Running Away: Ben Resipol

Ben Resipol

So what do you do to cheer yourself up when you are at a pretty low ebb, and lets face after the UTMR I wasn’t exactly happy with life. In fact I was well on my way to giving up totally on this running malarkey. Happily I can usually rely on Fife AC Hill running captain and all round legend Jocelyn Scott to provide an answer. The answer presented it in the SHR season finale, the Ben Resipol hill race over on Ardnamurchan in the far west of Scotland. At that point running was really the last thing on the planet that I wanted to do but well, the Fifie Wifies usually do ok in the SHR championships and its all points for the team competition isn’t it? No matter how utterly shite I run they still need me there don’t they? The Ben Resipol hill race is a wee gem of a race up a wee gem of a hill (albeit a very rocky, muddy, boggy, trackless, windswept gem of a hill) Actually it was summed up rather well on the Carnethy Hill runners website – “Ben Resipol, an attractive hill of 845metres - a mini mountain with a big feel and an impressively craggy top. This suits a certain type of hill runner who can descend happily on slippery morasses of semi-liquid peat and mud, with rocky bits!"

Weather looks promising...

Red sky in the morning...maybe not so promising..

Highland hospitality at its best

One Weetabix. Just one.

Glad i brought cakes with me!

The weather forecast had been somewhat less than promising so I think I was lulled into a false sense of security driving over to Crianlarich on the Friday night and then onwards through Glencoe and across Loch Linnhe on the Corran Ferry as it looked to be a beautiful breezy autumn morning. Who could fail to be cheered up by the beautiful mountain panorama, the sunshine over the mountains followed by clouds casting a dark shadow and then again sunshine? I arrived in plenty of time and I was directed through the campsite to a nice large open pitch right next to the wall just over the road from the banks of Loch Sunart. Tent pitched and double checked for stability as bad weather was still forecast. I had a cup of tea and wandered over to registration and in the space of walking 200m I had bumped into a very large number of hill runners, many who I hadn’t seen in quite a while. Its got to be said though, Jocelyn had worked her magic and a large Fife Wifies team had turned out which was pretty amazing given that this isn’t the easiest of venues to get to by any stretch.

Clencoe - Blue skies!

The Corran Ferry crossing

A nice scenic spot for the night...if only i had known...

I lined up wishing I had paid a little more attention to the race route description given that the course record for what is a 7.5 mile run seemed to be in the region of an hour and a half. Had I known that the warning bells might have sounded in my head. The race was started by someone blowing some sort of alpine looking horn type instrument and off we went through the caravan park and campsite and along a very narrow track through the forest. In some places describing it as a track was a tad optimistic. The deep holes, steep sides, rocks and slippy mud were a unique combination which rendered any sort of running at pace a distant prospect. I thought that was reasonably bad until we were on the hill properly and following something that was faintly like a track through the boggy rocky landscape. I wasn’t too worried about how slowly I was “running” as nobody around me seemed to be making great progress through the thick peaty mud either. Sadly I’m not that “certain type of hill runner who can descend happily on slippery morasses of semi-liquid peat and mud, with rocky bits!"

A few nice muddy puddles on the race route

As I looked up I could see the summit of Ben Resipol which, from my perspective, seemed a slightly worrying distance ahead. And then I couldn’t see it as the clag closed in. Ah, that’ll be the bad weather on its way. Nothing else for it but head down and keep plodding upwards as it started to drizzle a bit. More water! Just what the boggy muddy slope needed. Ronnie Gallacher had positioned himself as a spectator quite near the summit and joked as I went past that we hadn’t seen each other for years and now had seen each other 5 times in the one day. I got a couple of jelly babies from a marshall near the summit and then soon enough I was there, clambering around the top of the hill. Now for the descent. Well really, the less said about that the better. It was straight back down over the rocks, through the bog, the mud and the water we had trudged through on the way up. Unsurprisingly quite a few people passed me on the descent as I slid around like Bambi on ice skates but as I glanced down I was treated to the hill the glorious site of Loch Sunart stretching out in to the wildness beyond with a low hanging cloud and mist over the hills. A beautiful wilderness. I took the opportunity and did something that I ordinarily wouldn’t do in a short race like this, I grabbed my camera and took a photo of it. Its not like I was in danger of losing the lead was it?

(C Digby Maas)

(C Digby Maas) The summit looks very far away...

The slippy, muddy path (C Digby Maas)

Into the mist (C Digby Maas)

(C Digby Maas)

(C Digy Maas)

(C Digby Maas)

And now the scrambly bit starts (C Digby Maas)

I was happy to find the descent didn’t include the deep rutted track through the woods that we had followed on the way out and instead the marshall directed me past the gate on to a much wider track. When I say track I mean there was evidence that someone, maybe even a vehicle, had actually been through here at some point and the boggy water was only ankle deep as opposed to knee or thigh deep. Gradually the path became a dry track and the gradual gradient made it easier running and I actually passed someone on the way down. It was comforting to think that somebody could actually be moving slower than I was. Poor sod.

Looking back to Loch Sunart (C Digby Maas)

(C Digby Maas)

And then it was over. And the next challenge was getting set in about the enormous spread of food that was laid on for the hungry runners. It was truly spectacular, so much so they were still giving bananas away in the evening after the race. I watched the prize giving and then went to have a wash and get ready for the evening fun. The annual SHR bash is usually a good night and this one did not disappoint. I was mildly concerned about how slippery the wooden floor inside the marquee was and how people would be faring with it later on at night after a wee lemonade or two especially if that high risk beer fuelled activity known as dancing should happen.

Ben Resipol Tan Lines

The Fife AC team - Fifie Wifies plus Ian

The dinner was actually quite posh with nice wee starter platters and fantastic puddings and the night flew past although I did notice the marquee starting to shake quite noticeably in the increasing wind. The post dinner drinks were at Ian, Jocelyn and Hilary’s chalet where the evenings debate seemed to about the correct way to do a press up but eventually I dragged myself away from the snug warm chalet out into the darkness and the increasing gales….only to find my tent had been absolutely flattened. Maybe I should have triple checked it for stability as clearly there were one or two structural issues. Its exposed location, although offering nice views had offered no protection to the wind. I made an attempt to try and drag it back into the upright position but, worried I was about to rip the fabric in the battle I was having with the wind, I managed to grab it and bundle it into the front seats of the car and I crawled into my sleeping bag on the back seat. I think I was probably rocked to sleep by the wind buffeting the car just like a baby in a rocking cradle. It was surprisingly comfy and I slept pretty well considering although I think my neighbours were having similar tent related issues as I was awoken by their car doors slamming and their car lights going on a couple of times.

And no, there are no photos of my flattened tent. Funnily enough at 2am, having had a skinful of red wine and having to wrestle armfuls of tent around in gale force winds, taking photos was not high on my "to do" list.

Posh nosh

The SHR annual do

Hilary gets her prize

As does Mannie. But not without a wee controversy of course..!

HBT's Jill Stephen

Jocelyn with her prize

Dinner time!

The beer of choice

It was Hilary's 200th Hill race

I left it until about 8am (which I thought wasn't too antisocial) to go back round to the chalet in the hope of scrounging a cup of tea or maybe even a slice of toast and I surveyed the damaged in the campsite with a few sorry looking and slightly shredded tents and campervan canopies to be seen. I got to the chalet and only Ian had emerged. Apparently the party, complete with press up competition, had gone on long into the night and ironically I think I got more sleep than they did, curled up on the back seat of my car.

Let the competition commence

And she's done it...

Almost.

After a few cups of tea I headed for the long slow journey home, stopping at my favourite fish and chip shop for lunch. This running malarkey isn’t too bad really is it?