It is a Friday afternoon in September, autumn barely underway.
Picture a large meadow on the south west aspect of Windermere, gently sloping down to stone wall that separates it from another lower lying meadow, a few trees and a footpath, then the lake itself. The grass has been cut but left long to aid drainage and grip: this is car park, campsite, registration. It will be the start and finish too but that is for tomorrow.
Then the rain comes, in heavy cloudbursts pushed by westerly winds. Initially there are gaps, respite, but this does not last.
We pitch our tent in one of those last respites and dinner is huddling under a shelter eating a gyro while registrants soakingly queue. When those who are not camping try to drive away, chaos soon follows as the designated routes out of the meadow become all-nigh impassable. The event pickup is called in to help tow vehicles out of the mire but it soon gives way to a tracked mountain rescue vehicle – effective, but slow. We give up watching and go to bed.
Our tent remains waterproof but by 4am the noise of monsoon landing a few inches above causes us finally to give up and get up. We try to make ourselves have some breakfast hiding in the back of our van in the dark.
By 6am the rain has stopped and the sky looks brighter as the bell is rung to start the race. We hang back, not planning to win. The start loops us round and down the lakeside path. A long queue soon forms that, like a motorway tailback, is sometimes stationary and sometimes moving but is always simply a capacity mismatch.
And the paths were waterlogged. Everyone at some point had to decide that mud between the toes would be today’s normal.
The first checkpoint at Finsthwaite, coming down from High Dam, marked the point at which it was finally possible to run unhindered.
From Newby Bridge crossed below the lake and up through forestry en route to Gummer’s How with its lovely view up the lake. From there via more forestry to Moor How and on to Bowness with a heavy downpour on the way.
Skirting the edge of Windermere, we headed up onto Applethwaite Common before descending steeply to Troutbeck and a checkpoint with shoe drop and pizza. We ate plenty of pizza and changed socks but did not bother with changing trainers. We were a little past half way now and it was just past lunchtime.
Climbing steeply, we summited Baystones then traversed to Wansfell before descending to Ambleside, running through town to climb steeply up to Loughrigg.
By now there was only a half marathon to go as we descended steeply and started south down the western side of the Lake. We were stiff and sore and it took an increasing effort of will to break into a trot after negotiating uphills. The way was still relentlessly waterlogged but wading had become the new normal.
Cheekily, we were taken up Latterbarrow but pretty dusk views were the reward before a steep descent down a stony beck into forestry. We reached the final feed station at Far Sawrey just as the light finally failed. Warm soup on offer and yet more cheerful kindness from the event team.
Head torches on, we headed up the hill from there, over and down eventually to the lake. It felt strangely like the end would never arrive: close but never quite in view. And then there it was, after 47 miles, tape leading us up through that lower meadow back up to the start.
We made it in a little under 15 hours. After a few minutes of recovery time under the roof of a farm shed, we booked a hotel room for the night, packed up our tent, miraculously navigated the van out without getting stuck in the mud, and even made it there in time for a delicious beer. A medal, a t-shirt, a hot shower, dry feet and a pint: result!
Emma & Saul Miller
Wooler Running Club 