In which I avoid falling in a bog, and respond to requests for even longer blog posts by making this one as long as The Wheel of Time series combined. Strap in.
I awoke from another fitful four hours slumber to the sound of movement outside the tent I was in. When I had arrived at Kirkby Stephen aid station I had briefly met a lovely lady, Alison Walker, who had just sadly been forced to DNF up at Nine Standards. She had slipped on a river crossing and briefly been in the cold water. Due to the low temperatures this eventually meant that she had to head to find help and warm up. This cemented my feelings about the next section. I knew I would be heading up in the dark, and all the race reports I had read suggested that Nine Standards would be the boggiest section of the route by far. As such, I was extremely hopeful that I'd be able to persuade someone to put up with me on the climb up and over to the other side. So when I heard footsteps outside my tent it felt like my prayers had been answered. Friends! (Even if they didn't realise it yet.) As luck would have it, once I had stuffed all my belongings into my increasingly disorganised drop bag and made it back inside I realised the footsteps I had heard belonged to none other than Steve and Chris!
I haven't spoken about them much so far, but Chris, Steve and myself had spent most of the race so far (slowly) leapfrogging each other. We would run (walk) together for a while, then someone would move ahead and we would find ourselves running into each other at the next aid station. And to be quite honest, I couldn't have wished for a nicer pair to spend endless hours of conversation with. And now they were suddenly faced with having to spend even more time with me - lucky them! We slowly got our stuff together, ate some more food, drank some more tea (no point in hurrying, the hill will still be there in half an hour) and started out into the dark, before almost immediately taking the wrong turn. Thankfully both Steve and Chris were far more on the ball than I was, the mistake was rectified and yet again, we were on our way into the dark.
We were not on the road for long before we had to turn off onto the track that lead us up to Nine Standards. We soon caught up with Dave, who I had last seen leaving Shap, and the four of us traipsed up into the darkness. It was a beautiful night. The air was dry and crisp, but the hike uphill did a good job of keeping us warm. At one point I saw a hare, that I swear was the size of a small deer. Other accounts may dispute this, but I'm sticking with it. After what must have been a good couple of hours, although it felt like no time at all (the wonder of a distracting chat), Nine Standards finally loomed out of the darkness ahead of us. One day, it would be nice to go and see it during the day, however on this cold night the atmosphere of the place was truly magical. I'm not sure it will ever have the same effect on me.
After taking a moment to appreciate these truly incredible structures, we turned and headed across the peak. The following section was where I was perhaps most grateful for having company. As warned, the top was exceptionally boggy. We were actually quite lucky, in that the frost has frozen over the top layer of bog allowing for a slight advantage, in that you had a moment's notice before slipping into the bog in which to leap in another direction and hope you'd find dry(er) land. At one point Chris disappeared up to his hip when scouting out a route for the rest of us to follow. Fortunately it didn't stop him and he was soon back to his lucky streak when it came to bog watching.
It was long, slow progress with no discernible path to follow for much of the route. Although I will concede that it is entirely possible there was a path that we were doing a spectacular job of missing in the dark. It took some team effort, especially when we got to the river crossings near the end. At this point I was using one of Steve's poles as a bog guide and river crossing balance. This was the only point in the whole race when I did miss having poles, and to be quite honest I was not using it for what it is usually intended. But we made it eventually, picking up a lovely lady along the way (I am truly sorry but I do not remember your name) who seemed to have chosen the wrong side of a river/bog and had to scramble over to us. As dawn began and the soft glimmer of a distant sunrise appeared over the horizon we had finally made it across to Ravenseat and the promise of dry(ish) land.
The following section was glorious. As the sun rose, the frost glistened, the air remained crisp and the way underfoot was perfect for some slow plodding onwards. The landscape was littered with abandoned settlements, gradually falling to ruin. We crunched across fields together, our little group of five, slowly spreading back out as we found our own paces again. After some time I found I was back to running on my own. It was cold, and yet I felt incredibly comfortable. My legs felt like they could keep on going forever. And with every glance up there was another incredible view to take your breath away. The stars really had aligned for us, this was the perfect morning.
The path followed a river slowly up before crossing over and working slowly upwards. This section was a bit of a challenge as the cool weather and frost has left some patches quite icy. There were a couple of sections where it was not immediately clear which route was best but, probably more through luck than judgement, I was soon across the valley and heading further up towards the crest of the hill. At this point I stumbled across another Belgian runner. We walked a little way together admiring the view from the top, however my legs were itching to keep going. It was (mostly) downhill from here, and I happened to know there was a café in the village of Reeth with my name on it. And so off I trotted, down the side of another valley, trying not to slip on any ice as the path meandered down and then steadily back up the other side.
Slight navigational issues presented themselves when a scramble up and over the crest of the hill was required. The path was not obvious, and required a couple of back and forths to ensure I was definitely headed in the right direction. Luckily, despite still being in the shade, this patch was not icy and so nothing too technical was required. And then that was it. The hill was crested, crisps (I feel like the Wheat Crunchies, but I can't be certain) were retrieved from my pocket and eaten as a celebratory snack, as I allowed my legs to find their own pace following the easy gravel roads down the other side. It was an easy run, not too steep, ground that was firm yet not too hard, easy for the legs to find a rhythm and allow gravity to do most of the work. Close to the bottom I ran past a lady who was hiking the route in the other direction. I believe she told me she had run the Northern Traverse before, but was now taking the route at her own pace. Don't hold me to that though, I can't be trusted to retain information while running. She was very nice and friendly; it was lovely to have a bit of a chat before moving onwards towards Reeth.
At the bottom of this long, beautiful meander downwards I sat by the edge of the small river I'd been following for the last couple of kilometres to sort out my shoes and socks. Keeping these in good order was turning out to be the most sensible race tactic I had. And then it was time to head north, for just a few hundred metres, in order to follow the same river from a bit of a distance all the way into town.
The rest of this section was through farmland, the most notable memory being of the dead rabbits littering the side of the footpath. I guess they had been poisoned by a farmer, but the fact they were all lying right next to the trail gave them a vaguely threatening air. A sneaky wee in the porch of an abandoned building, then onto actual path and finally into the town. My sense of time at this point was all over place, but it was a bit before 11am and had been 7 hours since being at the top of Nine Standards, and here I finally was, plopping myself down at the Dales Bike Centre to enjoy my (free) cup of tea and bacon sandwich.
Not long after I had finished my bacon sandwich, other runners started arriving. We sat outside and basked in the sun, drying off socks and gear in the wonderful way that runners insist on. Looking back, I probably should have started moving again much sooner, but I was having a wonderful time. I was there at least an hour, maybe closer to 2, before myself, Chris and Steve set off in hot (!!) pursuit of the two Belgians, who I guess had gotten impatient waiting for us to use the bathrooms.
I am not sure how far the distance between Reeth and Richmond is, I think between 10 and 15 kilometres. Most of this section crossed fields and farmland. My appreciation for the well-marked footpaths of the UK really grew here. At no point was there any confusion about where to go. At some point I left Chris and Steve (Chris's ankle was really suffering by now); as much as I wanted to stay, once the Belgians were back in sight I also wanted to run and catch them. So off I popped, caught them up and carried on. If you had seen me you would probably have (accurately) estimated that I was moving at approximately 5km/hour. But I felt like I was flying. After a brief pause to chat with a farmer and a cheery wave at some dog walkers, I finally found myself on the outskirts of Richmond.
The run through the town felt longer than the rest of the previous 55km combined. It was approximately 4pm, and having taken about 15 hours to get there this was far from the fastest 55km I have ever done. But I had absolutely loved it. As I flopped into a chair to the offers of tea, chips, more hot food and any help I could possibly need, I felt unbelievably happy. As had been the case the whole way, the aid station workers were phenomenal. I sat for a while talking, eating, drinking and just generally relaxing before skulking off to find a tent to nap in. By this time, Chris and Steve had arrived and we arranged to meet after a sleep to carry on along the next section together. Life was good, and I was exceptionally content.
More photos below as I found it too difficult to choose which ones to use in this post:
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