Three days ago on Saturday 19 January I crossed the finish line of the 2019 Montane Spine Race. The route is 268 miles (420km) in length with 13,135m of climb.  It starts in Edale, Derbyshire following the entire “Pennine Way” long-distance national trail to finish in the Scottish Borders at the small town of Kirk Yetholm.

Although there is now a summer version of the race, the original winter Spine Race started in 2012 and is held in January to ensure predictably bad weather with long hours of darkness. The event tests a competitor’s ability to look after him or herself in a harsh and unforgiving environment. An unusual feature of the Spine Race is that the clock doesn’t stop running. So while a racer can choose to stop, sleep or rest, competitors may elect to push on. It is this balance between keeping moving and resting/recovering which makes the Spine Race such a fascinating challenge.

During the race each competitor carries a set of mandatory equipment. This includes a bivvy bag, sleeping bag, traction aids, goggles and stove plus 3000+ calories of food. This means a racer can stop at anytime to sleep, rest or eat along the side of the trail. There are are five checkpoints at which a racer can get shelter (usually in a Youth Hostel or similar), can take a provided hot meal and can seek help from a team of medical experts who will do all they can to patch you up and keep you in the race. Each racer carries a tracking device fitted to their rucksack. It was this aspect that first caught my eye!

It was two years ago that I stumbled across the tracking website. I could see a large set of “dots” moving up the Pennine Way. It was a race and the leaders were way out in front of the back markers. Some appeared to be sleeping on top of a hill! Others strayed off the route and had clearly made navigational errors. I didn’t think much more about it but did revisit the page from time to time to indulge in more “dot-watching”. While I sat in my nice warm chair, it was dark outside and raining hard. Yet these dots didn’t stop…they kept moving. Sometimes I went to sleep and woke up the next morning to see those same dots still moving. Some were making painfully slow progress. It was strangely addictive despite me not knowing any of the runners taking part.

At that time, there was no thought or desire on my part to ever enter the Spine Race. I couldn’t understand why anyone would want to race over such  long distances. It would hurt. It would be so dark and so cold. Pure misery, surely? But the seed of an idea must have been planted. Later that year I completed my first ultra – the Pen Lleyn Ultra – a beautiful summer run around the Lleyn Peninsula in North Wales and had been really pleased with how I’d done. At 75 miles, I collapsed across the finish line and was almost unable to walk for the following two days. Could I run for 268 miles?

Slowly but surely the idea of the Spine Race nagged away at me. I started to read blogs written by earlier competitors. Most were written by competitors who had had a torrid time. However one blog written by a fellow I was later to meet, called Ian Bowles, stated simply that, in the author’s belief, a person with a solid background of mountain marathons should make an ideal candidate. Surely that was me? With my long-term running buddy Tim Sparrow way-laid I was seeking new challenges. Ian’s blog was all it took to push me into entering and in February 2018 my entry was sent off and accepted. I had a year to prepare.

I’ll jump forward now to the day before the race. I arrived at the start line in Edale a day early as industrial action meant trains were not running to Edale on the day of registration. I went through the process of registering and deposited my drop bag. This bag had to weigh under 20kg but could be stuffed with anything I wanted. My drop bag would travel in front of me and I would be able to access it at each of the five checkpoints (so once every 45 miles or so). Mine was filled with spare socks, warm clothes and food. The Ramblers Inn in Edale was packed with racers and race officials but I felt disconnected. Everyone was incredibly enthusiastic and friendly and seemed to know others while I knew no-one. I chatted a bit but then took myself off to my bedroom to do my final prep and get a good night’s sleep.

The one thing I had not had an opportunity to practice was taping my legs. As I don’t run ultras I’ve never used KT tape. This seemed an ideal time to practice. I started by shaving my legs. When finished, the muscly smooth things created didn’t look like mine! I just hoped they would carry me all the way to Scotland. I practised taping my achilles, my ankles, my calves and knees; all areas I expected to hurt. It looked hilarious with all this multi-coloured strapping plastered on my legs but I was pleased to find that taping was pretty straight forward. I had a bath, pulled all the tape off then went to bed and slept fitfully.

At 7.30am I made my way from the Ramblers Inn to the start at the Village Hall. It was raining harder and was much windier than the weather forecast I had consulted. I quickly choose my lightest set of waterproofs and put these on top of a Brynje long-sleeved baselayer and Rab Alpha Flux jacket worn as a mid-layer. After the obligatory nervous faffing all of us racers went outside and down to the start line in a muddy field. With excitement running high, at 8.00am Sunday morning the race began. We had a week to reach Kirk Yetholm.

I started at a very easy jog pace as we went up the lane back past the Ramblers and turned left to cross fields leading to the climb of Jacob’s Ladder. Nobody was speaking beyond the odd pleasantry, with most competitors concentrating on maintaining an economical pace. At Jacob’s Ladder I got my running poles out ready for the climb.

I had been looking forward to my crossing of Kinder Scout. In 56 years of walking, running and climbing I’ve never been on Kinder. On the climb up I could see perhaps 15 or so runners ahead of me with the lead group perhaps 250m in front. Sadly as we gained height we went into thick cloud, the leaders disappeared from view and I saw very little of Kinder during the following hours. The running was excellent with plenty of rocks to keep my mind focused. Kinder Downfall was soon crossed and I noticed that I had a train of perhaps 3 or 4 other runners in tight formation behind me. At several points I waved others past but received comments such as “you’re setting a good pace” or “you’re a good leader”. It had always been my intention to navigate every inch of the route so I kept my head down and kept running. The wind picked up and the rain lashed us but it felt comfortable and familiar. No different to the winter runs I’ve be doing for years in Wales.

The descent to Snake Pass follows a long trail of slabs that protect the delicate peaty soils from erosion. I’ve not run on slabs before as they are not much used in Wales. I quickly discovered they demand concentration – they are uneven, sometimes broken or missing; it would be all too easy to step on an edge and roll an ankle. I suspected that I’d be seeing plenty more of these slabs on my northward journey.

We quickly crossed Snake Pass and continued running over Bleaklow. At intervals fellrunners taking part in a local fell race called “The Trigger” passed us in the opposite direction. They were moving more quickly and were more lightly dressed than us “Spiners”. All called out encouragement as the wind and rain continued to buffet.

A long descent dropped us down to Torside and I was delighted to see former neighbours Mair and Malcolm Barrett. They had told me they would come and cheer me on but I had not expected it. It gave me a real lift! After the briefest chat and refilling water bottles I waved goodbye and headed for the climb to Laddow Rocks and Black Hill. By this time I had been running almost continually for 3 hours 45 so decided to take the climb easy while taking on-board plenty of food from my bumbag. This proved quite a climb, steeper and longer than I had anticipated and I felt the first signs of tiredness creeping into my legs. Telling myself off for starting too quickly, I continued disciplining myself to a steady pace. Perhaps 3 or 4 runners passed me on this rather long drawn out ascent. Once the top of Black Hill was reached I started running again. After the A635 and there was a fairly easy section alongside the Wessenden Reservoirs. I had already decided that I would avoid grouping with other runners so I could focus on my own race. Although I was not to know it, this was to become a pattern for most of my Spine Race.

We crossed the A62 and Standedge. I had expected the rain and wind to ease but both were getting worse. Despite this I was hugely enjoying myself and making what I felt to be great progress. I was using my GPS handset (a Garmin 62s) to navigate. It is brilliant and very easy to use. Before the Spine Race I was a dye-in-the-wool map reader and stridently anti-GPS. I’m now a convert. Yet I was surprised that many other runners were carrying GPS handsets but choosing not to use them. Some told me they were “saving batteries” while others said they would “switch it on only when needed at night”. Some were using a watch instead. I sensed (probably incorrectly) that some seemed happy to follow others. This contributed to my decision to run on my own. Every time I approached a junction,signpost or feature I consulted my GPS and so made no errors and wasted little time. Navigation is something I’ve always enjoyed and do automatically. I feel more comfortable knowing exactly where I am.

Some distance ahead in the mist and cloud I saw an obelisk. I was euphoric – Stoodley Pike already? But it soon become apparent that it was the large mast standing close to the M62 crossing. It may seem odd but crossing the M62 motorway footbridge was, for me, one of the standout highlights of my Spine Race. I have driven beneath it so often and always look up for Pennine Way walkers with the thought “one day, I’ll do that”. And here I was! A further bonus was that it was still daylight. Nearly all the blogs I had read, described crossing the M62 in darkness. I was going well!

The wind continued building as I climbed over Blackstone Edge and with darkness falling it was headtorch on. I was very grateful for the roadside checkpoint provided by Oldham Mountain Rescue and I asked for a mug of hot Bovril. There were lots of encouraging words before I headed off again into the night. The next section proved frustrating; 6km of flat, well-graded reservoir track – the sort of section I’d expect to make good pace on. But it was simply too windy. After some early attempts at running I resigned myself to walking to save energy. At some point I must have stopped to put on my goggles fearing the powerful cross wind could damage my eyes.

By the time I reached Stoodley Pike the wind was so powerful it was very difficult to make progress. I gratefully took shelter in one of the recesses of the monument, ate a Babybel cheese and Pepperami before setting off on the long easy run down to Hebden Bridge.

It was on this descent that I caught up with racer Alex Copping 132. Alex was still getting to grips with a GPS handset that he borrowed from a friend and that was not optimised correctly. As I knew the way, Alex seemed keen to join me and I was happy to have him along. Having, so far in the race, kept myself to myself  I enjoyed Alex’s company. Not long after we passed a competitor who had stood on a long piece of barbed wire and was pulling it out of his foot. Ouch! We then passed a second competitor who was bent over double vomiting. I checked both were OK. While neither were happy they both urged me to continue. I’m not sure how their races progressed but I reported the potential problem to the next marshal I met.

We reached checkpoint 1 at Hebden Hey Scout Centre (47 miles) in about 13 hours. Both Alex and I planned a fairly quick transition through checkpoint 1 (47 miles) without sleeping. My clothing was very wet so I completely changed (I may have taken a quick shower) and had something to eat. I then repacked my race vest for the next session. I anticipated bivvying on the next stage so packed my Goretex bivvy bag which I then carried all the way to the finish. My feet were doing great and I felt ready for the next leg. I put on my middle-weight waterproof jacket as we were warned of even stronger winds, rain and possibly snow at higher levels. This first checkpoint was chaotic and many who came in at similar time to me had decided to try and grab some sleep. Competitors who had done the Spine Race in previous years  were reporting times of 2 hours longer this time around due to the fierce wind we had faced. It was as I was leaving that I learned from checkpoint staff that my tracker was misbehaving but I didn’t think much about it.

Alex and I exited the checkpoint together after about 90 minutes and continued into the night. Alex said he would be walking but I noticed that when I ran the flats and downhills he did too. I was impressed with Alex’s fast walking pace. In fact I was impressed with just about everyone’s fast walking pace. I have to work really hard to walk fast and usually prefer an easy jog. For me to maintain my position in the race I would need to run. But that was OK – I wanted to run!

Alex and I made good progress. In darkness we passed Top Withins bothy – the inspirational setting for Emily Bronte’s Wuthering Heights – and I had a quick look inside. The benches was occupied by two sleeping Spine racers who scowled at the intrusion! It had been my thought to sing out loud Kate Bush’s hit of the same name (I had it cued up on my phone) but it would have not been appreciated by the occupants so Alex and I pressed on.

I don’t remember when morning arrived as we pushed on passed Ponden and Cowling. I continued to navigate and Alex seemed pleased to not to have to rely solely on his more basic GPS unit. There was an excellent refreshment point at Lothersdale provided by a local triathlon club.

Alex and I pushed on over Pinhaw Beacon and Thornton-in-Craven. Somewhere around here I felt some discomfort in my left foot. I decide to stop and sort it so urged Alex to go on as he was moving well and I wanted to take my time. From this point on, I saw Alex at the next few checkpoints. He later told me that he had solved the problem with his GPS and went on to run a very fine race. Well done, Alex!

I removed a large quantity of coarse grit from my shoe and washed all the rest of the gunk out in a handily placed stream, then continued on my way. The weather was pleasant on this stretch. At Gargrave I called in at the Co-op and bought a milk-shake, a doughnut, a coffee and a can of Pepsi. Yum! I had walked the next section of the Pennine Way with my wife Sharon during the summer so it was good to be on familiar ground. At some point the batteries on my GPS failed and I realised I had made an error at checkpoint 1 and re-packed already old batteries instead on new ones. This would mean relying on map and compass which I did for the next few miles Fortunately, at Malham, one of the cafes was open and I managed to buy new AA batteries and powered up my GPS once again. The sun came out briefly and Malham village was bustling with visitors.

In the centre of the village I once again bumped into Malcolm and Mair. They seemed to be enjoying tracking my progress and had decided on a day to Malham. It was great to see them. Thank you both for your support!

I quickly climbed up and over Malham Cove while stopping on a couple of occasions to answer questions from members of the public about the Spine Race. Some seemed impressed; others thought us crazy! I skirted the tricky limestone pavement and enjoyed the dry valley section beyond. It wasn’t too long before I reached the easy path around Malham Tarn. By now tiredness was setting in and I was finding it hard to keep running. My target was the halfway checkpoint (CP1.5) at Malham Tarn Field Study Centre where I stopped to get some boiling water to re-hydrate one of my meals-in-a-bag. In the 30 minutes racers are allowed to spend here I enjoyed a brief conversation with John Bamber – one of the characters of the Spine Race – before walking a short distance on to a bird hide where I planned to grab a quick sleep. I was delighted to find it empty and quickly got out my bivvy bag, camping mat and sleeping bag. I put my muddy feet in a black bin bag to avoid having to take my trainers off. Just as I was settling down the door opened and two lady tweeters came into the bird hide. I wasn’t sure what to say so decided to say nothing and pretend to be asleep. They got the hint and quickly left! I instantly fell asleep until my alarm went off exactly one hour later. Fab! I jumped up eager to get going again and just as I was leaving another racer came into the bird hide planning on getting a little sleep.

As I left the bird hide I put on my headtorch. I’d lost an hour of daylight and it was now dark but I felt energised and ready to tackle the next section which I knew would be a toughie.

The route climbs to Fountains Fell and I once again felt it necessary to wear goggles because of the powerful wind. The top seemed to arrive quickly and I began the descent. The path is quite technical and I enjoyed running down. At some point I passed a runner who was moving slowly and seemed to be having trouble seeing. After my bird-hide sleep I felt light-footed and ran this dark and misty section at high-speed. In hindsight I should have set a more gentle pace but I was loving it too much to hold back. A short section of road was run at a more easy pace until I started the climb up to one of the iconic peaks of the Pennine Way, Pen-y-ghent – just the sort of name to make Phil England From Wales feel at home!

The wind was now blowing incredibly hard and progress was difficult. Towards the top there is rocky scramble which demanded care because of the wet polished rock and the gusting wind. Finally reaching the top I immediately set-off down with the hope of dropping out of the wind. Spine Safety Team members were keeping a close eye on racers on Pen-y-ghent and it was reassuring to pass one of the safety team just below the summit. Where the ground was not too steep I continued running down on the very wide track to the village of Horton in Ribblesdale. I decided to stop in the cafe which the owners were keeping open 24 hours to support Spine racers. A bowl of hot broth was purchased and quickly dispatched.

Whilst tucking in I was joined by Spine staff monitoring the event and told that my tracker (which had already been replaced once) was continuing to play up. I hadn’t given this a great deal of thought until this point but it suddenly occurred to me that my wife, Sharon, would not be able to accurately see my progress. I also saw that I was not getting accurate (or indeed any) split times for my progress in the race. My tracker was replaced again, and while sitting in the warmth of the cafe, I could see on the laptop used by safety staff that my tracker was indicating me “asleep” and not not moving at Horton Scar on the slopes of Pen-y-ghent. It must be a very tricky job to monitor competitors if trackers were being unreliable. Safety staff were ready to go out to racers who either pressed their SOS button or who were moving in a pattern (or not moving) that gave them concern. I momentarily got a bit pissed off with the continual faff and time-wasting my tracker changes were taking but then reminded myself that I was capable of looking after myself while also hoping this third tracker would work! I decided to send am SMS to my wife, Sharon, to update her on my progress and to vent my spleen about the tracker issue!

I set off into the night for the infamous (amongst Spiners) 14 mile section of the Pennine Way called the Cam Road that leads from Horton in Ribblesdale to Hawes. This proved a very long and tough section. The wind and rain continued to hit hard while darkness and all-enveloping mist obscured any sense of where I was. On the positive side the climb is very gradual but it goes on and on and on climbing to almost 2,000ft at the high point. Finally after some hours I reached Ten End and diverted off the Cam Road to take the descent over well-named Rottonstone Hill. I’m sure on a nice day and daylight this is fine country. For me this descent was very trying. It was wet, slippery and tricky to follow. My main disappointment arose from it looking so simple on the map – I had anticipated a quick and easy jog down to Hawes. No chance! This was concentration and hardwork the whole way. The Pennine Way takes a fairly cunning route through the villages of Gayle and Hawes and I must admit to being tempted to take a shortcut to the checkpoint but I resisted the temptation and followed the Pennine Way through a series of ridiculously narrow rock stiles until finally I could join the road and walk through Hawes centre to the checkpoint at Hawes Youth Hostel.

It was 03:42 on Tuesday and apart from the 1 hour sleep in the Bird Hide I’d been on the move for almost 44 hours. It was time for a sleep. I changed, ate and tried to put as much gear in the drying room as possible. I now had very large amounts of soaking wet kit. I was allocated a bedroom and climbed into a vacant top bunk. It felt sooooo comfortable and fortunately I fell immediately to sleep until my alarm sounded 3 hours later. I got up feeling surprisingly good, went to eat and packed ready to get on my way. Packing at checkpoint demands focus and care. This would be my only chance until the next checkpoint  to ensure I packed whatever I might need for the next 24 hours +. And of course it had to be as light and small as possbile to fit into my 22 litre race vest.

The following day was  my best day on the Pennine Way and the Montane Spine Race. I covered it all on my own with rarely a sight of anther competitor. It was just getting light as I left the checkpoint. I climbed over the rather magnificent Great Shunner Fell and enjoyed a slow and steady run down to Thwaite. The gentle descent was perfect despite my tiring legs.

A tough rocky path connects the villages of Thwaite and Keld. The weather was good and the Yorkshire Dales landscapes were simply gorgeous. I’d read on the Spine Facebook Group about the Keld Winter Team Rooms so elected to take a small diversion into Keld. This was one of the best decisions I made all week. The village hall was set up as a 24-hour help-yourself trust cafe. Totally fab! It was good to chat to other cafe users too. Back on the Pennine Way the route to Tan Hill Inn was a sheer pleasure. For the first time on the Pennine Way the wind had shifted direction and was blowing from behind. I felt super-powered and ran most of the good gentle uphill leading to the famous hostelry – the highest public house in Britain. It was a boost that I overtook 3 or 4 other racers on this section. In hindsight I would have been wiser taking this at a steadier pace. At Tan Hill Inn I chatted briefly with the landlord who was really welcoming and happy for Spiners to use the bar. It was too early to be serving food but they had some delicious tomato soup which I gulped down with relish. A veteran of previous Spine Races, a chap called Gary Chapman 122, was already in residence having arrived just before I had. Gary warned me about the next section saying it was one of the worst on the Pennine Way. In high spirits that lasted all day, I was undeterred and positively bounded out of the pub to go and do battle with the bogs of Sleightholme Moor. Before long it was headtorch on to enter my third night on the Pennine Way. This whole next section from Tan Hill Inn to Middleton in Teesdale is perhaps unremarkable. This is unfrequented country and the path was at time almost indiscernible. I don’t have clear memories except that I was loving the solitude and isolation of being on my own at night. I was happy with how I was going and simply got on with a job that needed doing. It was with some relief however that I finally saw the lights of Middleton in Teesdale in the valley below. I remember being delighted to arrive at 11.30pm. I had time to eat, have a decent sleep and be back out on the trail before dawn.

Although I was not to know it at the time, my time as a Spine racer effectively ended at Middleton in Teesdale. I arrived in great spirits and decent shape having completed 140 miles. But from here it was going to get tough and become a fairly desperate fight to finish.

I have no idea why I couldn’t sleep. I set an alarm for 4 hours but just lay there. The dormitory was perhaps a bit noisy; there was a crinkly plastic sheet on my mattress and no pillow. Surely I could sleep? After an hour and a half of trying I gave up, got up, had breakfast and prepared to leave. My mindset was that it would be better to move on – perhaps I could even gain some race places!

I set off in darkness. It may have been about 4.00am. It was cold and with Cross Fell coming later in this stretch I was dressed in my heaviest weight outer shell plus mittens. It didn’t take long before I  have realised that pushing on was a big mistake. The next section is an easy one. The Pennine Way follows the River Tees to Low Force, High Force and Cauldron Snout. But I was struggling to get any sort of pace going. My eyes felt really heavy; it all seemed like desperately hard work. At some point dawn must have arrived but I barely remember. High Force was impressive but it failed to register. At one point I found myself amongst rocks and juniper bushes and spotted several good places for a bivvy. But I failed to take the decision to stop and sleep. Perhaps because it was morning, perhaps because I was still in race mode, perhaps because I was telling myself to “man-up”. Whatever my reason, I staggered on not enjoying myself and fighting off sleep. As I approached Falcon Clints, I was met by some Safety Team members. I vaguely recognised some faces but I’m afraid I was too sleepy to really take it in.

They advised me to take care over the rocky section coming up. At some point along the next part of the trail, I must have just lent against a grassy bank and fallen asleep half-sitting, half-standing. I awoke when the safety guys arrived escorting another small group of racers across the rocks. I jumped up and asked how long I’d been asleep and was told about 15 minutes. I shook myself back into life and tried to get going.

The scramble over the rocks and then up the side of the impressive Cauldron Snout took a lot of concentration as the rocks were wet and slippery. I’m usually good on rock but my balance was all over the place. A misplaced sense of pride meant that I tried to disguise this and keep up with the safety guys. It would have been very easy to slip and sustain a nasty leg injury. Finally I reached the top of the falls. I should of enjoyed this section but I just felt beat-up.

On the positive side the weather was looking better though still cold. I continued along the easy but long route following Maize Beck heading towards High Cup. But it was awful. Nothing I tried could keep my eyes from closing. Then I remembered I had headphones and I put them in played a playlist of high energy 180 cadence songs. This worked for perhaps an hour before my eyes once again started dropping. Fortunately, not long after I arrived at High Cup. And it looked simply stunning.

The sun came out for a moment and a photographer snapped me moving along the edge of this wonderful valley. The scenery here is very stirring and I roused myself to run to Dufton which I managed though becoming aware of increasing pain in the tendons running up the front of my shins and behind my knees.

I reached the pretty village of Dufton and immediately headed to the Dufton Post Box Pantry where I had a magnificent Spine breakfast – full fry up and delicious it was too. I had been warned that bad weather was coming and Cross Fell still awaited me but I simply couldn’t hurry myself to leave. But leave I eventually did and then had a frustrating time walking round the village trying to find the halfway checkpoint where I was not certain I needed to report in or not. The signage was probably clear but I walked round in circles a few times before eventually finding the “hidden” door in the back of the Town Hall. The long ascent from Dufton to Green Fell seemed to take forever. I knew I was not moving quickly but what else could I do? There is a fine cairn (called Knock Old Man) near the top and I sat down in the final rays of sunlight. Looking across the Vale of Eden to the peaks of the Lake District I couldn’t help but notice a band of dark cloud and what looked distinctly like snow heading straight for me. Yikes! Time to get moving. Within minutes it was dark, and it was snowing. I put on my headtorch and goggles and ploughed on. Some Safety Team Staff were in a vehicle on the access track to the Great Dun Fell transmitters. They shone a light and for a moment I feared they might be there to pull us off the mountain. But no, after checking I was happy, they sent me on my way. The next part of the climb simply went on for ever. A path if it exists was impossible to follow because of the snow so I walked using my GPS keeping my dot on the line. I normally enjoy this type of  winter navigation but I was not enjoying this. At least the concentration required meant that the sleep monsters were giving me a break. I reached the summit shelter (the highest point on the Pennine Way) and was amazed to see a figure hunkered down. he told me his name was Javed (I think), asked me if I was OK and then gave me some instructions for the next stage. I confirmed I was OK and continued on. It was reassuring to know we were being watched carefully as conditions that evening on Cross Fell were hostile. Maintaining my NW line and still with little sign of any path I continued until I reached a whole bunch of cairns and shelters. Here I joined a more clearly discernible track that I knew would take me to Greg’s Hut and shelter.

There were maybe 4 others in Greg’s Hut when I arrived. One was Paul Shorrock and others, I think, were medic and safety staff. The hut was warm – a log burner was chucking out the heat – and it felt really welcoming. I was offered the legendary Greg’s Hut Noodles and asked if I wanted chillies adding. The chillies are grown by John Bamber and I felt I needed the full Spine experience so rashly acceded. And delicious they were too! They didn’t seem burningly spicy as I ate them however for the rest of my Spine Race my mouth and upper dietary tract felt burned. I’m guessing this was probably due to the chillies? Or maybe I just need to stick to Korma?

Dragging myself away was hard but I was keen to get to Alston and the next checkpoint. I naively assumed  it would be a simple run down to the village of Garigill but in fact the high level track traverses the slopes of Cross Fell for many kilometres without loss of much height. Unable to properly run, this stretch seemed to take forever. Eventually, all bad things comes to an end and I dropped wearily into the village of Garigill. It was, I suppose about 9.00pm. Almost at the first house encountered I was greeted by a friendly Garigillian called Annie. Annie urged me to come into her house and had laid tempting snacks on her kitchen table. Annie showed me how she could see from her kitchen window the lights of Spine runners descending the mountain. She been on Spine duty for the last three years and was determined to help as many runners as she could,  She was ready to stay on post all night. What a brilliant person you are Annie – thank you. I asked Annie how far it was to Alston. She told me 4 miles (which is correct) and that she could walk it in 40 minutes (which I hoped was correct!). Sadly in my condition and being able to only shuffle-run, it took almost 2 hours. But get to Alston I eventually did.

It should have been a good day but in my sleep-deprived state it had been hard hard hard. My lower legs were in pain with all the tendons up my shins and behind my knees being particularly sore – I’d never felt such pain before in these tendons. The calf and knee I’d worried about pre-race felt OK, but this was all new pain.

At that moment I knew my continuation in the Montane Spine Race hung in the balance. I decided my priority had to be on just finishing and rationing sleep at Alston would be stupid. I didn’t set an alarm and this time I had no trouble dropping off to sleep immediately. I think I slept for 5 hours before waking and slowly got up and started going through the process of eating, packing and getting ready to leave. I was in no rush and waited to see a medic who taped my painful legs to see if it would help. I even managed to not stress about the fact that it was now daylight and I was losing daylight hours on the trail.

On leaving Alston it took me perhaps an hour of walking before I started to loosen up. I was now reliant on painkillers to control the pain in my lower legs and was taking a combo of paracetamol and ibuprofen. The medics had warned me of the dangers of ibuprofen on ultras but I needed it and made sure I was drinking and eating lots. I’d read that many blog writers considered this next stage was one of their least favourite stretches of the Pennine Way. Luckily for me the ground was frozen so some squelchy farmland was crossed without too much problem, and there were views to be had. I thought it all very peaceful and beautiful. Entering the village of Slaggyford (a nice place!) I was greeted by a cry of “Welcome to Northumberland!”. Northumberland – now that is proper north, I thought to myself.

The caller was a young woman holding out a cup of coffee. In her garden I met also with her partner who was getting ready for a run with their dogs (Border Collies, I seem to recall). I sensed that they were both keen runners, and they confirmed. I chose a sausage roll from a selection of snacks offered – delicious!). The couple had bought the house three years earlier not realising it lay right on the Pennine Way. Sorry, I don’t remember your names but you were full of positivity and encouragement. It also turned out that both were members of my former running club, North Shields Polytechnic and knew the running track on Churchill Playing Fields in Whitley Bay where I completed so many track sessions in my younger days.

Not long after leaving Slaggyford, on Lambley Common I noticed a person in the distance with a dog walking back along the Pennine Way toward me. It was my wife, Sharon, with our lurcher, Roxy. Yay!

I knew Sharon was tracking me and had driven north from our home in South Wales to support me over the final stages or collect me if I was unable to go further. After a quick hug and chat I picked up energy and actually started to run again. Waving goodbye I headed off toward Greenhead with a new spring in my step. This spring was more in my imagination though than to any onlooker who just would have seen an old geezer shuffling along at no great speed!

Some of the moors in this next section including Blenkinsopp Common, were the wettest of my Pennine Way but my Sealskinz socks were doing a great job and I had no problem with blisters or trench foot throughout the Montane Spine Race. And the Roman Wall now beckoned.

It was a shame it was getting dark. Not long after starting along Hadrian’s Wall, I arrived at a car park where there were picnic tables under a verandah. There were also public toilets open where I could refill my water bottles. There were already two or three Spiners around the picnic tables with their stoves hot heating water. I immediately joined them and got my stove fired into life. The Spiners were Gary Chapman 122 and James Hargan 154 plus a kind person offering chocolate biscuits. Having rehydrated a meal-in-a-bag, I followed Gary’s advice and together we went to sit on the floor of the Ladies toilets. Three of us sat on the floor eating our food and it was nice and warm, and certainly more fragrant than the adjoining Gents. I think Andy Bristow 115 might also have arrived.

The four of us left pretty much together and once again I felt reinvigorated. Both James and Gary advised me not to run but I couldn’t help myself. These fellas had a fast walking pace and seemed to cover the miles very efficiently even though Gary was, I think, having problems with a knee. The next section of the wall is a switchback of short sharp hills. I tackled each climb steadily and the others would close on me then I would set off running and put some distance between us. Gary and James were right, of course. I should have focused on conserving energy but I was still hoping I could make up the time I had spent sleeping at Alston.

The miles went by and it was a lovely cold night. Not wanting a repeat of yesterday I thought I’d start looking for somewhere for a quick bivvy. I knew that once the Roman Wall is left the ground is boggy moorland. A suitable spot soon appeared. A milecastle just after Steel Rigg and before Crag Lough seemed perfect. Looking at the map now I think it must have been Milecastle 39 (also known as Castle Nick). Here’s a photo that I later found on the web.

The wall corner top-left offered perfect shelter and pliant sheep-trimmed frozen turf. Easy decision and I started getting myself sorted. Not long after Andy Bristow 115 arrived and was keen to join me. I sent an SMS to Spine HQ, as required if stopping to sleep, and set my alarm for one hour and fell immediately asleep. The next moment my alarm went off. Andy left just before me. I felt great and was positively flying after my short rest. After a few minutes I quickly passed another Spiner who was moving incredibly slowly. I think Andy later told me that this racer had told him that he had only slept for 1½ hours since leaving Edale 4 days before.

I quickly caught up with Andy and together we reached the turn off point. We now left Hadrian’s Wall headed north deeper into Northumberland. It was good to have company and Andy and I chatted as we went. Being sleepy-headed I can’t recall what we talked about but at one point, in the Haggyshaw Plantation, I consulted my GPS and saw we had missed a turn. Cursing we turned around and retraced our steps (perhaps 400m) back to a junction with a signpost we’d walked right past. This mistake annoyed me, it was the only navigational error I was to make all week.

Both Andy and I knew about Horneystead Farm, an isolated farm on a very isolated stretch of the Pennine Way. The owners were keen walkers and provide an outbuilding with armchairs, snacks and kettle for walkers seeking shelter. It seemed to take ages to reach Horneystead Farm but reach it we did and it felt an incredible oasis in the dark of that night. There was a pan of broth on a slow-cooker so I had a bowl – the saltiness and taste was delicious. After perhaps 20 minutes, it was with some reluctance we prepared to head-out. For most of this stretch of the Pennine Way I been dealing with the tendonitis in my shins and knees with Paracetemol. While this was fairly effective I was now noticing the growing intensity of pain as the painkillers wore off. It worried me that I might overdose on painkillers so I was careful to ensure that I didn’t exceed recommended levels but this meant having to walk with more pain.

On this next stretch I must have encouraged Andy to go on ahead. I had suddenly picked up a sharp pain in my aductor (upper inner thigh). This was worrying. The pain felt different from the more muted general pain in my lower legs. It was the sort of pain that made steep up and downhills very painful indeed. I instinctively knew this was an injury that could end my race very quickly. The only remedy was to try a walk with my left leg held in the lock position. While possible on the flat this proved most difficult on the climb over Shitlington Crags. But I knew I was now not far from Bellingham and checkpoint 5. It was pleasing to discover the checkpoint was this side of Bellingham in a sort of holiday village on the approaches to the town.

This would be an important stop for me. If the pain in my thigh continued after my rest here I would have to retire from the race. I had some food (maybe some rice pudding?) and immediately asked to see a medic and explained my predicament. I don’t remember the name of the medic but KT (elastic) taping was added to try and support the protesting thigh muscle. My legs were covered in tape! But I didn’t feel happy. My thigh felt weak so I asked the medic if he would wrap tape round and round my thigh to provide compression. This was done and it seemed to help. The sleeping area was a single room with a wooden floor. I inflated my sleeping mat and picked a place as far away from the door as possible. There were perhaps six other racers getting some sleep. I was desperately tired but I felt cold and struggled to fall asleep. It was only then that I noticed that an icy wind was blowing from beneath a huge curtain at the back of the hall and I was right in that draught. I got up, had a cup of tea, and then moved my sleeping bag and mat much closer to the door. Earplugs were put in and I fell asleep for perhaps 4 or 5 hours. On awaking I tested my leg and was pleased that I could no longer feel the sharp pain in my thigh. I took a moment to talk to the medics about painkillers and made sure I had the dosage I would need for the next stage. I was keen to take Ibuprofen as it always seems to help. The medic advised against but when I said I would take it she told me to keep well-hydrated and fed. No problem!

It was light now and while I realised that I was losing precious daylight hours I also realised that I had time in hand. The key for me was to leave the checkpoint in a state that gave me a chance of completing the last section – possibly the toughest of all sections. As my pace had slowed I had slipped behind the schedule I wanted and realised that I now faced the 27 miles over the Cheviot Hills in full darkness. But first I had the 24km to cover from checkpoint 5 at Bellingham to Byrness where a half-way checkpoint 5.5 offered 30 minutes of shelter.

I left the Bellingham late in the morning morning and made my way through the town centre. Next door to the Co-op was a lovely bakery and I bought a chicken and mushroom pie and packet of crisps. The next section I tackled at a very steady pace to ease my thigh into it. After loosening up I was delighted to find just the normal lower limb pain. My tightly bound thigh was behaving itself.

In all honesty I don’t remember much about the next section of Pennine Way. The weather was cold but fairly good and there were some views to be had. Huge, far-reaching views and big landscapes. The hours went by and I walked on. Perhaps I managed to jog/shuffle a few sections but it wouldn’t have been much. As I approached Redesdale Forest it was getting dark and it had started snowing. I hadn’t seen or spoken to anyone since leaving Bellingham. At this point I had a bit of a wobble. I was tired and hurting and I faced a big night to reach Byrness (still 5 miles distant) and then an entire Cheviot range to cross.

Slowing to the slowest walk possible I fished my phone out, broke my rule and switched it on. It exploded with notifications: SMS, Facebook, Messenger, Email and WhatsApp. I didn’t know where to start looking at all the messages of support and encouragement. It was a bit bewildering but totally brilliant. One new message caught my eye. It was from my mountain marathon partner, Tim Sparrow. It said “Switch your phone off – you’ve got a job to do!” I knew Tim was right so did as instructed. I was on the edge of the forest and a good track led in. If I could maintain a good pace I could be in Byrness in an hour and a half. I started to run; it felt good. I ran for 50 yards, hit sheet ice and was deposited unceremoniously on my backside. I got up and immediately fell over again. Hmmm, thanks for the advice, Tim! Laughing to myself I fished my traction aids (sort of mini-spikes) out of my backpack and fitted then to my trainers. Problem-solved. It was not much of a run but I maintained a sort of shuffle/jog most of the way to Byrness.

Just coming into Byrness I was delighted to once again meet Sharon and Roxy. They walked with me the short distance to the halfway checkpoint at Forest Lodge. It was great to hear news from the outside world and Sharon told me how she was updating my status and that I was receiving incredible support. This really lifted my spirit and it renewed my determination to see this done.

On entering the halfway checkpoint I found staff playing scrabble. They told me I could stay no longer than 30 minutes and then got on with their game. I was hoping to nap in a chair but rules are rules. I had a bowl of incredibly scrumptious savoury mince and mash produced I believe by the kind hosts of Forest Lodge. I asked whether a medic was available but was told “emergencies only” so I got my own tape out of my first aid kit and strapped both of my achilles. I was reminded about the 30 minute deadline and felt rather pushed out into the dark, cold night. Another racer arrived just as I was departing.

The final section from Byrness starts climbing straight up from the village through forest and then giant boulders. I realised that at this point in the race I was too tired to hope to complete this final stage (27 miles) without a sleep stop. There are two refuge huts in the hills. One at Lamb Hill about 7 or 8 miles on and the second on Auchope Cairn 12 miles further still. It seemed a reasonable goal to target the First Refuge Hut. I was pleased that I could still climb well. I’d kept my traction aids on and it was snowing lightly. Soon I was in thick cloud and, with it also being dark, visibility was probably no more that about 10 metres. As I climbed amongst impressive boulders I spotted one huge rock with an inviting cavity beneath. Known by climbers as a “howff” this one looked perfect for one person to rest under shelter. I really should have stopped. I remember stopping and thinking deeply about it staring at this inviting hollow as my brain slowly turned over my options.

But I pressed on, in perhaps 2 hours I could be at the Lamb Hill Refuge with good company, medics, safety staff and shelter. Navigating carefully, I passed the impressive remains of Chew Green Roman Fort. But in the dark and murk I could see very little. There seemed to be many inter-crossing paths and tracks but I navigated carefully and stuck to my route. Behind me I saw the glow of lights from other Spiners. At one point I was almost caught by another racer but then their light disappeared and I was all alone again. Just for a change I switched off my headtorch. Because of the cloud but there was enough light to be able to move without any lighting.

At some point I started to worry. I’d been going fairly well, sticking exactly to the route, but had not found the refuge shelter. Was I moving that slowly? I had only looked at my map once or twice on the entire Spine Race so had stored them in a harder-to-reach pocket. But now I needed to see a bigger picture than that displayed on my tiny GPS window. The hut was clearly marked on my map but crucially was not on the mapping provided on my GPS. I knew straight away that I had missed the hut. My map indicated that the hut was sited on the approach to Lamb Hill but I was now on the far side of Lamb Hill and ascending Beefstand Hill. How had I missed it? I had walked right past it without seeing it. Why was the refuge hut not displaying a light to guide arrivals in? Of course it was entirely my mistake but in my disappointment I wanted someone else to blame!

I now had a choice. I could backtrack one kilometre to reach the hut where I could cook some hot food and get some sleep. Or I could push on. I hated the thought of either. At that moment a light came out of the dark and another racer, Michael Burke 119, joined me. It seemed that Michael had also missed the hut. But unlike me, Michael had made up his mind to push on. For the first time in the Spine Race I knew I needed help and although I didn’t say anything I really hoped that by trying to keep pace with Michael I could wake myself up and push on to reach Refuge 2.

We spoke a little but Michael was moving at a very good pace and it was all I could do to stick with him. Good progress was made and I noticed on my GPS that we had reached the top of Windy Gyle at just over 2,000ft and, for one short section, we cut the Pennine Way cuts a corner of the border fence and visits Scotland. From here it was only 6km further to The Cheviot and the vital turn in the Pennine Way. My hope was that I could maintain my pace by sticking with Michael. But unfortunately at that moment my aductor injury suddenly sprang back into pain and I knew I would have to slow down. Michael was moving very well and within 30 seconds his light had disappeared into the gloom.

The next 6km I will never forget. It was simply awful. I was unable to move more than a few yards before my eyes would close. Nothing I tried could fight the overwhelming weariness. Eating, singing, shouting, hitting, slapping – nothing worked. The pain in my thigh and lower legs was intense and I couldn’t remember when and what painkillers I had last taken. Being deeply worried of taking too many pills I tried to push on without taking more. The mild hallucinations (faces in the snow etc.) that I been seeing at regular interval over that last two days now became extravagantly wild and technicolour. Faces, houses, villages, herds of galloping horses reeled around me. Lights shone, shadows loomed. At several points I had meaningless conversations with people which a second later would revert to being fence posts, boulders or clumps of heather. Any sense of time was lost. If I looked at my watch it made no sense. I knew it was night, I knew I was alone in the hills and I knew I had to keep moving. But I couldn’t find a way to force myself to do it. I counted posts of the border fence but would never reach “ten” before I slumped to a stop held up by my poles. Looking back on this episode I am hugely thankful that the weather was more harsh. It was very cold. All my water bottles had frozen sometime before, but the wind was light. I don’t remember ever feeling cold. But something told me this was not a place I could afford to stop.

I have no idea how long the final kilometre took me but at some point I looked up and saw that sunrise would soon be here. I determined to restart my ten posts at a time ascent, then ten more, another ten, surely not many left now? And then I saw it and knew that my personal nightmare was over. The border fence changed from east to north. From this point it was a downhill 2km to the second refuge hut.

Dawn arrived and I stood at that turning post on the side of Cheviot for maybe 10 minutes looking around me. Just for a moment the cloud cleared. I was in sunshine. The sky was blue and the surrounding hills shone and sparkled. I looked to where I knew below me was the second refuge and I saw a beautiful castle and a summer fete in full swing. I saw people waving and dancing. There may even have been an elephant or two. I had fallen asleep on my feet and when I forced my eyes open all these wonderful things very slowly turned grey and dark. The cloud swept back in and I was looking down a dark frozen mountain side with rocks, peat-hags and a fence.

But from this moment any doubts in my mind that I would finish were gone and the waves of weariness passed. The pain in my thigh was however stabbingly sharp. From the top of Auchope Cairn the cloud began to break up and the morning became established. A long slope dropped away steeply passed Hen Hole and to a distant shape that I fancied was the refuge hut. This descent was going to hurt!

About halfway down the slope steepened and I simple could not continue holding my left leg locked. I thought for a moment about crawling and would have given it a go but first thought I’d try going sideways. This was just as bad as forwards. Then I tried backwards. By leaning heavily forward on my poles I could look backwards through my legs and move each leg in turn. With a bit of refinement and practice I found I could do this at a slow but acceptable speed. I was very happy that nobody was around to see my floundering and down I went. At some point I noticed a solitary figure coming up towards me and there was the refuge hut. The slope had relented so I resumed forward motion and went down to meet them. It was one of the refuge staff. “How you doing?” he said. “Oh fine!” I replied. “Isn’t it a beautiful morning!”

I fancied a sleep in the refuge hut but the staff there had other ideas. Andy Bristow 115 had arrived three or so hours earlier very cold and tired and the staff had helped him warm up and get rest. Andy was now about to depart on his final leg. A checkpoint staff member said something along the lines of “Phil, you’re going well. We’d be really grateful if you could follow-on behind Andy…just make sure he is OK on this final bit”.

My answer should have been “No! I’m totally f****** ! Shift that kit off that bench I’m having some shut eye”. But I heard myself saying “Sure, no problem”. Without pause I was off in pursuit of Andy on the final stretch to Kirk Yetholm. Of course that was the last I saw of Andy until I got to the finish. Refreshed from a sleep he must have skipped down this last bit! For me on the ascent of the final significant hill – The Schill – the sleep monsters returned but were easier to deal with in daylight. The descent from The Schill required me to revisit my backward technique which I fancy I was now performing with some aplomb!

I heard voices above me, maybe 250 yards back, which seemed to be from a group of 3 or 4 Spine racers. That was it. Race hat back on. It was time to run! Like the Tin Man in the Wizard of Oz I forced myself to defend my place in the race. Approaching the village of Kirk Yetholm I could see the group behind me had perhaps fallen further back. Ha! I had shown them! Then I noticed one of the figures suddenly braking away from the group. He was running. I don’t know how I knew it was a man but somehow I sensed it was. But obviously a totally stupid man who wanted to make it a race to the finish after a non-stop week of racing. On the final descent to the Border Hotel and the finishing gantry I looked round and saw this figure gaining on me. I ran as best I could and I could hear shouting and clapping and then I was finished and Sharon was putting a medal around my neck and we hugged.

It soon become apparent that my chaser was not in fact a participant but someone who had, I think, walked a few kilometres up the Pennine Way and then decided to jog back. Thanks pal!

I’ve seen an interview I did a few moments after the obligatory touch of the wall of the Border Hotel. I don’t recognise the mellow somewhat spaced-out person speaking. He was saying something like “it was great to be out” and “what a beautiful morning” when really it had been horrific and awful and scary. But the sense of relief was immense and “polite me” had taken over.

The support from Sharon and a large number of friends and family in the aftermath was brilliant. I felt special. As if I had done something remarkable. I’d like to thank the Spine staff, volunteers and medics who give the event a real “family” feel. Anyone thinking of entering should know that this group of people will do all they possibly can within the rules of the event to help you fulfil your goal.

The intrinsic satisfaction gained from setting myself a goal, preparing for and finally completing the 2019 Montane Spine Race was very palpable. And as I write this a week later I’m still on a high.

I covered the 268 miles of the Pennine Way in 148 hours 28 minutes and 54 seconds which is 6 days and 4½ hours. There was a 7 day time limit on racers and those not staying ahead of this schedule were progressively withdrawn from the race. I averaged 44 miles per day finishing in 40th place. I dropped about 20 places in the final two days as my focus shifted from racing to surviving. Out of 127 racers who started, 53 retired leaving 74 to complete the route. The stand out performance on the 2019 Montane Spine Race was the incredible run of Jasmin Paris who won the race outright whilst eclipsing the course record by over 12 hours. Jasmin completed the course in an incredible 83 hours and 12 minutes. The first male and second athlete to finish was Eoin Keith of Ireland who completed in 98 hours and 18 minutes.

Here are my legs at the end of my race. They may not be beautiful but they did all I could ask of them. Time now to sleep, rest and think of the next adventure coming soon!