A Dales Way Adventure

A Harveys Dales Way map has sat, awaiting its moment of glory, in my running bookcase on the landing of my house for a couple of years now, along with a load of other adventures already had or waiting to happen.

A work initiative reminded me of my idea for attacking this particular challenge. I’d worked out that if I hit the rush hour train crowds, I could make my way up to Windermere by lunchtime and, with a following wind, be back in Otley by the same time the next day.

Diaries were cleared, rucksacks were packed with clothing, running accessories and food, and on a hot, sunny Monday morning, Carol and I made our way to Menston station to stand smugly amongst the commuters.

 Four hours and four trains later, we’d met up with Chris, Chanti and Fewston the dog and with a quick dip of our toes in Lake Windermere we were off up the first hill and away from the throng of tourists in Bowness.

The midday sun was really hot as we started slowly. Fewston, without the option of stripping off, was struggling and it became our mission to seek out streams and pools for him to cool off.

Eventually he picked up slightly as we ran alongside the Kent and into our first stop at the 10 mile point in Burneside. Chris left us as we ducked into the local shop for ice creams and Coke and continued on.

Beautiful low lying country paths though farmland led us to the M6 and as we got over the other side, to a cool box sitting in the middle of nowhere and containing ice cold cans and an honesty box. As we stopped to drink, the gathering clouds and rumbling skies suddenly resolved themselves into a full on summer storm and we sheltered for 15 minutes under trees, enjoying the cooling shower. 

Eventually we had to brave it and ventured out into the rain for a run along the river Lune, enjoying the old Victorian bridges and viaducts down to the outskirts of Sedburgh.

Chanti by now was on her furthest ever run, and as the rain started again with accompanying thunderclaps from nature and from low flying  US and RAF jets, we jogged into Dent and dumped ourselves wetly into the pub for a quick dinner and stacked up drinks. With our support driver Paul arriving just in time to collect Chanti and give us more food and drink we dragged ourselves back into the storm and headed South East down Dentdale.

The rain slowed to a trickle and then stopped and behind us a perfect orange circle slowly dropped to the west as we started to approach our night time section.

I’d planned a schedule based on 4mph with a few breaks at checkpoints and we were going along very comfortably keeping to this schedule as we came to a long road section and decided to stop to put on our headtorches.

I put mine on. There was a brief flicker, then nothing. I played with the switch, turning it on and off, holding down the switch, shaking it, fiddling with the wires, changing the batteries. Nothing. It had served me well in the previous 4 years through some huge, dark challenges, but had chosen this moment to retire from my adventures.

We set off up the road, me running close to Carol to use the light from her torch. We ran in silence, partly so we didn’t swallow too many midges, but also because we were both going over alternatives and inwardly debating the chances of getting through the upcoming section. This was to be the most remote part of the whole route; a 5 or 6 mile off-road run between valleys with no nearby villages. We reached the end of the road and stumbled slowly along a muddy narrow path before realising we had to make a decision now; it was 11:30pm and soon no-one would be awake to help out.

We very reluctantly decided to abort then, and headed for the nearest road, although as the nearest small village was 6 miles away we still had no real plan, and our attempts to contact supporters via mobile were having mixed results.

At just before midnight, we came to the isolated Station Inn pub at Ribblehead, and amazingly the lights were still on. We knocked at the bar door, and after a conversation with an understandably suspicious landlord, we were let in, sold a pint and given a bed for the night. Within 30 minutes our disappointment at having to stop slightly lessened by the shower and crisp linen sheets.

The next morning, waiting for the train at Ribblehead station on the same wet clothes we’d run in the day before, we agreed that this route and time target was definitely an achievable challenge, but that next time we’d test our equipment a little earlier than the second we needed it.

For those that sponsored me and that I had disappointed, I decided to try to make it up to them with the 10 Peaks race on 24^th June; another chance to watch me on a tracker website. First though, I need to head on-line for a new head torch.