Lochaber Dinghy 3 peaks race

This year the Lochaber dinghy 3 peaks race didn’t feature dinghies. Or 3 peaks for that matter. However, what it did feature was the good old Lochaber weather.

Lochaber weather in May

As I drove west on race morning the darkening storm clouds and trees bending in the wind did not bode well for the race and by the time I had reached Fort William the rain was battering down and the little white frothy waves dancing across Loch Linnhe made the prospect of bouncing around in a little sailing dinghy somewhat unattractive, if not downright scary. So it was not without some apprehension that I wandered into the race registration at the Lochaber yacht club.

Getting out of the car really wasn't that appealing....

 The concept of the race is for team of sailors and runners to compete over three mountain running stages interspersed with sailing in dinghies to reach the start point of each mountain stage with the race starting and finishing at the Lochaber yacht club. This isn’t actually a new race, it used to be held back in the early 1990s but has been absent from the hill racing calendar since then and so I was keen to have a go at it, especially as unlike other races with “3 peaks” and “sailing” involved this wasn’t going to take 3 or 4 days to complete and 3 or 4 weeks to recover from as the running was only going to be approximately 10k in total.

The (fair weather) race route

Given the rough weather and the general ineptitude at sea of runners the sailing part of the race was cancelled and a hasty bit of reorganisation on the part of the race director Jon Gay lead to a new improvised hill race over about 7 miles and featuring 2 peaks being presented to the competitors and this was christened “Plan C”. And so “Plan C” saw a much depleted field of 7 runners standing in the wind and rain outside Lochaber yacht club at the appointed time, ready to race.

Ian and Al enjoying the conditions....

The first part of the race was straight out along the main road and straight into the driving wind and rain. Luckily for me the faster runners seemed to be unable to muster any real enthusiasm for running fast so I was able to tuck in at the back of the group and take some shelter. The first climb was a case of stumbling over tree trunks, trying not slide around in the mud and criss- crossing the little burn running down the hillside. Not the easiest running terrain but fortunately the trees and bushes gave some protection from the wind and rain. Then it was out onto the exposed hill top and a bit of heather bashing until reaching the trig point at the summit before starting to follow the grassy track down the hill. I imagine it would be a pleasant fast route in dry weather but the rain had mad it quite waterlogged and slidey.

The summit of the second peak, Cow Hill, was reached by running up the wide stoney landrover track to the top where a rescue landrover stood awaiting the runners arrival and to direct the runners back down. Jon had even managed to persuade his mum and dad to stand on the hill as marshals – I can’t say they looked entirely delighted about this. As I climbed up I saw the other runners on their way back down. Davy Rodgers of Lochaber was in the lead and was looking determined, Al Anthony and Ian Wellock were running together and were looking like they wished they could be somewhere else. A range of bedraggled individuals followed on behind.

On reaching the summit the course took you back down the same direction but this meant turning into the driving wind and all of a sudden I started to feel cold, very cold. The actual air temperature wasn’t too bad but the wind and driving rain coupled with clothes that were wet through started to make it unpleasant enough for me to wonder if I should have asked what a “Plan D” might have entailed…

descending Cow Hill

 I warmed up a bit as I trotted through the streets of Fort William, down on to the beach and along to the stream crossing. With the heavy rain the stream had swelled and seemed to be running worringly fast and deep. They may have removed the sailing sections of the race but it did appear that they were still giving us ample opportunity to be drowned. I dipped my toe in the water, changed my mind and about turned in the direction of the bridge. How heroic.

Warm showers, an open fire and lots of great food were laid on for the race finishers at the yacht club. The skipper of the boat I would have been sailing with, Amanda, did a fine job of providing the food and other sailors who were denied the opportunity to compete stood out in the freezing conditions to marshal at turning points in the race and managed to keep smiling although they must have been wet through.

Although it took quite a while for my hands to thaw out and stop hurting I think I can say I enjoyed the race but what I really did love was its friendly, low key, no fuss atmosphere and the way that the runners just got on with racing whatever course they were given on the day. Needless to say that there was much amusement at the prize giving when the race prizes turned out to be sun hats and sun glasses!

Davy Rodgers was the winner

 Hopefully next year the weather will be a little kinder and so this great little race will have a chance to re-establish itself in the hill racing calendar.

Cow Hill

* Thanks to Jon Gay for some of the above photographs

The Three Peaks

The 3 Peaks race is one of the classic races of the English fell running calendar. At a little over 23 miles and 5200ft of climbing the route takes in the summits of Pen y gent, Whernside and Ingleborough as well as landmarks such as the magnificent Ribblehead viaduct and the geological wonder of the limestone pavements, over open moorland and along well made tracks and trails.

The race has a history of over 50 years and the list of past winners reads like a whose who of British distance running but not only fell runners, British marathon great Ron Hill was a former winner. This year the race was an English Championship “counter” and nearly 750 runners set off from the start line in Horton in Ribblesdale. My last attempt at the race had been in 2008 and so I really wanted to make an attempt on my pb but the conditions were maybe not favourable with a strong, cold wind and the ground was a lot wetter and more boggy than I remembered from four years previously due to the recent rainfall. Lisa was struggling with injury and was less than confident as we lined up to start the race. However it looked like the weather was to be dry for the race and we were both looking forward to it in an apprehensive kind of way so I made the decision to go for it from the start and got to the summit of Pen y gent a lot quicker than I had anticipated.

We were met by the race leaders storming down the hillside whilst we were still climbing and so I was aware that fellow Trotter Joe Symonds, running the event in his team Salomon colours, was in about 5^th place. Needless to say that this was the last I would be seeing of the leaders until their photos appeared on various websites after the race. I didn’t spot Lucy Colquhoun or Sarah O Neil up ahead and I didn’t realise that another fellow trotter, Dave Fulton was competing until after the race as it was a big crowd of runners making their way up the hill that morning.

The descent from Pen y gent was uneventful and although I was aware my pace had slowed it felt like no time at all before I reached the section of road leading to the Ribblehead viaduct checkpoint. I checked in and didn’t hang around at the checkpoint, clambered across the river and started the steep slog up to Whernside – only to find that my legs were refusing to work. It slowly dawned on me that I had been so focused on beating my previous time for the race that I had neglected any refuelling strategy and had eaten nothing since the start of the race. I shovelled down a few jelly babies but it was probably a case of too little, too late.

I plodded up Whernside slowly, being overtaken all the time, but hopeful that reaching the summit would be a little morale booster and I made a big effort to run from the summit but only succeeded in twisting an ankle and landing in a tearful heap on the rocks only a few metres into the descent. I gave myself a good talking too – words to the effect of “Man up, you fecking pansy”, ate a few more jelly babies and distracted myself by watching the mountain rescue helicopter which had landed on the ridge, hopefully mountain rescue were only there as a precaution or using the event for training. I picked my way more carefully down the path and lost far too many places and a lot of time in the process. On nearing the next checkpoint at Chapel-le dale there were a lot of supporters out on the course and they were only too keen to yell that I was in serious danger of being timed out and that I should speed it up a bit. I did my best to go flat out along the track and managed to check in with only 2 minutes to spare. I bet the members of Team Salomon don’t get that kind of adrenaline rush in a race!. The marshall told me that I was the last runner that they were going to let continue and that anyone behind me would be timed out although I found it hard to believe that there could actually be anyone behind me by this stage.

I took the opportunity to munch a fudge bar and then trotted off determined to overtake some of the runners who were just in front, after all it isn’t over until the fat bird sings (or crosses the finish line) is it? As I started the ascent of Ingleborough I reflected on the wisdom of my eyeballs out effort to get to the checkpoint, after all I was feeling pretty sorry for myself and could have got myself timed out and been in a nice warm car on my way back to Horton with a legitimate DNF couldn’t I? Instead I found myself staring at the summit of another mountain with at least another 1 hour of running ahead of me and I use the term ”running” in the loosest possible sense of the word….

As I marched grumpily up the wooden board path over the bog I pondered the possibility that the event sponsor Salomon might have put up a nice wee prize for the last place finisher…..hmmm……

Happily it didn’t seem too long before I checked in on the summit of Ingleborough having passed a few runners and by then I had taken a more closer interest in my fellow competitors and I was pleased to see that I wasn’t the only one suffering. There were some very sorry sights crawling up the hill that day. It was cold on the summit but I took my one and only chance of the day to admire the view before starting the long descent of Ingleborough through its famed limestone pavements and to the finish in Horton in Ribblesdale.

On finishing the first person I met was Sarah who had a storming run to win the womens title. Joe had followed in his fathers footsteps – Hugh Symmonds has won this race 3 times, I believe, in 1985, 86 and 87 – so only 2 more to go, Joe! The course has changed several times since the inaugural race in 1954 so there is little point in comparing times.

Lisa had been injured going into the race and had retired early so she had quite a wait for me to finish and I was very near the back of the field although not last. I felt marginally better when I discovered that there were over 100 DNF’s though and concluded that I had just set out at a pace that I was unable to maintain and had paid the price.

 We headed quickly back to the youth hostel in Ingleton where we stayed for the Friday and Saturday night and it turned out to be ideal, a lovely picturesque village with a good selection of pubs but discovery of the weekend was most definitely the tiny Italian restaurant with its fabulous food and wine. Lisa and I thought we were pretty hard core attempting the 3 peaks – until we met 3 other runners staying at the youth hostel who were doing the 60 mile fellsman race on the same day. I felt sorry for anyone planning a quiet weekend hill walking in the area as that weekend the hills would have been hooching with runners, marshalls and race supporters.

 Thanks to Dave and Eileen Woodhead for letting me use some of their photos (www.woodentops.org.uk)

The start and finish at Horton in Ribblesdale with Pen y Ghent in the background

On the climb

Ribblehead viaduct

Limestone Pavements

Lodge hall - a fascinating ancient landmark on the race route - one day i plan to have a proper look at it rather than just run past it!

      These were i the race goody bag from race sponsor Salomon. Simon pointed out that it was an awful lot of effort just to get a pair of socks....

Cape Verde

It was a desperate and sneaky attempt by Simon to prevent me from dragging him off on yet another cold, wet, snowy new year trip. I was hauled, unprepared and unsuspecting, into a travel agents shop and before I knew it I was booked into an all inclusive luxury hotel on a tropical desert island with miles of pure white sandy beaches and warm seas. At least that’s what the brochure said. Anyway, we nearly didn’t get there as he lost his passport in Gatwick airport moments before we were due to get on the plane.

Passport located, disaster averted and after a Thomsons flight which made EasyJet look like business class we arrived on the island of Boa Vista, one of the Islands making up the Cape Verde Archipelago some 500km west off the coast of Senegal. The 5 minute bus journey from the airport was an eye opener for me as the tour rep, Traceeeee from Liverpool, shrieked “Are you all having fun” to which everyone was supposed to cheer and my initial inspection of the hotel did little to alleviate my fears as I saw row upon row of bodies on sunbeds ranging from pasty white to lobster red depending on how long they had been staying.

It was beginning to smack of Brits abroad holiday hell.

                                                   The RIU KARAMBOA hotel with Sal Rei in the distance

                                                               The top of the hotel, just beyond the sand dunes

                                                                                            Chaves Beach

                                                                           

My escape strategy was formed early the next day and so Simon was hauled off on a long walk firstly along the glorious white beach to the island’s main town of Sal Rei and then beyond Sal Rei to the north of the island. The beaches for which Boa Vista are famed are worth a trip alone to see them, miles and miles of white sand stretching as far as the eye can see are beginning to lure tourists here. Cape Verde is classed as a developing country and it is poor, very poor, so we made sure we weren’t carrying mobile phones or flash cameras and I wore no jewellery partly out of being cautious as it is not unknown for tourists to be mugged here and partly out of respect for the local people. 20% of the country’s GDP comes from remittances and Boa Vista has little home grown income other than its growing tourist industry.

                                                           Outside the fish market in Sal Rei

                                                                      Sal Rei

The first settlers in Cape Verde when it was “discovered” in about 1460 were Portuguese and so the official language, religion and brightly coloured colonial style houses all show this influence and ,although slightly run down and very derelict in places, Sal Rei is a clean and friendly town of about 4000 people. We saw fishermen landing their catch of impressive sized tuna, did some people watching while sat in a café in the town square and relaxed at the bar by the harbour watching the boats come and go.

Cape Verde has been independent since 1973 but uses the Euro as well as the Escudo as currency.

Given that there are 5 large all inclusive hotels on the island I was concerned that the place would be over run by tourists but I needn’t have worried as most never leave the luxury of their hotels. Shame, they don’t know what they are missing. I do appreciate that many people’s idea of a holiday is precisely this but my inability to keep still for long or to switch my brain off meant that I was on a mission to discover as much about the island as I could.

Boa Vista has little in the way of the wow factor tourist attractions and it is not always easy to find out about what there is to see unless doing a wee bit of research before going as there are some gems to be found and it certainly pays to ask as many questions as you can of the locals who can tell you about the culture, history and wildlife. Communication was mostly through a mixture of French, very poor Spanish,  non existent Portuguese and my attempt at the islands traditional language of Creole which fell flat but all of the Cape Verdean people that we spoke to were more than happy to answer questions. They are a friendly bunch particularly our host on the sightseeing boat trip who tried to teach me African dancing but I was a lost cause, no rhythm at all.

 The Jewish Cemetery - Many Jews had been deported to Cape Verde over the years as "undesirables" by their own countries. They were allowed to work in Sal Rei so long as it was in a trade or job that a non jewish person didn't want.

Simon learning from a local how to play Oril whilst sampling the local tipple, grogue, which is made from sugarcane

Water and energy are an issue on Boa Vista. All water comes from desalination plants and the town of Povocao Velha in the south of the island doesn’t have its own water supply and can only generate enough electricity for 10 hours a day. To get to most places on Boa Vista a landrover or 4 wheel drive is needed, the roads are either cobbled or dirt track for the most part and those on the north coast of the island that looked on the map as though they may be passable turned out to be over sand dunes. 

                                         Povocao Velha is the oldest settlement on the island

Nothing grows on Boa Vista other than desert scrub plants and in a few areas palm trees. It is a fascinating desert ecosystem and this desert is gradually growing as sands blow in from the Sahara, encroaching the island and everything on it, as could be seen from the ruins of an old brick factory near the hotel which is slowly being reclaimed by the sands.

                                                     The tower of the old brick factory

                                               The Deserto de Viana, a 7km stretch of white sand dunes

                                         Palm trees blowing in the wind with the extinct volcano of Santo Antonio beyond

A strong wind blows over this arid landscape almost constantly but paradoxically Boa Vista has one of the worlds most important wetlands as when the rains come in late summer they come with vengeance and on areas of the west coast of the island, Rabil lagoon and in the gorge or wadi and an abundance of plant and birdlife appears for a short period of time.

                                                                           The gorge

                                                      Rabil lagoon (no idea what the yellow flower is)

                                          A very large cricket....good job the little critter was friendly!

To the consternation of some we spoke to the strong winds between December and March are not something the Thomsons brochure mentions in any great detail nor are the fierce rip tides, waves and under tows which mean that a red flag is flown at the hotel beach, sometimes for a week at a time, indicating it is too dangerous to go in for a dip. Fortunately we went to another beach the day the flag was flying at our hotel beach and enjoyed our exhilarating swim, ignorance is bliss, although I did wonder why no one else was going in. Like the Hebrides, maybe the weather will be Boa Vista’s saviour from it becoming Africa’s equivalent of Benidorm. Can you imagine the hotels that would be on Luskintyre beach if it wasn’t for the cold, the rain, the wind, the cold water, the midges…..

I was beginning to like the place more and more.

The beaches are nesting grounds for turtles but we had come at the wrong time of year for turtle watching. Unfortunately many turtles had been slaughtered last year by locals for their eggs and meat and there are little resources that can be invested in their protection in country that is not wealthy and has other priorities.

                                        A wall built to keep the sand from spreading - it wasn't very successful!

                                                     The eerie wreck of the Santa Maria

My last 3 holidays have been running related and so unusually for me this trip wasn’t for a race but I did keep my eye out for any possible races should a future trip here be on the cards. All that was available was a 150km ultra marathon across the shifting sands and arid deserts. Having found my morning runs along the beach and over the dunes hard enough and having sustained a few blisters in the process I wasn’t in a big hurry to send off my race entry for this one!.

The 9 inhabited islands of the 10 islands making up the Cape Verde archipelago each are very different in character and so we decided to investigate another island. Whereas Boa Vista is a desert island with its extinct volcanoes rising from the sands appearing a lot higher than they are, Fogo is a green, mountainous, fertile island. Fogo is also a dormant Volcano.

The arrival to Fogo by air is breath taking

After a quick breakfast and tour round the capital, Sao Filipe, the bus started the long ascent up to the volcano crater which took us through fertile agricultural land where maize, cabbages, bananas, mangoes and cashew nuts were growing. 

                                                                           Bananas!

There is a village in the volcano crater where the villagers live amongst scientists monitoring seismic activity, the last eruption of Fogo being in 1995 and although living here doesn’t seem like such a great idea at first, the slopes of the volcano offer fertile farm lands where coffee and vines are grown although water has to be transported from several hundred metres down the slopes of the island as there is no supply in the crater. Fogo produces its own wine with the Italian owned winery also located in this village in the crater and at 5 Euros a bottle along with a kilo bag of beans and peppercorns with which to make Cachupa, an African stew, my suitcase was almost bursting on the way home and I only narrowly made my flight luggage allowance.

                                                               The road to the crater

                                           A lone vine struggles for survival in the volcanic ash

                                                      The village in the volcano crater, the Cha das Caldeiras

                                                            The peak of the volcano Pico doFogo

                                                                Children selling souvenirs made from volcanic rock. On an island where    unemployment is running at nearly 30% this income is much needed.

After the relative peace and quiet of Fogo it was back to the hotel on Boa Vista. I had no complaints at all about the hotel, it was spectacular and luxurious, rooms were lovely, food was amazing but something didn’t feel right when on an island where all water comes from the environmentally unfriendly desalination process and nothing grows they are watering the flowers in the hotel grounds for the guests delight. I also don't understand why the hotel doesn't offer more information on the history and wildlife of the islands, maybe some displays or talks instead of the Butlins style "entertainment" which seemed to be on offer every night but I guess popular choice will always win through.

The swimming pool. This photo was taken at 7.30 am as i headed out for a run. By 8.30 am the sun worshippers were already out putting towels over the sunbeds to reserve them......

                                                             The view from the balcony

Cape Verde has a sad history of use and abandonment firstly as a port in the supply and trade routes pre Suez and pre oil power for ships, in whaling, in the horrific slave trade and in salt exporting with each of these trades coming, flourishing for a while and then fading. Cape Verde was renowned for the quality of its slaves as only the strongest made it through the voyage from Africa and having stayed in Cape Verde for a while under Portuguese masters they spoke some Portuguese and understood the Catholic religion. Then

came the years of famine and drought reaching a peak in the early 20^th Century when many died.

The latest business boom is tourism. Admittedly tourism in the style of all inclusive resorts does bring jobs albeit low paid menial jobs but this does not feel like true investment in the islands and does not really seem to help local businesses. Cape Verde traditionally doesn’t have a hospitality industry as European countries recognise it but there are bars and restaurants and guest houses in Sal Rei and had I been more travel savvy and done more research these would have been options. On Fogo, its even possible to stay in the volcano crater which is what I will be doing when I return to these beautiful islands.