Race report: Win Hill Fell Race

Win Hill Fell Race is held twice a year:once at the end of winter and once in summer. The two events run in opposite directoins. It is, unsurprisingly, a race based around Win Hill in the Peak District, and it starts in the village of Hope. I quite want to live there, simply to say, when people ask where I live, the I live in Hope. Anyway, I digress.

Win Hill from Hope

I have run up Win Hill in three races. Two of them where the Maverick Peak X races and approach the summit from the west, and the other was the same race last year which approaches it from the east. Last year it formed part of the Chorlton Runner Blacksheep series, and it was a grey and miserable day, and I had run with Catherine who was happy to let me take it a bit easy with injury maranoia in the run up to my marathon which was in a few weeks. This year, fewer Blacksheep were to attend and I dragged my poor friend Eryl out on her first fell race. I am a terribly cruel friend.

It had been raining heavily and constantly for weeks. We had had storm after storm and a few events had been cancelled. There was a whispering of snow so I had arranged to pick Eryl up ridiculously early in case of snow induced road chaos. So naturally there was bright sunshine and we arrived at the start line massively early. We got registered and went to try steady Eryl's nerves and kit concerns. She had text me the night before in a panic about kit, and I suddenly felt pretty bad about not warning her about the requirements of a fell race. Luckily she had found some stuff and a rucksack, and now all we had to do was decide how much we actually needed to run with given it was a fine day and the rules had been relaxed from full kit down. We warmed up on the playing field, avoiding the sports clubs best pitches and my body ached from the the previous days long run of 18 miles. The problematic ankle tendon played up but we were here and I was going to be damned if I didn't run.

The start line looked faster than the year before, possibly because of the run of bad weather and threat of snow. I came third or forth from bottom, last year and quite wanted to improve on that this year. However, with the recent deluges, the course was going to be different from last year. Its easy to forget that in fellrunning- its not the same course from year to year or even day to day. You are at the mercy of the elements. And mud was cards. Lots of it.

The first section in through the village streets and then up the lane past the campsite and cemetry. Its a suspiciously well groomed start and you can get a decent push away, right up until the first track which is a bit rocky but nothing technical. I wasn't doing to badly but did walk from half way up the farm track through the field and gratefully on to the rocky top section. I started running as it flattened out buffetted by the wind. There were a few patches of snow left tucked in to the heather at the top, but the footing is good up here.

On the pike at the top, a woman was taking photos. I looked at her dog and the man beside her and suddenly realised I was running passed relative fell running elites who were on marshalling duty- the Scotneys! I had a small fan girl freak out as I messily stumbled up the rocky outcrop before dipping down the otherside and down the first steep section of descent. Initially I stuggled to get going on what is one of my favourite descents. Its steeper at the top, and the path is narrow through the heather plants. But as you get further down you can fly with the heather ripping at your laces all the way to the tree line, with Derwent edge and the reservoirs sort of visible to the front right. I kept my pace thorugh the trees and had pulled in to some space. At one point I thought I had missed the turn but I kept plummetting through the wood, skidding in the mud and trying to remember from the year before whether we had gone this far down.....

It turns out we had and the marshal indicated the sharp left hander....straight in to the mud. Almost knee deep I squelched through before hitting some slgihtly better track on the other side. This path sort of contours around the side of the hill through the woods and has some lovely sections of undulations, but it also had some muddy sections and a gentle rise and at the 4 mile point I felt my legs starting to struggle from the effects of a weeks training. I had been vaguely aware of gaining on the woman someway in front but now she started to pull away and a man came up from behind to eventually over take me as I slepped through some more muddy sections. The section up to the brow of the hill I lost a few more places and started to sulk at my own lack of fitness. There was a photographer who caught a rather unattractive photo of my walking up the stony path through the plantation that I had forgotten existed.

As I crested the hill I looked about me and remembered why I do this. To the right hard was the Kinder landmass,  still sprinkled with snow, and Loose Hill and the Great Ridge spread out just of stright ahead also twinkling with pockets of unmelted snow. But because of my laziness in the wood I had no time to enjoy it as I was losing places rapidly. The marshal shouted something at me causing me to hesitate and I lost another place to an old man. Bother! But I bolted down the old Roman road knowing I had a good chance at catching him. Unfortunately the good weather had brought the long couped up walkers out on the paths and this made it a little harder. I got him on the flatter section at the bottom which I had also forgotten about but by this time I was hammering it, trying to regain what places I could. I could see two men ahead of me but knew I was running out of road/path.

After crossing Edale road and heaving my huge bum through the narrow wall space, I thought I had more fields than I did to catch the people in front of me. Maybe I should have given it a bit more but actually its only two or so fields before you have the water crossing at the back of the sports club. Some people take to the ford but I like the little slippy wooden bridge and came skidding up the bank on the other side. A couple of hundred meters and I knew I couldn't catch them.

Courtesy of local race photographer 

I pushed over the finish line to find a very smiley Eryl who had successfully (and very competently) finished her first fellrace. I thought I was faster than last year looking at my watch and there were certainly more people behind me. So I decided to be happy for that and tucked in to some flapjack as I shared race stories with Eryl. 

Feeling pleased 

I'd recommend Hope as a race as its well organised (except the small children with the air horn who I nearly brained), there is parking, flapjack, tea and there are, holy of holy, showers at the end! The course requires no nav and whilst its not impossible to get lost, you aren't going to get lost in the wilderness long if you do. The views are amazing too, if you have time to enjoy them. Field is a reasonable mix as far as fell races go. Apart from a steep section off the top, there is nothing technical. 

Pub wise, Eryl and I went to the Cheshire Cheese Inn on the Edale road which has fires and is lovely but I suggest you book in advance. We sat and had an overdue catch up next to the fire before the lovely drive back to Manchester (until you get to the A555 anyway). The Grasshopper cafe is also nice, as I suspect are the other pubs and cafes as its a popular area. 

None of us know whats happening with racing at present, but I will keep my ear to the ground and see if I can make to summer one to see if I like the opposite direction as much as I do the winter!