Soyland Moor Race Report

 In a weird set of circumstances, my friends and I ended up with the race director taking us on our own personal recce of this race, so it was a relief when they both signed up to do it the following week. It was also the last race of the Blacksheep series so my last opportunity for points....though I was no where near contention this year.

Despite having recce'd the course I just wasn't in the mood for a race. I have been struggling with my running since having my eyes done, not least because of the change in weather but also not feeling fit, feeling (and actually being) heavy. But I rocked up, got parked on the hill at Crag Vale, and walked down to the pub to register. Mercifully the pub was also already serving tea and coffee. And shortly, friends arrived, and I felt better. Isn't that always the way. 

Eventually we tottled out the pub (where we weren't able to leave bags which was a bit sad as we'd parted with coats early to take them back to the car) and the weather was certainly more promising than it had been at the recce. And with a bit of a preamble, we were off climbing the steep lane that goes on forever to meet the moor. I jogged up the first bit but was soon walking with many others. Then a bit more jogging, and a bit more walking. Eventually we made the bend by the car park where marshals cheered up towards the moor. It was a long drag and I was quite happy to queue momentarily for the stile. 

Heading up the moor, there was more chopping and changing of places, as the stronger hill runners lost advantage to the more light footed on the path across the tussocky field. We tipped in to the 'lane' (defnitely not suitable for vehicles) where large puddles awaited us, and then it was time to start getting really muddy as we headed across the marshy ground to the plantation. 

The plantation is really quite unpleasant; deep with mud and puddles, there is no efficicent route. I was also bursting for the loo and aware that the open moor (with its lack of woman sized cover). So mid way through bungling through the brush, I dived in to the not so wonderful cover of the trees and am eternally grateful for the chap who averted his eyes as he passed (I'd drop back a bit to try get a gap but it was still early in the race). 

On we went and it was up to Stoodley Pike. I felt I should be running more of this bit, but a struggled for rhythm on the slabs (always) and then the slight ramp up felt a bit of struggle so I found myself walking, aware we had a good way to go. I waved to a former Chorlton Runner at the Pike who was supporting the race, then set off to tour the moor, very close to fellow runners Kiloran and Liz. 

By now the cloud has come in a bit and the view was slightly obscured. The first bit of the moor I ran well, moving well cross the weird slabs and gritty puddles. We got to the route split (which isn't official but having recce'd with the RD we were told either way is fine) without me really registering, and I followed the pack I was in to the left rather than the right. At this point Liz caught me up and we slogged up the rise from Withens Gate together. The weather was definitely drawing in at this  point. 

The Pennine way (at this point) is a mixture of moorland path and then paving slab from here, and I felt I wasn't getting a rhythm, a tiring alarmingly quickly. Ahead I could see the runners curving in a broken line across the moor, and someone managed to slip on the slabs, but was up again before I got there. We eventually discharged across the end of Warland drain at the top of the reservoir, crossing the drain only to re cross it again. I was glad I had recce'd this as I would have been confused by the set up otherwise- there are steps in to the drain, you jump the water, climb up a few steps and join a trod like path across the moor. 

This section is pretty tiring. The trod like path weaves across bogs and bridges, left and right, snaking its muddy way along the east and south edges of the reservoir. You then join a slightly better path at Light Hazzles reservoir (that name!) where two of our club mates were coming the other way as a cheer squad. It was aboost to see them as I was struggling now. 

Landing on the good track along the reservoir, everyone started to move away from me. Liz overtook ( I suspect she had been waiting for a while) and ran strongly from here to finish about 10 minutes ahead of me. I was drifting back in the pack, and also having to walk on the very runnable reservoir access track. This was not good with another moorland section to go. It also then started to rain and I passed the photographer, putting on an attempt at speed as I went past. Just before the road, another Chorlton runner was standing with his kids in the pouring rain to cheer us on and I felt very unworthy of it! 

Photo courtesy of Dave Woodhead 

I crossed the road and headed on to Soyland moor. There were a few more people around me now, having caught me up. I was trying to keep up with a lady from Todmorden but eventually she moved well ahead of me. I could see the climb to the top ahead but we had several dips and dives before then. I also noted that the 5 bar gate was open when it shouldn't be (you are supposed to use the stile off to the right), so I closed it behind me as I couldn't see anyone yet, though I knew Kiloran wans't far behind.

The slog was as expected and at the top, I touched the trig and tried to get a push on down across Soyland moor. But the path and my feet seemed at odds, which is weird as its not particularly techinical. I just couldn't get moving well. At least it was net down hill and I could see Brian up ahead (Liz was long gone). Getting on the farm land and then the road felt like at least we were getting somewhere but the road section was long and a car or two tried to squash me as they passed on the narrow walled lane. I made myself keep running and caught Brian, slowing for a quick check in (he wasn't happy to see me) before pushing on down the road to cross the A road and drop down the field...

...I went through the open gate and down the tussocky field only to realise the two tupps from the recce were in said field. I ran back up the field to close the gate, praying my fellow racers would be sensible enough to use the stile and not let the Tupps out on the A road! The tupps huffed as I passed, their escape plan being thwarted, and I passed in to the next pasture which is steep, down hill, slippy and full of vegetation that stings or prickles. At the bottom there is a nice bridge where a walking group were having lunch, but I had made hard work of the descent so they didn't bother with a well done!

Then it was shorter steeper ramp on to the moor again, through the bracken. Again, my legs were struggling with balance and coordination and I was slowing considerably. At the top I followed the wall and was glad to get to the slippy descent having only been overtaken by two people. The steps were, as promised, slippy with mud from many trainers, and they are in poor shape anywa so there was some wall and tree grabbing on the way down. But then I waved at Sue who was marshalling the bottom, and picked up the path to the finish. 

It climbed a bit and the two chaps pulled ahead of me as I stumbled up it. The run in felt long. The path gets progressively better, until its a well made track but my legs got heavier and heavier. Was that the last gate? I skidded down the field with no elegance or real speed to cross the finish line. A group of club mates were waiting to welcome me in, Kiloran just behind me. She would have caught me but she had tripped in the last section and was carrying her signature smashed knee below her colourful shorts. I winced. 

It wasn't a great performance from me, though the time was below what I had feared it would be. However, it was a good race with a lot of runnable sections for a fell/trail  race, whilst remaining interesting under foot. Its also CraggRunner eventso the soup at the end was marvellous.  

Race Report: Devil's Chair Dash

 Trying to time your arrival at a fell race about 2 hours drive away is challenging, but we did quite well to arrive at the pub in Stiperstones in time to get parked in the allocated yard. We also timed it to arrive at the same time as my parents, aunt and grandmother all fresh from their Christmas day. I had talked them in to coming for a walk whilst I ran before we headed to the parent's house for Boxing Day. And boy was it properly cold! 

The Devil's Chair Dash is a classic up and back fell race starting by a pub and taking place on Boxing day. The pub was open in arrival though registration took place in the garden, which had a good going frost as the sun wasn't getting over the top of the hill for a few hours. We bundled in to the pub which was happy to serve coffee and mulled wine (well, it is Christmas) to runners and spectators. It was bustling and I believe nearly 200 people registered. 'Nut jobs' was my Dad's description I think. 

Looking up at the hill, I felt a bit nervous. Silhouetted against the sun, it looked very daunting with its steep sides and high ridgeline. Mum and I walked a little way up the road that formed the start and it wasn't icy which was a relief. That would come later. I left them all tucked warmly in the pub and walked to the start line 50m down the road. They promised they'd get out for a walk shortly....

The start line was buzzing with mostly locals though I think there were a few vest from further afield. Some poeple were braving vest and shorts but I was bundled up in long sleeve and long trousers. And a santa hat. A few other people had something festive on but plenty were clearly going to be serious. A nice lady chatted to me at the start line and it was nice to feel a bit more welcome than the last Shropshire race I did! 

Without much fanfare we were off! It was a bustle to get over the start, people jostling slightly to get going, all paces mixed together. But we were soon jogging up a short steep section of road and then on to the flatter section, and then a slight dip before it began to rise again. I did start walking quite early initially counting paces, then just stomping. 

At the end of the road it became a track up through a field which had patches of ice. I vered off the path to run next to it slightly, as did many others. A few people were lining the route to cheer on friends and family, and it was very jolly even if we were dodging ice as we reached the top. At the top the field turned more to scrub then moorland and we narrowed on to a steeper path that definitely had ice and I made a note to not go too mad on the way down. 

Just as the path flattened on to the top of the moor, Harry Holmes came shooting down, already on the return leg. Ah what a dream to run like that. But I focused on getting myself running again after the hands on knees section, past a pack of supporters standing in the now visible sunshine.  We joined the main track along the ridge line. This was rocky and uneven, patched with bits of ice, and there was the start of two way traffic. You could see the turn point in the distance; a massive rock outcrop known as the Devil's Chair. 

I tottered along, failing to get any rhythm up, unable to pass the older gentleman in front of me with the oncoming traffic, but enjoying the marvellous view and sunshine on my skin. The sky was blue and you could probably see for miles. One to come and explore another day I think. 

Photo courtesy of Charlie Leveton

As you reach the turn around it gets rockier and you have to cross the heather. I did this with little grace and nearly tilted head long in to the volunteer (I think from the miners' club) who stamped my hand. And then it was back across the rocks and heather to the rocky track and back the way we had come. People bobbled about on the rocks and ice, over taking a bit more now there was thinner traffic coming the other way. 

Then we hit the steep and I decided to take the heather over the ice. By now, people on Boxying day walks were starting to climb the hill and most cheered and dived out the way as a volley of fellrunners came towards them, a few looked terrfied and there was the odd huff. I was about average going down hill, not the fastest but defniitely doing better than some. God bless my mudclaws! Down through the field we skidded on loose ground and deep frost. Towards the bottom I stayed on the track, following the melt water to try avoid ice which sort of worked. 

Then we hit the tarmac and suddenly any advantage I had was gone. A few people passed, clearly faster runners. But I put in as much speed as I could, even coming up the other side of the dip, to finish is just under 45 minuntes. I had sort of expected to see my family somewhere on the way down and looked around but they weren't there. Had they not made it out the pub??

I spent the next half an hour looking in the pub and sending texts, only to find my Mum, Nan, Aunt and husband had gone for a walk and got a bit lost, whilst my Dad was still near the finish line, but stood behind a post box, worried I was having a terrible race as he hadn't seen me come in.... It was quite funny and we retreated to the pub (which was now having a power cut! disaster!) before trailing back to Mum's for Boxing Day lunch. 

Race Report: The Moors The Merrier

A few years ago, I did a race that was almost too much for me. It was actually a season of biting of a bit more than I was really prepared for. But ultimately, I ran my first ultra at the end, discovered a lot of new places and had some scars (and hang ups) ro prove it. But the race that started it was The Moors the Merrier. I think the blog is on here some where....or maybe I was a bit too traumatised. It took my a few years to go back but December 2025 I finally did. 

This Cragrunner event is held out of Hebden Bridge golf course, above the Calder Valley. It has two start times: a non competitive, and a competitive. I opted for the non-competitive (still scarred by last time) and managed to get the last spot in the car park. It was blooming cold and quite murky. And extremely early. 

I kit checked, registered, grabbed a pint of tea and two of the amazing Antonia's short breads (breakfast of champs), and offered to help kit check those still arriving (I've crewed for Craggrunner a few times now). It stopped me getting nervous, and seeing as everyone else from Chorlton was on the later start, kept me busy. About 8:50 I shuffled outside in to the cold, complete with my mandatory santa hat (which must remain on throughout). Light had crept in to the valley in an amazing dawn display, but only just. And then we were off, around the golf course and through the gate on to the moor. 

The non competitive start has a mix of runners and walkers, and of course we were all jumbled together. The first second is up a rocky path but I actually felt able to run a bit of this, and annoyed a few people by over taking. But there was a lot of back and forth for most people through this section, as we were all pretty close. We briefly joined the Calderdale way which I recognised from the relays, before turning left on to climb up to Midgley Moor. 

Though murky, you could easily follow the crowd. There was a mixed confidence with moorland running, though the track isn't too bad. There is the odd bog but I was grateful for my waterproof socks, knowing later we had far worse things to deal with. I caught up with a group of chaps all in the banana shorts (looked cold to me!) and tried not to get too carried away with the mostly runnable terrain heading to Old Brown Knoll. Sadly there wasn't much of a view; one day I'll go up there just to see it! 

Coming off the moor, again it was interesting to see confidence. A lot of people use this as a training race for bigger things (among them, Spine races) and I came across one lady struggling with her new poles. We managed to get them out to length and I hope she found them more helpful. It was abit slippy but not unduly. After checkpoint 1 you descend to Lumb Falls and that path is far worse! Probably deters the tourists to what is quite a pretty waterfall and clapper bridge. Calder Valley is full of these old rock built paths where leaf litter and moss, combined with wet and muddy of recently passed feet, combine to create death trap foot paths. Fortunately, I stayed upright with minimal wall clinging. 

The steep climb out the falls was quite muddy initially but met a track which was a bit puddly but broad and took us up to the edge of the moor, past ruined farm buildings. As we handrailed the edge of the moor, I realised I felt okay. This point had been a bit of a shock to me previously, being a little more technical and a gradual uphill. I was running my own race, walking where I needed to, and started to appreciate the progress (if not the speed) I had made. We followed some skiddy famers fields gradually down hill to Walshaw, with the odd skid reminding you to keep an eye on your balance. 

I had no memory of Walshaw from previously, and its essentially three buildings and a right hand turn, so maybe that was why. I think there were cattle in a barn at this point, and I was quite glad for them to stay there. We followed a footpath and then a track between fields to get on to Wadsworth Moor. 

Things got a bit weird on Wadsworth moor. I sort of remembered it, with its broad access track. But the murk was right down, and despite there not really being anywhere to turn, I began to doubt myself. Surely the reservoir should have appeared? I went to check my GPX on my phone, only for it not to be loaded and there be very little signal. Crumbs. Best just keep running. Eventually the track turned down hill and suddenly we popped out the cloud a bit and the reservoirs appeared below me. Phew. BUt again my memory tricked me, and I thought we crossed a wall, though I could see everyone continuing down the side of the lower reservoir. I followed everyone else (correctly) on a small partly paved, partly boggy path down the side of the lower reservoir, a few people coming past. At the end there was a gate, so I can't think where the wall stile memory comes from. Going across the dam at the bottom, I remembered the front runners coming past me previously. There was no sign of them, so I must have been going faster than previously! This was heartening and as we hit the road at the other side, I decided to try and run all the way to the check point. 

I passed two chaps, one of whom was struggling a bit and had a quick chat. My memory again tricked me, as this section was both longer than I remembered, and they have also moved the checkpoint notably. I needed a wee and so had to keep running on this road section, until a little footpath cut the corner for us, dropped us on to the slightly rising road to the Pack Horse inn and checkpoint one. It seemed a long way....but I didn't stop running until I was in the portaloo. 

Otherwise I was quite quick through the checkpoint, saying high to the Craggrunner regulars running it. And I headed off at a jog back the way we had come, now armed with GPX as I found myself in a bit of a gap. I took the stile over the wall and crossed the field, dropping in to a clough with a river, which we followed on a rutted rocky path to a bridge, crossed and then climbed up the other side. Again, I remembered people coming past me in reasonable numbers, and struggling with this climb previously. I felt okay (though I was walking) but very alone in the murk. Thank goodness for podcasts. As I neared the top I saw a few people ahead of me in the murk to reassure me I was on the right track. And I was now reaching a track, which joined the Pennine Bridleway to cross the moor. As I started to ascend, the first man came past me from the competitive wave. He nodded greeting and carried away in to the gloom. A few more would pass me, as we gently climbed the moor. Notably they were mostly running and I was more walking (with occasional fits of enthusiasm). The first lady also passed me, well ahead of the next one I would see. We followed the nicely made bridleway off the moor (past a man with a lovely yellow lab and a big smile running in the other direction) and started on the road.

This is not a grate road if you are a motorist; its a track with pot holes that also features in Blackshaw head fell race. Fortunately it is nicer going in this direction. Its also over a mile long and I kept worrying I had missed the turning, getting my phone out to check. Several little strings of faster runners would come past, some more friendly than others, but I was running most of the time and feeling festive, listening to a podcast on folk christmas carols. Eventually the turn came, though the three wise Craggrunners hadn't quite got them selves organised and so I missed their quite ridiculous costumes my later waves friends saw: two blokes and a skeleton in exotic robes 'of the orient' with fake beards and crowns! Would have loved that! 

My legs felt sore as I headed down to land farm. It was a long way down which would inevitably mean a long trip up the otherside (though there were much bigger climbs to come) and I remember I was a bit beaten up by this point last time. The excessively beautiful house and garden at Land farm distracted me enought to get up the first bit of the track. The next section is then a bit of a blur as we climbed and dipped through fields, a bit of moor, past remote dwellings, between field boundaries, generally in the up direction. Occassionally a faster runner would past, with a mixture of greetings or ignoring. Most were polite. I lost time on this section and ought to have been able to run a bit more. In the murk I was just glad everytime someone passed, a reasurance I was moving in the right direction. 

After the road, the route tilts down through fields and in to the first real bog of the day, with a difficult to follow path, which I did temporarily loose. Fortuntely the murk was lifting slightly and I could see a chap with a camera stood near the stile. Also a few more women came past me, mostly of the later start I think, and I managed to climb back on to the path, climb through the tussock and marsh grass, and make it to the fence. I had gone very wrong here before, but fortunately there was someone to point the way (thank you Summitmoor for both you directions, and your lovely shots).

The next path is a bit of a mess and its no wonder I didn't see it before. You run next to the wall/fence line but there is next to no trod and its very marsh and grassy. There was however a very cute pig across the wall, so that was worth it. The ladies ahead were making it look very easy and disappeared back in to the fog whilst I wallowed and slowed, my fat heavy legs feeling the distance and terrain. Its abot a mile all in, though it does improve after the first half to become a rough track. There are paths coming on and off it, and one chap did ask if we were supposed to turn. Mercifully we didn't as the paths through the field looked muddier and more churned than the one we were on! 

We were disgorged on to a road at Hippens where we went down a dip then slightly up to pick up the path to Jumbles clough. I remembered some of this but not how rocky it was, the top part feeling like hard work. I wondered how I had felt this was a good bit previously! You descend on a rocky muddy path past some old ruined buidlings then skitter through the clough past waterfalls. There is a checky left hander thats easy to miss then continue among the rocks and routes to eventually come out on a concrete track. I had music on now and knew the check point was at the bottom so enjoyed this step but easy running section (occassionally fearing the ice). 

The checkpoint is now inside the mill, with loos, drinks, food and whiskey. The whiskey is important and so I had a shot of whatever was being offered. I also grabbed a rocky road which was amistake as it was tasty but sat in my stomach later. I knew what was coming and changed track to try and get myself prepared. 

I ran out on to the track then to the main road, at a slightly bullish pace. I wanted to make myself feel confident as this next section was hell last time I did it, then the sole of my shoe had detached and the whole thing deteriorated. So....courage. 

I ran to the road crossing, crossed the road and over the canal bridge. I was actually with a small bunch of faster men, but it soon became apparent the difference when I started to walk the hill. We followed the road a way, and in my head there was a right hand turn. I think I even said to one of the guys to keep an eye out. But actually, we zig zagged on the road then climbed past a farmthen the path did eventually go off to the right, and it wasn't a great path. I was singing to my music which was slightly embarrassing when someone came up behind me (I thought I was alone). We entered in to the field and I went the wrong way round the farmhouse, losing the chap behund me a place as he had followed me. The next bit was a bit harder to navigate, with the path disappearing in to vegetation for a while before emerging out to hand rail the fence and make our way around End Edge moor. 

I had a bit of a wobble here. My legs felt shot and I was worried we still had some climb to go. This path was definitely runnable but I was very much walking. I took the opportunity to eat something as we followed the narrow bumpy trod, with the odd person overtaking me. I was focusing on getting my mind in to neutral; I was once told by an experience ultra runner not to aim for a good place mentally when you were down, but rather to focus on neutral (counting steps or trees, rhythm, anything neutral). Eventually, we came round the lump that is the moor edge and started up the track to the top. There was a weird right left choice but in hindsight I think they both go to the same point. A few people followed me up so it can't have been entirely wrong to take the low road.

The gate brought us out on to the next section of moor and the start of the real bogs. A little bit of freezing hadn't really made any difference and I was grateful for my new waterproof socks (bought with my fell race winnings from September). There initially wasn't much of a path but eventually a sodden muddy track emerged and I could see people a bit ahead (the fog seemed better this side of the valley). After a bit more climb there was a short respite before we plunged in to an even deeper climb up to Dick's lane. I got this section wrong before, and ended up wallowing in the bog (and likely where my shoe was finally commited to falling apart). I spotted a Tod Harrier coming past me and just made the commitment to follow him up as a local guide. To be fair, most people were walking so I was able to keep him in view and it sort of worked. I found the sodding stile thats nearly hidden, I kept slogging, and a little gaggle of us waddled up the moor together, avoiding the worst of the divets and tussocks on the open hillside. 

Coming out on to Dick's lane, a couple came past saying they wanted to break 4 hours.... given the timing I think it was a big ask (they were on the fast group but it would still be bloody tight) and I suddenly realised I was going to break my 6 hours deadline by quite a way.... I wanted to keep ahead of the group of women who had gathered behind me. I set off along dick's lane with tired legs but then got a bit of cramp and the ladies came past. Oh well, the fight was gone out of me anyway ( I never have much, I am not competitive, just use these things as a stick to beat myself with). We followed of the moor on the pock marked trod towards the wood. My legs threatening to cramp more. 

The descent was longer than I remembered but my hamstrings had had it. There was a sensatoin of cramping as we skidded down the muddy trails and I couldn't trust myself on the steeper parts. I blame the hyrox class on the Thursday. The path was muddy, occassionally rock and clearly quite well used. And it seemed to go on, another field, another copse, until eventually the roofs of Mytholmroyd came in to view. I was actually glad of some tarmac as we hit the road.

One last climb. 

I ran through the town, not bothering to use the pavements as we crossed thr bridge and instead walking in the flower beds ( sorry, I am usually a good citizen and there was a bit of a trod). Someone let me cross the main road and I kept running up the side street that leads to the railway bridge. The steps felt like hell. I focused on neutral brain...

I was going to beat my target and maybe relaxed a bit here. I decided to go up just at whatever pace, and quite a few people came past. We climbed through the trees, then up through a field where a white horse came to inspect all the runners, and the chap in front of me put a santa hat on him which made me smile. With the sole of my shoe attached this time, I was at least making okay progress. We passed the house, then on to another muddy but before a short but very steep section of road, before yet another muddy bit but more through scrub. It was all steep, and seemingly unending. But then I saw a car moving on the road above. And it wasn't so far away now. I tried to keep with the two people ahead of me and then we hit probably the slipperiest bit of the course just before corssing the stile on to the road and I nearly went flying. 

Hauling myself over the stile I tried to run on the road but the hamstring cramp allowed me only a little trot. I nearly missed the small over grown footpath that takes to on to the golf club and could barely run any of it. It wasn't going to be a fast finish but it was going to be considerably faster overall than last time. I think I shuffled up about a third of the golf club drive, but was walking when Daz the RD came past and I shouted at him 'Over an hours PB!' and he was bemused but chuffed for me. I made it to the club house exhausted and rapidly starting to feel the cold, but quite proud. Also, I hadn't been over taken by my friends in the fast wave. 

It was struggle to change in to dry clothes in the club house. I was cramping and sore and possibly a bit hypoglycaemic as I had messed up my feuling towards the end. I eventually made it upstairs to a chair next to a box of chocolates (the level of catering at this event cannot be understated, it is fabulous) and then waited for the rest of the Chorlton runners, whilst I ate pie and peas.