Full race report 2009

I arrived in Glasgow at midday on Thursday feeling predictably ordinary after the 35 hour trip from Brisbane via Sydney, Bangkok & Heathrow. After sightseeing for the afternoon I had a restless night sleep, waking at 2.30am. I managed a few leg stretches and a hearty breakfast before my flight to Islay in the twin engine turboprop. As I was waiting to board the plane I noticed a few of the passengers wearing trail running shoes and upon landing was introduced to them as some of my fellow participants.
Dave Scott, the event organiser transferred us to the start camp which was located on the grounds of the Ardbeg Distillery. The scenery was exactly as I had pictured: Rolling green hills joined to the ocean by rocky outcrops. Wooden whiskey barrels lined up next to whitewashed brick buildings. Stone walls lining the winding country laneways. The odd sheep and lamb scattered about. And the pink glow of the extended twilight that occurs in the high latitudes.
We were assigned to 2 man Vango tents which were set up on the "lawn" of the distillery grounds. Most of Islay is made up of Peat, which has a consistency halfway between mud and compacted vegetation. It is like a dense sponge of vegetable matter that holds lots of moisture. As our campsite was situated on the peat "lawn" the ground was wet and at night very, very cold.
I had arrived on Islay on Friday, before the Sunday race start, and as my tent-mate Andy Murray - a Doctor from Aberdeen - wasn't due until the next day, I had the tent all to myself. Like all of the runners, the kit that I was carrying was a compromise between weight and comfort. I was carrying the minimal amount of clothing and was using a lightweight 13 degree sleeping bag. I don't usually feel the cold, I rarely, if ever wear long pants, so I figured that if I "layered up" my clothing with a long thermal base layer and a couple of pairs of socks then I'd be toastie warm without too much weight.
That night I crashed for about 2 hours then woke with cold feet. I put on another pair of socks and another shirt but was still cold. Uncomfortably cold. After about 3 hours I had 3 pairs of socks, my base layer (top&bottom), waterproof pants, thermal top and my spray jacket inside the sleeping bag. My feet were like blocks of ice. Luckily I had my inflatable sleeping half-mat to insulate the cold tent floor otherwise I would have been a popsicle. I even stuck my feet inside my backpack. At 3.30am I gave up on the idea of sleeping and went into the distillery tea room and made myself a hot cuppa.
Saturday was registration day and all of the competitors arrived. Everyone checked and re-checked their kit, sorting what was necessary and what not. I think I repacked mine 6 times, each time shedding a few hundred grams of unnecessary gear. The pre-race briefing was held and we were we presented a "fly-over" 3D computer simulation of the intended (plan A) routes. Race safety co-ordinator Phil Briggs informed us that this year would be way tougher than last, and also to expect some inclement weather!
We had Haggis for dinner. I really needed to get some proper sleep so declined the offer of a dram of Ardbeg's finest and made my way to the tent. Fortunately Dave was kind enough to lend me a down sleeping bag which was much warmer. It weighed more but I was able to use this for the rest of the event. I was able to get about 3 hours sleep and then woke up, wide eyed. I then lay in the tent for a further few hours listening to the rain and wind until at 3am I surrendered to a cuppa in the tea room. Jet lag is a funny thing, the more you think about sleep the harder it is to get any. I also was quite anxious about the coming few days and had all sorts of scenarios running through my head. Probably not the most ideal way to start an ultra. I called Amanda while the sun came up and as usual, she was able to calm my nerves and made me feel much better.
As the sun rose, blue skies came with it. There was still a cool nip in the air but my mood began to improve as I put my race gear on and did one final kit check for the 8am start. At 7.56 I took my jacket off too stuff in my bag. I had forgotten that my camera was in the pocket and it fell out. The battery and the plastic cover exploded off it. I put it back together but it wouldn't work. Frustrated I had to tell myself that this likely wasn't going to be the worst thing to happen to me over the next few days so I had better look on the bright side.
8am and we were off, you could smell the emotion in the air. My race plan was to keep to myself, go my own pace even if it meant walking. Surprisingly I felt great. Perfectly fit. I ran confidently for the first 5km and met Gordon Napier the event camera man. I passed him my camera and asked if he may be able to have a look at it, all but resigning myself to not having a personal record of the event. The route of Ardtalla was a fairly flat, mostly bitumen coastal road that passed by a colony of a half dozen or so seals as well as a family of otters. I was at 10km checkpoint within the hour and found myself in 10th position. I was feeling well in the "zone"
The route then turned inland leading up onto the summit ridge of Bheinn Bheiger. From sea level we would climb to it's peak at 2500??? feet, all within a couple of kilometres. It was here that I discovered 2 things that would play a dominant role for the entire event; peat bog and tussock grass. To understand tussock grass, imagine running through a pineapple plantation (without the spikes). Each tussock has a round head with long fibrous tufty grass hair. If you are experienced then you can run on top of the tussocks, but if you misjudge one they can be an ankle breaker. Some are a couple of feet tall and when you accompany them with the soft boggy ground, the terrain is tough.
Quickly my shoes became waterlogged and I'd had my first slipover. I could see the marker flags leading up to the summit and was quite happy to allow the 4 Welsh Fireman Sams to blaze the right (and wrong) path. It took nearly an hour to reach the summit flag, were I managed to take a quick drink and took an unflattering photo of myself on the camera phone. I also received a really motivating text message from Amanda. From here you could see across to the Isle of Jura and clearly view the entire Paps, the bald mountains. I thought to myself that I'd be there in a couple of days to experience them close up. I then made my way across the mountain spine to the next marker flag, negotiating scree (loose rock) fields. The descent was much more difficult than anticipated and it took me a while to become use to the peat as it's slipperier than I thought, I spent more time on my backside that on my feet. Passing a couple of lochs and across a few burns (creeks) I finally reached a soggy vehicle track that passed through farmland. I ran with Graeme for the next while, passing though cattle gates and grids. The cattle were totally indifferent to our passing, as were the pink pigs who had a striking resemblance to Winston Churchill. It seemed to take quite a while to reach the next checkpoint and both of us were surprised to hear that we had gone only 21km. It had taken over 3 hours.
Phil mentioned that the next checkpoint was "down the road and turn right". Murray had joined us and we continued down the road, running down the hills and flats and easing off on the way up. The road disappeared up a hill in the distance and when we reach the top, it disappeared of into the distance again. We finally reached the turnoff were Gordon was waiting. He did a quick video blurb and then presented me with my fully functioning camera. He had pulled it apart and with a stroke of genius, reattached the broken battery contacts. Buoyed by the good news, I set off with Murray to the next check point. Murray is American and I'm Australian. We both obviously have issues translating Scottish to English. We were told to "go down the road and left through the gate". So we went down the road, found a gate on the left and went through it. We ended up in a sheep paddock. What we should have done was go down the road. Then gone through the gate. Then turned left. We I spent half an hour walking in circles around the sheep paddock. Murray isn't a very big bloke but I could tell that he was about to detonate. We finally sorted out the correct route . My shoes had dried out on the road stage but were now wet and covered in sheep turd, so decided that I would walk the remaining 7km into the nights camp at Bunnahabein Distillery. Feeling sore but content after 7.5 hours on the road, I woofed down a boil-in-the-bag chicken tikka and set myself up for the night. It quickly got cold and windy, then it rained and rained and rained and would continue to rain for the next 4 days.
Again I hardly slept. This time I think it was the wind. I put on my running kit and went out of the tent for the usual morning wee. Bloody hell, it was cold. My clothes were damp and the sleepless nights were catching up with me. I've never had a migraine but this may have been close. I put on all the day clothing that I had. Dave & Phil briefed us that weather was to be horrible for the whole day. Wet. Wind. Cold. The route would take us straight into the glens and mountains of northern Islay before following a rugged coastal route onto the lengthy and windswept beaches of Loch Gruinart. We were told to stay on the highside of the burns as the rain was quickly filling them.
At 8am we started and immediately we hit soggy ground. I managed a trot for the first kilometre or so but then the ground became to boggy. The rain was near horizontal and visibility was down to less than 100 metres. I travelled with Mark, a young guy from the RAF until we misjudged the line of the route and detoured for 500m or so. Finding the correct route we met Aaron, Jo, Graeme and Justin. It was hard, satisfying work but the six of us navigated through the freezing rain and sleet, across the bogs and tussock to the first checkpoint. At the checkpoint, course medic Al directed us in a straight line where we should meet a "waterlogged track". How we were meant to define "waterlogged" when everything in sight was waterlogged was beyond us all. We stayed on the highside of the burns, crossing some that were knee deep and others that required a 10m climb into and out of. Every now and then I seemed to be able to find "cracks" in the bog, some waiste deep with water. I was wet through. None of my clothing was dry and the wind was picking up. We found the track and went past some old stone ruins that could have been 100 or 1000 years old. This led to the beach and I was starting to fatigue from the cold. I couldn't feel my toes and my fingers and I was suffering a headache like I've never experienced. The beach was long and flat and comparatively easy compared with the bogs. I think that I had eased off and my body temperature was dropping.
It was a requirement for all competitors in the Scottish Ultra to carry mandatory safety items as part of their kit. Things like a headlamp, first aid kit, compass, mirror, survival blanket, whistle and waterproof top and trouser. I packed everything needed, placing emphasis on the first aid kit and torch, but to be honest, I didn't think too much about the waterproofs. I've never needed to wear them before so I just bought a $20 pair of cheap plastic trousers and took along a Spray jacket that I got for free about 10 years ago. I should have done a bit more research. The trousers were made of umbrella type material and the jacket leaked like a sieve. I was wearing summer running gear underneath and the wind cut through the waterproofs like they weren't there. I was like a human shaped evaporative cooler. I started to shake uncontrollably and my muscles began to stiffen up. At one point I tried to run but only got 100m or so. I was on the long exposed beach section and the rain was horizontal. There was no shelter and I was mentally starting to crash. "Why the hell was I here?" I fell away from the others and by halfway up the beach I was couple of hundred metres behind. Then out of nowhere a bloke in a bicycle helmet with a video camera appeared and started filming me. I couldn't understand what this joker was on about and gave him a confused "bugger off mate" response. I later found out that he was filming for the local news and this footage appeared on the website. I made the checkpoint on the beach and took directions from Gordon who tried his best to motivate me. My right knee was quite stiff. I made the next km across the soft wet sand and up the dune. I had a dry emergency shirt and running leggings that I could change into if only I could find some shelter and the rain would stop. It didn’t stop and the next 7km was through exposed farm land. Not a tree in site. I'd pretty much made up my mind to retire and the next medic point. 1km before the checkpoint, I ran into Niall in his car. Niall is a Islay local, and what he doesn't know isn't worth knowing. Fireman, Air Traffic Controller, rescue heroe, all round good bloke. He asked me how I was, and I told him that I was shagged. I was shaking uncontrollably, teeth chattering. I asked if the rest of the route was on the roads and he said that it went back up in the hills through the bog and tussock and it was very wet. I mumbled again that I was shagged and I could feel that I was emotionally spent. The decision was up to me but I couldn't go on. I got no argument from Niall, I think I expected him to try to talk me round but he could see I'd better get warm in a big hurry. I put my hands on my knees and could feel the tears welling up in my eyes. One of the local deer hunters passed by in his Landrover and gave me a lift to Port Askaig. He put his heater fan on full, but being a landrover it didn't work and just seemed to blow cold air on me. The car was full of ammunition that rolled around his dashboard and floor. The shaking from the cold got worse and I ached all over. I was disappointed with myself, felt like I'd let everyone down. I felt like I needed to cry. I just wanted to get the first plane out of there and leave it all behind.
I found Phil at the Port Askaig hotel and at this stage I was shaking so much I couldn't stand up. The little pub was full of patrons and he led me to the toilet to change into my dry gear. There I was, completely naked next to the urinal of the Port Askaig hotel, shaking like a madman. One of the locals came in to do his business. He glanced at me as I was balancing on one leg trying to put my thermal underpants on. I said "G'day mate, how's it going?" He just shrugged his shoulders and walked out.
I went across the ferry where Dave had the use of one of the locals houses. It took nearly 4 hours for me to warm up enough to stop shaking. I rang Amanda
and told her what happened fighting back the tears. I wanted to get the first flight home, but fortunately she talked me out of it and convinced me to stay on as part of the support crew, an experience I was glad to be part of.
By the next morning there had been 5 retirements from the race. I watched as the runners start day 3 with a fair bit of sadness. Half an hour later, the weather turned again horrible, probably worse than the day before. I was able to help out with the camp and at some of the checkpoints over the next 3 days. I was out of the race but I was having a great time and I felt that I had a productive input with the other competitors and support team. For the next two nights we had a communal camp in an old concrete floor cow barn. The temperature got colder and the rain worse. There were more retirements. Eventually the event was shortened to 5 days from 6 because the weather was so bad. Full credit to Dave, Phil and the support team who had to redesign the route "on the fly" so that it was safe.
I watched the surviving runners finish at the Isle of Jura distillery and we all celebrated with a few (too many) drams and venison stew. We caught the ferry to the mainland the next day and Andy offered me a lift into Glasgow, passing by Lock Lomond and forested glens.
I will definitely attempt another ultra. (I've already had a run today!) The experience was amazing. I have learnt so much from this week, and next time I will be much better prepared.
A big thank you to everone has has supported me.