Ep 26 - Kev’s Northern Traverse Story

In this episode Kev tells the story of his 190 mile/300k run across England in the Northern Traverse Ultra race.  The poor thing sounds awful in this episode due to a very viscous bout of the most extreme man flu! For this and his monotone voice he apologises. Of course you still would not want to miss out on his amazing experience would you? So please take a listen. 

https://www.northerntraverse.com/

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Transcript

SPEAKER_01 0:13

I can say it. Next notion.

SPEAKER_00 0:33

Hello and welcome to episode 26 of the Aid Station Podcast. This is the Northern Traverse Special, and it documents my race across England that took place last week. Firstly, I've got to apologize for my voice, as you can probably hear. I'm currently suffering from the severest form of man flu known to man, all brought on by a heavily compromised immune system due to my heroic efforts on the Northern Traverse. I am sure you can understand just how vicious this virus is as I'm suffering so badly. I've deliberately themed it this way. As such it is more of a narrative style than my normal podcasts. This is for two reasons. One it's a flipping long way with a lot to remember, and two has had enough of an effect on me that I wanted it to have some resonance. So here we go then. It's Thursday the 30th of March and I get the train from Fleet to Dronfield, Derbyshire. Breaking my journey to stay with Oliver Harrison and his lovely family. Hauling all my kit across London from Waterloo to St. Pancras Station. This is quite an effort given I've got about 15 kilos of kit to carry over three bags. I had a great fun being entertained by Ollie and his wife Lindsay, and they're thoroughly engaging children. Olly made a delicious veggie tray bake with couscous and baked salmon for dinner and had a great night's sleep. The next day we journeyed by train up to St B's from Dromfield via Sheffield. This train journey was all part of my commitment to being a green runner, and more of which you will hear later. While on the train, Olly was reading Damien Hall's Runners Eco Wake Up call book. We can't run away from this. Besides being a fastest known time tea drinker and generally rather okay ultrarunner, Damien Hall is founder of the Green Runners. Olli is the director of a business that helps companies make better use of their carbon offset policies and expenditure. So he has a lot of great thoughts on this subject, and we whiled away the time discussing these pressing issues, and of course, trail and ultrarunning in general. The train on the way up to St B's at one point had 14 little stops all along the way past Barrow and Sellafield, and eventually arriving in St. B's, and some of these stations even had um were request stop stations, and this really took us back in time, really, over the journey, and we eventually arrived in St B's and were left with a short walk to the mini Hogwarts that is St. B's Public School. This is where the uh Ourea events had got their HQ and the registration took place, which seemed quite low-key actually at the time. I think we arrived early and there weren't so many people there. And Ollie went off to set up his tent because he was sleeping the night in a tent, and I went down to my hotel down right on the coast overlooking the sea at St. B's. I came back up and during this time I met Stuart Smith, some really old faces from Aurea events, uh Steve Chamberlain, Mike Patrick. It was really good to catch up with all those people and see them there again. Steven, Mike, and Stuart, all on uh the event and helping out with the organisation of it. The evening meal took place by Aurea's catering team, and after I'd had that, it was off to bed at the Seacoat Hotel while Ollie headed off to his tent. Later in the morning he told me he was cold during the night and that made the right choice of staying in a hotel bed. I got a reasonable six hours sleep and was back up at the school for Aurea's breakfast at seven and then back down to the Seacoat Hotel for last minute packing and prep. In the last episode I said I'd list the support points and distances. Well I forgot, so here's a brief of what lay ahead. There are sixteen check points including the finish at Robin Hood's Bay, but these are purely for race route checking and are not manned aid points. There are only six points with food and drink, four of these have sleeping facilities and two have showers. Rothway, Patterdale and Shap in the Lake District, Kirkby Steven and Richmond in the Yorkshire Dales and Lordstones on the North Yorkshire Moor. I will give you the leg destinations and distances as I move across the country. A reminder of my game plan run to Kirkby Stephen, no sleep and then see what state I'm in. My targets were A sub seventy two hours, B target sub seventy eight hours, C target sub eighty-four hours, and D target just get it done. Olley was far more confident than me and obviously as a younger runner and fitter runner he had set a target of a rep somewhere between 58 hours and 72 hours. So this was I was really pleased to hear this and that he seemed to be going at least into uh top twenty country anyway. So with half an hour to start, it was down to the beach for Wainwright's tradition of pebble picking on the beach to find a pebbles to carry across from the Irish Sea in the west to the North Sea in the east on the other side of the country. Up at the starting pen, Fred Newton introduced himself to me as an aid station listener, and we had a nice chat and of course, as usual, he was a really nice guy, as everybody is that listens to this podcast The Start Leg one St B's to Rothwaite 47k or 30 miles. A bang on 8 30 on Saturday 1st of April the hooter sounded and off we went. A bit of a ragtag rabble really was such a long way to go, no one seemed to know how to pace it. I ran with Ollie for a mile or two, but could tell he was thinking that this pace was too slow for him, and we fist bumped each other, wished each other well and said our goodbyes. I knew I wouldn't see him again the whole of the race. Over the cliff top of St. Bed's Head and past the lighthouse down through the boggy fields heading out towards Enderdale Water and the gateway into the lake district. Somewhere around 10K a woman makes conversation with me by mentioning my green runner's badge that I had fixed onto my race pack. It was Kirsty Reed, who it turns out is the commissioning editor for Vertebrae Publishing. The publishers of the aforementioned We Can't Run Away From This that Ollie was reading on the train, written by Damien Hall. Ultrarunning, proving once again what a very small community it is. We discussed Vertebrae Publishing's adventure books and guides as well as Damo Hall's FKT book, In It for the Long Run, and Sabrina Vergie's book Where There's a Hill. Kirsty tells me of the difficulties of producing we can't run away from this as a low carbon as possible book sourcing everything locally including papers and inks. And we chatted specific races that we had done, including the Dragonsback race. It's okay to take me now, God, I'm truly in ultra heaven. At one point on a small road we came across a cape box. I picked it up, folded it and put it in my pack. Kirsty commented that this was a really good gesture, but you can't run around pretending to be a green runner just because you've got a badge printed by Dan Lawson attached to you. It turned out that the box was from Greg's. I thought that a runner would have to be pretty serious about their vegan sausage rolls to carry a box of them on the northern traverse. Anyway, I carried it with me until I could get rid of it at Lisabin at Enerdale Water. Running and Chatting Kirsty was a real treat and I followed her all the way along the broken rocky path alongside Enerdale Water. We had entered the gateway to the northern section of the lake district at Enerdale in three and a quarter hours. The scenery along the lake was wonderful. Then up past Enerdale Plantation where I came across a group of three lakes traverse runners who said they were aid station listeners. It's so good to get that feedback, it gave me a real lift. I reached the Black Cell hut and the real first climbing started. It's mild, overcast but great conditions for moving in the mountains. At this point the Roose route passes Haystacks and Fletwith Pike to the northwest and Grey Knots to the west. I immediately start to struggle with breathing difficulties of the type I had had on the Dragons Bat Race 2021. I'd been fighting off something throughout my taper period for this event and the elevation was finding it out. I decided to manage the situation well and take regular stops for recovery so as not to overtax my system. Halfway up I passed the lovely guy that is Ben Davis Thompson, who is on the lake's traverse. He duly passes me back, wishing me well. At around 600 meters elevation I reach the top and get treated to a fantastic view down to Butteredmere, which I take time to take in. Then it's over the top, down to Honister Pass, and in my mind the cafe there. When I reach the cafe at Honester I am met by Stuart Smith, who persuades me to keep going as it's only four miles downhill to Rothschwaite. This turns out to be a lovely solo run through Johnny's Wood to a youth hostel in Rothswaite. I run through and around Rothschwaite unable to locate the Rothschwaite support point. I was sure it was at the youth hostel. I continued on thinking it must be on the other side of the village. After two miles Kirsty came along behind me. I then realised I completely missed the support point. She suggested I call it into race control but there was no signal. I had rid Rothwaite at 340 PM, so covered the first forty seven Ks or thirty miles in seven hours and ten minutes. As I missed the support point, I stopped to ensure I got a decent amount of food and fluid inside me. In my head I was concerned about the repercussions of missing the support point, but balanced this against the fact that I had gained no distinct advantage as I had had no food, liquid or aid station assistance, and I'd covered the same distance or maybe a little more than everybody else. This leg starts with a lovely climb up the valley between Sergeant's Crag and Ulscarf. I waited until I'd climbed up high before I filled my water bottles from a fast flowing back, but worried about ingestion of some bug or other. Again I struggled with my breathing on this climb and was passed by about four or five other competitors. I'm still feeling a bit sorry for myself at this point due to my own stupidity and breathing. Just before reaching the A591 north of Grassmere, I see a couple out of their car. The woman is stood in the road doing a bit of a jig, and the guy is half in, half out of the car dancing some tunes from his car radio. I think well they're enjoying themselves, nutters. As I close they get more animated. I then realise who it is. It's Pete Riley and Sylvia Delgado Ortiz, two of my besties from the Dragonsback Race twenty one. They've come up to the lakes to run a fail race in the morning, gone out on another mountain loop in the afternoon, and then dot watched me to catch me at the road crossing. I'm so uplifted by this that we hug each other and pose for stupid photos. That was such a great thing for them to do. They told me after they'd seen four other competitors in either the lakes or the northern traverse within fifty minutes of each other. That's what's so special about Ultra Running Community always going out of the way to be supportive of each other. We say our goodbyes, I cross the main road, and as I have signal called race control, leaving a text message. I'm told to just get on with it and it will be sorted out later. Pressing on it's overcast past Seat Sandal and Grisdel Tarn, which is at one end of the Hellvellin range. Here as darkness fell I stopped with a Scottish couple and put on an extra layer and my head torch. They were travelling much faster than me and I was left alone in the gloom descending towards Patterdale. On the way down I came across another sixty five year old called Ray Pointer and taking a nasty fall onto his back and kidney area. He said he would make it to Patterdale okay and get himself checked out there. I looked back on a fairly regular basis to check his head torch could still be seen. He came into the Patterdale support point while I was in there. Unfortunately Ray only made it to Kirkby Stephen before having to drop out. He said to me at Patterdale that he did not want to do anything that was stopping running ultras earlier than necessary. A very sensible guy. This was my first support point stop and I was delighted to be met and walked in by one of the many amazing event volunteers. I was also greeted by Steve Chamberlain, who was controlling the drop bag transport and distribution for the first half of the race. I was offered a great selection of food from a menu and I selected leak and potato soup, a veggie burrito and chips, and it went down a treat. Silver, the main sponsor of the event, had a mobile barista coffee and cake van at Patterdale, so another lovely volunteer got me an oat milk cappuccino. Heaven. I arrived at one minute past ten at night. It had taken me 13 and a half hours to cover the forty five miles. My seventy two hour target schedule allowed for 14 hours plus a one and a half hour stop, so out of the support point by midnight. I also received my first batch of traverse mail. This is where dot watchers can send messages to competitors. It was uplifting to receive so much positive support and know so many were following my slow progress across the country. I was turned around in an hour and out on my way to Shap via the highest point on the course of Kig's Kidsy Pike by 11 PM, one hour up on my schedule. To be honest, this wasn't all I noticed. As she changed into her leggings stripping down to her bra and knickers, I think it's I think it's great that in this sport women feel totally free to do what they like when they need to and are totally uninhibited. They are competing on an even playing field and giving their male competitors a damn good run for their money. After running for a few miles she caught me up as we climbed steadily upwards. The terrain was remote and the mist and the cold came down. So we got chatting and her name was Debbie and she was originally from Stirling in Scotland but now lived in Bern, Switzerland, hence the unusual accent. It turned out she'd been an adventure racer competing at quite a high level in the past. She had completed the UTMB in twenty fifteen and is doing TDS at UTMB this year. It was great to be in such good company and we naffed our way together through the night passing Angletarn, up past the knot and finally over Kids Kidsy Pike at seven hundred and eighty metres. I have to say that I found the climb quite comfortable and we went over the top at 140 AM in the morning. We then had a nice descent with some runnable sections down to Haweswater. On the descent we were caught by a young chap called Lewis and the three of us ran up to Shap, which seemed to take forever. Shap is the least attractive area of the race route being well known as an M6 service stop. This coupled with the fact that there were no sleep intents at Shap had convinced me that the support point was at the services. Stupid. Why would all re events do that? How the mind is altered by sleep deprivation. Anyway, we arrived at Shap Memorial Hall as it got light at 6 twenty in the morning, nearly twenty two hours in. Total distance covered ninety six K or sixty miles. As we entered the support point, Debbie thanked me for staying with her all night. I've no idea why, as I was just as happy that she stayed with me and we were able to travel at the same speed. My seventy two hour target schedule said twenty one hours running and two hours rest at Shap, so to stay on schedule I'd have to turn around in one hour. To be honest at this point I wasn't too bothered and just did what I needed to do to ensure I stayed fuelled, warm and that my watch, phone and small backup chargers were charged four shap to Kirkby Stevens 32k or 20 miles. I turned around quicker than Lewis and Debbie and set off over the M6 and out of the Lake District section towards Kirby Stephen and the next opportunity to sleep in a tent. I was soon passed by Lewis but didn't see Debbie again. She made it to Kirkby Stephen but unfortunately she dropped out there. This was much more rolling, runnable terrain through low open moor and fields. At this point the sun started to take a firm hold on the sky and my body woke up again. I felt ready for a full sunlit day of running. To my surprise I cruised past Lewis. He looked a bit surprised himself. Said afterwards that he wondered what I was on. Sure enough, sometime later before Kirkby Stephen, Lewis caught me again, and we cruised along together, not talking much into the next support point at Kirkby Stephen Rugby Club, having covered a total of 128k or 80 miles. Arriving at 137 on Sunday afternoon, 29 hours into the race. My schedule said 28 hours travel time with a three hour scheduled rest. Lewis and I discussed the sleep situation. In my head, and for the rest of the race, this became the clash decision. Should I stay or should I go now? There's my singing, you're gonna hear more about that later. The next leg included the notorious nine standards rig and its subsequent pathless bogs and more difficult navigation. It was going to be another very cold night, and I didn't want to be traversing that high moorland bog in the dark. I decided yet again that I should not sleep. And press on. But I was going to make a two hour stop as I had to get a load of admin done, and as I wasn't sleeping, to take my time with refueling and recharging the other batteries. I also had my first real foot issues and decided for the first time to take my shoes off. I told Luis I was going to Pfaff and that if he was ready to go, then he should go. He got going in about an hour and I took another 30 minutes. I went to the rugby club showers, which took me back about 50 years. I only washed my feet, just not get the grounding peaty dirt off them. I had a couple of good sized toe blisters and some horrible looking maceration calluses on the inside of each foot. So I hadn't been able to get hold of my fixum old tape that I'd used on the Dragonsbat race, and the foot taping I used hadn't worked very well. I'm happy to deal with my feet and was just wanted a bit of advice on the friction burns that I'd got on the top of my tendons on the top of my feet, which had also contracted at the Dragonsbat race as well. I got some great advice and the attendance of two lovely medical women who cleaned and dressed the friction burns, taping it up with my own K tape. Luckily for me, as it would later turn out, Stuart Smith, mountain rescue leader extraordinaire, was in the rugby club. As I was choosing not to sleep, I took the opportunity to consult the mountain oracle on sleeping opportunities on the route if needed. He told me of the unlocked toilets at the Reese Bike Centre. They're about halfway to Richmond. Good, so at least I had a bailout plan, fresh socks, some old trainers, and off I went about thirty minutes after Lewis. Leg five, Kirkby Stephen to Richmond, fifty five K or thirty five miles. It was now around three PM Sunday afternoon and this was a long leg to Richmond. I speed trekked up the hill all the way to the nine standard rig under a wonderful blue sky and full sunshine. On top there are nine very unusual cairns over two meters high and about a metre across. Nobody seems to know who built them or why they are there, but they are enigmatic sights, so I stopped to take some photographs. While I was there I was passed by a guy who asked the usual ultra runner question, to which I replied just fine, thanks, and he shot off. There was a long section of laid flagstones that take you out onto the open moor and bogsville. The guy who passed me seemed to have got far away very quickly over the flagstones. However, once we hit the bog he seemed to struggle while I chased him down. I was moving very well and the legs felt really good. I was picking good lines and hitting firmer ground. I was helped by watching the guy in front struggling or having to change direction a lot, so I was able to avoid his choices that held him up. When I caught him I was able to see his name on the back of his pack. It was Carl. We spoke briefly about how hard the bog was to negotiate and I pressed on loving every minute of it. I started to get cold around 6 PM, so I stopped and put on an extra layer and leggings. Carl passed me again with nothing said between us. I then caught Carl again and we ran together being forced to talk due to a couple of nav errors. Carl was using OS maps on his phone while I just tried to stick to the GPX file on my watch. What I hadn't bargained for on this leg was for the steep climb of around 300 meters up through the Swinner Gill lead mines. The old mine workings are strange and a bit eerie, especially at dusk. Carl and I stopped at this point to layer up, eat some food, don head torches and take a leak. All done about ten meters apart, neither saying we were going to do it, just doing it like experience had taught us. Looking back it seems very strange, but we were probably both a bit out of it by now, but also I think we both had a focus and were secretly still racing. We set off up the steep climb and a head torch joined us. It was being worn by Lewis. No idea how he had passed him, but was happy that we were now three of us in what is a very weird landscape in the dark. Carl actually commented that it was better to have three views on the nav, and I thought that we were might just about have one functioning brain between the three of us. With a clear sky and almost full moon, the night became very cold and frosty. Combined with the northerly northwesterly wind of around fifteen to twenty miles an hour it was very cold up there with a lot of wind chill. Add in the sleep deprivation and lack of adequate fuelling, retaining body heat became very difficult. Lewis and I had a discussion about sleeping at the Wreath Bike Centre and this became our focus to keep moving. By the end of that section, we all just wanted to get off the Wreath High Moor. Descending into Wreath Lewis moved on and hit the road first. I faffed around needing a pee and then Carl made it to the road but stopped to put more layers on. I just wanted to get to the bike centre which is out the other side of Wreath and so I just pressed on. Once I found my way to the open toilet, Lewis was already flat out on the floor asleep. I texted race control with our numbers to tell them we were stopping to sleep. This is a safety precaution so that they're not worrying over long stationary dots. It was now one PM on Monday morning and I'd been going for forty and a half hours without sleep. Sleep what a joke. It was so cold and hard on the floor we both just tossed and turned waking each other up. One stationery could not stop shivering. Lewis got out another jacket and put it on. I realized that I also had a seven hundred and forty gram rab jacket in my bag. What a numpty. That's not what I said to myself, I have to say, but I'm trying to keep this clean. Why hadn't I put it on earlier? I put it on but it was too late to get warm. We sat up right leaning against the wall to minimize contact with the floor. I tucked my chin into my jacket so that I breathed warm air into it. We were there for two hours and got about twenty minutes sleep in that time. Eventually Lewis said shall we just get going? I said that was a bloody good idea. So at three fifteen AM we set off for Richmond, about sixteen miles away. Out on the road, Lewis asked me if I had a target. I'm a bit coy about it. He tells me he wants to do seventy two hours. So I tell him that's also my A target, but I've given up on it since the bike shop toilet episode. He's not giving up and he gives me a few estimates based on current travelling speed in kilometres per hour which I have no clue about. He also says that we can up the average pace as the train gets easier now. So we start run walking at a faster pace while on road sections and downhilling through the open farmland. We yo yo back and forth over the next three hours, arriving at Richmond through the cold, beautiful dawn at 647 AM. I've covered 183 kilometers or 113 miles in just under forty six and a half hours on 20 minutes sleep. My seventy-two hour target on the schedule is forty-one and a half hours with two and a half hours rest. So 44 hours all up. Now I am two and a half hours down on the schedule and have not had any rest. So as I had agreed with myself in Wreath, forget about the A target and move to the B target of sub 78 hours. Again I let Lewis go out ahead and ensure I have all my admins sorted properly. The sun is blazing on this bright cold morning and I decide to change into shorts and calf guards, change my socks but no other foot treatment. I've eaten well again and I'm having no issues with the veggie vegan menu Leg six Richmond to Lord Stones forty nine K or thirty miles This was another long leg, but it looked relatively flat with longer quiet road sections, at least for the first twenty miles until the climb up to Lord Stone's. I set off at about eight fifteen on Monday morning, having had an hour and a half in Richmond. I quickly got into my running on the flat, enjoying dodging through the trees in the woodland. The terrain then opened out as I followed along the edge of the river Swale, then out onto the flat open farmland. I was cranking it up to an amazing twelve minute miling. I was heading to a small village called Danby Whisk. This name had stuck in my head since watching the late John Kinniston's YouTube video of his 2018 crossing. He'd had a soft drink and a meal there and I was convinced that I was going to at least get a coffee. It wasn't to be. I arrived at Bang on midday but the pub was shut. I guess it just didn't open on Mondays. I pressed on in the sun, bowling along the roads going really well. I passed a guy who said I was going well and it gave me another lift. I was having a good spell and I should make hay literally while the sun shone. Eventually I made it to the escarpment and the terrain and landscape changed quite dramatically. The route climbed through forest on wide logging trails, and early on this climbing section I heard a set of poles clack clack clacking along behind me. I turned when they got close and it was Kirsty Reed again. We have gone full circle, she said, for me to be in front of her at this stage. She must have slept more than me. We ran walked while chatting for a while until I had to make a call of nature, the type induced by drinking unfiltered water from a beck, if you know what I mean. The next time I saw Kirsty was in the marquee that was the Lord Stone support point. The Orea volunteers were meeting and greeting runners out on the trail and walking him into the support point which was another nice touch. Again the loo was my first point of call. As soon as I arrived in the marquee, I got cold. It was a cold old place, Lord Stones, and the volunteers said it was very cold night up there the night before. I had now covered two hundred and thirty two kilometers or one hundred and forty four miles on twenty minutes sleep. A tent beckoned, but dusk was about an hour and away and it was very cold up there. Should I stay or should I go now? The clash decision once more appeared. The problem with me is that I always want to test my limits, and I saw this as the perfect test scenario. Ridiculous as it seems, I am normally always racing. I'm 144 miles and forty six hours in. Let's see what's possible. The problem was that this last leg is sixty seven K or forty two miles, and it's the longest. Anyway, having eaten well and put on everything I was carrying, I was not risking another freezing night like the night before. I headed out at seven forty five PM Leg 7 Lord Stones to Robin Hood's Bay sixty seven K or forty two miles. The target of the first section of this leg is the remote line in out on High Blakely Moor. First you head out to the rocky outcrop of the Wainstone. Out to my left in the distance are the twinkling lights of Middlesbrough, which I've never seen it so pretty. I leave my head torch off for as long as possible, and I'm soon caught by Sarah Kirsty Williams. We move along together for a while. Sarah has a few headlight issues and I stay with her until she has sorted them out. I follow Sarah up through the rocks in the wainstones. There is a very small gap in them near the top that opens out onto the other side of a vast open expanse of open moorland. It's like a gateway in Mordor. Up here the grasses and the heather are coated in a white frost, a full moon highlights the frost even more. The constellations are laid out perfectly distinguishable as if in a children's astronomy book. No other stars, just the plough, the great bear, Orion and a few others that I'm unable to name. A dark, black, smooth path running for miles through the white landscape leads the way. Sarah pulled away as I took in the scene. As it turned out, this was going to be the most wonderful spell of my race. It was so bright I turned my head torch off and I walked jogged for one and a half hours in the dark. I was completely alone. There were no other head torches in sight, just me and the vast landscape above my head and below my feet. This is where I had a genuine, full on runner's high. I was falling asleep on my feet all the time, but the path was so strangely smooth with no rocks to trip over. As I veered right or left while asleep, I would wake myself up. This must have happened over a hundred times in the long fourteen kilometre journey over this landscape. I was on such a high within myself but still needed to stay awake, so I just started singing to myself out loud. Now this is the only place that I should be allowed to sing out loud. I have the world's worst singing voice, but inhibition was not a problem up here. I started yes, you've guessed it, with should I stay or should I go now by the clash? And this just seemed to morph into making up nonsense lyrics that merged from one line to another song to another. Grouse often took offence at my wailing and squat back flying low over the white heather where they were easily seen in the darkness. This would have been a great time to have my mini recorder running, but I had given up on podcast recording long ago. I sucked mensholes sweets, thought of my friends and family and all those in dock watching land and sang them a song as well. The problem was that I was in such a sleep deprived state that I forgot that I had to turn off the track up to the Lion Inn. In the distance I could see a light dancing all over the place, and convinced myself that it was either a poacher or someone causing trouble. I then saw Sarah's light heading towards the manic light. I then got worried for her and decided I should head that way too to make sure she was okay. As I approached it turned out to be Steve Ashworth, the race photographer, who was up there filming night shots and had parked at the Lion Inn. He'd actually been trying to attract our attention to the direction we should be heading in. It was now one thirty in the morning. Sarah once again was long gone, and I set off for Damby High Moor and Glazedale, twelve kilometres away. All along this stretch I was in the same sleep deprived state, but now using the head torch as the trail was far more stony. I looked around fairly regularly and occasionally saw a head torch way off in the distance. Each time I looked it didn't seem to be closing in. Eventually after ages a voice said Oh it's you again it was Lewis. We jogged into Glazedale together, but I was desperate for some sleep. Lewis found the Arncliffe arms, and as it happened, a competitor was just getting up to off a bench that was tucked up in the porch entrance of the pub. It was going to be sleeping tag. Lewis sat on the pavement for a few minutes and then decided to set off. That was the last time I saw him. Incredibly the bench had a soft padded seat built into it. I didn't want to put my dirty shoes on the seat or take my shoes off, so I just sat upright leaning against my backpack. I sent a text to race control, which didn't go as there was no signal, and went out like a light. Exactly thirty minutes later I woke with a start. It was getting light, time to press on. The next section on a sunny, frosty morning was also beautiful. Once again I needed a sit down toilet stop, and as if by magic the horseshoe hotel appeared at Egton Bridge, where there was a toilet and water available around the clock. While there I was caught by Andrew Heady, who then set off at a much faster pace than I could muster. I continued on to Grossmont and its large station on the North Yorkshire Steam Railway, but nothing was open. It was too early for breakfast. The next village was Littlebeck, where you enter the most magical woods with a lovely winding river that has a number of small waterfalls and culminates in the larger falling Fost Falls. In the dappled sunlight this was a lovely section of running, but by now I am hungry and starting to feel like I'm close to a real energy depletion problem. Breakfast and coffee is much needed. Again the ultra gods look down on me and there's this amazing coffee and cake setup at the head of Falling Foss. I have a scon, butter, strawberry jam, an ice cake and an oatmeal cappuccino. Grab a bench in the sun and call my wife Jill. I don't care about racing at this point, I'm just living and lapping up life. After about 25 minutes of breakfast bliss, I head off again for the low moors on the way to Hawksur. Out on the moors I can see Whitby and its famous abbey very clearly highlighted in the sun. Again on the moor I'm overcome with the desire to lay down and just find a nice soft, wet, grassy mound to sleep on. I do this and lie on my side. The decision not to take proper sleep stops is now costing me a lot of time. I could easily have just gone to sleep for a couple of hours. I had no control over my tiredness. But there must be some innate racing instinct in me as I was up again in a few minutes. Just before Hawksker, my watch battery gave out a ten percent life warning, which could just as easily be plugged into my life's energy systems at this point. The battery only has about ten hour life these days. I have charged it with concise discipline throughout the race. I was not going to let it die now. I wanted that Strava route that crossed the whole of England in one, not in two segments. The problem was I had to take off my chest pack and my backpack to access the larger power pack. This took some faffing. While doing this I was passed by Anka Kutbach, a German woman. Well I wasn't having that, was I? Now I'm sure Anka didn't care less, and she seemed to be just bowling along enjoying a race, but I hunted her down like the super pro athlete that I really am, timing my passing manoeuvre on a downhill road section where I knew she couldn't stay with me. What a sad sod. Downhill through a caravan park and I hit the coastal path at Pur's Glove Stye and its right turn with about 4k to Robin Hood's Bay. The sea is deep blue, the cliffs are stories high, and it's one thirty in the afternoon. I've one hour to go if I want to achieve my B target of sub seventy eight hours. In my head it's all downhill of course it isn't. It's a cliff top coastal path that goes up and down like a yo yo. The path is clay mud baked hard, which is good for traction but hell for the soles of your hundred and eighty seven miles seventy seven hour feet. I have to say I pushed it home, but the real downhill doesn't kick in until you hit the road into Robin Hood's Bay. And does it kick in? 25 to 30% incline downhill. Now Robin Hood's Bay is a very touristy little town, especially on a lovely spring day just before Easter holidays. It was rammed. I was dodging tourists all the way down while not slowing. No one seemed to care, and strangely enough neither did my quads. I was on another runner's high. Soon enough there it was, the tiny slipway and Aurea events northern traverse flag at the bottom of the hill, and the end of my fantastic journey. I was presented with my medal and got bought a pint of Adnam's shipwreck, which I was filmed drinking. In my head I was gonna down it in one but thought that finishing with a vomit shot might not be the best, so I bailed. I posed for photographs and was asked how it was for me. That was when the tears came. I just thought about all my friends, family, dot watches, the children from free to be kids. There was a shot of me at the end with my arms out leaning on the promotional boards looking back. At that moment I was literally looking back down the whole course in my mind. Without doubt my best ultra race ever. I dug the deepest, ran the longest, rested the least, found out more about myself, and had the most profound racing experience. I finished in seventy seven hours, forty six minutes and four seconds. I came thirty third out of a hundred and two starters, almost top third, which is my highest ever ultra placing. Also it was a good job I pressed on, as Anchor wasn't taking it as easy as it looked to me that I thought she was. She only finished five and a half minutes behind me. Then just under ten minutes behind me came Carl Atten. Incredible as we had put first passed each other at Kirkby Stephen support point a hundred and seventy kilometres ago. As an aside, on the walk back up the hill, Carl told me that he had now completed six hundred Ultra races. Just incredible. At the race HQ I was very impressed with Shane Ole, slowly going round each of the finishers, chatting quietly to them in his understated style. I've a huge amount of respect for Shane and for the professionalism that he brings to our sport. Some race takeouts for me. Besides the wonderful English nature induced physical and mental deep self diving, heartwarming human elements, the facts are that tortoises using their shells to rust overtake sleep deprived hares. Rest and recovery are key factors of racing over this distance. Fifty minutes sleep in nearly seventy eight hours may appeal to my sadistic self discovery side, but it doesn't get the best results. Kirsty Reed, admittedly a faster runner, finished four and a quarter hours ahead of me and she had a lot more sleep. Sarah Kirsty Williams, who I would say is about the same pace as me, finished two and a half hours ahead of me on more sleep than me. Andrew Heaney, who passed me at Egton Bridge about 21k from the finish, took an hour and twenty minutes out of me in what is a half marathon. My estimated total stop time at support points, sleep stops, and the last morning coffee stop was about ten and a half hours out of the just under 78 hours covered. I also like to mention some finishing times of the competitors who I knew or just impress me. Oliver Harrison finished fourteenth overall in sixty two hours and sixteen minutes, which is incredible. Fred Newton was twenty-third in sixty-nine hours and forty-one minutes. Kirsty Reed was fourth woman in seventy-three hours and thirty-six minutes. Fumiaki Imamura was thirty-first in seventy-five hours and fifty-eight minutes. And Andrew Heaney took seventy-six hours and thirty-eight minutes. Of which I class myself, I am just absolutely gobsmacked by a guy called Glenn McGowan, who is 63 years old and it took 63 hours and 49 minutes, which is absolutely amazing. He's 14 hours quicker than me. I'd have no idea how that is possible, but he has done it. And I also have to mention the oldest competitor finish, Richard Beard, who at the age of 71 took 101 hours. And really, all those times just don't really matter. The main thing is to do that whole traverse from coast to coast. It's just an incredible, incredible achievement. So well done to everybody that got through the race. Anyway, after 11 hours sleep in Ourea's hired hostel in Robin Hood's Bay, I staggered back down the slipway to get a few final of me in my Free to Be Kids t-shirt. I must say a massive thank you to all who supported me by donating to the children's charity Free to Be Kids. Together, at the time of broadcasting this, we have raised£861, which is enough to fund the catering for whole week for 20 children, first time residential in an outdoor centre, getting in touch with nature, themselves, and each other. Bless you all for that. And so there in Robin Hood's Bay it ends. Only the physicality of the race, that is. In my mind, this event will stay with me for a very long time. I would like to leave you with a small quote that came to me on a post I left on the Aid Station community's Facebook page. Do everything, but never think that you've done it all.