The Cumbrian Way Weekend Report (Kathleen O’Donnell & Andy Beavers) – PHOTO GALLERY AT THE END
This was a Harrier’s weekend away with a difference. A 70 mile point to point route (or pint to pint, if you prefer) over the length of the Cumbrian Way, run together not raced, and over two days not the usual five enjoyed by hikers.
Logistically it was challenging to figure out, but it came together and we all appreciated an evening in fresh clothes at the midway point. The other residents of the YHA were especially appreciative.
It was agreed by mutual consensus over beers on the Saturday night that a DNF is not a DNF if you’re content that on the back of a 36 mile run and a jolly good day out, you call it a day ¼ of way through the next in favour of coffee, fudge and a Sunday roast in Bollington. This quickly coined the phrase DSF – Distinctly Satisfied Finish.
The plan had always intended to be somewhat flexible and accommodating. And so it was that 13 Harriers ran 60% of the Cumbrian Way from Ulverston to Keswick on 12/13th April, and 4 ran the extra distance to get to Carlisle on Sunday evening. There are lots of photos at the end of this report
Kathleen O’Donnell and Andy Beavers report on the events that unfolded…..
Day one – The Full Cumbrian in breakfast and seasons, but not Way (Kathleen):
After an excited hearty dinner on the Friday night and a sub leisurely Saturday morning fry up to grease the wheels, we stood on the start line of Ulverston Premier Inn carpark. Tom had organised some really clever logistics for the weekend, regarding bag drops in the Gittin’s pot shed, deliveries to Borrowdale Youth Hostel to ensure each man started day 2 in their Sunday best, and cars were deposited in Penrith to mitigate the need to return the full 70 miles on Sunday afternoon. Without this I don’t believe any of us would have started out on that path after a Premier Inn full English.
I had got it in my head that there was a very long riverside section to start with (although that was not to be seen for me as it was at the end of day 2). It loomed ahead of me as ‘Canal Tempo’ a training horror for me as my most difficult type of run. With the waist and back packs laden to the gunnells with sugar mixed and feted in every manner, I couldn’t imagine myself performing any kind of riverside tempo .
Luckily, we started at a lovely pace and enjoyed proudly posing for our first photo at the honed rock signalling the very start of the Way forward.
We quickly moved from roads into some damp green fields with many stiles to match our easy gaits. It reminded me of a Wednesday evening relaxed run in Rainow. There were lambs a plenty and morning sounds of birds and smells of farm turds. If we hadn’t already conversed about the adventure ahead over chicken curry or oily egg, we were able to conduct check ins on how our fellow runners were feeling about the County highs and lows ahead.
Tom had set out rough estimates of where we’d get to, when and what we might enjoy at these milieus – I started to muse upon the upcoming Americano of Coniston, maybe earlier than I remembered in the schedule.
The rolling fields continued and I went past my previous training distance of just over 10 miles with a reminder of this from the lesser used leg muscles. However a delightful moving pier photo gave them and my brain a pleasant rest and delight at the peaceful beauty of the lake and a boost for the work ahead in navigating the upcoming rooty trails.
As I tired on the way into Coniston, it was nice to see Andy Dykins daughter requesting a photo of what he was up to and what he showed her, of himself running along with the lake behind about 12 on a Saturday morning, while she held the family dog, was a lovely exchange of moments in time.
The cafe at Coniston was a welcome buzz of activity, especially with a persistent mizzle that had set in – the ladies were very kind in replenishing the water jug perhaps 9 times so that various water receptacles could be refilled, in direct line with our Soles. Hearty Soup and rosemary crusted bread were a welcome accompaniment to the roast beans that would provide the jolt across the post lunch lethargy, or so we hoped.
Luckily, half an hour in to the long road hill ahead, each person that we fell into line with mentioned how heavily it was sitting, as pleasant as it had been – there was no longer as much room to decant the contents of my packs into fuel for my body that I needed.
A lovely lime green silent forest led us down to the long track ahead to the Dungeon Gill pub stop, 27 miles in. Another welcome stop at an unplanned pub with the necessary facilities and heated shelter was timed perfectly with the onset of some foul weather – furious pillaging in packs with contents strewn out over the table ensued.
We started off on a few miles jaunt to the pub stop and I recall the sounds of Katy and Steve ahead of me – poles clattering into the puddles like a loose fork in the dishwasher, feet sloshing through the eroded potholes of the Cumbrian lanes, eroded by years of this same refreshing rain.
I was delighted to see the pub ahead, having broken this step down in my head, as after alighting it, I would then be on the final 8 miles leg of day one . I tried to gather myself slightly in the pub – I had found the intense rain and wind very refreshing and invigorating so this had given me a lovely present moment lift but I knew I had to move quickly through the overload to the senses in the pub to be able to get back out the door again, appropriately attired and regenerated to pass over Borrowdale. A quick swig of half a Borrowdale ale, an intense faffery on the table we had set up as our base by the busy fire, as everyone once again rifled through every manner of receptacle to find dry coating for the body and fuel for the Sole.
I braced myself physically and mentally to go out the door again to meet the rise of the final challenge and see the cut of the hind leg itself. The weather had completely lifted, opening up the pass through the valley itself into and it was exciting to ponder on which raise we would surmount. Surmount it we did and were rewarded with the most wonderful scenery of the Borrowdale valley being steamed by the evening rays. We felt great luck to be running into this picture on a Saturday evening, surrounded by bleating Herdwick and the birdsong of homing pigeons, returning to their nests, gold rings in toe.
I desperately wanted to bound down it but brain and brakes worked together tirelessly as I tried to switch both off.
At the bottom, you could cut through the beautiful sounds of the evening animal chorus and running water through the slippery rocks with a sword of steel.
There was another brief interlude in a lovely pub, people eating their Saturday night dinners while we gulped a swift half sharpener – for me the end was blunt but the fabulous memories unerasable.
The final stumble into the Hostel where the contents of the Gittins potting shed appeared like a mirage. After a hearty dinner at the half way house, where we basked in the afterglow, the ready brek at Ulverston Premier Inn seemed a long time ago now.
I recall as I lay in the bottom bunk that night, sinews twitching, the beautiful sound of the running water of the stream outside and in the restless night, that sound bubbled up several times and I was glad to hear it.
A team of us had decided the following day to finish after 8 miles in Keswick, instead of going the whole spitting hog with an apple in his mouth to Carlisle. This involved a gentle leg loosener down the valley, the sun shining out across Derwent – calm and shiny as a mill pond, the air clear and enlivening – before hitting the bustle of Keswick and jumping on a bus with a bacon sandwich and smiles all round.
Day 2: Post Satisfaction Phase (Andy)
Yesterday was good. What will today bring?
Well it first brings a slightly chaotic breakfast and then a lot of faffing around with bags (no names, but usual suspects).
It then brought a very pleasant, social and mercifully flat run out of the depths of Borrowdale and into Keswick that enabled me to check that my legs were still onboard with running and up for another stint today. Yesterdays rain was a distant memory and with a bit of weak sunshine and newly born lambs taking their first steps in the fields all was good with the world.
Into Keswick and specifically Booth’s. I recall from the Friday evening logistical briefing that one of (if not the) primary objectives was to ensure we hit Keswick at, but not before, the café opening time. Mission accomplished.
I buy a few provisions and then head off to make use of the facilities leaving rest of group to organise themselves. I head back to regroup.
Hang fire. Have I missed the memo here? I’ve certainly missed the bus. The group is somewhat depleted. With Keswick the last exit option with decent transport connections and with cars scattered all over the lake district many were understandably already satisfied with their weekend away. With various now departed and Craig and Kate opting to remain in Keswick to search for an elusive broccoli and pea pizza it was left to just 4 to continue.
I will admit that this was a bit daunting. All of these incredible folk who have done this for years calling it day and I was still thinking that my longest run the day after my longest run was a viable idea. I’m accompanied by Rob (a long distance legend), Gill (very coy about her experience but she has definitely done this – and I suspect a lot more – before) and Jon (for whom this is just a warm up for events later in the year). I console myself that at least I’m in experienced hands and accompanied by a medic just in case.
Off we trot out into Keswick and up the main street towards moot hall. You can see a few folk looking and pointing and perhaps speculating if we were inbound BG’ers. Small temptation to go with it and claim a free pint albeit it would really be against the spirit of the challenge – plus the pub was closed (I now realise why evening start times are preferred). And so instead we turn left, cross the car park, have the normal leg 1 discussion to ensure we don’t get lost before we even get to the bottom of Skiddaw and then we’ve escaped the town and are off and climbing. The lower slopes were busy with weekend walkers and we made steady progress with the numbers on the path gradually thinning out. Many may have been intent on climbing Skiddaw because after we turn right to skirt round Lonscale Fell we were largely on our own.
This path was unchartered territory for me but a very enjoyable section where we made good time on a gradual climb whilst enjoying some spectacular views back down the valley. It also became clear on this stretch that Rob was struggling with his knee but he insisted on monty python style defiance and insisted that he had two and losing one wasn’t going to stop him completing.
We finally emerged at Skiddaw House, a remote hostel that stands in splendid isolation on the flank of the hill. It was here that I realised just how much I have to learn with regard to long distance running and provisioning. The production of half a sausage sandwich by Gill represented my peak envy moment of the weekend as I tried to convince myself that another cliff bar was an adequate alternative.
Onwards around Great Calva and a good track and downhill gradient meant that we were moving (in one case hobbling) quickly. We soon reached an abandoned mine that marked our next junction and the start of our climb up high pike. The geology in the area is unique (as could be seen with the unusual quartz type rock on which we were running) and the local rocks contain a variety of unusual earth metals. The mine was the only commercial tin mine outside of Cornwall although it was the arsenic that caught our attention and it was concluded that we’d fill the water bottles higher up the hill.
None of us had made the ascent of high pike via this route before and so didn’t know what to expect. The early signs were promising with a good track starting to make its way up the hill that promised much for a trouble free ascent. Around the first corner it became clear that the track was only there for the mine. And the mine workings didn’t extend far up the hill. We found ourselves on a rough, steep scramble of a climb on saturated ground that was hard work and seemed to go on forever.
The views from near the top were fabulous. The view from the top itself was equally good but this now needed to be offset by the howling wind that we were exposed to moving onto the broad ridge. The Lingy Hut is up here to provide shelter to travellers who find themselves in difficulty and you can see why it has been set up (you can also see why the hut needs to be physically tied down as well). We called in briefly, signed the book on behalf of the Harriers and moved on towards the high pike summit.
This was the highest point of the Cumbria Way and for the first time our destination was in sight. Far in the distance could be sighted the hills of Scotland, the Solway coast and a definite smudge of conurbation that could only be Carlisle. It still looked a very long way away! This exposed high point isn’t somewhere to dwell and we were soon onto the descent. Fearing something like we had ascended I was grateful to discover a good grass path with a steep but not fearsome rate of descent. I’d stopped to take a photo and Jon and Gill were off into the distance with a carefree descending style (Gill has definitely done a lot of this before!). Rob opted for the beeline straight “fellsman” route and was crashing about to our right as we made our way quickly down. We regrouped at the bottom before making our way into Caldbeck.
This was the last provisioning location and whilst a pub was on the itinerary we discovered a fabulous mobile café run by three ladies serving homemade offerings. After the standard “you’re supposed to take 5 days chat” they couldn’t have been more helpful in facilitating water refills and restocking our supplies. The homemade sausage roll was my culinary highlight of the weekend.
So just 20K still to go. And it follows a river so should be fairly flat. And if anything downhill.
Only it wasn’t. The first mile or so out of Caldbeck was close to a river but the path generally meandered up and down the valley side. I think it was specifically designed to link every quagmire on the valley side together in a special tour of Cumbria’s muddiest places.
Emerging from that it was into fields where again the terrain was varied. Good going in places, soft to heavy in others. Hard to get any kind of rhythm going and whilst the KM’s ticked by they did so slowly.
There followed a short section on local roads and a delightful interaction with a lady and her dogs who was again keen to highlight that we’re not supposed to do it in 2 days. She was almost offended when we declined the invitation to stop and visit her friends in the village rectory.
More fields followed until we hit Dalston where, with everything closed, we didn’t linger long. Instead we plugged on, picked up the railway line and then set sail for Carlisle. Only we didn’t have much wind left in our sails by this point. As a part time road runner, long stretches of flat straight tarmac should excite me but with 70 miles under our belts since departure my legs were in no mood to enjoy this “easier” running and the scenery did little to distract from the general feeling that it would be much better if the Cumbria Way terminated in Caldbeck.
Eventually, just before 6 on Sunday evening we arrived into Carlisle and at this point realised that there had been a substantive oversight in either the logistical briefing our or attention span when listening to it. For Carlisle is a big old place and we had no idea where the official end of this run actually was. We took pictures of the castle in case it was there, the town hall in case that was it and looked back at the Ulverston pictures/sculpture to see what we were looking for. Strava analysis reveals a straight run in followed by a series of concentric circles to locate an end point. Google maps eventually came to the rescue and deposited us at the Carlisle cross in the town square.
Job done. Well done everyone. Now let’s get out of here quickly. It’s a long way home and we’re disturbing the local youths who are happily revving the car engines and trashing the temporary traffic management furniture around us. Not sure I’m in any shape to run for it if necessary so let’s just exit now on our own terms.
Thanks very much as always to Tom for outstanding organisation and logistical jiggery pokery that allowed us to experience this fine way to its fullest . Thank you too to all participants in the weekend for making it such an epic trip out and for the company, inspiration and experience.
Kathleen & Andy
