Rocky route to success
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The legendary Lowe Alpine Mountain Marathon took place on Harris this summer and Jenny Gillies was there to take part in the two-day orienteering epic
I WOULD like to start by telling you that I am not an experienced mountain marathoner. I run a lot in the hills but I am not one of the special breed of runners who regularly strap all they need to survive in the mountains for two days onto their back to compete on vast orienteering courses through wild lands.
The Isle of Harris was the location for the 2018 Lowe Alpine Mountain Marathon (LAMM) and, with my husband Eric and I having never visited the Western Isles, it seemed the perfect event for a new challenge.
The LAMM is a team race with pairs running and working together to choose the best route between checkpoints, the locations of which are only revealed at the start of each day.
There are several courses, ranging from elite to entry-level classes, running concurrently. We chose to do the shortest, D class – even on this we covered 27km and 1400m of ascent on the first day and only slightly less on the second, both days on rough and pathless ground.
Assembling in Tarbet on the first morning we were handed our event-specific maps, red circles indicating the approximate location of all the checkpoints, and were shepherded onto buses that dropped us at the mouth of Glen Mhiabhaig in North Harris.
The tracker chips strapped to our wrists were “dibbed” to start our time, we were passed our list of checkpoint co-ordinates and descriptions by the marshal and it was time to starting racing.
Despite spending some time carefully plotting our route through the hills we immediately made a classic rookie mistake. In our excitement we were drawn straight up the hill following the majority of runners.
Unfortunately for us they were teams following another course and it was only when a lochan failed to appear over the first ridge we stopped, wasting valuable time working out where we were (I never thought it would be possible to get lost so quickly!) then plotting out the quickest way to get back to our first checkpoint.
Thankfully, over the next ridge the lochan appeared beneath us, being visited by runners streaming from the other direction, the orange and white control point clearly visible on a small island.
Relieved to be on the right track – and still married – we joined the line of runners heading up the ridge of Uisgneabhal Mor to the next checkpoint, which the map showed was placed unambiguously at the summit. From the top, the clear day allowed us to look across the wide glen to the next checkpoint.
After our initial mistake we took greater care over navigation and managed to make no more errors, choosing routes to best suit our team strengths, avoiding too many ascents and descents and trying to delay the growing fatigue.
The scenery made up for the effort – spectacular mountains rose up from moors studded with countless lochans and the huge overhanging crag of Sron Uladail epitomised the land we were passing through.
The course planner sent us through hard terrain but it was also amazing to make our way through the wild places on Harris that I would never think of running normally.
The overnight mid-camp co-ordinates had only been revealed at the beginning of the race and now, late in the day, we joined other teams converging on the coast to get a first sight of the campsite.
Having taken a long time out on course the vast majority of teams had already arrived and set up camp. The remote beach at Loch Crabhadail was now a sea of hundreds of small tents, their colourful flysheets contrasting with the bright blue Hebridean sea beyond.
We found a small space amid the old runrigs and, once dinner was eaten and stories of the days shared with fellow competitors, we settled down to sleep in the bright northern twilight.
I have never slept in a campsite so quiet. Despite being in close proximity to nearly 800 other people there was not a sound. Eric and I could have been alone on the runrigs for all that was audible outside our little tent.
As we were one of the slower teams on day one we elected to start extra early on the second day, something I was very happy to do – the last thing I wanted was to feel stressed to meet the strict 5pm course cut off.
The 5am alarm came too soon but it didn’t take us too long to strike camp, gulp tea, scoff porridge and weave our way through the maze of tents to the start point.
The first checkpoint of the second day was on the hill above the camp and, in a brief rest during the climb, I looked back through the morning mist to see the temporary tent city slowly dispersing as the teams made their way to the start line.
The rusty navigation skills brought out of storage on the first day were put straight into action as we ascended into low cloud.
We had a very satisfying moment when we chose to contour around a hill and reset the bearing to meet a ridge as a catching feature before aiming for checkpoint.
Through the thick mist, a knoll appeared as expected from the map and it was time for a team high-five as we reached the control point.
The navigation demons of the day before were put to rest as we descended a grassy slope and wove through low outcrops to reach the next control.
Halfway through the day the course planners had an ingenious idea that allowed us to finish the course in Tarbert – as runners met the road a coach was waiting to ferry us a couple of miles further along to start the final stage of the race.
The final stage started with a rough, long glen with the checkpoint over a col at the end. Strong sunlight and tired legs made this a hard couple of kilometres and it was with relief rather than excitement that we dibbed the control at the top and were treated with our first view of Tarbert and the finish.
The final few checkpoints led us down into the village and to the finish line where a warm welcome and a good meal were waiting for us at the event centre.
We arrived at Tarbert High School stiff, tired, sun-burnt, midge bitten and chuffed to have finished. The two days were a unique experience – I take my sweaty hat off to all the other competitors. I am in awe of the teams who completed the elite course, which covered double the distance and ascent of our course, and I also have a great respect for the other teams, like us, who pulled through adversity together in the most stunning of situations to complete their course.
As a footnote, the LAMM organiser Martin Stone announced at the prize giving that this would be his last mountain marathon. He certainly planned a finale to be proud of and all those who competed and helped with the running of the event will be proud to have been involved.
