Karrimor Mountain Marathon

"A" Class, Team #134 (Kerr and Sinclair) RTF download 10kB

The Karrimor International Mountain Marathon is a 2 day "adventure race", held annually on the last weekend in October. Competitors, in teams of two, race for two days over an orienteering course on mountainous terrain. Teams must be self-sufficient and therefore have to carry a minimum of gear to survive, including waterproofs, tent, sleeping bag, stove, and food. Different classes offer varying degrees of difficulty, this year my partner had decided we would do the "A" class course. He was obviously not put off by our experience on the "A" class course in the Howgills in 1998, where we failed to do the second day.

The weather forecast was lousy for the weekend: rain and gales, with it to worsen on Sunday. Not exactly weather for going to the mountains. I was not put off, I reckoned it could not possibly be as bad as the Howgills in 1998. But my partner and I both had pretty bad head colds, and so were not feeling our best. This year we upgraded to B&B accommodation for the Friday evening, where we got all our gear sorted and packed. My partner had invested heavily in a long line of lightweight gear, and so his pack was lighter than mine. However he made up the extra weight via his own body, as evidenced by the excess folding over his rucksack waistbelt!

Six o'clock rise Saturday morning, for our start time was just after eight. There was a half hour walk to the start in the dark, where many competitors were in the forest relieving themselves of the last few ounces before setting off. We got the control descriptions just after starting, the optimum distance listed as 34km, with the optimum climb being 1900m. We made good progress climbing to the first control, the wind was picking up, but no rain yet. The next few controls were straightforward to find, and we ran the flat and downhills. By the third control the rain had reared its ugly head, and a couple of controls later it was what can only be described as "foul". Control #7 was a long trek in lousy weather, and caution was required to negotiate our route through crags to find it. We stopped briefly for a quick snack and drink, and I can remember wanting to keep moving as I was beginning to feel cold with the wind and the rain. Then I turned around and there was a guy wearing a Helly-Hansen top and running shorts. I still don't know how he was surviving without any windbreaker or waterproofs. You see a lot of serious "hardmen" at this event. There followed a long trek at a misty high level, the rain and wind rendering progress slow towards control #8. I was feeling good at this point, and we ran the available downhill and forest trail picking up the next couple of controls. I had now ascertained the route through the last four controls to the campsite, but my partner was beginning to tire. By control #11 my previously injured leg was feeling a bit fragile, and by control #12, my partner was fading fast. I was finally tiring, and we managed to push on to arrive at the overnight campsite before darkness required the use of headtorches.

The tent went up, I got the water, and my partner got the stove brewing up a hot drink. Into dry clothes and my sleeping bag, I was sipping Bovril as we watched headtorches come down off the hill to the camp: teams were still coming in as late as 2000. There's not much you can do after dinner in this location, so you take advantage of an early night and try to get as much rest as possible. You even compete with the weather for rest: the tent was blowing violently in the wind, keeping me awake for a good while. I managed to get some sleep, but I was continually wakening, latterly by the thunder and lightning. I was still warm and dry, but the rain was lashing against the tent. The Daylight Savings time change afforded an extra hour in our so-called bed.

Reveille was sounded by the obnoxious drone of bagpipes, a particularly cruel sound to one's ear at that hour. We began to brew up for breakfast, I was still warm and dry in my bag, but nature was calling, and eventually I had no option but to venture out of the bag, out of the tent, and paddle in my soaking wet shoes, through the mud towards the small sheds. It was kind of a harsh introduction to Sunday morning. The organisers announced by loudhailer that it was a "Bad Weather Alternative" route for the Sunday. It was not raining, but the wind was both howling and chilling. It is kind of hard to get going in such conditions. The control descriptions listed the optimum distance as 21km, with an optimum climb of 900m.

We arrived at the location of control #1, but were unable to locate it. Similarly there were hoards of other competitors in this predicament. My partner and I closely studied the control description, the map and the land, reluctant to follow the crowd. After about 20 minutes, we gave up an ploughed on. We misjudged our route selection to control #2 and that undoubtedly cost us at least half an hour in time, probably more. I was starting to get unhappy as we pushed on to the next control, #3. The wind was at its strongest, and the rain was coming in big lumps. We were trudging over high ground through what was now a bog, and progress was slow. My feet were numb, and with every step forward, my shoes were freshly filled with cold water. This event was now testing my stamina to its limit, and was beginning to seriously grind me down. My partner and I discussed the route. He was particularly unhappy and cold, we contemplated all our options, and pushed on. The route to control #5 was tricky, having to pick our way through some crags. The rain had eased for a bit, but it returned just as heavy. All the ground was saturated with water, it seemed everywhere was a bog. We were running out of time, for the last few controls ahead of us had closing time limits assigned. I decided the route we had to take, my partner was fading fast just behind me. I made up some more juice for him, and fed him some glucose tablets. That seemed to kick a bit more life into him. I was tiring also, but I managed to find enough in me to push harder on the last big traverse to control #7. The route from there was downhill to the finish, and my partner was able to run to the finish. We got there to find that the event centre was starting to be dismantled. It is kind of depressing to find that you have been out on the course so long that the organisers have started to pack up before you finish.

In the end we were 58th out of 64 A class finishers, and 102 starters. We finished in 18h 20min, just under the organisers recommended limit of 50% over the winning time of 12h 27min. This is not the kind of event you can train for over a few months, it takes a few years to build the strength and stamina required, and to acquire the relevant experience that saves time and effort throughout the event. My partner has vowed never to do the "A" class course ever again, but I think his decision is premature. I doubt I would have completed the course without his effort. I reckon that it is at the bounds of what we are capable of at this time, however I am confident that in a couple of years from now we ought to be able to attempt it once again. This event is really a severe test of physical fitness, stamina, and of mountain navigation in what can be extremely foul weather. Why do we do it?