There can be very few running races whose outcomes are determined by the state of the tide, but the Barmouth to Fort William Three Peaks Yacht Race is an honourable exception. Dreamed up in the 1970's by two Welsh doctors who were trying to decide on a way to combine sailing and hill walking over their summer holidays, and helped into existence by the explorer and mountaineer Bill Tilman, the race pits crews of five against each other in a bid to climb the highest peaks in Wales, England and Scotland in the shortest possible time. Two runners tackle each of the mountain stages, and do their best to recuperate on the yacht as the three sailors sail on to the next port.
 
The race had long attracted me with its mixture of hill-running and sailing, and this year I decided to join a crew. More by luck than judgement, I found myself paired up with a fast fellow runner from the Vasque series, Martin Beale, and Geoff West, the skipper who holds the current 2 day 14 hour record for the course - not bad going for a course that covers 389 miles of sailing, 30 miles of cycling and 60 miles of running.
 
The first part the tide plays in the race was explained to me by Geoff when I joined the boat. "We have to start from Barmouth at high tide" he told me, "as that's the only time the yachts can cross the sandbar that lies across the entrance to the port. That's means we are likely to get to Caernarfon - the start of the run up Snowdon - shortly after low water. Caernarfon also has a bar across the entrance, so bigger yachts with deeper keels may have to wait for the tide to come up before they can cross the bar to put their runners ashore."
 
Luckily, our yacht, Lightning Reflex, wasn't one of the deeper boats, and we were only likely to be held up for a short while if we arrived at dead low water. The tide was already rising however as we slipped across the bar in fifth place a few hours after we had started. It was a little lower than we aspired to, for we had ripped our heavy spinnaker when the halyard shackle failed and had had to complete the rest of the leg with the smaller (and hence slower) genoa hoisted instead.

 
Martin and I jumped ship for the 24 mile run up and down Snowdon. "If you can do it and return while the tide is still rising", Geoff told us, "the current will be still flowing up through the Menai Straights, and will catapult us out along the next leg to Whitehaven. If you take more than about 4 hours the tide will turn against us. The tidal current is extremely strong in the Menai Straights and there is little wind owing to the high sides, so we might well not be able to make any way against it, and we'll be stuck for the next 6 hours."
 
We ran off into the inky darkness - it was around midnight - passing the runners from the boat ahead as we sped along the road on the approach to the mountain. We picked off the runners in third and second place as we climbed into thick wet fog, and arrived at the summit checkpoint just as the leaders, Journey Maker, also arrived. We managed to put a few minutes on them as we pegged it down the mountain and back to the boat. Just in time - the last of the flooding tide swept us gently beneath the bridges to Anglesey.

We had done it! But not far behind we could a little white cloud on the horizon. Journey Maker, with spinnaker set, was not far away, and she also got through just as the tide was turning. The boats behind would have to fight the tide, so for now it looked like a two-horse race between us and them.
 
Journey Maker turned out to be a thoroughbred however, and taking a course a bit further offshore, she managed to convert the half-hour deficit she had on us leaving the Menai Straights into a half-hour lead into Whitehaven, which we reached that evening. We could just see her sails ahead of us in the distance as we approached.

"Guess what", said Geoff. "There's another sandbar here. The tide is high enough to get into the harbour now, but there might not be enough to get out again, depending on when you get back. We'll get the exact depth from the harbour master and do the calculations, and let you know when you need to be back."
 
The climb to Scafell Pike is the hardest leg for the runners, for the mountain lies 24 miles from Whitehaven. Thankfully, the first 15 can be covered by bike, but upon leaving the bikes at Ennerdale Youth Hostel the route climbs steeply over Black Sail Pass and drops down again to Wasdale Head before even you even set foot on the mountain. After bagging the peak, you have to climb the steep pass again to get back.
 
Martin and I were running well together however, and we caught up with Journey Maker's runners at the Wasdale checkpoint. As we stomped up towards the peak, Martin's phone beeped with a text message from the boat. "0045 latest tide". That would be very close. It meant doing the whole thing in under 7 hours - just possible if we could maintain our speed. From the top we legged it down the mountain, attacked Black Sail again, and wobbled with jelly legs into Ennerdale to jump on our bikes. By now it was dark, and we hurtled down the cycle path back to Whitehaven as fast as we dared on the pitch dark, narrow cycle path.
 
We were pretty much on the deadline for the tide - would there be enough water to get out? We threw our bikes on board and cast off. We passed through the marina lock and out into the outer harbour. It was looking good! Until just a few yards from the harbour entrance there was a sickening lurch. It was the bar. Time and tide waiteth for no man, and we were firmly stuck. No amount of trying to force our way through worked, and we had to accept defeat. Several other yachts were also aground to keep us company - although they had grounded on their way into the port rather than the way out, and their runners had still to do the climb on Scafell.
 
We made the most of our enforced break by grabbing some sleep as the water disappeared from around us. When the tide eventually condescended to return we finally freed ourselves, and set off on the last sailing leg. Alas, we weren't alone. Journey Maker's runners had ambled slowly back to the boat as we slept, and she left the harbour at the same time we did. All our running to get ahead had been in vain - although it turned out we had set a new course record for the Scafell leg in trying!
 
We put a few miles between us and Journey Maker as we sailed close-hauled towards the Mull of Galloway, but as we bore away round the corner her superior downwind ability began to tell, and she overhauled us again. Her skipper later reported doing an incredible 22 knots at one point as he surfed down the Sound of Jura.
 
As Martin and I recovered below, Geoff, Ken and Gary were doing sterling work on deck to try to keep up however, and we were doing a fair bit of surfing ourselves. 189 miles and a little over 24 hours from leaving Whitehaven, Journey Maker was still in sight ahead of us as we coaxed the boat through the last tidal gate at the Corran narrows on Loch Linnhe, where, as in the Menai Straight, tides can stop a boat completely for many hours if the wind is too light to push them against the strong current. At the top of the tide we had no problem however, and a mile or so further on Martin and I jumped ashore for our last mountain.

 

We were 36 minutes behind Journey Maker's runners. Although Ben Nevis is the highest peak of the three, the run is also the shortest and we knew it was going to be difficult to gain that much on them. So it proved. Greg and Gordon pushed themselves as hard as they could on the mountain, knowing Martin and I were chasing hard. We caught up a little, but not enough, and finished a little under 20 minutes behind them. We passed several other runners on their way up the mountain as we came down, for Hazard Chase and RBS Adventure Quest were having an equally exciting tussle for 3rd and 4th place, and had left Whitehaven on the same tide as we had.

Although we could argue that victory was stolen from us by the Whitehaven tide, all the crews had to contend with the same forces of nature - and it is contending with all that nature has to throw at you in currents, winds, tides and mountain weather that makes this race so unusual and special. To have such close racing throughout made for a fantastic atmosphere, and Martin and I had in any case the 'King of the Mountains' trophy for the fastest running times as a consolation for not winning overall. Sleep-deprived, wet, and thoroughly knackered, there were plenty of 'never again's being uttered as weary runners crossed the finish line... but in the pub an hour or two later they were already being qualified. Next year? "Well... maybe..."