The Montane Summer Spine - June 2024 by Chris Hunt

 I don't know where to start with this Montane Summer Spine blog. Well what is it? The official web site describes it as follows...

"The Montane Summer Spine is a non-stop, 268 mile foot race along the most iconic national trail in Britain; the Pennine Way. Beginning from Edale in Derbyshire, runners have a time limit of 156 hours to reach the elusive village of Kirk Yetholm in the Scottish Borders. This is widely regarded as “Britain’s Most Brutal” endurance race. A truly epic challenge that will test your physical resilience and mental fortitude. Racing non-stop and unsupported through day and night, you will experience the sheer breath taking magnitude of this route where summer temperatures can fluctuate from the high twenties down to zero overnight. Prepare yourself for one of the biggest challenges of your life."

I could go in to why I entered and the highs and lows during training and getting kit together but I think I'll skip that and start with the drive up to Edale where the race starts on Sunday 16th June at 8am. Whenever I've been blabbering on about my forth coming adventure it's always come up that I'm doing it as a holiday to enjoy the views and re-call the adventures I had on the Pennine way as a kid some 50 years ago, hiking between Malham, Ingleton, Dentdale and Hawes Youth Hostels with a like minded school friend. I remember the fantastic weather with blue skies, a few river crossings but mainly dry weather. It was a fantastic adventure which I hoped now to repeat and hoped for the same blue skies and warm weather. This dream was sort of going the wrong way even before I departed with two months rain falling in one day up in the area I was going. Well as I was driving up, and about half way there, my Waze nav app told me there was severe dangerous weather ahead with flooding likely, then came the motorway signs warning of surface water. This soon hit and the promises were fulfilled, including the thunder and lightning. This would all be coming down on the already saturated trail and notorious bogs less than 24 hours prior to the event start. It wasn't a great omen.

On to race registration for the kit check. This was the afternoon before the race began, the extensive compulsory kit list seemed well over the top but subsequently I discovered it all made sense. Hoping for the random check of a couple of items I dumped my 8kg sack down on the registration desk. "oh your race number ends in a ONE, so you have the full kit check". "Great", I replied with excitement. Out came my well organised and packed gear, and later stuffed back in to the pack in a random and squashed manor. At least I knew I had everything required. It did lead to me purchasing a spare set of goggles and spare rear red flashing light as one had accidently got turned on and drained, and in my panic I couldn't find my spare set of goggles in my drop bag. So now I had three sets of goggles that were highly unlikely to be used (so I assumed - they are really just for driving rain in a storm, and we are not getting that as this sort of weather fortunately had now passed by, or so I though!!!).

Race day arrived and we had to be there two hours before the race started and in rather cool conditions. This was for the trackers to be fitted. The tracker was mainly to assist Mountain Rescue and the Spine Safety Team in monitoring us. If we stopped for any prolonged period of time without notifying them they would immediately raise a concern and get someone out to see we were ok or needing assistance. I could also hit the emergency button and the safety teams would be alerted of my position and be on their way. Mountain Rescue and the safety teams later became very busy as hyperthermia, injuries including a broken leg, broken toe, and other minor limb injuries, falls, exhaustion and damaged feet inundated them with drop outs at a very early stage. 

After nervously chatting with other competitors about the usual pre-race excuses of injurys and such like, and lack of training and wishing each other luck, we were to line up at the start. It was a bit intimidating as they all looked so fit and prepared and had competed in some really awesome multi-day events giving them a bit of an edge in confidence. As the claxon went off to say we had two minutes to start I was busy trying to untangle the straps on my waist pack without any success, just making it worse, in the end I just frew it on in the tangled state to be sorted after the start. The only running I did during this event then took place as I ran towards the start line, along the race route I would be reversing over one minute later. I positioned myself at the back of the pack where I assumed I would remain for the entirety of the race and the race then immediately started, and the stress flew away and the excitement was at boiling point. 

Leg 1 - Edale to Hebden Hey (45 miles)

I didn't race off as most did for the camera but stuck to my power hike plan. The weather was dreary, misty rain, later to get much worse. Temperatures were predicted to be about 4C at the tops with the extra wind chill factor bringing them down further. 

My race plan was quite detailed with the 268 miles broken down in to tiny sections to say for example the next village, bog, feature or water source or checkpoint. This way I had a realistic target to reach by a set time that didn't feel daunting. I planned to power hike the entire route. All this seemed feasible with six hours set aside for most check points - the checkpoints were between 37 and 65 miles apart from one another. Thus after sorting gear and nutrition for the next stage, changing out of wet clothes, attending to feet problems, eating, re-packing drop bag in an organised fashion, I was hoping for four hours sleep or at least rest per 24 hours - not a massive amount but enough I had been assured. The maths of this all seemed to add up during the planning stage, and that being with a very conservative 22 minute mile of moving time, even too slow to achieve in my recces, I'd always end up around 18 minute miles, so my confidence was reasonably high, it was just the cumulative effect of walking 6.5 days with minimal sleep that may effect my plans as I couldn't predict the effects of this.

After a mile or two I'd settled in and adjusted layers a couple of times not sure if I was hot or cold or about to get hot or cold ascending the 1000ft climb of Jacob's Ladder's by way of steps cut in to the rock. I was in to a comfortable power hike about 16 places from the rear maintaining well under target pace without trying. Jacob's Ladder was a slowish mile but I was still on an average 19 minute miles and had built a 12 minute buffer which really on the scale of things is insignificant but at least it wasn't in the wrong direction.

Jacob's Ladder wasn't so bad but then I was still fresh, I'd literally just done over a parkrun in distance with 85 more parkruns to knock off, or 10 marathons - I think I prefer the parkrun count! It wasn't long after this that the field really spread out and each were on their own or in pairs. The paths changed to mud, stones, sharp rubble, bogs with odd sections of slabs, and mud slides, just anything but pleasant soft level grass.

After Jacobs Ladder was Kinder Downfall and then onwards the going was not too undulating but was hard going with the mud and odd slippery section of limestone paving. Some of the paving had sunk below water level and some appeared to be missing until a prod from a walking pole confirmed it's presence six inches below the water line. Anyway although feet were drenched and progress wasn't rapid due to being super cautious not to fall I was still within the bounds of my plan. It was only on the steep descent from Bleaklow Head at mile 13 that I realised the impossibility of making up time on the descents (there wasn't really any level flats in existence so far to make up time so the downs were my only hope). Each step forward involved trusting my weight on a level 10 inches or so below where I was currently half stable. I'd plant both poles (adjusting when necessary) until each had a firm lock in to rock or dryer mud beneath the thick black gloop (having the appearance and consistency of used engine oil). I'd then very gingerly place my leading foot behind the drop of the poles to ensure that if I slipped I wouldn't go head first. Every ten or so steps there was a little scare where my foot would slide as if on ice, and I'd use the strength of my arms to balance on the poles. I was determined not to have a single fall, as one slip and I could be out at this extremely early stage for which I'd never forgive myself. Many of my miles were now going over my conservative 22 minutes. 

Eventually after what seemed eternity and 1300ft of descent, the down turned to up hill. Contrary to any ultra or trail race I'd ever done before I relished this and weirdly would then make up time on the six mile ascent. Falling forward going uphill wasn't too much of a fear and I could relax a bit more. Hard going but much more enjoyable. Those few people I passed or whom passed me were grumbling about the conditions, mentioning that they were worse than the winter (something they and I had picked up during the banter at registration and hanging around at the start, but I'd just taken it to be hyping up the brutalness element). Now I was beginning to realise these conditions weren't usual. It would later be confirmed that the ground conditions were the wettest they had ever been for the event be it summer or winter, how lucky, how fab!!! But I wasn't going to let this beat me, I was still progressing and still amazingly ahead of schedule all be it a bit more exhausted than I had anticipated at this stage.

Highlights from hereon in this leg were few and far between with the miserable drizzly weather which turned in to heavy torrential rain at one stage. There were blue skies every now and again which kept the spirits from going down the drain. Nicky's Bar, 33 miles in, was a nice escape from the relentless forward progress and a chance to sit down. She had set up a café inside a shipping container and stayed open day and night until every Spiner had passed. A pre order of ham pasta had been put in but I changed that to a burger on discussing nutrition and the need for protein with a top level competitor in the dorm the night before. He targeted a top-10 finish position and eventually achieved exactly that. The burger was accompanied with as many crisps, chocolate, snacks, coca-cola, coffee, tea as one wanted, so I stuffed a mars bar in my pack for later and before I got too comfortable made an early departure enabling me to make up several places.

Eventually day one was coming to an end with a turn off the Pennine Way for the most dangerous half mile descent so far to the first checkpoint, a scout hut at Hebden Hey. My thoughts were that I would later have to come back up this incredibly steep and slippery technical trail, all without making any progress at all along the Pennine Way which would be re-joined after the climb. It was nice to pass some runners coming the other way who'd already had their rest and possible sleep, and we each wished the other luck. Included here was Mick Browne, I'd followed all his youtube recce videos and accounts of his previous Spine attempt where he pretty much made it to the end but didn't. I felt I knew him and exchanged a few words with him, pleased that he was making better progress than me and sounding positive. It was a tad after midnight when I arrived by head torch - an hour ahead of schedule. 

Here I scoffed some delicious chicken rice, followed by cake and custard, changed a few layers of clothes, faffed around with my drop bag for an inordinate amount of time, swapping head torches, charging phone, and watch, preparing snacks and drink formula for the next leg etc. I then set my alarm for three hours sleep, put my head down in the shared dorm, but couldn't sleep, I just drifted in and out for about half an hour then first light appeared at 3:30am and I decided I'd just get up and get going on the next 65 mile leg to checkpoint 2 instead of wasting any more time trying to sleep.

I did strangely feel refreshed and awake. The climb wasn't too bad, and I was soon back on the Pennine Way with just 223 mile remaining.

Leg 2 - Hebden Hey to Hardraw (65 miles)

This is the leg I feared - the longest and one with probably the most ascent and technically the most difficult. If I could get through this I surmised I would get to the end. I'd been through scenario over scenario in my planning before settling on a strategy. I would bivi for an hour at Cowling where there was a lovely large bus stop with wide seats both sides of aa dividing wall so enabling one to get out of the wind. This was 15 miles in, then I'd somehow plod on thirty more miles to Malham Tarn where I'd get a descent kip in a birdhide - I'd brought my sleeping bag and sleeping mat on this leg so as I wouldn't freeze. I'd then somehow continue on the remaining twenty six miles to CP2. 

The progress on this leg was massively slower than when I recce'd it in relatively good weather. There was intermittent rain, alternating cold and then warm, but as well as this there were masses of horrendous bogs, climb after climb after climb, and I was feeling the tiredness now. Lethal mud strewn ravines and gullies where the mud consistency and colour was as I've said like used motor oil, slippery as hell impossible to get a foothold even on the horizontal. Underfoot conditions were something to behold. 

On reaching a tuck shop in a shed with an honesty box, I decided to get some kip in the provided chair. The door wouldn't stay closed as the latch was on the outside so I wedged it with a bottle top of a milkshake I'd purchased. I set my alarm for ten minutes, and must have immediately dropped off in to deep sleep. Five minutes later the door shook open, it was the owner from the adjacent farm who'd obviously been monitoring the tracker and came to say hello. I apologised for using the shop as a bedroom but was met with a polite 'no problem'. It seems everyone along the route supports this event and understands the peril we are in. I was about to sleep again when another competitor arrived, Lindsy, anyway it was nice to see another person and then have a chat along the next few miles before indicating I needed to drop back as her pace was a bit fast. I could see how kind she had been in accompanying me by the distance ahead of me she accumulated in just a few minutes. I hoped she would finish, and later on checking found she had finished and was 7th female in 155 hours, an hour under the final cut-off, what a battle she had and a fantastic accomplishment!

Eventually in the middle of nowhere I reached the welcoming Craven Energy Tri-Club setup - their regular unofficial aid station, a huge tent with gas fired heating and bacon butties on offer - a donation to help with their costs was all that was asked for and was optional. It was great to get out of the wind and relax in a chair again for a chat and some grub along with a coffee. This was such a help. Soon I was buoyed up again to set off and make some more progress, I marched off a quarter of a mile then started to think something was odd. Ahhh no, my walking poles. I had to go all the way back, past a bunch of others I'd been chatting to in the tent, who'd since left and were wondering what I was up to. What a pillock, perhaps it was the sleep deprivation which by now was considerable.

A few miles further on, on reaching the bus stop at Cowling I was quite hot, took off my pack and coat and just lay on the bench for a kip. Then came a mini storm blowing rain on to me. I swapped to the sheltered side only to find the wind was strong enough to blow rain under the roof and over the dividing wall, again falling on me. This was hopeless so I got my wet weather gear on again and decided to proceed.

At 6:30pm I eventually reached the village of Malham, this is exceedingly touristy with plenty of holiday makers parking up and walking up to the magnificent Malham Cove for a photo shoot, then returning to one of the eateries for some scrumptious grub. Only it seemed that by 6:30pm most were now frequenting one of the two pubs. I went this way and that way looking for a quieter café that could produce something quickly for me. I was planning on having a delicious hot meal here. I hadn't eaten properly since yesterday evening. I calculated I'd slept 35 minutes and it was now the evening of the second day, I was definitely ready to sleep but needed to eat. The cafe's were all closed, I wandered off route to a very posh looking pub/restaurant. They obviously didn't like the look of Spiner's as there was no rush whatsoever to serve me. When I asked what they could produce relatively quickly they told me there was about an hour's wait. So I just ordered a coffee. Five minutes later they returned to ask if I wanted Oat milk or Soya milk in my coffee. Sorry to all the vegans reading this but I was getting very upset now and put off even having a coffee. I decided to try the one remaining pub, and they replied that they had stopped serving food. My brain went in to overdrive, my spirit was at a troth, I was desperate but there was no option but to plod on. I dipped in to my bag of snacks, an energy bar and some cashew nuts, along with the mars bar I remembered from earlier helped a little, and on I went having wasted half an hour in the village. 

Now I had the steps of Malham Cove to negotiate, unlike on the recce when they were over before they began, they seemed to go on and on forever. It's not a great relief actually reaching the top as you then have to negotiate the natural limestone pavement consisting of some unbelievably slippery slabs separated by deep chasms, some so deep they have trees growing in them. You can't afford to be careless here, there's also a shear drop very close by. 

Then follows a horrible lumpy mile or two of tricky rocks to climb over, followed by another huge ascent with the last steep part being a set of makeshift steps. By about 9pm I'd reached the CP1.5 at Malham Tarn absolutely done in for. The checkpoint is only a monitoring station with a thirty minute maximum stop permitted. I duly got a coffee as no food was on offer as far as my memory recollects - my brain was truly fuddled by this point with sleep deprivation being the main factor. I filled my water bottles, visited the toilet, and then went on the few hundred meters to the birdhide. 

By about 10pm I was settled in to my bird hide which I was pleasantly surprised to find I had to myself. It was in an idyllic setting over looking the tarn, but I was too tired to fully appreciate this. I swept out a corner of mud, leaves and dirt, placed my foil blanket down, followed by my bivvi bag, and put my down jacket on without bothering with the sleeping bag. I got my hat and gloves out ready to help keep warm and a pair of hand warmers. I sorted out my head torch and a few change of clothes amongst other things, this all being done at a snails pace as I could neither think or move fast. I then sorted out my mashed up feet popping and taping over the worst of the blisters that seemed to be in ridges. The ball joint of my left ankle was also in great pain but there was no noticeable injury on examination so I'd just have to live with this. Also my lower back on the same side was starting to emanate with a dull ache but that was so far manageable - I took a couple of paracetamol to help relieve the pain. Eventually as dark fell at 11:30pm I crawled in to my sleeping bag with my alarm set for a four hour sleep (ie first light), put my eye mask on and got ready to sleep. Then as I was about to kip in walked two more spiners, I had a little chat and we agreed to all wake up and continue together in two hours. I didn't see any point trying to sleep longer as they would probably wake me up anyway. I reset my alarm for this. Ten minutes later before I'd got to sleep in came what would be the final guest to the make shift dorm. The other two yelled at him to close the door - they were cold as had no bivvi or sleeping bag. The new visitor then proceeded in the dark trying his best not to disturb anyone to find floor space and get his sleeping setup sorted in the pitch dark. What followed was what seemed an hour of rustling like crisp packet sound. I was seething yet at the same time could understand the plight of the new visitor. Before I knew it the alarm went. I reckon I got up to an hours sleep and felt recovered by it. Instead of leaving together I just packed and went, knowing in my fuddled slow state the others would catch up. So in two days and two nights I'd had a total accumulated sleep of an hour and a half. I now had the equivalent of a mountain marathon to reach checkpoint 2 and some proper food and rest, and get my feet sorted. To get there I had the two hardest ascents of the whole event to contend with - Fountains Fell and Pen-y-Ghent. I would have to focus on concentrating not to make a mistake, stumble or fall asleep. 

 

Surprisingly the sleep had helped immensely and although still in sleep debt I was able to march on at not too an unreasonable pace. Again I'd wasted about four hours for an hours sleep. I was now probably well behind schedule but wasn't truly bothered. I would just have to have shorter than the planned six hours at future checkpoints to compensate for my slow progress. 

Onwards there were a multitude of further climbs and descents and bogs, culminating in the massive climb of Fountains Fell followed by an equally massive descent, only to then have to climb the biggest of the biggest ascent over Pen-y-Ghent, with a couple of hairy scrambles at the summit. I was not always on the route, but with great relief managed to re-join it before the top of the ascent. Now it was just twenty miles to the checkpoint (a long way but much better than being sixty five miles). 

Astonishingly Fountains Fell and Pen-y-Ghent had been non events, I sailed through them without incident. Yes it was a long hardish slog, but bog wise, and technically I don't remember having anything of massive significance. The only comment and memory that sticks is the pain in my back during the descents and getting a bit lost on the scrambles, but nothing that wasn't quickly corrected. Perhaps I was just too tired that I didn't register much regarding the terrain and my feelings during this section. 

I finally reached Hadraw. My spirits were sky high here, I got to CP2 which was always going to be a massive challenge prone to failure due to the 108 miles with certain sleep deprivation, and then in reality with extreme sleep deprivation. I'd made it, with just a few aches and pains along with the shredded feet which I believed were repairable. I was welcomed in to the check point by Helen and John Ashworth from Corsham Running Club whom were volunteering at this check point. 

What a boost to have familiar friendly faces there - for some reason I thought they were at a checkpoint further on so this was a real surprise. A bowl of warm water was produced to bathe my feet. Whilst I did this orders were taken for my dinner requirements - Smokey bean chilli and rice with pitta bread and rice pudding. I tentatively patched my feet the best I could. It was painful just to get my shoes and socks off, and walking in my cushioned sliders was a no no. I could barely stand without screaming in pain, it was almost like walking on glass. After dinner, I hobbled to my tent taking a good few minutes for the 20 meter distance. I regretting not visiting the loo as I then had another painful limp to the wc and back. The service was great at this checkpoint with the offer of an alarm call. In the awning was my drop bag. I managed in a seating position to rest the painful foot on my day sack, whilst sorting out nutrition, battery recharges, change of gear etc for next leg. In the end I had a pile of stuff on the grass, but no energy to properly repack in an organised fashion, so changed in to my next days running gear and wedged the whole pile of gear that was now on the grass in to the drop bag, forcing the zip closed enough with a gap to push in my remaining gear when I woke up. I didn't even get the sleeping bag out. It was mid-afternoon and the sun was belting straight on top of the tent, it was humid inside, I lay down and fell asleep pretty soon. 

When I was awoken from my deep sleep, I reckon I'd banked about two-and-a-half hours, a really productive deep two-and-a-half hours at that. just what was needed, now to get going before the six hour checkpoint limit was up. Although it was now evening my mind played tricks on me convincing me it was morning. For some reason I rushed out in five hours thinking I was about to be disqualified for over staying my six hour limit. I packed the few items needed in to the drop bag, and proceeded to stand up - damn the feet were just as bad. I put on my sliders and limped over to the communal tent, had a small breakfast and coffee, and then put my runners on, somehow there was much less pain with the cushioning of the running shoes and I had confidence that the remaining pain would ease after a few miles. At least I hoped that would be the case. I said my goodbyes to Helen, John and the whole team forgetting to get a selfie with them. It felt emotional leaving, and after a minute I looked back and the whole team had gathered outside the tent and were waving me goodbye and obviously wishing me luck. I was buoyed up in a positive mood having had a good meal and 'decent' undisturbed sleep, with the belief I could now complete the task of getting to Kirk Yetholm. 

Leg 3 - Hardraw to Middleton (34 miles)

It was now 6:30pm Tuesday evening having started Sunday morning. Today I'd pass the half way mark, although I had no notes as to where this was other than knowing it would be 134 miles in. When I reached the next checkpoint I'd have three more legs to complete, and all were manageable lengths of approximately forty miles each. I felt very positive that the end was in sight and reachable despite how far away it was in reality. Speaking to others at the check point, we were much of the same opinion. We'd cracked the hard part. Today was a nice short thirty four miles, the shortest leg of the six.

The ache in my back was now much more intense so I took some paracetamol, and within half an hour the pain was more manageable. I was compensating for the back pain by moving slower and putting far more weight on the poles. I was almost swearing whenever the path changed to a hard or uneven surface (which was most of the time) as this was when the pain was most prevalent in my feet, particularly the left foot. My whole left side seemed to be in decline, my hand was now aching with the extra weight bearing using the poles for the taking weight off my back. Also my right knee was swelling and getting stiff, with almost arthritic like symptoms, and occasional refusal to bend without pain, but generally the knee was the least of my concerns and seemed to mostly obey the demands of it. 

It was a five mile hike straight up Shunner Fell which was at 2300 feet. But I preferred this whilst in pain as it was less jarring on my feet, back, knee, and dodgy hand. I managed the ascent and the descent averaging 22 minute miles which meant although I was many hours behind schedule at least I was back on track in terms of planned pace. I could still easily make the finish in Kirk Yetholm before the cut-off if I could maintain this pace and there were no big surprises in store regarding underfoot conditions and terrain.

I now had a seven mile slog with some tough steep ascents to reach the Tann Hill Inn (the highest pub in the UK). I had been looking forward to feasting in there and having a rest, but was warned at the last checkpoint that it would be closed by my planned arrival time. I could see the pub from several miles away with it's multi coloured lights around the roof. Imagine my surprise when I reached there after the fourth really big climb of the day and ready to drop, when I was welcomed by the safety team - surely they would have a coffee on the brew for me to compensate for the closed pub? better than that, I was asked if I would like to come in to the Tann Hill Inn, the owners had left but entrusted the safety team to dish out some hot soup and bread they had prepared before leaving. It was warm inside, comfortable and the tomato soup felt like a gourmet meal. I reloaded my plate of bread several times, only stopping when I judged there was just enough left for the four remaining spiners behind me. 

The Tann Hill Inn was short relief as my notes said "boggiest 7km section of the Pennine Way after leaving Tann Hill - change to waterproof socks". I didn't and it was the boggiest ever, dangerously so. It was dark too, the path if you could call it a path weaved all over the place and was sometimes indistinguishable from the surrounding bogs. I had to prod in front of me nearly every step to make sure there wasn't a deep bog hole, and many times my pole sunk to the handle. If it was less than knee deep I'd proceed wit caution, only having to reverse back through it and navigate around huge sections of deep bog. One sign indicated "danger deep bog, keep to right", but keep to right of what once you passed the sign as there were very few path markers, too far apart to be seen by torch light. I just had to rely on the GPS with adjustments to that when the bog was just too deep and wide spread. Occasionally there were timber plank walkways bridging some of the severe bog sections but it seemed random. It went on and on and I was zig zagging all over the place. The first mile which was by far the worst took over an hour, and the rest of this 7km section were too slow too, it was ridiculously time wasting terrain, I berated it a hundred times, cursing it for eating up my remaining sleeping time. Finally off the bog, I was exhausted and tired again, averaging between twenty-five and thirty minutes a mile, still a pace with which I could get to the end but a worrying deterioration over the first half of the leg with the hills which should have been the slow section. 

I was exhausted and tired and hurting, and leaving the bogs was a great relief but also was in a weird way it was now worse, as all the pains that were subsided by the medication and soft ground now came back in abundance. It had been three hours since my last dose of pain killers but I wasn't 100% sure of this. I assumed I must have miscalculated otherwise the pain wouldn't have returned to such an extent. I took another dose of paracetamol setting up a four hour alarm on my phone for my fourth and last dose of the day. An hour on and I wondered if the medication was having any effect whatsoever, it didn't seem so, I was having to put maximum weight on my poles and still the pain in my back was constant and intense. Anyway I continued on and on with no thoughts of retiring, not unless it got to the point of collapse. Eventually I passed over the remaining lumps of the final sixteen miles after the bogs and reached Low Way Farm where the lodging was again tents, my preferred option. I could see the checkpoint 100 meters away, but a marshal came out to say the farmer wouldn't allow Spiners to cross his land, so I was directed an extra quarter of a mile on to go around the next field and then reverse back to the checkpoint. My feet were cursing the farmer, it wasn't far in the big picture but when your mind tells you that you've arrived and then you find you haven't it's a massive disappointment. 

Once in the checkpoint (18 hours to cover just 37 miles) I collapsed in to a chair knowing I needed a quick turn around. I looked at my notes. I eat the Chicken with rice and naan breads, drank some milky tea, and set off to sort my feet before grabbing what sleep I could. I was mindful of the hazardous climb early in the next segment. It's a scramble up the right hand side of a steep waterfall called Cauldron Snout, with potential to take the wrong path where you are literally on the edge of a shear drop hanging on to vegetation to prevent a slip in to the raging falls. I've read this account from several competitors who've done this on recces or on past events. I wanted to be sure I could clear the whole ascent in day light which meant leaving before 4:30am. If I failed on this I would have to wait for the next competitor to arrive which could be many hours as there were only four of them and some of them could possibly leave before me. Hence I set my alarm for 4am hoping I could do a quick turnaround with re-packing and preparing the days kit which I had no energy to do prior to sleep. This maximised my sleep but may mean skipping breakfast. 

I was pleased that I fell asleep immediately and got another two hours of deep sleep. Four hours would have set me up better but I was forced to compromise. The two hours would still help a great deal in maintaining my effort during the day. 

Leg 4 - Middleton to Alston (38 miles)

As it turned out it was hard to move and prepare and walk once I awoke. I couldn't get the wet shoes back on so pulled the laces almost completely out of a spare larger pair of spare shoes brought for this purpose and finally squeezed my now swollen feet inside these larger shoes/boats. By the time I was ready to go I was forty minutes behind my planned departure, and still hadn't time for breakfast. I was assured and convinced by one of the checkpoint crew that I could still achieve my aim of ascending the falls in day light. It was now 5:10pm and I had until about 11pm before dusk. That was six hours for the combination of the seven miles to the base and then however long it would take to scramble up the complete height of the somewhat massive waterfalls. I was warned that there was a lengthy boulder field along the river bank that would take a while to cross, but other than that it was pretty straight forward. I was three quarters convinced and also prepared to put in extra effort to get to the base as early as possible. I felt the whole event now hinged on achieving this, if I made it in daylight I'd get to Kirk Yetholm, if I didn't I would be continuing just to get cut-off later on. 

I now had to focus and give it everything. This I did, setting a pace of 20 minutes a mile for the first three miles, and that certainly wasn't easy at this stage, it made my chest hurt with the effort, the pain wasn't relenting and the paracetamol were almost useless. I could hold my left pole just tight enough to provide balance but couldn't use force or twist the wrist, it was sort of in a fixed position that worked 90% of the time but I wasn't comfortable with how it was worsening, very very tender on touch, painfully so between wrist and pinkie, and on the bone. It was later to be diagnosed as a stress fracture. It was at the same time becoming painful to lift my right leg more than just enough off the ground to clear obstacles. Stiles were particularly challenging, as was climbing now, but the important thing was I wasn't giving in and I was making the required progress when it was most needed.

I was really lucky that I was now following the banks of a river - High Force, with the occasional short water fall. It was not just beautiful and uplifting for the mind, the trail was relatively flat and easy, all be it with the foot pain from the stony surface.

On following the river for five or six miles and still not hearing the waterfall I was beginning to get concerned. I could see the river meandering for a good distance, perhaps a couple of miles ahead and no sign of the falls. Then came the boulder field, a lengthy scattering of several layers of rocks each three or so feet in diameter covering the complete access. I was pleased in a way as that gave me the false impression I was nearing the falls, they must be just hidden away somewhere in the cliff to my right. The path was like walking along a rocky beach, with river on one side, and about 10 metres from the beach a cliff face. I'd passed the seven miles where I was expecting to start the climb up the falls, and taking forever to get over the boulder field, and still couldn't see or hear the falls. What was going on? I carried on and frustratingly had to cross two more lengthy sections of dumped boulders each time folding away and stashing my poles so that I could use my hands, all seeping up my valuable time. I did finally reach the falls at 9.5 miles in to the leg so something was wrong in my notes, and also my calculation on time required was fortunately wrong in the positive sense. I still had two hours of day light to ascend the falls so relaxed a little now. I folded up my trekking poles for the last time and got my head torch on just in case. The falls were on my left, I then proceeded the lengthy scramble. Whenever I was in doubt of which path to take at a fork, I took the right fork away from the falls. When I say fork, what I mean is that there was no distinct path whatsoever, just a choice of two climbable rocks in different directions. This seemed logically correct and safer to me, but thinking back made no sense. Luckily, I think I took the right path as at no time did I feel there was a major risk of a lethal fall off the edge - a fall yes, but not a serious life threatening one. The relief on reaching the top was immense, I had forgotten about the event and had only been concerned about surviving this to live the next day. I even stopped for photographs. And I still had an hour to spare, what ever had I panicked about?

It was soon dark, and the adrenalin and effort of getting up the falls in time was now showing apparent and weighting me down, I felt completely drained and in need of sleep, yet I had to keep making progress. I plodded on in a dreamy way concentrating on not sleeping every time my eyelids began to close. I concentrated on my footfall to insure I didn't make a bad mistake. I was now on High Cup Nick, supposedly one of the highlights of the trip, but it was dark, so I just kept going relentlessly having no interest in what I was missing. 

Actually the path at times was right on the edge of a large drop, so it was better I couldn't see that as consequently I probably would have felt quite sick and anxious.  Hallucinations now started. The first one was a shock, I was watching a large narrow rock formation of about 400 meters in length floating above the ground, hovering slightly up and down. Hanging beneath the rock formation were a series of merry-go-rounds. I closed my eyes tight and re-opened them. It was still there. I rubbed my eyes and then looked up again, still there! I didn't seem to be getting any nearer to it, but it remained for about 20 minutes. Before this one disappeared another appeared. It was like a city landscape such as Hong Kong, but perched on top of one of the desolate fells. Above the city was a hot air balloon of astronomical proportions. Ahead of me on the footpath were cars parked with a hut serving coffee, and two people waiting for me to arrive. All the sheep were turning in to people. It was just a minefield of major and minor hallucinations.

I wasn't scared as I knew they were hallucinations, I did though realise this was a sign that I needed sleep as my brain was beginning to disfunction. The path was just lumpy damp ground, I looked for a stone to sit on or some structure such as a gate to lean on but there was nothing for mile upon mile. It was a battle to keep my eyes open. This was all alongside the worsening pains in my body, with my back now overriding anything else with the chronic pain. Finally I reached a kissing gate with dry ground beneath. I slumped my back pack in the middle of the gate on the ground and sat on it leaning in to the V. In the circumstances this felt like a luxurious double divan with memory foam pillow. My weight was released into the shape of the gate, my alarm set for 15 minutes, and as before I was asleep instantly. I hadn't seen a soul all day far ahead or far behind or any walker passing in the opposite direction, so I knew I was safe to sleep without being an obstacle. Or so I thought. My sleep was disturbed by the flashing light of an approaching walker. It was the competitor whom set off four hours after me, ascended the falls in the dark and now caught up, I think this is a sign as to how much I'd slowed over the past few hours. Anyway I had to get up so as to let him through. I think his name was John but I'm not that sure now, but we did progress together for a good while, and having his company helped me cover quite a few miles. We were approaching Dufton and I wasn't able to maintain John's slow walk pace, so opted to let him go ahead. I was in so much pain now that I couldn't see myself getting to Dufton.

I had 5 miles to reach Dufton and I was averaging 40 to 45 minutes a mile, this certainly wouldn't see me in contention to finish even if every step didn't send pain rushing through my back. I was lent over like the Hunchback of Notre Dame, with my poles preventing me collapse to the ground. I was stopping more than once every mile for a 30 second standing sleep. I arrived at Dufton completely demoralised that my dream was over. The guy from the safety team recognised my plight and offered to get the medics to advise me. I knew that this effectively meant being pulled from the race, so instead I said I'd rest and sleep for a bit then see how I was on waking. In my mind it was just a delay tactic and I knew the game was over, I was so despondent and disappointed, nearly in tears wondering why this had happened given all my preparation and months and months of solid training. My only consolation was that I'd got further than the majority that started as there was now over a 50% retirement rate. It wasn't consolation though as I so wanted to finish and had all along been convinced I could. I rested in a chair waiting for John to depart from the single bed aka bus stop bench. There was a lady across the road sleeping on the floor of the toilet whom had retired but the cold concrete didn't appeal to me. Finally John got up and continued on his way, and I put my towel on the bench so to speak. Got out my sleeping bag and got in. I couldn't initially sleep due to all sorts of thoughts spinning around my head, but think eventually I did sleep for ten minutes. I don't think I even set my alarm as didn't see the point, I knew in my heart of hearts that I was done for. I was told I couldn't be issued pain killers as that was deemed support, and paracetamol were basically the only safe option, with ibuprofen likely to cause the kidneys to shut down with the related dehydration that might be present. 

Well the paracetamol wasn't working. I then remembered I had some super hot tiger balm given to me by Yan my wife for emergency use. It completely numbs the area it's rubbed in to. I limped over to the wc to take my trousers down and rub this stuff in. I massaged it in to the area on my back close to my hip for about twenty minutes in desperation that it would help. It was lovely and hot and partially relieving. I managed to trick the safety team guy in to believing I could walk upright by forcing a short march to demonstrate so. He promptly told me that my posture was infinitely better and although he appeared to still be massively concerned about my plan to continue over the fells, he was reassured after I told him I'd probably only get a quarter of a mile and realise I couldn't continue, and promised him in those circumstances that I'd do a U-turn and retire. I think he expected this so let me continue.  

I decided to proceed not knowing if I'd get even one hundred meters. Another guy, Len had come in since and was ready to leave. He also had a pronounced limp. I explained that between us we had two good legs so should be fine. The moral boost of having someone company whom was suffering possibly as much as me and couldn't maintain a pace much faster was huge. He was great company and came from Oxford which is quite local to me. We were both the same age and suffering equally so it seemed a good partnership. His conversation was also very positive, he seemed convinced we could reach the checkpoint with four hours to spare. I wasn't quite that positive as I knew there were three huge fells to cross including the most notorious Cross Fell where the only named wind in the UK exists - the Helm Wind, that is so strong that it can take you off your feet. They were each mighty in ascent, and it would take a mammoth effort to get across. Anyway with the tiger balm and the last dose of paracetamol I was able to force through the pain which was only alleviated to a most tiny extent. I was still bent over and putting what weight I could on the poles. My feet were in excruciating pain. I managed to keep up with Len for mile upon mile upon mile. We were stopping frequently to rest on the ground making slow 35 minute miles. It was progress but I calculated we would have two hours max at the check point, not enough time to recover for the penultimate day, but a chance at least to start that penultimate day/leg. Individually we were taking five minute cat naps at various points slowing the average pace a bit. I was a bit shocked to be honest that I got even a mile out of Dufton but now we were making our way up the first climb - Green Fell with a massive 2650ft summit. 

It was at the base of the climb of Green Fell that I realised my massive mistake, I'd forgotten to fill up my water bottles and spare platypus for the gruelling 15 mile hike over the fells - there would be no water source from here. How stupid, I cursed myself once again and wondered how I'd cope. On quizzing Len about his provisions I discovered he had two bladders each of two litres plus two bottles. I had about one litre in total. It was now hot and I gulped about 250ml knowing that I then only had the one three quarter full water bottle. I was sort of resigned to running out of water now and thought there was no point in rationing it and making the early part of the climb even more difficult by becoming dehydrated. We continued climbing and were about half way up the first of the four ascents. It was a long long long climb but technically not too troublesome underfoot. Then suddenly there was a winding ditch in the ground with a bubbling brook, what amazing luck this was, saved by the gods. I immediately guzzled the remaining water and re-filled both bottles and two platypus's, so I had about three litres again. I put some sterilising tabs in but couldn't be bothered to get the filter out to 'double' sterilise. By this time Len was far in the distance as I insisted we didn't wait for each other during stops and jeopardise either of us finishing. It took me an age to catch up and only as he was taking a rest, but secretly I think he was waiting for me every time he got ahead as it was becoming the pattern. At one stage he took a sleep so fell behind me, but caught up very quickly with me having not even rested. 

Now we were climbing the second fell - Great Dunn fell. In my mind once this was tackled it would be just Cross Fell to go, the hardest ascent as there was quite a big drop before the climb. However I had got it wrong thinking there were three climbs when in fact there are four, we still had Little Dunn Fell after the next climb before Cross Fell. It was a bit of a shock and disappointment when I realised, but I just set my mind to keep going. I really don't know how, I wanted to press my emergency button on my tracker and thought about doing that later from Greg's Hut on the start of the descent, where I could rest and wait to be rescued, but I quickly put this out of my mind before the seed started growing in to a solid plan. If I were to quit I wouldn't want to cause that much trouble, it would be the worst possible place in terms of distance from a road. I'd already seen one mountain rescue operation on the second day involving personnel carrying weighty gear on their backs almost fridge size, and involving a whole team being tied up, and I wasn't that selfish. I mean that rescue was due to a broken leg so the emergency was very genuine, mine would be the making of an emergency in my mind for convenience. We did finally make the climb up Cross Fell, no wind was present other than a nice cooling one. The descent was a nightmare for me, all the pain came flooding back in tripple doses, I finally had to insist Len proceed with his best effort, he really wanted to get to Alston early, getting a coffee on the way in Garrigill. After this conversation he was soon way in front of me, proving that he had been slowed by me, and that I was slowing even further now.

I now believed I was in last place, not that that mattered one bit other than it meant I was in a desperate position time wise. Five miles out from Alston out came the safety crew on foot, along with their dog to check on me and give me company. I don't think they quite 

realised that by doing so they would be going hours over their shift, so I let them know it would take me three hours plus to cover the distance, and politely convinced them that they didn't need to walk with me and that I was fine. They did then leave but had been great company for the mile or so they were with me. I wasn't really any fun to talk to now as the pain was making me miserable, I was frequently stopping at the side of the track and lying down in a position where I thought I'd be able to get up again with assistance of the poles. It took a bit of thinking about sometimes, and I strategically put the poles in a position ready to use again before falling asleep or resting. I just wanted momentary relief from the back pain, it was excruciating. 

Finally four miles from the Alston check point I reached Annie's house. She routinely every year invites every Spiner in to her house and makes up some nosh to their individual requests. She has us all on the tracker so knows who and when we are arriving. It was so nice to get my welcome "Hello Chris, are you stopping for some food and rest?" You bet. I couldn't think what I wanted, and she suggested a ham and cheese sandwich with pickle. I couldn't have dreamt of anything better, and along with a coffee I got comfortable and consumed the delights. Annie was great to talk to and completely understood the mentality of the Spine and how we were feeling as we popped in. Here I found I wasn't in last place as in came John, and out before I left, so now it was confirmed I was last, Annie removed the sign inviting Spiner's to her house. I then thought I'd better get going. 

A couple of children popped out the houses in the village to wish me luck, what a lovely touch. I hobbled on then reached the river where there was a diversion leading over the river further along, and up a hill towards the final short section to Alston. It was a very short up hill, and it got me, I couldn't balance when I put weight forward on to the poles, my painful hand couldn't take any weight at all and I fell. That started to concern me but I got up slowly and painfully continued up the hill. It must have just been fifteen seconds later and the same thing happened, my back needed support and my poles couldn't provide the level of support needed and once again I fell. I felt so feeble and helpless and wanted to cry as I knew I was in a hopeless situation now. I still believed that somehow I could get to Alston, but for what? There was no way I'd get a hundred meters out of Alston on the penultimate leg if I did get there, I'd have at best, time to eat and nothing else. Suddenly without further thought I decided to retire. I called HQ and notified them. I got to the road leading to Alston, lay down on a concrete block that I found at the road side and waited to be recovered. Guess who then came by, Annie! She had seen me stop on the tracker and came out to check on me. She offered a lift but thinking that would confuse the safety crew if they couldn't find me, I refused the kind offer. I waited about 30 minutes and was picked up, taken to Alston checkpoint and fed three helpings of Lasagne followed by three helpings of crumble and custard. I was walking around the place hanging on to walls and rails with both hands, almost screaming with each step, my body had completely shut down now that it knew I was done. I could hardly function or do anything but stare and contemplate my failure. At 10pm when the final runners had to leave, I wished them the best, especially Len whom still seemed positive and took a few of my provisions I now didn't need. Sadly I later heard Len got just down the road, scurried in to his bivvy and called HQ to resign. My stay at Alston was the best I could possibly expect and helped make a difference. I was given my own dorm and a lift to the nearest train station the next day by one of the volunteers, Chris Taylor, who lives in Bradford-upon-Avon and knows the Corsham Running Club crew helping out. Unfortunately they were going off for a mini break otherwise could have dropped me back at Edale.

Post Race Analysis

Getting home on the train was a real ordeal. My train back to Edale to pick up my car involved a five leg journey from Hexham to Carlisle; Carlisle to Penrith; Penrith to Preston; Preston to Manchester Picadilly; Manchester Picadilly to Edale. Each time I had to lug my 20kg drop bag from platform to platform. It was almost more of a challenge than The Spine itself. Then the long car journey, loaded up with the stronger ibuprofen I coped with a staged car journey stopping at every services for a break. I was using the very end of my toes on the pedals as they were the least tender part of my feet and constantly adjusting the backrest. Four days of doing nothing but sleeping and eating and I started to be on the mend.

Looking at the stats later I saw that there was a record drop out, 60 retirements (mostly at CP1 and CP2 during the foulest wettest of the weather), 8 non-starters, and 49 finishers, that's a 55% drop out rate, which I believe is higher than in the winter events. I'd covered 192 miles in four and a half days and at retirement had just 78 miles to go - a long way but not insurmountable if my body hadn't given up in such a dramatic fashion. I'd climbed/ascended over 30,000 feet (that's three ascents of Everest from base camp). I'd slept six hours and ten minutes in total (average 90 minutes per day) getting from Edale to Alston. Even though I'd retired, I was in the top 50% of competitors in terms of distance covered. I felt a little bit better in myself with these stats, obviously it was a major disappointment and I can't hide that fact, but at the same time I need to look back at it as an accomplishment rather than a failure, and that's what I'll do. It's something to build on. 

Just today (a week after retiring) Len confirmed that he may retry next year, and I agreed I would too. This time it would be different, all the lessons learnt would be put in to practice to increase the chance massively of finishing. I'm confident I will, just as I was this year:) Roll on 2025.