The LDWA site claims that the West Pennine moors around Anglezarke are nicknamed the 'mini Lake District'. I can't say I have ever thought of them thus, and there aren't quite the visitor numbers, but they are accessible from my house and I do spend a lot of time training up there. The Anglezarke Amble event has been on my to do list for a while, though I pulled out a few years ago as I found out (rather late) that runners couldn't do the short course, and I wasn't ready to take on the longer distance. I still kind of felt that about the 24 mile course this year, but I am determined to get more used to these longer events so I signed up and decided to get on with it.
And so, on a wet Saturday morning in February, I found myself outside Rivington Church Hall (too many covid precautions inside) waiting to start another long run which would provide dubious levels of enjoyment. My parents were kindly minding the dog, I had managed some porridge with chia seeds and my final kit change was sensible. So why wasn't I feel excited? Probably the two nightshifts on the Wednesday and Thursday nights, but we are so short staffed at the moment.... Luckily, Gary, my ever positive fellow Chorlton Runner, was on the start line with me, and I had just waved to the back of Francis, another Chorlton Runner, as he headed off a bit early with his run walking strategy (in reflection, I wish I had taken this option but I didn't know about it). It was damp, and a bit chilly, but not freezing/monsooning and we were out the wind for now so this was better weather than experienced on previous years. It was only runners for the 9am start and I knew that looking around, I was going to be last. In fact, I spied Wendy Dodd, who despite being much older than I, is still fell running legend. I was banking on trying to over take some walkers and not finish dead last, though looking at the results, I wasn't far off....
And then, with a very few words from the RO, we were off up the road and causing havoc with the few cars coming down the road. I wasn't too near the back at this point, and by virtue of knowing this section of the route well, was jogging a steady easy pace up the drive to Rivington hall were we all got stuck at the first kissing gate. Then I walked up the hill to through the terraced gardens, knowing this was going to be long day. The few people out in the terraced gardens must have thought they had been invaded with all these people suddenly appearing. Some people took slightly different routes through this section but we all ended up on the main drag to the Pike. It was a grey morning on top of the pike and as we hit the top it felt like everyone suddenly pulled away from me. I was suddenly the back of the pack and tried not to be bothered by this and run my own race. I have been getting frustrated by my descending being so inadequate lately and after my tumble on the same bit of track NYE, I just had to accept I wasn't going fast. Then it was along to the first check point at the coffee hut on George's lane where our numbers were diligently recorded.
On top of the pike before everyone pulled away from me
Then we set about climbing up towards (but not over) Two Lads. The path is quite eroded in places and then as we got to the top, quite boggy, so I was happy to fast walk this section. I wanted to keep the pace around 4mile per hour so knew I had to move at this stage, but not much more than a walking pace. On the road to the mast, I entered a gentle jog and tried to make up a bit of time despite clunky trail shoes on hard road. It was still very grey, and the usual views were limited. I could now sense a bit of a group around me with similar paced people. Just after the first mast, to my surprise, we caught the last of the walkers, presumably those on the short route from their pace. Good on them for getting out there, as it was windy and damp and not looking too promising for a long days walking. As we descended to Belmont a few people over took me and I tried not to look at the towers in the in distance I knew we had to get to (I may also have been looking at Peel tower and thinking it was Darwen tower for a few minutes). I quite like this long descent as its a bit rocky and bobbly, but not too much, but again I was slow relative to those around me. At the bottom, two ladies checked numbers, huddled inside their coats by the gate; it looked cold work.
From here I entered the relative unknown. Armed with a route description and the map, I am sure I would have been fine but it was easier to keep following people. A short driveway and a sharp left turn took us to a field were we dipped down to small footbridges and across muddy sections to cross an ornamental pond then up to a lane. I was mixed jogging and trotting and again found myself sort of in a group to-ing and fro-ing. One lady said she was dropping to the short course as she came past me. I thought she might have a point but still hadn't realised it was open to runners.... One more number check on a road, and then across some extremely muddy livestock fields. It wasn't easy running, more slipping and walking. A chap behind me directed me to a corner of a field as we went through a gap in the wall and farmyard gave way to more moorland terrain underfoot. And then it was the course split.
And suddenly I was alone. Everyone around me seemed to go off on to the short route. I was seemingly the last runner through the long route. Sighing, I spied some jackets across the seemingly pathless field and bumped over the tussocks to catch them up. I over took the group of walkers who asked if was the nine o'clock start before adding they thought they were the back of the walkers. I said I was the back of the runners which didn't seem to please them, so I scurried past and arrived at the style at the edge of the moor. There were the ruins of a farm one way, and a plantation the other. It was bleak, desolate and raining and I had a bit of a navigation panic before remembering to read the instructions and taking the track towards the plantation and A666.
I waved at Mountain rescue as I crossed the road. I would see them several times in the next few sections, as the last runner was seemingly their cue to move on. Across the road were more livestock fields which were muddy and I jog/skidded towards Turton Heights where it very much became a walk as the mud was too slippy on the cambered path to run. I was trying to keep up with two women ahead of me but as soon as we were descending to the reservoir, they pulled away. I overtook a few more walkers and took the outside track round the bottom field to the checkpoint and first feed stop. I was worried I was already feeling a bit sore. I tried to ignore the niggling hamstring on my right side.
An LDWA checkpoint is a thing of wonder. The question is not 'would you like a sandwich?' so much as 'ham or cheese?' along with an assortment of many goodies, tea and coffee, and sometimes even soup (wasn't sure this time). I went for the cheese sandwich as I was already a bit tired of sweet chia charge flapjack and voom bar. But then I had the dilemma of carrying it across the flat section by the reservoir and eating at the next hill or having to eat it on the flat bit and walk. What actually happened was a mixture of the two as I was struggling with achiness at only 10 miles in and so walked a bit more of the track past the strawberry duck pub and then on to Edge lane than i wanted whilst eating my sandwich.
A tiny bit of blue sky over Entwistle reservoir
The next section was pleasantly hard underfoot, mostly being potholey road and track. It should have been a fast running section but might tight right hamstring was turning in to a tight right lower back. And upper back at that. The track was undulating through farmers fields and in the distance you could see a few walkers wrapped in anoraks and I tried to work out if we were going that way (we weren't). As one runner commented as I passed him, there was no cover on most of the route (in his case, because he needed a wee and had taken a detour to go and find somewhere). We crossed the A666 again and did a short jaunt on a path past a very much working farm before rejoining the track the other side (another wave to mountain rescue). The path was a bit up hill but not loads. I could have run it but now my head went really down, and I was pretty much just walking up the track. The last of the runners I had tried to keep in my sights pulled away and I was trudging in pain for a while. The track was good underfoot, and there was a water course running through the bottom of the valley but mostly is was quite a lonely place. I wanted to drop out and looked at my map for the next check point....it wasn't until Slipper Lowe just before Great Hill. Well, I couldn't drop out in the middle of the moor so I had to keep moving forward. I trudged on in the lonely landscape, and as we rounded Green Lowe I managed to drop my glove in a puddle, noticing a few minutes later and walking back to collect the soggy item. Wringing it out I think was emotional rock bottom. Then the wind picked up.
As we neared the junction of paths where we left the Witton way, I passed another walker who asked me for directions. At least, I thought, I was still navigating okay, and gave him instructions. Then in a gap in the wind, I heard something on my podcast (Run to the Hills, you need to try it if you haven't already) about your head being heavier if you have it tilted forward. The track across the more was a bit more boggy than the good track up it had been but suddenly i was jogging a bit again. The hamstring was loosening a bit! Also, another runner came past me and was only moving at a speed I could keep up with (goodness knows where she had been), and there were a group of walkers head. I was slowly moving again! I was so relieved I missed a turning on to a smaller path but only by a few meters (the other lady runner was behind me and following me and I felt a bit guilty). The smaller path we joined was a bit more tricky to run on but I was definitely now over taking some of the walkers. This section should have lovely views across Darwen as it handrails around the moor, but it was really quite grey.
Darwen tower in its scaffolding
Eventually we arrived at Darwen tower which previously I would have said was my favourite of the three towers on the West Pennine Moors, but was very disappointingly wrapped in some seriously ugly scaffolding. Previously, you could go up inside and look out over the landscape. Not today. So I tapped the trig and joined the wider path that swept further in to the moor and then undulated and swung around to the descent to Slipper Lowe. Running this descent I vowed I was going to finish; my niggles had ironed out a bit and I could see Great Hill rising ahead of me. On top of this I knew the way back very well, and walking up it was a given. I arrived in to check point in a small car park I didn't know existed to find a lot of wet walkers, a few runners and various people making tea over camp stoves. I filled bottles, grabbed a slice of malt loaf and got back on track (the lady once again following me, obviously having forgiven my previous error in navigation).
After a short track and a left and then a right on a rocky and wet track (near Hollinshead Hall ruins) I crossed the A666 again and stared up at the beast of Great Hill. Its not the highest point on the run, and once you are over it, its pretty much plain sailing back to Rivington. It also isn't the nicest ascent of Great Hill. It is boggy, and muddy and you have to jump a stream. I walked fast up the hill, striding out and sinking in to bogs. I just wanted it done. On top you can get amazing views over towards the Lakes, Bowland and Pendle but I wasn't really in the mood. I focused on the descent, now on slightly better path at least as far as the ruins of Great Hill farm where I finally caved in and had a wee behind a very exposed tree hoping no one could see me down the track.
The less well made path down to White Coppice seemed to take an age and I was overtaken again. It s a bit rocky in places and my tired legs weren't as agile as they might be. Eventually I could see the small village of White Coppice appearing below me, and we went round some agonising bends in the path to get there and check numbers for the last time.
I love the next section of the route. I run it not infrequently and its a lovely low level jog across tracks and through a bit of field all the way to the road at the damn of Anglezarke and then you are practically there. Now I was catching quite a lot of walkers, uttering bizarre things at them like 'nearly there', and 'you can nearly taste the soup'. The section up the slippery stairs and footways in the woods was not the most pleasant and then I had to redirect someone from going back on the lovely but reverse path that takes in a small headland about the reservoir. There was a lovely light peaking from under the clouds to the west above the reservoir but I ran out of steam just before the road section and was run walking. After the ramp up to Yarrow reservoir I got running again on the nobbly bobbly track that leads down to the anglers club even if we turned left and down to the funny and eroded path by the stream...across the field..... people were walking up and down the road to and from the cafe and I was a bit dazed as I tried to run down past a car to the finish. Itried to show the man outside my number but he directed me round the building to the inside....I nearly collapsed across the table with 6:29:27 on my watch. I hadn't been moving fast at all and every movement was pretty sure but here I was....25 and a bit miles later.
I walked to the other desk to pick up my certificate. No medals but if I had a pound I would have bought myself one of the lovely patches. Staggering to the benches on the stage I tried and failed to pull my shoes off (the Scott has a high heel back and is a bit harder to pull off and on). Eventually I managed to coordinate this and donning some dry clothes. My parents were meeting me with the dog but I had done the last section faster than expected so they were a bit behind. I waddled towards the cafe where soup and bread was being served, clutching my certificate, token for soup and muddy clothes. I was victorious but mostly incredibly sore.
Certificates are more LDWA than medals
The village green tea rooms with mum, dad and Oscar, and a bowl of excellent minestrone soup revived me enough to walk back to my car. I'd planned to take mum and dad to see the reservoirs but it was getting windier and wetter so we abandoned and headed home where I the parents provided an excellent go at feeding and caring for me. They kept saying how well I was moving but I didn't feel like it. I have actually really struggled to recover this time round. But on the plus side, I did it, I navigated it and none of my kit broke. I might have been last runner but I go round and beat some of the walkers with an hours head start (not that LDWAs are really a race). I fuelled better too, and got myself out of a terribly low headspace. I wish I had run a bit more but I just need to keep doing this horribly long runs, as well as some more significant speed work to build the aerobic engine.
I think the Anglezarke Amble is great event. I am glad they are now allowing runners to do the shorter 17 mile route and hope this becomes a thing. The 24 mile is tough but the elevation isn't as killer as the Moors the Merrier. Winter conditions are always going to take the shine of events this time of year, and its the typical pared back type of event LDWA do but its the route is good and varied, with excellent views where you get them and of course good buffet check points. I am sure I'll get talked in to doing it again at some point!
Not for those who like a glam trail race with all the pizzazz, or those who don't do mud. Good for those who can read a route card and a map and want a chilled out day in the hills.
