Man vs Mountain - Race Report

Caernarfon Castle. Impressive grey stone walls steeped in 700 years of history. But I must confess that at 0730 on Saturday 7 September my attention was elsewhere, focussed more on the incongruous sight of the inflatable starting gate erected in the centre of the historic monument for the start of the Man vs Mountain challenge. Standing in the crowd with my brother Pete quietly pondering the expected pre-race worries and niggles. Were we going to be warm enough? Had we got enough food bars and gels with us? How did we get to be here? What the hell were we, at 52 and 55, doing here amongst all these fit looking youngsters? Could we actually make it?!

Man vs Mountain is a new event in the long distance mountain racing calendar. The mountain in question was Snowdon, at 3,560 ft (1,085 m) the highest point in Britain south of Edinburgh. Our route would take us from close to sea level in Caernarfon, up to the summit (13 miles and 4000 ft of climb), then back down to Padarn Castle (5 miles and 3200 ft of descent). From there, we would face a steep 1km climb (the “Vertical km”), a 70 ft abseil, a run downhill through the woods and then some final water obstacles and a 25m swim across the river before the last leg to the finish line. Over 21 miles in total.

Pete and I had been training for the event for months. We probably hadn’t trained quite enough, but we were in better shape than we had ever been. Pete had been out running a lot with Totton Running Club, while I had trained mainly alone, getting the most out of whatever hills can be found north of Winchester. Our final run together, two weeks before, had been a gruelling run along the (surprisingly hilly!) North Devon Coast Path, and we felt pretty confident that we would at least finish!

The big countdown got to zero and we were off, surging across the grass and down the wide stone steps ... only to find that all 400 runners had to squeeze through a narrow door through the castle wall! But 5 minutes later we were outside and jogging through the streets of Caernarfon, heading through the drizzle towards the Snowdon massif, hidden in the low cloud in the far distance.

As the miles went past we started gently climbing, and the streets turned to country lanes and then farm tracks. The early rain eased off and we stuffed waterproofs into our bags and ran on, or rather ran the flats and downhills, and walked the steeper uphill bits. This was never going to be a race that we ran all the way, and we needed to save some energy for the steep climb up Snowdon.

Soon even farm tracks were left behind and we were on moorland and in and out of forestry plantations. A regular intake of nibbled flapjacks and cereal bars kept our energy up, and after 7 miles we arrived at the refreshment point where we stopped for a quick drink and a handful of chocolate raisins, and grabbed a couple more gels. As we set off again the heavens opened, and the next 3 miles were spent in stunning mountain scenery and cold stinging rain!

Coming over the pass at Bwlch Maesgwm, we dropped down an expensive, hard won 400 feet to join the Snowdon Ranger Path for the climb up Snowdon proper. A lovely run along undulating ground soon got steeper and steeper and all pretence of running was abandoned as we started the slog up the steep zigzag path to the summit. We climbed into the cloud and the next couple of miles were a slow grind, getting colder and windier as we climbed. The 11 miles of running we’d already covered started to tell, and I followed Pete, always about 20 yards ahead of me, in the slow procession of walkers. The cheery bonhomie of the runners was temporarily subdued and it was clear we were all feeling tired. As we reached the summit ridge the full force of the wind hit us, but the slope soon eased and we were encouraged by other runners on their way back down, cheering us on with “Nearly there!” and “Just five more minutes.” Distances were hard to judge in the fog, but suddenly the familiar sight of the summit pyramid loomed into view, and we had made it. 13 miles and 4000 feet of climb in under three and a half hours. Not a great half marathon pace, but that was no ordinary half marathon! We were just pleased to know that the uphill struggle had ended and we could start our way down.

Me at the Summit

Pete at the Summit

We stopped in the entrance of the cafe, trying to find some shelter from the wind and cold (the forecast was -1 degrees, including windchill, and it felt every freezing degree of it!). I found my gloves in the bottom of my bag, but by then my fingers were frozen, and getting them on over wet hands took the first five minutes of the descent. We made our way back down the slippery rocky path, pleased to be wearing trusty Inov-8s that stuck to the wet rock like glue. The climb had taken its toll on Pete and he had quite a lot of pain in the tops of his thighs, but we both felt better as the temperature rose and we dropped out of the cloud (and as Pete’s Ibuprofen started to work!).

5 miles of downhill running helped us both recover some energy and earlier doubts about whether we’d be up for the final section of the challenge faded. A lovely run through the woods around Dolbadarn Castle brought us down to the road and the start of the Vertical km. Here we took a five minute break, and stripped off our running sacks and jackets (which were transported to the finish line for us.) We’d done the first 18 miles in 4 hours and 45 minutes, and just had a couple more miles to go. We had broken the back of the race and were determined to just enjoy the last couple of miles, with the pressure off.

The Vertical km was a timed event, and in theory there was a prize for the fastest runners. Sod that! We mainly walked up it, through fascinating industrial remains of the huge old slate mines and abandoned living quarters. (We did start running when we saw the course photographer!) The winners managed the vertical km in in under 11 minutes. We took 18 and were pleased to have reached the top. It was downhill all the way from there.

Vertical km

Flat jogging through more old industrial scenery brought us to the the abseil. We queued up in the cold for maybe 20 minutes (clocks had been stopped for this stage) and when our turn came quickly slid down the 70 foot cliff. Pleased to be running again, we descended steep paths through the woods of Coed Dinorwig, skirted the museum complex, collected lifejackets and came to the final (wet!) obstacles.

Wading across a lake, chest deep in surprisingly warm water, brought us to an inflatable climbing wall. Heaving ourselves out of the water we climbed up and then slid down the far side. More wading brought us to a big pipe to swim through, then through a short tunnel and another pipe before regaining dry land.

Another short jog brought us to a scaffolding tower on the main lakeside. Up the tower to the platform and jump into the water. Easy! Well not really, as it felt very high when I looked over the edge! But eventually I plucked up the courage and stepped off, falling for what seemed like an eternity before I hit the water. Floating back to the surface, it was a quick swim to the side, and another short wet run to the final water feature - a 25m swim across the river. The inflow to the lake was a lot colder than the previous obstacles, but we were soon across and running the last few hundred yards to the finish.

As we approached the end Pete spotted our support crew, waving and hollering encouragement. We scurried over the final couple of obstacles and crossed the finish line together, just under six hours after we’d started, 20 miles earlier, in the castle.

We’d done it!

After wet hugs and congratulations from our six man support team (well, three man and three woman), we sogged our way into the event centre for a very welcome cup of hot soup and a change into dry clothes. We were knackered, and our trusty and patient supporters took our bags and walked us through Llanberis to the legendary Pete’s Eats for a pint of tea and a flapjack.

I know in this age of ultras and Ironmen a 20 mile mountain race isn’t the hardest challenge on offer, but I was very proud to have got round, happy with our times and very pleased to have done it alongside my brother. It turns out that we came around 250th out of a field of 400 starters (it is hard to be precise, because some people skipped the water obstacles, which would have made a big difference to their time). We were really pleased with our places, especially as it turns out that there were only six runners in the race older than me!

Later that evening, back at the campsite, I was heard to say the words “Next time...”! Who knows? But right now Pete and I are turning our thoughts towards this year’s OMM. Seven weeks to go!