“Bloody hell. Now THAT is real rain,” said Nikki as she stared out the window of the conservatory that doubled as a breakfast room.

The owner of our quaint little B&B in the Cumbrian village of Cleator Moor was pouring our coffee and spooning out a healthy serving of homemade porridge. I followed Nikki’s gaze outside. A howling north-easterly was making the roof vibrate, and the lashing rain on the glass meant the visibility was almost zero. We looked at each other and smiled wryly – welcome to the Lake District.

Looking around the room I was surprised to see other people smiling too. It suddenly dawned on me that it was no coincidence that all of us were sitting in the same guesthouse on a cold October morning in the nether region of The Lakes. Those of us smiling were eating porridge, wearing running shirts and tapping our trainers under the tables with nervous excitement. The people that weren’t smiling were obviously WAGs and HABs – either dreading the thought of watching the race huddled on the fells, or wondering why it was that their loved ones were contemplating running in such inclement conditions. What was lost on these poor folk – and on most unfortunate souls who don’t run – is that trail running in the mountains is the most challenging and rewarding when the peaks and terrain aren’t the only obstacles, but the elements as well.

The beauty of the Ennerdale Race Series is that it offers three distances on the same day – a 10k, 25k and 50k that start and finish in the same place but follow varying routes. So the conversation soon turned to “what distance are you running?” and “how far have you travelled?”

After breakfast we drove in convoy to the small outpost of Ennerdale Bridge, a 10 minute drive from our B&B. From there we turned sharply to cross a beck on an old stone bridge and then followed an unpaved access track for about a mile before coming to the end of the road at the head of Ennerdale Water. The lake sits about 10 miles west from the Irish Sea and the rum capital of the UK (Whitehaven, in case you are wondering) and is dwarfed by a semi circle of some of the highest ridges in England – with Great Gable towering in the distance and Sca Fell Pike on the southern side of the neighbouring valley. Needless to say we couldn’t see either.

The rain was still hammering down and the wind was blowing straight across the water from the far end of Ennerdale Valley as we got out of the car. We waded ankle deep through torrents of rain water along a dirt trail with our kit to the race HQ. After registration and a quick gear check of all the compulsory kit we had to carry, I made a beeline for the Salomon tent to find the physio table that was promised in the pre-race literature. Having not run since the previous Sunday thanks to another torn soleus (muscle under the calf), I was in search of tiger tape to compress my lower leg as much as possible. What I found instead was a bewildered look from an obviously confused Salomon shoe rep that seemed to say “What the hell do you think this is you Southern softy, the Hyde Park 5k? You go hard or go home up here.” Okay – so my 2XU calf sleeves would have to suffice.

The 50k race started promptly at 10am, which was followed by tour 25k (16 mile) pre-race briefing. As if on cue, the rain suddenly stopped, the sun broke through and the wind dropped a couple of knots, leading to 120 eager runners frantically pulling sun visors out of their packs and stuffing waterproofs back in. The briefing was fairly succinct – “it’s extremely wet underfoot, and the exposed rock sections are extremely slippery. One wrong foot on the exposed rock sections, and the next stop will be a dip in the lake after a nasty tumble down the sharp scree slopes.” The 25k course was a single lap of the valley, which consisted of a 12.5k run to the head of the valley at Black Sail Hostel via the north shore of the lake, with the return 12.5k along the far more rugged south shore.

At 10:15am a hooter blasted and the mass of runners accelerated down a narrow gravel trail along the south side of the lake, swinging east after about a mile to start the journey inland along the north shore of the lake. The description of the course in the pre-race brief suggested that the first 20k would be on ‘runable’ trails, with the last section a mixture of scree, rock fields and boulders which we would have to pick our way over. For this reason, I tried to set myself for a 20k race – get to 20k as quick as possible, and then recover on the scrambles towards the end. In hindsight, a strategy that would pay dividends. Unfortunately for Nikki, she was standing much further back in the field and wasn’t able to hear the briefing due to the wind, so not hearing the description of the last 5k would give her a rude shock a couple of hours later.

At the front of the field, a tall blonde guy shot out of the blocks like a frog out of a sock. Decked out in Salomon gear (the race sponsor) from head to toe, it was obvious he was a sponsored runner and therefore the battle would be for the minor placings. Having learned that legendary fell runner Joss Naylor would be presenting the prizes to the top three runners, a top three finish was my sole priority providing my dodgy right leg played ball. Just in case it didn’t, in addition to my compulsory waterproof gear and beanie/gloves I was also carrying a spare base layer and food.

A chasing pack of a few runners stayed together for the first 5km, which we went through in 19:15. Hurdling puddles and twisting along the foreshore on grass and gravel trails in the suddenly mild conditions felt brilliant. After the 5k mark we started to encounter the slower 50k runners who were running two laps of the 25k course, and at this point the 25k field rapidly started to spread.

A little further back, Nikki was in a pack of runners and was sticking to her plan of 9-minute miles as she passed 5k in 27 minutes. Hard to believe that last year that was her 5k PB! The next 8k to the turnaround point was run on relatively firm paths that were wide enough to allow runners to circumvent the waterlogged sections of the course. The path rose steadily but continuously to the Black Sail Hostel, with some sharp climbs along the way. Rounding the crest of one of these climbs the halfway point came into view – a small black hostel at the head of the valley, in the shadow of Great Gable and Kirk Fell – one of the most remote points in the Lake District. Descending to the hostel I saw the runner in front of me, glanced at my watch and as I passed the hostel I calculated I was 32 seconds behind him. At that moment I decided to skip the short detour to the aid station and persevere for the rest of the race with the water bottle I was carrying. I went through halfway in 50 minutes.

Rounding the eastern edge of the valley, the forest path quickly gave way to a peat bog littered with small, jagged, slippery rocks that pierced the souls of my trail shoes and focused my concentration on staying upright. The next mile or so was slow going, with a traffic jam of those in the ultra event clogging up the half dozen stiles that followed in quick succession. Most of them responded to my calls of “one your right” as I passed them, trying to keep the second runner in my sight and resisting the urge to glance behind to see where fourth was. After negotiating some farm gates we entered a rapid 8k downhill section on nice soft forest paths that took us back down to the lake. I clocked 29 minutes on this 8k downhill section and found myself sitting on the shoulder of second place. The shock on his face was priceless when he turned around and saw me smiling back at him!

At 20k we came off the forest trail, went through two farm gates and found ourselves on the lake shore. The shoreline was narrow and completely covered in rocks, interspersed with deep puddles that made every step a risky manouvre. I quickly decided this section was not runable, especially with my dodgy leg playing havoc with my normally dodgy balance! As I watched the mountain goat in second place somehow accelerate away from me, I slowly picked my way over the rocks and past a succession of the leading 50k entrants. After about 2k of moving at what seemed like walking pace, I turned onto a dirt path that climbed steeply up the side of a scree field, before a precariously placed marshal informed me that I needed to lower myself back down to the shore between a succession of boulders.

The next 2k was worse than the previous section, with bigger rocks and deeper, dirtier puddles that hid sharp rocks. The narrow “trail” wound precariously around the side of a high cliff, meaning that any fall or over-balancing to the right would mean a 20 foot tumble into the dark lake below. Leaping over the slippery surface was a ticking time bomb, and it wasn’t long before my right ankle skidded of the side of a wet rock, buckling under me and sending me crashing head first into a rock in front of me. The collective “ooooooooh” of three ultra runners behind me made me realise exactly how hard I had smashed down to earth – just in case my bruised head, slashed knee and badly sprained ankle weren’t enough of a hint. Getting to my feet and stumbling forward, I promptly fell head first into a massive puddle, splashing down just in time to catch sight of the runner in front of me rounding the final cliff – probably a good 400 metres further around the shore. I was no longer battling for second – I was fighting to stay in third, with no idea where any of the 25k runners behind me were. I reckoned at this point that I probably had about 2k to go, so I hobbled through the rest of the rock field, using my left arm to lean on the rock face for extra balance. Eventually I emerged onto a boggy grass bank where a marshal politely held a gate open for me and directed me over a bridge. “400 metres through the mud and then you’re finished,” he somewhat gleefully informed me. Stumbling through the forest in shin deep mud felt like the way a cross-country race should end, and crossing the line while still in third place was more of a relief than a sense of achievement. I was so relieved to cross the line in third that I forgot to stop my watch, the guy in second later informing me over a chocolate brownie and coke that I had clocked 1 hr 48 minutes. It turned out that my official time was 1:49:05. In other words, despite the long downhill section, the second half took me 59 minutes – 9 minutes slower than the first half.

The winner had clocked 1:39:50, with second place posting 1:46.

I hobbled into the change rooms, grabbed my kit and stood under a hot shower for what seemed like forever. Emerging into the registration area in bare feet, my already black and swollen foot and ankle drew some smirks from some seasoned fell runners. Again, I read their expressions to say “Southern softy.” They probably didn’t realise how far south though! I put a clean shoe on, tied it as tightly as I could to limit the swelling and limped back to the final gate to wait for Nikki.

Unbeknownst to me, Nikki had passed through the halfway aid station two minutes ahead of schedule and feeling strong in 1 hour 20 minutes. Stopping quickly for a cup of squash and a handful of peanuts, she downed them whilst briefly stretching her troublesome calves. This was the longest race she had ever attempted, the previous longest being a trail half marathon over gentler terrain in July. With the rugged terrain in this event though, the time on her feet would be significantly longer.

Entering the bog and vaulting the fences to avoid the congested stiles, she was in her element and started to overtake a procession of runners. Accelerating into the 8k descent, her good downhill technique picked her up some time and a sub-2:40 very much seemed a reality. However, as with me, the rocky shoreline at 20k put paid to that dream. Staying upright and moving cautiously became the name of the game as she picked her way through the rocks, between the boulders and over the scree fields. Unbeknownst to her, given the exposed nature of the shoreline and her bright yellow ‘Leighton 10’ running shirt, I could see her from about a mile away as she steadily moved towards the final segment. I held the final gate open for her as she bounded through, accelerating into the mud and disappearing into the forest to the finish line and the very audible cheers of the gathered crowd.

Nikki’s finishing time of 3:05 was a magnificent effort, especially given the distance and the difficulty of the terrain. As usual, when I saw her at the finishing line she was happily chatting to some other finishers and not looking at all like she’d just run for 3 hours. Like me, she must be made for ultras – she just hasn’t realised it yet! She was the 26^th female to finish and 105^th overall.

After some hot bacon butties and several coffees, we waited inside for Joss Naylor to arrive and begin the presentation. Having read his book – and read several about him – I wasn’t sure what to expect. His status as a fell running legend is never in question, but I’d read mixed reports on him as a person. However, there was no question that he was modest, humble, charming, funny and insightful in his talk before the presentation. As soon as he opened his mouth the room went silent, each person listening intently as he described the changes that have taken place in the valley since he started shepherding there in the 1940s. I picked up a £100 Salomon Agility ultra backpack for third place – presented by Joss – and he was happy to pose for the time that it took Nikki to come to the front and take a photo. That was a real honour and something I will never forget.

All in all, the only thing more epic than the race itself is this race report. Not much else to do when you’re sat in a tub of ice the day after! It is a great event, superbly organised and run on a scenic, challenging and varied route. Not a PB course by any means, but one that gives you every chance to earn every penny of your entry fee.

All it takes is all you got…

Full Details can be found here: http://www.highterrainevents.co.uk/17.html and the full set of glorious photos are here; http://rowena.smugmug.com/Sports/Runs-Ive-Done/Ennerdale-trail/26064646_5H8p9z#!i=2166200437&k=Z4RthGZ