office. We then set up camp in our new 3 man Naturehike Cloud-Up 3 tent.

After cooking some lunch at the campsite wooden hut and reading the advert in the hut offering accommodation in a Wee Hoose for only £150 for a night if you change your mind about camping, around 4pm we met two girls who had hiked from Glenfinnan over 3 days – they said they’d had Sourlies Bothy to themselves and only seen 2 people on the whole trek – to be honest they both looked shattered and their waterproof trousers were ripped to bits from river crossings apparently. They told us it was one tough trek, but they “kind of enjoyed” the last day, in that it was a relief compared to the rest. We told them our plans and they were quite shocked when I told them I’d just done the marathon

The Disasters Had Already Begun

Now, to be honest, we had been hit 2 disasters already :

Disaster #1 was Bronwyn phoning the pub a few days before and being told the pub was closed – yep, the main original reason for going to this place was closed, hoorah! so this first evening instead we went to The Look Out restaurant instead, which does remarkably good food – best scallops and haggis ever had anyway. On another table we saw the girls we’d met earlier and later one of the waitresses enquired “oh are you the guy who ran the marathon?!”, news travels quick round this area.

Disaster #2 was the weather forecast – nice days on Tues and Wed for hiking, but heavy rain from Wed evening and all day Thursday. This majorly altered our plans! Neither of us felt like trekking 13miles with full backpacks in heavy rain – simple as that – the weight of the tent and 3 days of food also seemed quite excessive to me(note to self: must learn to pack lighter).

So…the new plan became that we’d leave our tent where it was(along with anything we didn’t need) hike to Sourlies Bothy, stay the night and hike back, simples!

Next morning, despite it being bright from 7am, we got up around 8:30am and sat with a tea & coffee admiring the spectacular morning view – the sun rising, the estuary, numerous birds wading in the water, the mountains as a back drop, the quietness, just wonderful.

Disaster #3 – We left at 1pm

We re-packed our backpacks with sleeping bags, sleeping mats, torches, food for 3 meals each, cooking equipment, warm clothes for the night, water etc. This seemed to take an inordinate amount of time for some unknown reason(probably due to faffing). Should say we were quite well prepared for this hike – I had a printed map of the route I’d grabbed off Google Maps, the offical Knoydart O.S. Map, notes copied from The Scottish Bothy Bible and we even had walking poles – on the board-walk out of the campsite I managed to delay us by 20minutes by losing the rubber end-cap of one of my poles, so that didn’t help. Anyways, Thus our adventure begun – at 1pm!

I still thought 1pm would be fine as various blogs I’d read AND The Scottish Bothy Bible claimed it was only a 10km or 6mile hike – that would take 4-5 hours – I guessed this would be more like 6 or 7 hours with backpacks, so we’d arrive just after dark around 7:30pm – no need to worry Bronwyn that they said it was a “technical route” either, as in my experience that usually just means you have to walk up a mountain path and clamber over a few rocks.

So we set off and all was well and good! We were a bit confused where the trail actually started so asked a local lady the way and she told us “follow that path, go past the barn, up the hill, take the right path and just keep going and…just keep going!”(she gave a foreboding and hearty laugh after this, I now realise she was probably amused we were attempting this after 1pm).

We followed the road and found the barn, which led to a steep, thickly wooded area bordered by some kind of waterfall. The steps up hill were quite hazardous due to being mossy and wet, but no problem really, as long as you took your time. After this we found the way to be generally a paved or marked/obvious path. Now, apart from losing the trail half a mile beyond the wood, by taking a wrong turn and ending up on a building site – where we were told by a friendly workman that his boss might yell at us to “get lost”, things were good. Unfortunately, it looks like they’re building a road up and over the Inverie Hill – probably as a shortcut for traffic, which could well be a huge shame.

A Private Bothy and a Dead Deer

Continuing on, we made good progress and got to a “private bothy”. It was all locked up and there were lots of signs saying “Private” adorning it. The big Kilchoan estate borders the trail and I assume they use this bothy for various guests/visitors. Suddenly a guy driving a quad bike drove past carrying a huge dead stag on the back. He hailed me with “Alright man!”, which was nice. A few minutes further down the path we passed two very well dressed gentlemen(whom one suspects had shot the aforementioned stag). These three were the only people we saw the rest of the day.

We carried on and the trail began to veer upwards and onto a mountain path. The path was rocky, very damp and often streams of water would be dripping towards us from up-mountain. It wasn’t particularly difficult hiking, just quite slow going and our walking poles proved a most helpful addition it has to be said on such terrain.

The Concern Begins

I’d noticed on the map we were meant to ascend to around 500metres and seemed to be going up remarkably slowly. What seemed like miles and hours later, in fact it was around 4pm I believe, we checked the map to see what progress we’d made and where we were. Bronwyn worked out where we were(as I can barely read an OS map) and have to say I was somewhat dismayed to find we were less than half way along the route! I kept that dismay to myself and we trudged on. The path got steeper and steeper.

I casually asked if Bronwyn had seen the ruins mentioned in the Bothy Bible, but there’d been no sign of them.

Towards the summit(Mam Meadall on the map), we came across several river crossings. Lumbering a full backpack made crossing them more “challenging” than usual, but you just needed to take your time balancing on necessary rocks. Then we met one that was far too wide to jump, very fast flowing and without any helpful boulders. Also it was so close to the sheer cliff edge, any mistake or mis-step and you would highly likely find yourself plummeting off-mountain, ultimately to be dashed on rocks 50 metres below. I don’t say this lightly and ended up having to remove my backpack, stand in the river, lean against the tide and help both backpacks + Bronwyn across. There was also a fine rotten wooden bridge that was also somewhat concerning, but fine once you crossed it. The path continued ascending.

We’d Better Hurry Up Before It Gets Dark!

Around 5:30pm I announced we must push on and up the pace somewhat, the reason being was to urgently get to the summit by sunset at 6:30pm! once there it would be a case of descending steeply downwards, crossing the wetlands for half a mile and then we’d be at the bothy, probably just as it got fully dark.

We got to the summit at 6:30pm exactly! just in time to see the sun go down. It was quite beautiful. We had a break for 10mins and then set off down the alleged “zig zag path”. We could see a valley area below us, with a loch in the distance(where the beach is according to the Bothy Bible) and a large river snaking its way North-East. The zig zags didn’t start for quite a while, but the darkness did. By 7pm we had to dig out the head-torch just to see the path – Bronwyn in front of me wearing it and I following as best I could without tripping over. As dusk grew darker, the path became furrowed and full of rocks, that made it really fun to navigate in 2nd-hand torch-light. Still, at least we were moving quicker than going up-mountain, but the thing was this track took ages! It went on for miles! it didn’t go straight down, like a regular mountain path, it took us left and right and around the mountain! As time ticked by and we moved along the path, you could see the meanders of the river below us disappearing into the darkness and I became quite concerned we wouldn’t have any actual reference points to where we were. At one point we wondered if we were on the right path and considered turning back, but that wasn’t really an option, as at least it was descending, albeit incredibly slowly.

The Ruins At Last

Eventually, we got to ground level in near-pitch-darkness, it was then we saw the ruins at last! You really don’t know the sheer relief of seeing these ruins, meaning we were on the right path! According to the fabled Bothy Bible book text and O.S. map, a bit further on we would find a bridge crossing the river, then “a half mile of wetlands and then a short walk to the bothy”. My elation at seeing the ruins abruptly stopped when abruptly the path ceased to exist or rather became over-run by overly long torso-height grass! Our only choice became to head roughly East, skirting the ruins as best we could. This all sounds very trivial, but visibility was net zero other than what Bronwyn’s head torch lit up.

The Bridge “At Last”

We then heard running water in the near distance and proceeded further ahead, discovering the bridge or “The bridge, at last!” as I cried – the Bothy book had described this as a wire bridge and I’d been asking Bronwyn where this was since the top of the mountain path. It’s clearly been upgraded since then and is quite a sturdy regular metal and wooden bridge, thank goodness, as crossing a precarious wire bridge in the dark would not have been fun. After crossing, once again the path disappeared into what looked like a line of trees, bushes and plants that would be very difficult to traverse safely in the dark. Consulting the map, we decided instead to venture along the path by the river. In theory, this would be a longer walk, but we just needed to follow it as far as the beach by the loch edge, follow that for a mile or so East and hey presto we’d be at the bothy. Essentially this route was taking the two sides of the triangle, rather than the hypotenuse of it.

We walked along the river for what seemed like miles! for ages we trekked along the path as the river meandered randomly, the path then disappeared once again and the river veered West which it certainly shouldn’t do according to the map. At this point I started to complain and be most concerned that this was way too far to have walked and we were clearly lost. Continuing on, even more strangely the terrain became more and more swamp-like. We had to cross deep pits of earth and reeds, which you often couldn’t help but fall into due to the lack of light. We’re talking pits up to a metre deep here and this was where my socks finally got properly socked! even my brilliant brand new waterproof Colombia hiking shoes could not take being fully submerged like this. Should be said I was somewhat afraid of falling into one of these pits and injuring myself, I wondered how I’d be carried out of there or would it be like Joe Simpson in “Touching the Void” where he had to haul himself miles back to base camp. It also struck me that this area may well be some kind of in-between-the-tide-land and as my fear exasperated that the tide may return, trapping us, so did my desire increase to leave as soon as possible. Couple that with the utter confusion as to where we were, I would say my concern that we were staying the night out here in the elements reached its peak at this point. There was also concern that Bronwyn would(perhaps sensibly) never go hiking with me ever again and her parents/relative would probably tell me off too, oh well.

Looks like we’ll be staying the night Al Fresco

So with that pinnacle of anxiety, I think it was at this point that I had to make a call and prepare Bronwyn for the distinct possibility that we would have to spend the night out in this desolate wilderness…not in a bothy…but in our sleeping bags on the cold, soaking ground. I wanted to formally address this issue now as insurance against mentioning it in 3 hours time when true tiredness and abject panic had set in. Other women would have been rather upset at this announcement, I don’t doubt their screaming at me would’ve echoed around the surrounding mounting, possibly alerting the rescue services and ironically saving us, but I think Bronwyn appreciated my honesty and accepted the situation better than most

The wonder of the GPS tracker

We stumbled onwards, managing to find the most grassy area we could and desperately consulted the map once again. We re-read what the Bothy book said and even checked my GPS tracker which displayed the zig-zag random route we had so far walked. Please note: my GPS tracker only showed the route we had walked, there was no downloaded map with placenames or even the shape of the area on it or anything sensible like that, no, none of that stuff normal hikers may have!

Bronwyn briefly mentioned turning back, which I knew was not an option, we had walked far too far in random directions to know where else to go, let alone to get back to the ruins.

We tried to compare the GPS track with the OS map, but to not much avail. Even better, walking a few minutes further North we came across a huge white rock face in front of us – when all logic and the map pointed to there only being open water! We routed East once again and found a shallow river in front of us. We had no choice but to cross it and luckily it wasn’t too deep, but we were all the more confused by this. The terrain now was mostly just flat mossy bogland. Bronwyn consulted the maps and GPS tracker yet again and came to the conclusion that we must have backtracked on ourselves when following the river and gone far enough East to hit the small rivers shown on the map.

It was here we decided that the best thing to do was simply to head East and eventually no matter where we were, according to the map, we’d reach the mountains. Credit to Bronwyn here as her map reading skills are way better than mine. At least on some higher ground it may be a bit drier, instead of the soaking bogland that this was and we could stay the night there, until daylight around 5am. I used my iPhone compass to head directly East, sticking to that direction as best possible, although several times I had to correct us, as we drifted off due to the mossy ground, bushes, grass and pools of water – some that were just too thick or deep water to traverse in a straight line.

To improve the level of fun, the head torch now began to fade. Fortunately, I’d started sparingly using our other hand-held torch and had prepared a USB charger pack in case of emergency. So, we were only without light from the head-torch for a few minutes.

I see people! Oh noooo!

Next we happened upon some long knee-high grass. Suddenly, Bronwyn said in an excited voice “Is that people?! I can see eyes reflecting!“, “Hello!” she hopefully cried, shining the head-torch into the far distance. “Hello! Can you help us?! We’re lost!“. I joined in “Hello there! are we far from the bothy?“. Silence. Sadly there was nobody out there, just some deer. This was very disappointing, a cruel glimmer of hope given, only to be snatched away.

By now I’d gotten to thinking “You know what, it wouldn’t be so bad. We would be alright as we had sleeping mats and most importantly of all it wasn’t too cold nor raining”. The only problem would be finding dry ground. I once vocally again informed the world of all this, but neither the deer nor Bronwyn seemed to mind.

Out of nowhere a miraculous path appeared

We proceed through the long grass and randomly happened upon a miraculous sight – out of nowhere, a path, a real well-trodden path appeared! like what we hadn’t seen for the last 2 hours!! Bronwyn checked the map once again. I got very excited by this and checking the compass I noticed it was leading roughly South-East, so this must be the path we’d been looking for originally! The very fact it was heading at least South seemed extremely good news to me. Understandably, Bronwyn was skeptical at first, something about it not being anywhere near any mountains, probably due to the number of wrong turns we’d previously made, but I persisted following this wonderful path. After about 5minutes, glancing left, it could be seen that we were indeed near enough to see the outlines of a large mountain lightly highlighted by the sky – our eyes must have adjusted well to the darkness. Then we came across a small path, which forked out left and lead up into the mountain. Bronwyn announced this must be the “side path that takes you on the scenic route to the bothy” as mentioned by the Bothy book. After passing it and deliberating a couple of times back and forth along it, we ended up climbing up the first few rocks and then, as seems to be the fashion in this area, noticed the path once again disappeared beyond some rocks! it was immediately decided that after being lost for 2 hours in the darkness, it would be insane to go off-path and try to navigate this alleged “scenic route” across a mountain in utter darkness. Going by what we had experienced from the Bothy book previously, it could doubtless turn into a 5mile cross-country trip for all we knew. We also concluded the Bothy book was wrong about absolutely everything!

The Beach

So another 20 or so minutes passed by as we felt our way along the main path. Bronwyn suddenly declared “This is the beach!”. The ground had indeed become quite beach-like with a crude mix of stones and sand. We spent another 10mins or so trying to work out where to go along this here beach, as it peculiarly wound in-land and then out-land. After hokey-cokeying a cove or two, we had had enough and instead tried simply following the cliffs that our torches dimly lit as best possible. I moaned a few more times about where was the Bothy?! but we had a feeling we couldn’t be too far now. One of my favourite bits of the journey was when I saw a white roof, amongst a plateau of rocks about 20ft above us! “That’s the bothy roof! it makes sense because bothies are usually up in the woods!” I exclaimed. We just needed to get up on the higher path and we’d be there! I got nearer and enthusiastically climbed upwards and shone the torch. The white roof revealed itself as nothing more than a white cliff-face, cruelly and I reckon purposely designed in a roof shape this was another most disappointing moment. So on we plodded.

2 Tents and a Bothy

Only 5 minutes after this event, with me(to be honest) looking ever more despondent at the floor, Bronwyn yelped “Look! is that a house? I saw lights!”. This time it was indeed a house! We’d made it! we near-galloped the final yards and entered through the door, after fumbling with its puzzling locking mechanism! I had noticed two tents pitched on the ground outside, but dismissed from my mind the possibility of the place being full up. It turned out to be a fair size bothy – there was ONE free single wooden platform bed, one single platform bed littered with camping stuff and a large platform bed area with someone sleeping on it. The bothy also had endless gas canisters, pots, pans and other camping implements sitting in disarray on a large table in one of the corners.

Chivalrously I donated the free bed to Bronwyn, as she was, for some reason, adamant about going to sleep ASAP. She asked me where I was going to sleep, I replied I’d sleep on the floor if it came to it, I had not trekked all this way and gotten my beloved hiking shoes/socks soaked to bits to sleep outside no matter what! Anyway, it turned out there was only one guy in the room and he’d spread his stuff all over the other spare bed – just as I would’ve done in his situation. Unfortunately, we had to wake him up and ask him if we could move his stuff. It turned out he was a rather nice chap called Alberto from Spain, which I wrongly guessed as France from his accent and which he wasn’t too happy with, but I really didn’t care at this particular moment. He was very kind and gave me a desperately needed cup of water for which I was most grateful. Bronwyn promptly un-rolled her sleeping bag & mat, went straight to bed and fell asleep.

I checked my phone and the time on the clock was 10:55pm!! Now in extreme situations like this, most people sensibly just want to rest or go to bed and sleep, but oddly I tend to “wake up”. Last time was either when I’d queued up from 6am for Wimbledon tennis or after running the Stockholm Marathon. Both times, everyone else wanted to go to bed, but I wanted a few beers and the same was true now!

A Beer with the Deer

I unzipped my backpack, grabbed the tin of Tennant’s beer I suddenly remembered I’d been carrying all this way, went outside and happily drank it for the next half an hour or so under the stars. Must admit realising I’d lugged a heavy can of beer so far was a major incentive to drink it. Shining my head torch around the area I saw several deer standing about 30 yards ahead of the tents. I assumed there must be a large forest in front of us and the deer were just hanging out eating some grass. I’d have liked to investigate further, but really didn’t fancy wandering over there and being attacked by a stag or two. I could also hear waterfalls behind the bothy, but no idea where or how to get to them,. There was no water tap by this bothy, so the waterfalls were where you’d get some fresh water, but the couple of times I tried to get to them I found dead-ends and didn’t fancy climbing over or under anything in these conditions.

Checking the GPS route app I discovered we’d covered about 10.5miles! so nearly 11 hours since we’d left and 10.5miles walked, with full-backpacks! I wondered that perhaps I really should’ve joined the army when I was younger as I always said. I went back in, had the last drop of water from my cup and went to bed.

The Next Morning

I slept remarkably well on that wooden slat bed in that bothy, I’d have taken it home if that were possible. After waking up, I got up and decided to go hunting for some water from the waterfalls. Upon stepping outside, I was greeted with a most beautiful view! There wasn’t a forest, but a large loch of water! the deer seen last night had just been standing on water’s edge, possibly having a drink. It was a wonderful tranquil peaceful scene. If not for the predicted heavy rain this evening, we would’ve loved to have stayed another night in the bothy.

One of the tents contained a couple whom I had brief chat with on the way back from the waterfall, as they were already packing up. I’d actually followed the husband up to the waterfall, but he clearly wasn’t a morning person and wanted to keep himself-to-himself, don’t blame really. His wife though welcomed a chance to say what they’d done. They’d hiked all the way from Glenfinnan the previous day, hiking from 7am – 7pm, which hugely impressed me. They were similarly impressed with my tale of the previous day, judging by the looks on their faces, I was indeed a monumental idiot Back at the bothy, Alberto was also nearly all-packed up, after consuming his cous-cous breakfast. We had very pleasant chat, he was doing an amazing month-long walk, starting at Fort William and now would be heading North veering off on a side-path, instead of West of back to Inverie.

Leaving At A More Sensible Time

Sad to leave such a picturesque scene, Bronwyn ensured we left at 11am. So what happened on the way back? Well, to cut a long story short – it took us nearly 3 hours to climb back up the steep zig-zag mountain path and 9 hours in total to get back! yep, we saved a whole hour by not getting lost, which still doesn’t make much sense, although we did spend an hour or so cooking lunch on the mountain which was cool and felt very explorer like, so maybe that’s where the time went. I lost a bet that we’d be back by nightfall, as we trudged the last 3 miles in rain.

Interestingly we spotted the couple from the tent up on the zig-zag path, a good hour ahead of us, but never caught them up or saw them again. Also about half-way up we ran into an old guy who’d apparently been in the other tent by the bothy, he was a seasoned hiker whose wife had kindly let him go off for a few days and he’d just been up to bag a far col. He helpfully answered another question we’d had by telling us the reason nobody was staying in the bothies was because of fear of getting COVID. So with this guy, the other tent couple and Alberto – meant we only saw 4 people the entire way back to Inverie!

Moo Surprise

Now, one of the biggest highlights and surprises of this entire trip was crossing the last bit of farmland before the Inverie border. Shortly after closing a large gate behind us, a gigantic hairy bull with gigantic horns in torch light front of us! This animal was seriously the biggest bovine I’ve ever seen! it was bigger than a water buffalo and just what you need to come across in the dark after hiking for 8 hours wearing a full backpack, meaning running away would be severely hampered if he decided to charge! He starred at us for a minute or so and luckily chose to ran off into the forest. That was quite a relief I can tell you, hiking all that way and being impaled by a cow 1.5miles frmo the end would really make this a disaster hike. From then onwards, we proceeded as gingerly and as quietly as possible along the road, trying not to disturb any more local wildlife. Despite this, we encountered yet another family of these giant beasts, only this time I spoke loudly at them and they too ran off, thank goodness. After that we found another gate and made it back safely past the hazardous waterfall area and back to the camp site.

So where did we actually go?

Back at home, having tracked the whole “journey” on GPS meant the area in the wetlands where we got lost could be traced quite easily. It turns out we didn’t actually go that far off the correct track. Simply put, we went a bit too far past where the river meandered, then circled back upon ourselves, miraculously crossing the swamp North-East-wards in the pitch dark back to the correct path. The large confusing rock in front of the loch that blocked our way turned out to be a very large and unusually placed boulder, something we couldn’t have possibly known or guessed would be there beforehand nor is it mentioned anywhere. Perhaps the most confusing and frustrating thing of all was that the total distance from the Inverie camp ground to Sourlies Bothy IS well over the 7 miles as proclaimed by the guide books, it’s way more like 10miles and those guides either find this funny OR don’t bother updating that information as everyone hikes from Sourlies to Inverie and it wouldn’t matter so much doing that.

Lessons learnt from the hike:

Leave earlier than 1pm
Pack lighter if possible.
Download the GPS map on the GPS tracker next time.
Always take an OS map if doing this kind of thing.
Be prepared to stay out the night.
Get to your destination no later than 30mins after sunset.

Important Notes:

The Bothy Bible book says it’s a 7.5mile 4-5 hour hike from Inverie to Sourlies – this is clearly incorrect. I measured it using GPS twice and it is 10miles in length.

It also took us 9 hours to return, stopping an hour for lunch.

Equipment Used on the hike

Have to say am well impressed and well pleased with the equipment we bought and used for the hike.

Here is a list of some of the best of it.

TheFitLife Walking Poles – proved to be excellent walking poles, one of the reviews says they were used by a guy on a Himalayan trek, so they have a good record.

Azarxis Hiking Gaiters – great gaiters, kept my socks dry as best possible, stopped the rain and prevented my legs getting cut/grazed by thorns too.

NatureHike Cloud-Up 3 Man Tent – an Excellent lightweight tent – perfect for TWO people + backpacks. Being “4 Season”, can confirm it withstood near-galeforce winds and pelting rain on our final night at the Inverie camping site. Quite how you’d fit 3 people in it, really do not know, but that’s the running joke with tents isn’t it. Kind of wish had paid the extra £45 for the 20D 4000mm more-waterproof lighter version, but no other regrets. Ours was 210T is 3000mm waterproof version (tent water-proofing is explained very well by this blog entry).

Other Links

David Preston’s Blog about hiking from Glenfinnan to Inverie

Gallery

We were warmly greeted by our excellent hosts Jane and Jo, who very kindly cooked us the best dinner have had in a long while – chicken, haggis and vegetables – can see why this is apparently the Queen’s fave dish!

Surveying the area

The day before the marathon we drove along the route on a tour to Foyle’s Falls, Fort Augustus and the other side of the Loch – including an obligatory selfie with the Loch Ness Monster(Nessie) at the Loch Ness Clansman Hotel The marathon route runs along the B852 road – starting on a hill just North East of Fort Augustus and running all the way up to Inverness town centre, crossing the Ness Bridge and finishing in Bught Park. Obviously I noticed and Bronwyn had great fun pointing out that this B852 was indeed rather hilly! I’d read a blog saying this was the case, but this road looked ridiculous in parts, adding to my concern somewhat. Our car journey ended at Bught Park where the marathon expo was and where I picked up my running number and safety pins. I tried on some new £140 Hoka running shoes, which were very nice and then some £120 Brooks‘ which were even nicer.

The Build Up

Building up to this day I really was possibly the least confident of a race I’ve ever known. As the marathon-eve day proceeded I even found myself considering bailing out, as the thought of running in the freezing rain for 5hours didn’t appeal at all. I put this down to 3 factors :

a) I’d done the 20 mile practice run way back at the beginning of August, almost 2 months ago and this now seemed like some impossible feat I’d accomplished and now was at a loss to know how on earth I had covered such a distance.
b) I was hugely torn between wearing TSLA zero drop trainers and Mizuno regular shoes. I loved running in the TSLA’s, but they really suit soft ground and a fast pace, I found a 10mile road run in them left me having no feeling in the bottom of my feet(as they were bashed so much). The Mizuno’s were good too, but I’d had the odd knee trouble with them. The night before I decided to go with the Mizuno’s, as at least I may be able to walk out the race with them.
c) everyone at the Marathon EXPO looked to be good runners, like way fitter than me! there had also been some email note saying “People that finish in over 5 hours please tell us” – participation-wise this was the smallest marathon I’d run and it crossed my mind maybe it was only for speedsters.

The Safe Haven

Anyways, after registering, Bronwyn and I had a soft drink at the Kitchen Brasserie bar by the River Ness. I desperately wanted a beer, but knew that would not be a sensible option. Some kind of pasta meal was required, so around 7pm we headed over to Zizzi’s and then Bella Italia to find that surprisingly both were booked out the entire night long, funny that considering 6000 runners were in town. Despite Bronwyn’s objections I demanded we go to my one guaranteed safe haven – Wetherspoons! we walked straight into The Kings Highway with a friendly nod from the doormen and despite the place being packed with youths, we got a small table by the door. I immediately felt a calm sensation of deja vu, recognising the layout, bizarrely I must’ve visited when was last here in 2014 whilst waiting for a train. Anyways, I ordered the finest pasta dish on the Wetherspoons menu + chicken (this now seems to be the only pasta dish on the menu). I then ducked out for a few minutes to the Co-op opposite to purchase a much needed packet of ham for my trademark pre-race JR Marathon Ham Sandwiches. Returning, the pasta was hot & ready and I gulped it down, it was very satisfying, tasty and definitely what was needed. Thanks and compliments to the Wetherspoons chef!

We then drove back the 30mins to the B&B and atempted to have an early night around 11pm. I prepared all my racing gear and attempted to attach my running number to my trademark green running shirt – attaching the running number is always the most difficult thing involved in any running race, but it only took about 2 revisions to get right.

The Day of the Race

Sleeping reasonably well until waking up wide awake about 5am, I rested as best possible until 6:45am and had a porridge and toast breakfast. One of the bonuses of staying in this area was not having to get the 7am bus from Inverness! a couple staying at the B&B were both running, so had no way of getting back to the B&B so had no option but to drive to Inverness at 6:30am and catch that bus to the start! Lucky me had Bronwyn driving – so I caught the 7:55am bus from Inverfarigaig junction (a 3min walk from the B&B) to the start, which is a hill by the side of Loch Knockie. I was not in great condition due to being quite tried from the early morning nor in a state to converse and sat in silence all the way(we had to wear a mask so that helped, despite everyone else was chatting). I was a bit relieved to see people that looked less fit than me get on the bus have to say. So we get out and it was raining and it was cold and we were on a wind-swept hill and there was over an hour to wait until the start! I put on my rain jacket, hat, snood and gloves and stood in-between one of the buses used as a bag-drop and a parked van. Next to me were 3 very tough, serious, athletic looking blokes who I assumed wouldn’t want to speak to me and I too was more than happy not speaking to anyone and just concentrating on keeping warm and psyching myself up for the run. There was also the constant distraction of folks running into the surrounding trees to relieve themselves rather than wait for the toilet queue. Standing there shivering for 45mins was probably the least pleasant bit of this marathon

I also heard some guy say that due to lockdown he’d run a bunch of “virtual races” this year and that you could’ve signed up for the London Virtual Marathon today – so in theory you could do 2 marathons in one day! if only had thought of that!

Anyways, there were loud and repeated shouts from stewards that it was 9:45am and the bag drop lorries would be departing ASAP, so I slowly made my way to the queue of runners. Promptly just before 10am the rain stopped and a warming sun came out! HOORAY! I put my rain jacket in my backpack(this is the first marathon I’ve run wearing a backpack). Then lots of encouraging words were spoken by a guy with a loud-speaker and minutes later the speakers started to boom with “…and I would Walk 500 Miles” on a loop (what more appropriate place to play this iconic Proclaimers song than at the start of a marathon by Loch Ness)…AND WE WERE OFF!

The Course

The course runs along and overlooks the south side of the loch(on your left), it is bordered on the other side by forest and trees, providing a nice covering and good shelter against the wind and rain.

We headed down the hill, where I heard someone say the first 8miles were downhill – this was not true, it’s essentially downhill, but up and down quite a bit, but not too bad going if you like hills. My aim at the start was to get to the Forester’s Lodge at least and the fun atmosphere seemed to propel me along. I remember going up the first big hill, about 1.5miles down the road but it was covered with trees and heather and was most picturesque. We passed the Whitebridge Hotel – where the bus had picked up a load of runners and were boosted on by some encouraging cheering.

Next thing I remember, was seeing the sign-post for Foyers Falls and then passing the falls themselves – this was the first landmark recognised from the drive we did the day before and quite encouraging! This meant I couldn’t be too far from the Forester’s Lodge – saying that, it took what seemed like an age to get there – amazing how a few minutes in a car can take so long to run. I discovered it was somewhat fake news on the race map that Inverfarigaig was 8 miles from the start, as it was over 9miles, still, I made it to the very welcome sight of Bronwyn cheering us runners on and her giving me a hand full of jelly babies! I stopped briefly to give her my rain jacket from my backpack and kept going.

Then it started raining! As mentioned though luckily you are quite protected due to the thick forest, also as a distance runner you get used to running in the light rain, so I just kept going. There was another long, hard climb and an hour of so later I reached Dores, the next major point on the route and what seemed like the most populated area before reaching Inverness. Once again the welcome sight of Bronwyn was there, cheering us on!

The Monster

About 18miles in, another incline began, only this time a sign asked “Can you Conquer the Monster?“. This one went up and up and on and on, for at least a mile, it took me back to Stockholm where there was a huge hill famously called “The Climb” – due to the extreme heat I walked up that, so this time I forced myself to soldier(or rather plod) on. I found myself overtaking a surprising number of people, all whom had been reduced to walking due to the gradient. You’d see people attempt a short jog and then buckle back to walking pace, the whole way all you heard was silence and feet shuffling.

Running Battles

Towards the top just as I saw one guy running with some friends, just as I overtook him, he bravely decided to leave his walking mates with a cry and powered on past me, only to drop back behind me 45seconds or so later, this happened 2 or 3 times until over the crest, when he slowed down and presumably waited for his mates to catch up. I wouldn’t call it a battle, as we weren’t trying to out-run each other, this wasn’t a testosterone fuled dual at all, more a mutual sustained effort, we were just trying to get up this thing as best possible!

The best part was at the summit another sign now appeared. Judging by the mood and state of most people around I was probably the only one who read it – it said mischievously “Well done! Now it’s down hill all the way, Kind of“. They should have added “LOL” to this, as it turned out there were plenty more hills, including another very long tree-lined incline just before entering Inverness which seemed to go on forever, but they nothing like as steep as “the monster” had been!

Having mentioned the non-battle I had on the hill, what I would call a battle was the on-going spar I had with the 2 charity runner guys(both of whom looked quite experienced) for about 20miles of the course! before, during and after the big hill, they would run significantly faster than me for long parts of the race, often I assumed I wouldn’t ever see them again, but I’d find myself slowly overtaking them at random intervals. It really must’ve been quite annoying for them. I started to make a difference on that monster hill though, for they did indeed overtake me yet again, but from then onwards(am guessing due to general fatigue) they stayed well within sight until about a mile from the end, then things changed dramatically, as you will see.

The next 4 or 5 miles were somewhat of a blur, as delirium of possibly finishing came into effect. I managed to keep a constant, steady speed and continued over-taking people, even along the very long tree-lined finale incline. I noticed more and more people cheering us on the road as we entered the outskirts of Inverness, then the River Ness area came into view. Re-bolstered by recognising this river area from the day before and knowing the end couldn’t be too far, I somehow picked up speed – passing the charity guys and quite a few others for the last time. The only struggle was the ramp going up to the Ness Bridge to cross the river for the straight to the finish line, I could see that ramp ahead and did not look forward to it, man, that was quite tough on the legs, but somehow pushed myself up it. Towards the end of the bridge I caught up a lady who proceed to speed up, so my solution was to desperately run even faster to get ahead of her and hope she went away, which she seemed to.

I somewhat miscalculated just how far the straight to the finish line was from the bridge, but a combination of desperately wanting to finish and impatience kept me going. I managed to keep up quite a pace, especially into the gated stretch along Ness Walk, a few people even clapped my gritted-teeth effort. Suddenly intense cheering could be heard as Bught Park appeared. Then the finish line banner could be seen up ahead! Nobody else was ahead of me! I was quite content to keep going at this reasonable pace for the final 100m’s, enjoying parading merrily past the crowd BUT then I heard the finish-line announcer shout something like “Let’s have a sprint finish, Phil!”. Phil promptly sprinted past me, like very rapidly, then the lady I’d overtaken at the bridge over 500m’s earlier sprinted past me! Hey! I couldn’t have this! using the fear I’d be criminally beaten to the post with just metres to go like Ollie Garrod in the over-long Brighton Marathon last month I went into super high gear and found some energy left! Surprisingly poor Phil had himself maxed out and faded hugely after about 20m’s and my long legs powered me past the lady. I held my hands aloft as I crossed the finish line in a moment of great joy at doubly finishing the marathon and winning an epic sprint finish. Aparently I ran the final mile and a half at faster rate than the previous 14, not sure how my legs did that, but there you go!

Hanging Out At Bught Park

Anyways, after being given a most stylish Loch Ness Marathon finishers medal and goodie bag(which always contains numerous mystery items), I grabbed much appreciated cup of yummy Campbell’s Soup(kindly given free to us runners) and hung around the park for a couple of hours. Mostly it was me stumbling about with tired legs, chatting to Bronwyn elatedly about it all. It did start to rain, but no matter, it wasn’t particularly cold and the Hoka, Brooks and merchandise tent was rather pleasant, adequate shelter. The atmosphere was a fun buzz of fellow runners. When the rain slowed we spent a time cheering on people crossing the finish line and then I hobbled another half-a-km to the Glenalbyn pub for a much-looked-forward-to pint of Guinness and packet of crisps. On the pub TV were highlights from the London Marathon, my friend Pablo and Hannah had been running it today too, which was cool. From the pub window we could see the late runners crossing the bridge, they were still getting cheers from onlookers, which was such a nice thing to see and do. Leaving around 7pm to get the car, we managed to see the last runner cross the line in nearly 9hours – being out there for 9 hours is most impressive in my book, talk about fortitude. We wandered back via the island area along the River Ness, spotting Nessie at last and then drove back to the Forester’s Lodge for a sumptuous dinner and a much needed relax in their hot tub, words cannot express enough thankfulness for that

Overall a surprising, adventure of a marathon day and a very enduring, but enjoyable experience. If you fancy a tough one, I recommend the Loch Ness Marathon.

TL;DR Ran the Loch Ness “Monster Hills” Marathon, was quite apprehensive beforehand and despite the profile, it was an incredibly hilly course, but charged-up on Wetherspoons pasta, I finished in a sprint finish beating 2 other runners and with a PB! 4:29:20hrs 1331 out of 2640 So #wellPleased

Click here for the Loch Ness Marathon 2021 – Race Map and Guide