"Each step forward has a sacred meaning of its own"   Sri Chinmoy

Black Mountains Fell Race - September 2023 - Wales

I had some history with this race, the legacy of an early attempt at fell running in 2000 (when I was 32) where everything went wrong and I ended up finishing in the last few, with a time of around 4.45. In fact if memory serves me correctly I may have been second from last? Anyhow, in the intervening years something had always cropped up to prevent me going back to have another go - until 2023. This year, after the disappointment of missing out on the Helvellyn Triathlon through illness, I found myself back on my feet and in reasonable health as the Black Mountains Fell Race came around. The bad news was that I had zero race-fitness, having done no long runs for over a month. I do have a record of doing OK in races when I turn up undertrained rather than overtrained, so I took heart from that and made it to the start line with my usual degree of optimism. My only aim this time round was to beat, at age 55, the time I had clocked for the same race aged 32.

The weather forecast kep changing in the days leading up to the race, but the day dawned mild and drizzly without high winds, so the only problem was likely to be visibility. Finding the way round was going to be a challenge just as much as having the fitness to complete the four intense climbs. With the aforementioned lack of race-fitness, I decided against a full early-morning recce of the tricky sections of the route that the organiser had called out as "nav traps". He had kindly provided some maps on the website and I had printed those sections out large in anticipation of trouble. For the first part of the race I thought I could follow the pack and rely on some memories of previous runs in this area - I had only followed the race route once, but I'd been up and over Pen Cerrig Calch numerous times. One section I did want to recce though was the run in from Blaen Yr Henbant down to the road and then down into a deep valley with a bridge before the final haul up the finish. After picking up my number in Llandbedr, I jogged down to the bridge and up to the road and explored the path down from the fellside, but ran out of time and wasn't able to actually practice finding the endpoint of the path down. It was still better than no recce at all though.

Because of the chip timing (wristbands) required at the checkpoints and finish, we all filed into the churchyard at Llandbedr, a makeshift starting pen, beeping in as we went, then had a short but handy race briefing. It was in swirling drizzle that we splashed up the road from the start and began the epic circuit of the Black Mountains that would see us cover over 17 miles and toil our way up 5200' of ascent.

The first climb went OK - I guessed I was somewhere around half way back in the order (there were 56 starters) and I was determined not to "blow up" early as I had in 2000. That meant hands-on-knees walking for most of the early climb, only breaking into a run on easier slopes higher up. Pen Cerrig Calch is a relentless mountain, a massive dome rather than a peak or ridge, with multiple horizon lines on the way up that present like a false summit. There was a confusion of paths as we came on to the higher ground and with the cloud so low I soon realised I could only see one runner up ahead, not the line of runners further up the field. I felt a bit shakey on my route-finding but eventually I did stumble into the marshal with his electronic wristband-reading phone secured to a pole on the summit. Looking back at my Garmin route I had actually run/staggered a pretty direct line to the top. From here I was hoping to stay in touch with some other runners to help find the way down into the valley ready for the equally confusing climb up to Pen Y Gadair, but on the high part of the ridge, visibility was poor and I had to run on instinct. At first I was just staying on a path parallel to the ridge, then as the ridge began to lose height and narrow I saw a couple of runners further up. Of course there is a choice of route you can make, following on round the ridge instead of descending then climbing again, so I couldn't be sure the runners I could see were going my way. I took an intuitive line down across the heather, losing height and starting to gain in visibility as I came out of the cloud. I saw the forest on the opposite valley side and matched it with the OS map in my memory, taking a decent line down to the corner of the wood and then plunging towards the stream at the bottom of the valley. My feet took quite a lot of punishment on that oblique descent through heather and bog and I thought I might have some major heel blistering after the race, but actually I finished unscathed, Over the stream and on to the second relentless climb, I hauled my way up alongside the plantation of pines then struck out over open country looking for the top of Pen Y Gadair. My line here was not perfect, I think staying parallel to the side of the plantation for longer would have been better, but again after what seemed like a very long time I came out of the cloud to discover I had actually found the summit and there was marshal 2, electronic dibber device ready and waiting. All this time I was very focussed on the race and the route, always looking ahead and trying to sight my next goal - just once in a while I was able to come up for air and enjoy the expansive views over untouched mountain scenery. 

At control 2, in the cloud, I was not confident of the line to take down to the crossing of the Grwyne Fawr, so I stopped right there and took out the map and compass to get a bearing. As I did so, a posse of 5 runners who had come via a different route to the summit appeared and two were sure of the way down. I went with the pack, soon realising they had got it right as memories of that descent started to return. Those recollections were not from the Black Mountains Fell Race but a later adventure when I attempted the Beacons Traverse with the help of Bahumanya. On that ill-fated night, the batteries in one headtorch had failed and we had had to painstakingly pick our way down that descent in adverse weather and total darkness. We took so long that Karteek, waiting in the Grwyne Fawr valley, had assumed we had missed him and carried on. It was all a total mess but a great adventure nonetheless. This time, with all those memories of failures and confusion, I was relieved to recognise the way down, parallel to the forest and running on a deep path in a sea of ferns. At the bottom we waded the river, holding on to a fence as we did so, then the third brutal climb began. This was the "fence post climb" I remembered well from 2000 so I grabbed the fence and hauled myself up towards Chwarel Y Fan. Again at the top of the steep section we were in impenetrable cloud, perhaps the thickest of the day, so it was hard finding the diagonal route from the corner of the forest to the summit, but we picked the right path/sheep trod and came on to the ridge at a good point. Turning right and running the ridge I felt myself gaining height so I knew we had taken the right course. I soon arrived at check number 3 (where that photo above was taken) and picked up the pace, chasing another runner at a reasonable speed along the ridge towards Bal Mawr. At this point, after long hauls up the mountainside at walking pace and hard descents that followed, i still actually felt like I was racing. I wasn't sure if the racing line would bypass Bal Mawr or head right along the ridge, so I just stuck with the ghostly figure of the runner in front and stayed on the ridge. We passed the trig on Bal Mawr and then descended out of the cloud, to a well defined path where some 4-wheel drive vehicles had gathered. We overtook a descending landrover and came out at another check, Bal Bach. From there the route down to the woods and into the trees was well rehearsed in everyone's mind from the race briefing. 2 young guys ahead of me opened the gate and held it for me, then waited for a couple of runners to join them. I think they were running as a group and may well have started early (either that or they had gone off fast and then taken a group decision to slow down).

With the route down to the road in my mind and my map in my hand I negotiated the twists and turns of the forest - at one point I was going to head past a turning but a faster runner approaching from the other direction (having taken a tough racing line through a felled plantation) was determinedly heading down that path so I checked the map again and agreed. Soon we were at the road and heading straight over for the final "pull" up to Crug Mawr. Again this was well rehearsed in my mind and probably everyone else's too, plus I had vague memories of it (believe it or not) from 23 years before. The path up from Ffordd Las Fawr was long and steep - longer than I expected and steeper than i remembered - but the second firebreak appeared and I was able to muster a jog out towards the open fellside. Here I was in cloud again and so I took a bearing to make sure I was running roughly due south. Despite being very tired I was still able to move at a decent pace and so I felt I'd paced things about right - it was just the final descent now, a litte route-finding required to find the lane and then the down-and-up at the river before the finish. Suddenly I realised I should probably have either seen Crug Mawr by now or at least started gaining height - I realised the ground to my left was rising and the path I was on was falling so I struck out over the heather and came to the final check at Crug Mawr within a few minutes. A runner who had come out of the forest just behind me was at the check just before me - later I realised there had been a direct path forking to the left from the main path that would have taken me straight to Crug Mawr. I had probably only lost 2 minutes taking the main path.

After that last check, I came down out of the cloud on the Beacons Way. A pack of runners who had been just ahead of me at Ffordd Las Fawr were out of view now, so it was just a case of checking the map now and again and following the lie of the land and the line of the intake walls. When I finally ran down into the "v" where the walls met, I was expecting to turn and run alongside the lower wall for around 100 metres before finding the gateway into the woods - that was what the map suggested - but there was a gateway only around 10 metres in from the point of the "v". I took it and soon began to recognise the path from my recce that morning - then I was on the lane and looking for the finish. When I finally did haul myself up towards the church on the final ascent from the bridge, I was very satisfied to have knocked around 35 minutes off my 32-year-old time. On my second attempt at the Black Mountains, conditions had been harder, my preparation had been poorer, but my race plan had been better and my fuelling and pacing had both worked well. In this mixed-up year of disappointments and successes, this race rated as a big success for me personally. I have a feeling I'll be back again to see if i can make a bit more progress. Who knows, with clear conditions and better preparation, maybe I could beat 4 hours?

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