The Plague

Mud Crew's Roseland August Trail – the RAT – is the jewel in the crown of Cornish trail running and an event that draws larger crowds each year. A true festival of endurance with multiple distances to choose from and a campsite at the finish line complete with bar, food stalls and even an after party for those with energy to spare. 

The black, red & white RATs– 32, 20 & 11 miles respectively – are point to point races, with competitors bussed to their given starting point from where they run back along the coast path. For those looking for an even greater challenge the RAT Plague awaits. Starting at five past midnight on the Saturday morning this 64 mile race takes in the entire Black RAT course in both directions, running from Porthpean near St Austell to St Anthony at the tip of the Roseland Peninsular and back again. 

Having first run the Plague in 2014 I'd had a couple of years to forget how hard it was and so decided to come back and see if I could get around a bit quicker. Arriving in the early evening I set up my tent, register and get stuck into a lovely stone baked pizza from one of the food stalls, watching an organised Yoga session in full swing for those in need of some pre race flexibility. Later, we're treated to a "Meet the Elite" motivational talk and Q&A with ultra runner of the year Dan Lawson, plus GB team runners Pat Robbins, Sharon Law & Izzy Wickes. Then it's back to the tent for an hour or so of not sleeping before we gather for our briefing and are sent out into the night. 

Starting a race at midnight is an odd concept and one that adds a new dimension – we start sleep deprived and run our first fresh faced miles hindered by the darkness. On the plus side the darkness masks the hideously steep unrelenting nature of the first few climbs and descents. On a single track trail we follow in each others' pool of light, a snaking line of head torches moving into the night with quiet chatter and hard breathing the only noise louder than the lapping of the ever present ocean. 

The hills rapidly make their impact and the field spreads out as we encounter small villages – first Pentewan and checkpoint one, then the classic fishing harbour of Mevagissey. At ten miles or so we approach Gorran Haven and checkpoint two. Quietly filing into the Café I say a quick hello to some friends on crewing duties, refill my bottles and head out again. The night is warm and I'm moving well. I'm joined by another runner shortly after leaving and we stay together for a few miles, though as the night wears on and fatigue starts to set in I drop back and run alone to checkpoint three. I help myself to several cups of coke while a volunteer kindly fills my bottles and, with the long night starting to tell, I'm off out into the darkness again.  

Looking back to Nare head

Soon I'm climbing up onto Nare Head, one of the highest parts of the route. The headland has a long flattish plateau at its top and reaching here, with the faintest grey light starting to appear behind me, I feel a surge of energy that builds as the night turns to day. Just before day break I'm joined by another runner who surprises me (I only yelp a little!) as he appears from an unexpected direction having got off course and taken in an unintentional extra hill. This guy's name is Phil and we settle in to running together into the morning. As the sun rises and the light turns golden my energy levels soar; here the topography is a little easier on the legs and we skirt the edge of a beach before more pleasant running along stunning low cliff tops leads to the picture postcard village of Porthscatho and our next checkpoint. I know that friends – Loyd & Justin – will be marshalling here and they give us words of encouragement, telling us we are well up the field and looking strong. We're keen to get going; Phil and I leave together, the last few miles before the turn around covered fairly fast. Here we start to encounter the race leaders on their way back. I'm counting them off as they pass and we exchange words of encouragement as we make our way.  

Dawn at Portscatho

Approaching St Anthony we're treated to amazing views reaching out over both sides of the peninsular, short rugged cliffs to our left fall into the azure sea; farmland to our right dropping down to the natural harbour of Carrick Roads; the town of Falmouth at its far side and boats already out sailing in the mouth of the estuary. 

St Anthony is not a true checkpoint, just a place to dib and get going. My stomach has other ideas though and so a longer than anticipated toilet break leaves me running alone for a time before catching and joining another runner on the way back. We catch Phil on the way back into Porthscatho and we all run into the check point where the offer of bacon rolls is welcomed enthusiastically.  

Now the heat is starting to build and we retrace our steps, trying to run as much as possible on the easier ground before we reach Nare Head again and our first hard climb since day break. I'm actually glad we have some climbing to do as it’s a welcome change of pace.  

We start to wonder when the first of the black RAT runners will pass us; we turned around about an hour before they were scheduled to start so know it can't be long. A couple of features of this race serve to enhance the overall experience: each race starts slightly later in the day so that each group of runners approaches the finish at roughly the same time. And for those on the plague – we are issued with bright green vests so we stand out from the rest. As a result, throughout the day the number of people passing us running shorter distances increases, as do the words of encouragement we receive. When the first few come through though its hard not to be jealous at their light springy pace as they run – yes run! - up the hill past us! 

By now its hot and I'm dreaming of the Water Melon I know will be at Portloe. We arrive in good time and, with this being the start of the 20 mile Red route, are greeted by a large number of supporters and runners just getting off the bus. Phil wants to change socks and has some shin pain – the medics are on hand to offer some advice and a cold spray. I head straight for the fresh fruit and devour about half a water melon and several oranges. We are cheered by words of support as we leave the village and then we're off onto the coast path again, winding our way towards home.  

At Portholland Jessica and Duncan Williams, disguised as Punks, are on hand with Red Bull and pastries, all part of the Mud Crew service. Scrambling across the rocks here at night was a world away from the seaside holiday vibe going on as we return. A mile or two further on we reach Porthluney Cove, the road lined with well wishers, a beach full of tourists and a castle behind us, its hard to resist the ice creams on sale at the café but there's no time to waste.  

Approaching Gorran

Rolling hills lead down to pretty little Hemmick Beach where a possy of children act as cheer leaders from the sand. Then its up the steep relentless climb to the top of Dodman point, past several frustrating false summits to pass the monument at the top. I'm switching places with runners on various distances here as I'm feeling strong and climbing well. Even those on the shorter routes are starting to feel the effects of all these hills. But I know what follows and I'm keen to get into it: a good few miles of beautiful runnable terrain, easing slowly downhill all the way passed the long shingle stretch of Vault Beach and rounding the headland at its end before a last hard climb leads up to a perfect vantage point above the village of Gorran Haven. We can hear the cheers as we round the corner and drop down to the checkpoint. The 11 mile white race is yet to start and the village is heaving. I'd left Phil somewhere on the descent but he joins me minutes later as I'm sorting out my kit and refilling bottles. He's looking tired but keen to press on too.  

As we leave the checkpoint and weave through the narrow streets we pass a huge crowd of runners and supporters.  I give a big shout and wave my arms in mock victory and am rewarded with a great cheer as I leave the village, buoying me up and sending me on my way onto the next leg. Soon though I'm walking again and I know I'll have to dig deep to keep my pace up as we enter the final 10 miles of the race. 

Looking at my time I know I'll not beat my goal of coming in under 15 hours but sub 16 is still a very real possibility. Knowing the worst hills are still ahead of me I'm determined to run while I can and every flat section or downhill I push myself into a slow jog. I'm sorry to say it was here I left Phil behind me, I could see he wasn't following as I pushed up the first big climb out of the village but I was on a mission and couldn't wait. 

We're all hurting now and the paths are busy with runners passing me at every opportunity, though as the path gives way to fields and we approach Mevagissey I see another Plague runner in the distance. This gives me something to focus on and I start trying to reel him in. Soon we are into civilisation; Mevagissey is a very popular tourist destination and it feels strange to be weaving in and out of family groups with pasties and ice creams. Many have got a good idea about what we're doing though and clap and cheer as we pass.  

From here, its just 6 miles to go but what miles they are. A couple of huge climbs festooned with steps lead us on to Pentewan and the final checkpoint. I'm pleasantly surprised that my quads are still able to propel me upwards and hands on thighs I keep my head down and just keep going to the top of each hill. The Pentewan checkpoint is the busiest of all. Either by happy accident or shrewd planning the Ship Inn has a beer festival – I resist the urge to partake! Race director Fergy dibs me in and tells me I'm looking strong, someone grabs my bottles and refills them and my friend Wanda is there crewing and presents me with an ice pop – heaven!  

No point stopping a moment longer. The hills get really hard now, steps are the order of the day for the last 4 miles. I know I can walk in from here and get under 16 hours but where's the fun in that? Every flat I run, every downhill I force my legs to carry on holding me up and to my surprise they do. I'm sure I'm moving very slowly by now but I feel like I'm charging. And I'm passing people! Including another Plague runner a mile or so from the end. On the last downhill someone is walking backwards – I've been there and I know how that feels! - but I trot down with a huge smile on my face because I know I'm home. Managing a speed march up the steep road from Porthpean Beach to the campsite I break into a final little run as the ground levels and there is Hannah, my wife, and Jenna my youngest daughter. Bronwen, at 13, is way to cool to bother with meeting her Dad and remains, I'm told, by the tent! Jenna and I cross the line holding hands and its done. 15 hours 22 minutes and a 2 hour pb. I collapse and plead with Hannah to bring me cider, before remembering I've yet to collect my medal. 

As more people arrive the atmosphere is building towards the inevitable party. I catch up with a few friends, we exchange stories of our days. Phil crosses the line not long after me; its good to see he made it ok. I'm in no state to do anything much so after a shower I'm driven home for a well earned rest by my long-suffering wife. 

And that was that. Absolutely the best day's running I have ever had. This event gets better every year, so if you fancy a tough as nails ultra by the seaside you know where to go! 

Summer Sessions

Freedom Racing popped up earlier this year with their first event - the brutally hard Kernow VK. Not wanting to leave it there they soon came up with a new series - the summer sessions - a trio of 10k races on the coast path. I missed the first at Porthtowan but made it to the Poldhu event a couple of weeks back.

(c) Liga Lacekle

 So on a sunny Thursday evening I headed down to Poldhu with a couple of friends and got ready for a good charge along the cliffs. Registration was at the Poldhu Beach Cafe, the car park was pretty much full when we got there and it looked like a good turn out as we got down to the beach. We were soon gathered on the beach at the start line and ready to go. Racing across the sand, crossing the stream we all filed out briefly onto the road before joining the coast path and climbing up and over the headland and down towards Church Cove. Crossing the sands behind the beach we climbed again before running along the cliffs on fast single track and descending faster still to Fishing Cove Gunwalloe.

(c) Christiaan Le Roux

From here the coast path leads perilously close to the cliff edge above the shingle beach that runs all the way to Porthleven. A hard climb here leads to the turn around; the stated intent of these races is to make hard but runnable races in beautiful places and they don't disappoint but to be honest I opted to power walk the long steep climb on this part of the race.

Not a bad place for a finish line

The route turns inland and some flat fast trails lead to a short section of road before turning back to seaward and retracing our steps for the last couple of miles. The hills on the last stretch were starting to hurt but I was determined to leave it all out there and pushed as hard as I could on the way back. With the last climb done and my lungs bursting all that was left was a painful sprint across the sands to the finish line.

So a lovely evening, beautiful trails, perfect weather and great company. I didn't have time to hang around but the cafe stayed open where beers and pizza were the order of the day.

The next Summer Session is at Godrevy on September 24th.

Classic Quitter - my first DNF

This year's Classic Quarter - a race I'd completed twice before - was one I'd trained hard for. In fact the last six months I've trained harder and more consistently than ever before. I did speed work, hill reps, tempo runs. I ran every section of the course. I also, crucially, lost weight. This really seemed to have an effect on the kind of pace I could run and I was suddenly making huge gains.

So when race day came around the last thing I expected to do was DNF.

Worse still I wasn't expecting to quit so easily. I've never even considered quitting a race before but the end to this one came remarkably quick and is something I've been regretting ever since.

Ever since I rang my wife and said "I'm done" and she came to collect me from the side of the road in Penzance I've been in a right old grump. But the truth is I knew this was a possibility; I'd got myself so convinced that this year not only could I complete this run I could set a fast time that when things started to go wrong I didn't really have a plan B. In fact the night before I'd said to myself that I'd go out with my most optimistic goal in mind and if I blew up at least I could say I'd tried. Well that's exactly what happened.

The thing is though I didn't run out of energy or get injured, I got cramp. And boy did I get cramp. From mile 16 I was getting little warning shots in my calves. By half way I was adjusting my stride to relieve occasionally cramped calves and stepping up onto high rocks or steps was as likely as not to deliver a nice pain in my hamstrings.

When I hit the flat along Mounts Bay things really deteriorated until I was pretty much unable to run at all without cramping up severely. And that's how it ended; at mile 29, fed up and hamstrung - literally - not willing to walk the next 15 miles just to get a finishers medal I sat down in the sun and called home.

So many runners stopped and asked if they could help, offering salt and electrolytes (I'd been taking salt pills to no avail and had gratefully accepted some electrolyte several miles back from another runner). Some I knew, like Loyd, tried to encourage me to keep it going. Another friend Paul even offered to walk with me a while but I was having none of it; I was done.

Maybe this is just the price I have to pay for racing an ultra rather than just running it. Maybe aiming high means you have to be prepared to fail in spectacular fashion and maybe its just as well to drop rather than risk serious injury when the race isn't going your way.

But for me, next time I think about dropping I'll be looking back at this week and remembering how crappy I felt. Next time I'll crawl to the finish if I have to.

Kernow Vertical Kilometre

There are certain races that pop up and you just know you're going to have to run them. The Kernow Vertical Kilometre was one such race.

The Vertical K is a race concept born in the Alps, where runners tackle a 1000 metres of vertical ascent in a point to point uphill race up a mountain. Not having any mountains of such stature in Cornwall the newly formed Freedom Racing came up with the idea to race a 1000 metres up and down in the shortest distance possible, this being about 15 miles.

The race was to start and finish at the beach of Trevaunance Cove, St Agnes and would follow 2 laps of a figure of eight loop taking in some of my favourite bits of coast path and inland trails including the largest hill in the area - St Agnes Beacon.

Looking West from St Agnes Beacon - on a good day!

I've run over the beacon many times and on a good day you can see for miles along the coast, but its also exposed and this being the start of April we were likely as not to be in for some interesting weather.

Sure enough the day dawned wet and windy - really windy - and we pushed and squeezed our way into The Driftwood Spars pub for registration and our briefing, all hanging back to the last minute before marching down the steep road and slipway to our start point just above the beach.

Soon enough we were off. Back up the hill past the pub and ever upwards through the village - viciously steep in those first few yards - this was a rude awakening. Winding up, briefly off road then out into an estate and a little flattish respite before out into the countryside we went - steadily climbing we crossed fields on our way to the beacon.

At the start witth my serious face on - photo © Freedom Racing

Another short section of road led us towards the back of the Beacon before we turned and climbed steeply up rough trails to our destination. On reaching the top of the hill we were blasted by the wind and turned to descend to seaward. Now it must be said, this was a surprise since I'd thought the course looped inland but I was breathing so hard I just followed the directions of the marshal and headed down off the hill on a long fast descent I knew well. It was soon obvious from the chatter ahead of me that I wasn't alone in my thoughts that the route appeared to have been altered - more on this in a bit.

Running down from the beacon is one of those amazing bits of trail that just make you smile, steep but not too steep, technical enough to make you think but fast, so very fast - and straight down towards the North coast with engine houses, farms and distant beaches all completing the picture. Soon we joined the road for a brief time before heading down again, onto the coast path and some technical granite steps leading back into Trevaunance Cove. As we entered the village a brief chat revealed we had indeed been sent the wrong way and missed a loop on the back of the beacon - all would be resolved on lap 2 with a double loop to make up the distance already organised.

From here it's a long climb up the North side of the cove to embark on the second part of the figure of eight course. This long steady hill has little steps conveniently about one and a half paces apart to break your rhythm (and your spirit!) and is not quite steep enough to justify slowing to a walk, but too steep to be anything other than painful.

Near the top the hill eases for a short time as we enter a lunar landscape - mine spoil in this most industrial part of Cornwall - quickly though we climb on over the crest and down into Trevallas Porth via a super rocky technical descent. Also known as Blue hills due to the mining centre of the same name this is another heavily mined area and we run between mine buildings before the pig of a climb up towards Perranporth airfield. Here there are the signature Cornish steps - steep and deep and fronted with a wooden face - if you run on the coast path in Cornwall you'll get to know them well even though you may not like them. Its possible to skip around them and keep running but only for the fittest - mere mortals accept their fate and climb at a walk over these obstacles, the burn in the quads building all the time.

Finally at the top some respite - a flat section along the airfield - except today the wind in our faces slams us back and slows our progress to a hunched shuffle. Then its back into Trevallas via the road and back the way we came to the start.

photo © Freedom Racing

As I got stuck in to lap 2 I knew I'd gone out too fast, the fight was going from my legs and it was all I could do to keep pushing on up, back to the top of the Beacon. Here we were directed left and inland to complete a mile long loop - twice - dropping over a hundred metres down behind the hill. I'd never run these trails so it was all new and exciting. Great running spoiled only slightly by the knowledge I have to work my way back up at some point. The uphill part of this loop, much like the hills on the rest of the course, is just about runnable though I was walking on the last steep section at the top.

Another lap of this loop for make up for the earlier issues and we were back down to Trevaunance again, spirits lifted by clapping supporters and knowing, even though I was knackered, that the end was not far off. The wind seemed even stronger on the airfield second time around and I was seriously slowing but still managed a strong last mile (mostly downhill!).

Job done. A unique wooden medal and better still, a free bottle of ale brewed on site at the pub, were our prizes. I did ok, 29th of 80-odd. The race though, what a classic, sure to grow in years to come once word gets out. And since then Freedom Racing have started The Summer Sessions - a series of 10k trail runs in equally iconic locations along the coast path. Ones to look out for, for sure.

Following the Arc

Last weekend I was helping out with the Arc of Attrition. Photographing the runners but also helping out with a bit of marshalling at various points along the route. Earlier in the year I had hoped to be able to enter this race, having filmed it last year but it wasn't to be; injury and family commitments meant I would be on the sidelines again this year.

Once again though it felt like this amazing community of runners down here in Cornwall came out in force to support, crew, marshal and do whatever they could to get involved in this iconic challenge.

 
Make no mistake, 100 miles of coast path is a big ask at any time of the year. But in winter its a serious undertaking. Last year, with a 6 pm start, most competitors endured two nights of running. The weather was cold and calm but reached minus eight celsius at times through the night. That said over 50% of the entrants finished and, sitting with Ferg in the sun at registration, I knew this wasn't quite the race he'd had in mind.

This year the start would be at 12pm. By the time everyone was receiving their briefing the news was out. Cornwall was bracing itself for some heavy weather. Gale force winds and torrential rain were on the cards and as many ass four weather fronts were set to converge on our little county during the 36 hours of the race.

Indeed the weather gods did not dissapoint; after a fairly calm start the wind whipped up and during the night the rain came. And boy did it come. With flash floods and impassable roads in places inland the coast path was a treacherous place to be.

Having taken photos early on to make sure I got everyone while they were nicely bunched up, I moved around the coast stopping at a few locations before finally seeing the field through Poldhu and Gunwalloe, about nineteen miles in. I had to head home for a bit to run my girls to guides and had a bite to eat with Hannah before returning around 11 and getting myself over to Cape Cornwall

I had a peaceful start to marshalling duties here; James Turner arrived and got a brew on and the winds had not reached full strength. Soon the lead pack of four - Duncan Oakes, Steve Wyatt, Pat Robbins and Jason Lewis - came through, running strong. Shortly after I was relieved by Juston Lowell and Paull Golley and settled down for a kip.

As the night wore in the winds reached ferrocious levels and runners were converging from various directions. It was time for me to move on and I set off to Levant to film a little and guide the runners as they appeared.

At some point I was asked by a runner how far to St Ives; caught off guard I guessed wildly that it was about 8 miles and was mortified later on checking my paperwork that in fact it was more like 14. I had to drive around to Pendeen to catch him and set the record straight. Sorry!

Pendeen was witness to some of the most horrific weather I've ever been out in; the wind was so strong you could barely stand up and the rain stung like needles whenever you turned to face the onslaught. Soon though I headed back to my original location to film a little more and see the last runners through - by now the numbers were dwindling as one by one they dropped out along the way. On my way through Pendeen I noticed the chippy was open and serving bacon butties. I got my self one and sat down to tuck in when a pair of runers came by, obviously suffering from the cold. One in particular was considering dropping as he could not get warm. I suggested he continue to Pendeen and decide there whether to continue and phoned ahead to let them know he was on his way. Feeling guilty after letting on I was feasting on bacon I nipped back around on a buttie run before heading all the way back to Porthtowan to film the leaders finish.

All this would not be possible without the live tracking, this had helped us all keep a really good eye on where everyone was.

After this I headed west again and stopped at the St Ives checkpoint for a bit, long enough in fact to be bought a beer - why not - thanks Paul!

Then finally I took up position on North Cliffs and filmed some more before heading home to rest and monitor facebook for news of the the final few to finish.

All in all and epic day out. I was blown away by the positivity of everyone involved, runners and crew alike, and despite the terrible weather I think everyone had a good time. I didn't hear anyone complain about their lot, they just got on with business.

Maybe next year I'll give it a go, though there were times over the weekend where I questioned the sanity of that sentiment.

Anyway photos are available here and there's a little film of the whole thing too:

Filming the scrooge

I was on duty photographing the muddiest of Mud Crew events; The Scrooge this year and managed to capture a little bit of film at the same time.

Held each year at the Lost Gardens of Helligan this nine mile run features mud, drops down waterfalls, steep climbs and deep water crossings.

Here's the film


Mud Crew Presents - The Scrooge run 2015 from Andrew Benham on Vimeo.