Event Report: Peak Raid Anytime Event 1 Monyash

 It isn't often I can convince my husband Martin to come out with me, but he will do the odd bit of orienteering and if there is a nice cafe promised at the end all the better. However, as we drove over to Monyash and the blue skies became increasingly grey then rained, the fog descended and the temp dial on the car dropped a few degrees, he did start to make noises that this is a terrible idea. Thankfully I was driving and its too far to just turn around and come back. There was then a moment I very nearly got a full tantrum with him when my phone flat out refused to connect to a GPS signal and there was very little signal to start redownloading things as Martin got cold and grumpy but we were saved by Martin's phone connecting to something and off we went. 

Peak Raid Explorer Events run mini-mountain marathons through winter but started doing Anytime events around Covid. I love them as I often can't make the proper events or don't have dog care, plus feel less pressured when its just me, so I can head off and get them done at a time and pace that suits me (with dog as necessary). I have a few reports on here from last year and maybe the year before for those interested. Once you have your head around MapRun, they are fab, but (hint) I always get the printed maps as well for ease. Thanks to Paul and Andy for keeping going with putting these on. 

The first of this years events is in the pretty White Peak village of Monyash, allowing for explorations of Lathkill Dale or across the fields to Magpie Mine. My major concerns for the day were a) weather, b) Martin tantrums and c) extreme muddiness (see the Peak Raid MM I did in November...). White Peak is traditionally muddier and slippier than Dark Peak, with its white limestone lethal when wet, and its flat farm fields soaking up water. But we also had concerns about flooding in the dale and it seemed we were going to get wet feet either way. We'd never been to magpie mine but had done the dale before so we opted for the farmland route as we ran away from the market cross that marked the start of our course. 

Oscar the dog was keen to start, and after one slight wrong turn out of town (the calibration of brain to map usually takes a few minutes) we were off across fields but having a few problems with the narrow squuze stiles which foxed Oscar completely. He is fine on stone step stiles which formed the majority of other stiles but once or twice even I was worried I was stuck in a squeeze (I'm not  THAT fat!). It was soft under foot but not unbareable and we zig zagged through fields passing few people. Sometimes the path was obvious but often it was a bit of a guess exactly where it went, or we had to handrail down the side of field ploughed in autumn and now growing unknown crops (slowly, its rained so much). 

The points came fast enough to keep interest but we still covered good distance. We were heading towards Sheldon and Deepdale initially, and the ground was undulating but mostly runnable. Roads were quiet but when cars came they were often pretty fast. There was little in the way of livestock which made handling the dog easier, though he spotted the odd rabbit. At one point we startled some runner ducks and at another a hare sped across our path, mad in its March-ness. A docile horse watched us across another field. 

There was a climb out of Deepdale that was a bit of a stomp but a lot of it was runnable. We cruised passed miles of stone walls. Magpie mine loomed across fields from some distance after we hit the top of this and we wound across fields to get there. It was much bigger than I imagined and stopped to take a few photos. 

We saw a few people at this point but in general, it was a quiet area of the Peaks, unlike Monyash and Lathkil which were much busier on our return.

We were turning back now, heading net downhill. Martin isn't a runner and had covered over 5 miles at this point so I was impressed he was still going strong and not complaining. Amazingly the rain was holding off and the navigation thus far had been relatively easy. That easy navigation changed as we hit Ricklow dale and the open access area. We had a few different time length routes planned for the way back, depending on how long it had taken until then, but we thought we had time to do Ricklow Dale and pick up the two points there, grab a view over Lathkill Dale and then head back in to town. But as we most Open Access areas, suddenly there was a maze of trods going in all directions, and without number on contours, we were looking for a downhill path when we wanted and uphill one. We probably only lost a few minutes, not helped by my dog trying to pull me over on the wet limestone. 

But we were soon on the floor of the Dale and heading back towards Monyash, aware we had time to grab only one of the points in the village, not both. We decided to pick the one off to the left but got a bit turned around with left turns and lost another few minutes here, before Oscar got fully stuck in a squeeze. We were going to have to move it to get back in time. We actually made it with two minutes to spare despite a lot more cars and traffic than when we had left. The sun was out and everyone was sitting outside the cafe from walkers to bikers. Martin seemed pleased with what we had done and we opted for oatcakes in the busy tea room (mercifully we took an inside table as it shortly poured down!) whilst we dissected out run. Later we took a trip to Bakewell where dodged yet more showers (and more people that I can cope with- bank holiday in Bakewell is not for me!). 

If you are in the Peaks before October, get yourself signed up to one of the events and head for an explore. You can do them Anytime and any pace for 2 hours just using your phone and they will be released monthly from here in. A great way to explore previously unknown areas! 

Race Report: Pendle Dark Dash

 Well.....its taken me a bit of time to get racing again. This is my first fell race of 2024! I am not going to lie, marathon training combined with the continual wet weather has made me dread running. I haven't been particularly inclined to go to the hills as there was always a session to do, and it would be muddy anyway. Plus there has been a bit much 'life' this year so far. There have been a few little trips but nothing big for a while. 

But somewhere on Pendle Hill last night, I found 'me' again. Thank goodness for fell racing huh?

I nearly didn'y go. With 10 days to the marathon one could argue running fast down hill might be foolish, and combine this with a very heavy cold which laid me out for 3 days and malingered for longer, I wasn't sure it was a good idea. But I had booked on and an element of 'if not now, when?' seized me. So I rummaged to find my gear, tried not to think about the weather forecast, and headed for the village of Barley. 

This was a new race for me. I don't know Pendle well at all; I don't know why we haven't been much  but in my head the roads were a mare to get there, and its that thing of not knowing an area. Which is weird, because I love a bit of witchy folklore (which is entirely unrelated to history btw, the witches' story is much sadder) and Barley is a delightful village with two nice pubs and (I am not sure if it still runs) a lovely cafe. Plus the parking payment is now easy as its a machine which takes card (not an honesty box). So really, I should go more and get the good workout it offers.

The race registration was based at the village hall and had a relatively simply vibe except for the excessive numbers of mountain rescue milling around (it was RPMRTs fundraiser). On the drive in I had seen snow on the top and with 40mph winds forecast I was grateful to see so many of them. The race was on our club calendar, so there were a few people signed up but there were a lot of Trawden vests, along with a smattering of familiar clubs and faces. It was still early season for a midweek race, and obviously headtorch running is not everyone. 

The start line was on the road outside and classically a car approached just as we  all lined up but stopped and immediately reversed back out of some kind of fear or reverance for all the headtorches staring it down. It was a simple 'go' and we were off. 

Not many photos from this one, just the start line

I made good progress along the road, my legs feeling surprisingly good probably as I haven't run much whilst ill/stressed/grieving. We hit the left hand in to the footpath and I was worried I was going to hold everyone up but there was a queue for the gate anyway. In my mind, the first few fields were going to be muddy as I tried to think back to when I had walked Pendle Hill several years ago, but for the most part it was good underfoot with made path and the odd muddy section. We were gently rising, but it was runnable for the most part. We crossed a few driveways and field boarders, eventually rising to the very edge of the village.

And then we climbed. 

For those who have not taken the main route up Pendle Hill, nor seen its unique bulk, it sits relatively alone in the landscape and is incredibly steep on the Barley side. I had noticed its bulk looming against the increasingly black sky as we ended the field system at the bottom. It has a sesne of massiveness, and that massiveness was to be summited tonight. The path has been part paved/stepped as you go up. It is mostly steep with sections of extreme steep, and relatively uneven (as to be expected). I slightly cheekily tucked in behind a chap and climbed in his wake. It was relatively windless to start, and mercifully the 40mph gusts never materialised. We climbed towards the inky black sky which I noticed was clear, and full of stars. I kept it slowish, pushing but remembering this was just the start of a race. Eventually the snow patches lined the path, but it was a mere smattering, not thick and the path was mercifully ice free. One or two people went past, but on the whole I held my position. The steps went and were replaced by a steep packhorse style path of extreme steepness and my calves cried out. Up we went. It felt endless despite knowing there would always be an end. 

And eventually, there was the marshal for the top corner (wrapped in many many layers). I continued to walk a few paces past them before picking up a jog towards the trig which was barely visible ahead except for the line of headtorches heading to it. The wind was picking up a bit more now but it wasn't grossly unpleasant and we weren't in it for long. The lights of Burnley and Nelson were visible below. The track was good here and I was at the trig in no time. 

We hung right at the trig where two more MRT were sheltering. The path then gave way to flags and initally I worried they would be icy so tried to pick up the moorland trod either side but as a chap I had just passed came back past me, I realised they were actually okay. But they were incredibly uneven and pittted so I was actually grateful to be following feet for this section. We were descending relativley gently but my legs didn't seem to be making fantastic progress. I decided just to keep pace and see. One person came past. 

After a section of swooping and swerving on the slabs, we hit the gate at the bottom and crossed a small stream before turning left on to a muddier path. Here, my race went south. The path wasn't initially technical but I was making hard work of it. My footwork was appalling and I was getting bogged down in the rockier sections. A few people came past me and I couldn't keep up as the path twisted and turned and occasionally sank in to a deeper bog. I let people pass; I am  a firm believer in ceeding when you can. 

This section was good fun though and went on a good way. But at the end was the descent in to the clough and this section I completely floundered. My blacksheep friend Brian had just passed me and headed down faster than anyone else around us, and the group I was sort of on the back of also made good pace. It was slippery and you either took the steep tussock band or the muddy path with lumps missing. I did an effectual attempt at both and landed at the stream crossing a good minute behind everyone else and was over taken just after (again!) as I saw headtorches disappearing over the rise. 

'Right' I told myself as I climbed back on to the muddy path on the other side (now less sleep but possibly more wiggly), 'time to catch up'. This did not happen as I once again found myself wallowing in the mud holes, unable to coordinate my feet and getting bogged down in the bouldery bits. The headtorches drifted away and I felt I was in a gap but didn't mind. It is weird, I worry less about the dark on these things than when walking the dog near home in Manchester. I tried to push on but only really managed an ungainly amble. 

But I knew at the end we hit the reservoir track and the road. And that had to be coming soon right. I saw a lady just ahead of me who was also seemingly getting a bit bogged down with footwork (she hadn't been one of the people passing me so must have been quick to the top) and eventually caught up and over took her about 100 meters before we hit the track. I was sure she would come past again as I am not famously fast on the road. But the first bit of the track is steep and gravelly, and I managed to not skid over on this. And then we were on the road and I could see  headtorches in the distance. Somewhere to my right were the reservoirs but they were only really discernable as patches of stiller, shinier black in the darkness. It was so dark that if it hadn't been for the chap a little way ahead slowing for a cattle grid, I wouldn't have seen it until I was atop it (and probably smashing my face on it). I over took the older man ahead, pushing my pace but aware there were no lights from the village yet and this road seemed to be going on some for a fell race. 

Eventually there was a definite tilt down in the road, and a bend and what looked like some house lights reflecting in to a tree. I pushed to keep momentum down the hill and not skid over. A club mate Paul was stood in the road clapping but I don't think he recognised me without my club vest on (I'd gone for a warm long sleeve!) and I felt I was moving fast but there was no one to over take. The finish line sort of just appeared around another bend and I was glad to get across it, but also, happy for the first time in what seems like months. I chatted, possibly slightly manically, with other finish line people, lamenting slabs and cattle grids and bogs but also cherishing that I can do this still. I clapped the last few Blacksheep across the line. 

Thanks Rossendale and Pendle MRT for a great evening out.