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.
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