Claire’s blog

Stones and sunburst

A fine morning dawned, cold, but sunny, ideal for running. I got dropped off at West Newton with the intention of following where my feet lead me, eventually returning to Wooler. An easy jog to begin along the track past The Straw, where the dogs gave their usually serenade of wild barking. Initial route choice was determined largely by avoidance of frisky looking cattle, probably quite benign, but as we all know more injuries occur from encounters with cows than with sharks; especially amongst fell runners.

As I approached the two stones on the shoulder of White Hill I saw the outline of a familiar figure, it was indeed Old Geordie Rumfella of the College Valley. He shook his head gently as I ran up to him, perhaps he seemed a little thinner than earlier in the year, but there was still that vital spark in his eyes that softened the lines on his face. "First frost" I called out by way of greeting. " Aye, Bonnie Lass" he assented " Its a lazy wind too, it'll nowt go round you, but straight thro' ". We both adjusted our headgear, mine a dove grey, fleece beanie with pale pink trim, his a woollen cap of indeterminate colour that had possibly once been green. We stood and gazed across at the mass of cloud on Cheviot, the sun pouring over Newton Tors warming us a little. I sneezed. Old Geordie rummaged in his surprising and capacious pocket and produced a hankerchief. As he untangled it from a piece of baler twine, two acorns on a twig and a feather, I noticed it was a large, originally white square of cotton with a letter G embroidered in navy on one corner. I had a sudden memory of my grandfather offering me the comfort of a similiar hankerchief many years ago.

I patted my nose with the proferred hankerchief. " Keep it lassie, keep it" said Old Geordie with a smile. "I'll bring it back" I promised. I trotted off down the hill towards Hethpool, turning once to wave the pale flag of the cloth in farewell. Then I carefully stowed it in my bumbag for the run home. I couldn't tell him I have no need of a hankerchief when running. I have now perfected the art of using a sleeve, a glove and the "one finger on one nostril, blast it out of the other" technique.

The sun continued to shine as I paced my way home to launder and iron Geordie's hankie.

Trossachs scenery

Just returned from a delightful if damp week in the Trossachs. I waited patiently for a clear day for a long run in the hills, finally deciding just to go for it despite low cloud. I got dropped off at Ledard Farm by Loch Ard whilst the boys continued to play golf at Aberfoyle. The initial ascent to Ben Venue was muddy but scenic, the path wending upwards past waterfalls through golden forest. I was surprised to see two runners slowly descending and stopped for a chat. One of the lads had an impressive amount of blood spurting out of a hole in his knee, I at once adopted Ray Mears mode and offered to find sphagnum moss to staunch the flow. This was declined as was the offer of a pain killing poultice made from stag droppings and a rare hallucinogenic lichen known only to myself, Ray and a few old hippies.The injured runner claimed he would be alright and seek conventional medical help later. " Ah yes" we agreed  "Hard men can hop through the pain"

Onwards and upwards with the chance of views fast disappearing as the mist rolled in. I chanced upon a couple of feral goats moodily gazing down at Loch Katrine, not at all disturbed by my presence. The summit of Ben Venue was veiled in thick clag, only able to tell I had reached the top by the absence of anything higher to climb. I then descended to the col and left the path to follow an old fence line to Creag a Bhealaich before picking up another fence along the ridge of Beinn an Fhohharadh. Although an invaluable handrail I had forgotten that these old fences go straight through lochans and bogs, so it was a tough battle with tussock and peat hags. How grand though to be moving through a wilderness with red deer for company. time to think, time to be.

Finally I descended from the cloud to Aberfoyle, jogged to the golf course and tucked into sandwiches kindly left by the golfers with gusto. More joy..

Pen-y-ghent

No one told me there were midges in Yorkshire, I was under the false impression that they stopped at Hadrians Wall. We set up camp at Keld on the upper reaches of Swaledale. The damp grass, muggy weather and sweet northern flesh proved irresistible to swarms of the pesky wee flies. In true British family holiday spirit we set about enjoying ourselves. To deter the midges we had blazing campfires and kippered ourselves in the smoke whilst chewing on blackened molten marshmallows.

Enjoyed a couple of grand runs. The first, a gradually ascending ridge run from the golf course at Sedburgh up to Calf Top, empty purple hills, far reaching views and not a soul in sight, wonderful. The lads had an excellent round of golf too, so happy (if smudgy) holiday faces.

The second, a run up the not-so-quiet Pen-y-ghent from Helwith Bridge. I left the lads fishing for trout for tea and set off initially alone. Unfortunately I encountered several groups of walkers on the final steep climb to the summit, so had to keep running up seemingly endless stone steps, smiling and responding heartily to words of encouragement. I'm not sure I gave a good impression of fell runners as I puffed along, mucky, pink face flecked with sticky marshmallow and trailing a heady aroma of woodsmoke and sweat. The lads caught two huge rainbow trout, so it was all smiles and singing on the way back up Ribblesdale....until the engine nearly dropped out of the car, but that is another story.

Memorial, College Valley

It was about time I got on my mountain bike again, so to break myself in gently I cycled from Wooler to Hethpool and along the College Valley. Not exactly off-road, but a delight to be peddling on peaceful lanes past hedgerows bright with scarlet poppies. The route up the valley is undulating and quietly challenging, I thought about the account I had read by Margaret Dag of her childhood at Dunsdale in the 1940's. If they needed anything from Wooler, she and her sister would cycle the 13 miles there and 13 miles back sharing the one bike (no doubt not one with18 gears and without the benefit of padded shorts)....they must have been made of stern stuff those country girls.

As I approached the Cuddy Stone Hall I stopped at the Memorial which commemorates the airmen lost in plane crashes in the Cheviots. There was a tell-tale plume of blue smoke rising from inside the stell and indeed when I entered the enclosure Old Geordie Rumfella of the College Valley was seated on one of the benches puffing on his pipe and gazing up at the dark bulk of Cheviot. I sat next to him thinking about the broken carcasses of aircraft I had seen on the Cheviot plateau and the gravestones of young airmen at Kirknewton. " Just think those peaceful hills  causing death" I mused. Old Geordie shook his head " Its not the hills, Bonny Lass, its us and our wars. You think we would've learnt by now, and yet its still happening today." I glanced across at him as a tear trickled down his wrinkled weather-beaten cheek, I lightly touched the rough cloth of his sleeve and left. There was a brisk breeze blowing from Mounthooley, stinging my eyes, I wiped them and turned my bike towards Southern Knowe.

Following the Lambden Burn up to Goldscleugh, glad to feel my legs working and the sun on my back, glad to be alive. Along the flank of Cheviot below Bizzle Crags. Off road at last, ascending track and path between Preston Hill and Broadhope. Cursing to myself about my lack of expertise as I skidded and wobbled on rough ground, giggling wildly as I catapaulted myself over the handle bars, luckily into soft bog. Easier stretch homeward from Broadstruther with only Hells Path as a wee sting in the tail. Not sure I'll ever get the hang of this biking lark....

Woolhope Crag

Nathalie on Humbledon

The trouble with Adam running so quickly is that he finishes a race and has time to jog back and take unflattering photos of the rest of us....slow down mate!

Actually Adam has been sharing some of the secrets of his running success with us, he turned up at the Coastal Run last weekend in very fetching knee-length black socks. These were not just a fashion statement, but special "compression socks" designed to redistribute body fluids from the calves to other places. We were all worried that contact with sea water might cause the fibres in the socks to contract causing a increase in Adam's torso size and an imbalance in his gait, thankfully this was not the case and he ran a brilliant race. Compression socks now on order...

I was also interested to read Adam's race plan which involved dividing the race into twelths and pre-planning a time for each section. I realise this is a strategy I won't be able to use as I struggle with any fraction smaller than a quarter that doesn't involve cake and my temporal dyslexia means that clocks are also troublesome. I have developed my own technique which I call "Running how you Feel" it involves no mathematical ability or technical gadgets. Basically you start running and then if you feel good you run faster. The slight disadvantage at the Coastal run was the presence of holiday makers relaxing on the beach, as I felt like stopping and sitting down in a deckchair with a bottle of beer. Perhaps my technique is flawed after all.

There was a great turn from Wooler Running Club, the green and purple vests adding a touch of class to the colourful field at the start on Beadnell beach. Super performances especially on post-Chevy legs for some. The most impressive runner of the day was Nathalie taking part in her first ever 14 mile race. She was quite worried about it beforehand, but was quietly determined to finish in two and a half hours. Nathalie coasted in comfortably in 2 hours 20, brilliant! 

Carey Burn Dipping

Chevy Chase day is fast approaching. Currently the Cheviots are basking under glorious sunshine and looking their very best in anticipation of race day. Yesterday the club met in the Harthope Valley for their training run into the hills, it was such a balmy evening that some couldn't resist the temptation to leap into the Carey Burn on their return...not the first sighting of dippers in the burn that day. 

So it will probably be worth bringing sun cream as well as waterproofs to the Chevy this year.

Speedwell

Cheviots June 09

Only 20 days to go and the hills are alive with the sound of Chevy Chasers training for the big day. Reports are coming in that conditions underfoot are currently excellent; it is possible to do the entire route without getting wet feet! The Cheviots are looking especially beautiful at the moment, Wooler Running Club would like to claim responsibility for this, though Mother Nature deserves a share in the credit... The weather has been warm and sunny this weekend, however this afternoon the skies suddenly darkened and there has been thunder, lightning and heavy showers with hailstones the size of aniseed balls. A timely reminder that the weather in the Cheviots can be unpredictable even in the summer, so competitors will need to be prepared for anything.

Places on the Chevy were filled even earlier this year, our limit of 300 is an enviromental one and we do want to stick to that, so apologies to those who entered too late. Thanks to those who have let us know that they are unable to compete as we have been able to offer their places to people on the waiting list. Good luck to all with the training we look forward to seeing everyone on the 4th July. 

Bloody Bush Edge, Cheviots

1 comment

The last week in May, a last minute family holiday in Majorca, the last item for the suitcase my trail shoes. I had such good intentions to run... there I'd be effortlessly striding through the Sierra Tramuntana in warm sunshine, in my light  coolmax gear, Ha.

I have to confess to neglecting those poor running shoes, only managing a slow jog along the pine walk at Puerto Pollensa and an effortful foray along the beautiful Boquer valley. I had a few really good excuses lined up;

1. Over indulgence of custard filled pastries
2. Chaffing behind ears due to unaccustomed wearing of sunglasses
3. A touch of the manjanas
4. THE HEAT

I thought Number 4 Excuse was the clincher until I learned that temperatures in Edinburgh were higher than in Majorca on the 31st May and that the Fearless Four had run 26 miles without water or custard filled pastries!

Back home again feeling like my running days were over, had I become a jogger? I decided that I had to do the Alwinton Fell Race to get back in touch with my inner fell runner. 14 miles in the glorious Cheviots has helped though my outer fell runner is feeling a bit stiff.

Puig Roig, Tramuntara Mountains

2 comments

Many of the club are going to the Blaydon Races next Tuesday evening so there may only be a few meeting at Wooler Common for the training session. Good luck to everyone taking part, enjoy the singing, running, eating, drinking and more singing.

Nick in action

Here is the latest news from our racing correspondant..

"Nixdown is certainly coming into form at the right time and seems to have recovered from the bone spavins and painful fetlock he had earlier in the season. Stable mates Donald and Dolly ran very well at London and have been training with Nixdown over the gallops. Nixdown is due to run in the 9.00am at Edinburgh next weekend, its a long race but he's carrying less weight and the soft to good going should suit his long stride. His trainer reports that he is running well and as long as he stays injury free this week and gets his oats he should be worth backing. This confidence is shared by the bookies, the much fancied Nixdown is now the odds on favorite! He certainly looks a picture in training, light on his hooves, well groomed and with a lovely glossy mane."

Good Luck in the Edinburgh Marathon Nick J, Nick B (and mystery runner Nick A?) Think you will all do us proud.