Hi, I’m Dave, and for some time now I have been Carnethy-adjacent, with plans to start attending the Thursday rep sessions delayed by injury! I was lucky enough to join some of my good friends and Carnethy legends-of-the-game to traverse the entire nation from Morvich to Beauly as we raced the Highland Cross from the Irish Sea to the North Sea through one of Scotland’s wildest glens.
The Highland Cross is steeped in history and revolves around the many fantastic Highland charities which it supports. The event raises thousands each year, and last year the record from a single team of three was £15,000. The organisation, enthusiasm, and passion for adventure on the day was monumental. The event was the talk of the town, and the locals came out to support in their hundreds. For those who don’t know, it consists of 31 km of trail running heading east from Morvich into Glen Affric with c. 700 m of climb, followed by 45 km of road cycling further east into Beauly. Those who choose to run it are set off 2 hours after the walkers, and once you start to catch and overtake the walkers, you have to pretend that you still have energy and enthusiasm, despite navigating dehydration, trips and slips, and if you’re really unlucky, cramps.
We gathered at the start line as a six, a female team of three consisting of Carnethy regulars Kirsty Dickson and Lizzie Knox, and an ex-Carnethy runner Catriona Graves, whose recent move to Inverness is the most likely explanation for her absence at training… The 3 of us who made up the men’s team were Dan Ashwood, fresh off the back of the eventful Jura Fell Race (see previous race report), James Taylor; and me, on the path to recovery and looking to make it my longest run in 2 years.
I got the best seat in the house to watch my teammates snake through the valley climbing the switchbacks of the ascent, forming their own little running groups, catching glimpses of Dan’s fluorescent pink shorts as they got further and further away. I was nestled in about 50 m behind Cat for the first 90 minutes or so, and even managed to skip ahead at a wee technical descent.
I thought she’d seen my trip and last-minute save, face inches from the rocky path, providing some mid run entertainment, but apparently not. That just means I can exaggerate it further on the next time of telling… Nursing a cut hand at the ten mile mark, I got a chuckle out of her antics after she’d re-passed me and tried, very ungracefully, to restock her water bottles with rehydration mix. Once I’d passed through the cloud of white powder, as if by magic she was off in another gear, and I never saw her again.
I was riddled with cramp for the last 10km of the run, and so encouraged myself to relax and smell the roses – you’re out in the glens, on a weekend with your mates, your legs are strong enough to carry you all the way here, you’ve got the sun on your back, there are free jelly babies sometimes, life is good. That remained my ethos until the transition zone, and I’d made peace with the scenario where Lizzie might have come cruising on by.
The transition zone was a marvel. You were greeted by a shower on the way in, a welcome treat on a very hot and dry day, you were then ushered to your bike, where a kind volunteer would wheel it over to the benches for you whilst others offered you food and drink. It was better service than the pub that same evening… Dan and James had some overlap in transition but described it as “two ships passing in the night” – not much excess energy could be spared for chitchat. Dan, having finished the run quicker, and sitting in around 10th place, was hoping to make up many places on the bike leg with his time trial steed. He would go on to claim every place back except one, coming across the line second in a phenomenal time of 3 hours and 42 minutes. James, who didn’t quite have the aero advantage of the TT bike faced the headwind solo and came in just the other side of 4 hours. Kirsty had finished the run in double time and was out first onto the bike leg. I would like to take a minute to say that KD deserves hefty credit for taking on the challenge of riding in cleats having only learned two days previously! Cat was very strong on the bike and was working alongside some other riders to pierce through the headwind and ultimately catch and pass Kirsty. The girls came home in first and second, a phenomenal achievement, and the local paper lapped up the news that their local Beauly Doctor had won her debut Highland Cross.
Meanwhile, still out on the course, I was having a whale of a time. The cramps still needed nursing, but I was a hell of a lot stronger on the bike than I was at the tail end of the run. The clip-on triathlon bars were the only thing aero about my bike – a steel frame gravel bike with 45 mm tyres wouldn’t be your first choice for a 45 km road race, but hey-ho. As I overtook a gentleman on a lovely sweeping left hander, we recognised each other from the shuttle bus that morning, and immediately decided to work together to bring it home. As we cruised along together, switching at the front like true teammates we heard the unmistakable sound of carbon disc wheels approaching at pace from behind. This was it, make or break – a quad wobbling burst of power was required to jump those extra few km/hr to reach the missile man’s back wheel, but we were locked on. A few others tried and failed to join the flying Scotsmen. We shared responsibility at the front fairly evenly… taking over at the front was often caveated with shouts like “I ain’t got much left boys”, but we had strength in numbers, and they even waited for me a little as I tried to haul the steel frame up the hill… but only the first time. As they left me in their wake on the second time of asking, I set about climbing at my own pace, I was cheered on by an entire family out to watch. The kids decided to cheer me on as “Keith”, which at that point of delirium, they could have convinced me that it was in fact my name. The fire engine at the top of the hill filled me up and hosed me down, marking the start of the roll into Beauly.
The town was out on parade, with spectators many rows deep at the finish. The love and support for each of the athletes contributing their part to the fundraising event was overwhelming. Partnered with the effort put in across the last 4 hours and 23 mins, I could have cried. What an amazing concept for an event. I am still on the come down from such a fantastic weekend.
The team were in a mix of states at the finish line, Lizzie came home in 4 hours and 46 mins, extremely grateful for some salt and vinegar crips, rhubarb muffins and some fresh fruit curtesy of Andy Dickson.
The shower was probably one of the best I’ve ever had.
We waited around for the awards ceremony, chatting with familiar faces. Cat received a lovely plate for her 1st female finish. We were pondering the likelihood of a team victory for one of the trios, fairly certain that we were out of the running for the best team name, but “Carnethy Men” hung tight. In the end it was top spot for the girls and guys! 6 more fantastic plates to add to Cat’s original. What an incredible day out for the Carnethy gang, and thanks to those who made it so memorable.
So, some personal reflections and tips for those looking to do it next year: bring some slick tyres and a light bike, make the most of the loophole where drafting on bikes is legal and you can have a TT setup, barefoot shoes are probs not the best suited for this terrain, say hello and thank you to each of the volunteers – it may not seem like it at the time, but they’ve probably put in more of a shift than you.
I’m looking forward to making it to a run session soon, thanks for letting me represent the Carnethy community.
Happy running,
Dave Walls