Rock Run

In 1980 I was in HMS INVINCIBLE, completing my training as a Naval Officer by spending time (with about 5 other "Officers Under Training") in a proper ship, learning about day to day life in the Navy.  We went, as ships often did, to Gibraltar for a few days, my first trip there. While we were there, the ship, again as big ships often did, organised a Rock Run.

Gibraltar is a pretty simple place. It as a 1100 foot high, 2 mile long chunk of white limestone, surrounded on 3 sides by water, and connected to Spain at its north end by a low lying isthmus. The town, and dockyard, sits on the western side, which although steep is more gentle than the almost vertical drop into the Mediterranean on the other side.

And the Rock Run is pretty simple too. A 4.1km/2.6 mile run from sea level to (almost) the top of the rock, starting outside the Dockyard Gates. The pictures don't really do justice to the steepness, but they give you some idea. It is uphill all the way, apart from a slight descent just before the end as you reach the ridge. 1000 feet of climb in 2.6 miles, with a few very steep (1 in 4?) stretches.

Back in 1980, as we milled around for the start I was a young fit thing, but even then was daunted by the challenge. Keen runners were talking about 20 minute times (the record is 17 minutes something I think), but I'd have been pleased to avoid disgracing myself by having to walk or (worse!) pull out. We set off and I was pleased with not only running all the way, but getting to the top in under 30 minutes (28 minutes something I think.)

Start point on the right.  The end is just left of centre of the picture, 1000 feet up.

Fast forward to 2013. I am now a fifty plus grey haired thing on holiday in Gibraltar, but I have running shoes and, for reasons I can't fathom, trying the Rock Run seems attractive! After a few days there, testing myself against the rock (including running half of the run one evening), I jogged down to the old Dockyard Gate (now long gone, but the old guardhouse is still recognisable). A nostalgic look at the old walls and arches and I started the watch.  I was off.

The start weaves up through pavements and traffic, and settles into a long uphill run on the main road south out of the town. After half a mile or so it branches onto a steep climb up Engineer Road, which slowly eases as you climb out of the town and onto the steep Upper Rock and into the nature reserve. In theory you have to pay a 50p entrance fee, but the gatekeeper smiles and wishes me luck! Round the first hairpin bend and the slog continues. Over half way now, and the road briefly flattens and widens before a sharp right turn and on up towards St Michael's Caves. 

Up the road on the left!

Nearly three quarters of the way up, and I am sweating in the heat of the April sun. Breathing is getting hard. A couple of hundred yards below the Caves and on one of the steepest stretches I stop to breathe and give myself 60 seconds rest. Holding onto the railing, looking out over Gibraltar Bay, I feel my breathing coming down and turn to face the hill again and set off. After a dozen paces I walk.  It's too much.  But I keep walking. Past the caves and up the next steep section, maybe 500 yards.  As the slope eases, and then turns to downhill, I run again.  Down and then up for the last steep climb, dodging the apes that sit in the middle of the road nibbling at fruit.  

Last leg!

I pass the finishing line and hit my watch. 31 minutes 42 seconds. Happy with that.  I know I had to walk and had a rest, but I got to the top in just over half an hour and I am smiling and proud of myself.

I'd hoped to get a drink at the Cable Car cafe, and even get the cable car down, but both are closed. I get the kitkat out of my pocket, but then put it back as this is ape territory and they are very adept at grabbing at food in lightning raids! I sit on the ridge, looking out over the blue Med and the Spanish coast, and then start walking down. Clear of the apes I eat the sticky melted kitkat and then start jogging back down.

On the way down I pass a cyclist, about my age, slogging on his way up in the evening sun. I call "I don't know who's madder, you or me!" and he smiles and calls back "We are both mad!" and we share a laugh.