The Old County Tops would make a classic Vasque series race…but it’s for pairs only. Here, Vasque Team runner, Martin Beale, recounts an epic defence of his 2006 winning performance. Thanks Martin and well done!!
Old County Tops race. 19th May 2007.
Martin Beale / Tom Brunt (Team Montrail / Holmfirth Harriers)
34.4 miles, 3370m ascent
There are plenty of classic races in the Lake District, but none are able to match the unique qualities of the Old County Tops race. To start with, the sheer length of the Old County Tops race dwarfs the other Lakes races. Then there is the natural challenge of a race that links the highest points of the historic counties of the Lake District: Helvellyn (Westmoreland), Scafell Pike (Cumberland) and Coniston Old Man (Lancashire). Finally, due partly to its length, the Old County Tops takes a line through some of the very wildest and grandest parts of the Lake District mountains.
Last year, I had won the Old County Tops with a fellow Team Vasque runner, Stephen Watts (who wasn’t able to run the race with me this year). We’d just managed to get our noses in front last year and, given the word on the grapevine, I learnt that we would have to run significantly faster this year to defend the trophy. I drafted in my KIMM partner and all round mountain athlete Tom Brunt of Holmfirth Harriers as my partner. I knew he’d be up to the job.
The week before, we did a thorough recce of the second half of the course in glorious conditions. However on race day, we were greeted with dark clouds on the fells, strong winds and a weather forecast promising a stern test.
We registered for the race at the New Dungeon Ghyll and got pretty nervous at the sight of some well capable runners who were checking in. At the end of the day though, we knew that we would just have to run our own race, stick to our race schedule and play to our strengths.
Before we knew it, we had been started and were running along the old Langdale road. The first hill appeared at Harry Place Farm (within the first mile) and it was here that we found out who the main competition would be for the race. The Dark Peak team of Mike Robinson and Al Ward were notable from Mike’s pirate looks (with his long blond hair and pirate bandana), Mark Palmer and Dave Finn of Mynydd Du were well known to me from last year after what felt like an epic race, John Fleetwood and Mike Beresford just looked totally fast in that Lake District kind of way. I didn’t even dare to look over my shoulder to see where Morgan Donnelly was.
And so it was that the first four teams ran over the lower fells into Grasmere and then along the roads to the Tongue Gill path up to Grisedale Tarn. By this stage, Mike and Al were pulling away from the rest of us and I was starting to think that we’d be in a race for second place. They pulled away further on the path up Tongue Gill, but the pace they were going seemed unsustainable to Tom and I: they were either going to break the record or suffer later in the race. We plugged away up to Grisedale Tarn in some rare sun, ran quickly along a traversing path round the tarn and then graunched our way up the stiff slog up Dollywagon Pike. It was here that the weather unleashed its first hail storm and dashed any hopes of a general amelioration of conditions throughout the day. On top of Dollywagon, Mike and Al were out of sight and into the clag and Tom and I were running hard against John and Mike. They pushed us hard up Helvellyn (where conditions weren’t helped by the strong winds, low visibility and rain). It was good to see the marshals huddled behind the Helvellyn shelter, encouraging us on.
The Lakes team (John and Mike) dropped into Whelpside Gill (as everyone else seemed to) whereas Tom and I stuck to our guns and headed for Whelp Side itself. The running here is glorious initially, but gets rockier as height is lost. The base of Whelp Side steepens significantly into something that you feel you would roll down if you lost your footing. The young bracken provided good footing for my Highlanders and we tanked it down confidently into Whelp Side Gill. We could see that the Lakes team had had a faster descent straight down the gill (presumably due to a shorter line) and they had got about a minute ahead of us. This meant that we had a barely imperceptible stop at the Wythburn (Thirlmere) checkpoint to stock up on sandwiches before giving chase.
We ran the flat part of Wythburn valley and then started a good gruelling walk up the steeper section. We could see Mike and Alan ahead of us and I timed them through a gate as being three and a half minutes head of us – probably just less than half a mile. We must have had a good ascent up Wythburn as we passed John and Mike and by the time we got to the upper bog, the Dark Peak team suddenly appeared quite close. Tom set off in pursuit and I followed. When they traversed a pathless grassy and bracken covered bank, we took a line up firmer ground and this was probably what allowed us to intercept them at Greenup Edge: they looked a bit shocked as they saw us coming in from their right.
Both teams were met by a monumental ice blast at Greenup Edge. The wind suddenly picked up and some bizarre angular shards of ice started flying through the air at us. It was painful for us, but at least we had full body cover: Mike and Al must have suffered in shorts. We ran together from Greenup Edge towards Stake Pass. I felt I wanted to pull away from them, but Tom was running with Mike and Al. I had words at Stake Pass and told Tom that we weren’t going to fall into the trap of running socially with the opposition, but were going to pull away. We agreed to run at our pre-intended pace and see if that was enough. The plan seemed to work, by the time we next looked back (at Angle Tarn), Mike and Al looked like they were maybe two minutes behind us. It now seemed like there would be everything to play for.
We knew that our trump card would be our line off Scafell Pike and we wanted to make sure that we had this to ourselves. We thus kept the pressure up as we ran into the clouds by Esk Hause. The adrenaline must have been flowing at this stage as despite feeling tired, we climbed at 23m/min (a statistic that shocked me when Tom recounted it – that was certainly not in the game plan). The going over Ill Crag and then Broad Crag was hard due to the wet and slippery rocks, but we took care, joined the cairns and got over safely in one piece. Another fast ascent (above 20m / minute) saw us at the summit of Scafell Pike in about 4h09m. The marshals told us we were in the lead and all the tourists on top then cheered us (in my semi-delirious state I’d thought that were 15 marshals on the summit, but I think 13 of the throng were tourists).
Tom navigated us fantastically off the top of Scafell Pike on our patent line (a trade secret). It is tricky enough in the clear, but in the clag it is hard to find and he micro navigated around all the features we had remembered from the recce the week before. Once down at the Great Moss, we could look back and see the huge black brooding mass of Scafell Pike behind us. I searched the mountainside behind us for the sight of other runners, but we could see none. It looked like we were in the clear. We ran as hard as possible away from the Great Moss towards Lingcove Beck where we would be out of sight of anyone coming down Scafell Pike, picking exactly the trods we had recce-d. Then we ran some more up to the col into Mosedale. A final look back confirmed that we were on our own. We’d played our cards well.
It is a wet run down Mosedale to start with, but in the lower reaches you can tank it down a good path leading to Cockley Beck. My thoughts along here were of the next checkpoint, the sandwiches and bananas, the orange juice, seeing someone other than Tom for a change. My friends Pete and David were at Cockley Beck to cheer us in. It was good having the support, but we can’t have said very much to them. I was just focussed on getting some food and executing as quick a changeover as possible. One thing that really threw me was to find Mark Palmer checking my kit. I’d been trying to run away from him for the last 25 miles and so I couldn’t understand why he was checking my kit. For a moment, I thought he’d just appeared from behind some knoll and was still in the race. This would have been my worst nightmare and a flashback to last year (where everything was still definitely to play for at Cockley Beck: we were neck and neck with Mark Palmer and Dave Finn at Cockley Beck in 2006). Unfortunately Mark had hurt his hamstring coming down from Helvellyn and was out of the race.
We slipped anchor quickly and started up the Coniston Fells into the clag. Our recce-d lines felt like old friends as we climbed up to the Fairfield col (between Grey Friar and Swirl How), but at Fairfield we were beyond the range of our recces (we’d missed the out and back to Coniston Old Man the week before). This told as we missed the traversing path around the side of Swirl How. We realised our mistake and then got into gear around to Levers Hawse (where I noted our time of arrival). Conditions got pretty dire at Levers Hawse as we ascended into the wind on an inhospitable Brim Fell. Following Tom’s footsteps and taking his queues as to when to lay anchor and when to set sail, when to walk and when to run, we inexorably made it to Coniston Old Man where the marshal was cowering in a Vango Force 10 tent in a howling gale – surely the gnarliest checkpoint to marshal in the race.
Then it was back along the spine of Brim Fell to Levers Hawse. Along the top, Tom was springing along and he said to me that he felt totally strong like some sort of animal and could happily run at this pace forever (and he looked like he meant it). I was suffering a bit from a cold, but clung on in there and matched him pace for pace. The motivation was to get back to Levers Hawse without seeing the competition. This is what we did: we met Morgan Donnelly coming the other way at the Hawse. I looked at my watch again and calculated that we were 25 minutes ahead – what seemed like a comfortable enough margin (but there was the question of where Mike Robinson and Al Ward had gone – they were nowhere to be seen – this was a concern).
We ran well along the traversing path to Fairfield, then onto Wet Side Edge where good terrain led us gently down to a final glorious drop off to Wrynose Pass. We were met here again by Pete and David and Pete biked down the Pass alongside us. For a moment it was nice to have someone else to talk to and someone to recount our adventure to, but this was all curtailed when Tom told me it was time to put the effort into running rather than talking. I didn’t object to this: I knew he was right (I’d told him the same thing almost exactly 12 months before on his Bob Graham). This got me more focussed for the final run in.
The weather had finally cleared up at the last checkpoint and we got our waterproof jackets off for the first time in the race. It felt like a real sense of freedom to be running just in a capilene top and T-shirt. The sun and the freedom lifted my spirits and we ran well past Blea Tarn to the Little Langdale col. A final swoop down the hillside saw us at Side House Farm and then the final short run-in along the road to the finish. Pete, David and the Achille Ratti cheered us in as we crossed the finish line by the New Dungeon Ghyll hotel. Now was the time to recount our tales of the adventure (and that is probably the fourth special quality of the Old County Tops: it transcends its mere race status and is more of an adventure than anything else).
We sat in the warmth of the food tent, tucking into the spread that was before us and enjoying the wonderful lentil soup, chatting to the Achille Ratti and then our fellow competitors as they came in. We swapped stories about the race and relaxed, safe in the knowledge that the Greenup Edge ice blast was now just a “fond” memory rather than a living experience.
Arthur, the race organiser, presented us with the Old County Tops trophy. It had been a successful defence of the trophy, a defence that had looked uncertain at times. Arthur told us he was looking forward to seeing us again next year for the 20th anniversary of the Old County Tops race when the Achille Ratti are hoping to attract a good field. We are going to have to raise our game another notch or two next year.
So that is probably the end of my Lake District running season for another year – the summer traffic makes the journey up from Bristol too fraught. For Tom, there are other great Lakes races to look forward to. For me, there is the rest of the Vasque series to look forward to – good long races in fantastically varied parts of the country. Then it’ll be time to return to the Brecon Beacons to dream it all up again for next year.
The Old County Tops race is run by the Achille Ratti Climbing Club. The race is extremely well run, well marshalled and well supplied with food (to some, the Cockley Beck checkpoint serves the best flapjack in the Lake District). The Achille Ratti are a great bunch to whom all the runners in the Old County Tops race owe a debt of gratitude. Ad Altiora!
Statistics
On the day, we covered 34.4 miles and ascended 3367m.
The top 4 teams were:
Martin Beale / Tom Brunt 7:13
Mike Robinson / Al Ward 7:34-ish
Morgan Donelley / Andy Whitaker 7:38-ish
John Fleetwood / Mike Beresford ???
Our split times at significant checkpoints were:
Helvellyn 1:43
Wythburn 2:02
Angle Tarn 3:08
Scafell Pike 4:09
Cockley Beck 5:03
Coniston Old Man 6:04
Langdale (finish) 7:13
Report by Martin Beale
