The circumnavigation
of Arran is 95-98 km (~60 miles) depending on how you measure it,
and 700m+ of ascent. Not a good time of year to muster other runners,
so solo/unsupported was the only option. The hardest part, nearly, was
the starting. 9th August the alarm clock goes off at 5.30 for an
intended 6 am start. But I dither, have yet another cup of pre-dawn
tea, locate some breakfast (Keith's muesli, he'd left it in the
van after Jura), and think about going back to bed. But instead
find myself at the starting line at the Lamlash shore, as for the
Arran leg of the Islands' race. A dark and red dawn, and at 06.37 start the clock.
Heading up and over to Brodick
Bay, the islands route, time is lost as I'd hoped to go across
the Brodick golf course but there are already players about after
7 am. Pick up time on the leg to Sannox, see only a handful of cars on the
way. Don't stop at the pier as originally planned and instead take the stepping
stones to run the extra mile around the burn at North Sannox to
the point (20 km) where I have my first break. The books say under 5 min at
staging posts, but hopelessly impractical, just the first stop took 17 min to
get water, dry my shirt in the wind, eat, check the map, zip up bag and hit
the trail again.
Next leg is round of the Cock of Arran, in many places it's
not a track but a clamber over piles of rocks. Solo/unsup
I felt I couldn't risk the slightest tweak of an ankle, because 30k down the
road it'll surely blow up, end of story. So rather than sprint over broken
boulders a la Ravensheugh I take it easy and add a fair bit of time to last
year's recce of this part of the route. Wise decision. Revisit the delightful
and isolated cottage at Laggan and manage for a while to keep abreast of a
yacht tacking around the head of the island.
Lochranza (33 km), another 20
min off to dry shoes/socks. The sun is now burning down, but my suntan cream is
still in the van. Then blitz down to Pirnmill (43 km, short break to dry out
my socks again) and on to Blackwaterfoot to refuel. Stopping is a hazard:
legs stiffen quickly and getting going again needs some determination.
Onwards ... The bus - every hour or so I pass the coastal service going in
the opposite direction, and get some funny looks despite my happy wave.
Blackwaterfoot (61 km) the fatigue sets in, but I lope off gamely.
By 5 pm a chill wind is whipping off the sea, I'm starting to get
cold, gloves back on. Goat Fell is now a miniscule bump on the
horizon; time to head for
Lagg (75 km) where I stop by the Inn. From there the going is a
long uphill (my log says "hellish"), with heavy cold rain at
the top (the Carnethy pertex does its job again), and as I've
now given up on
nutrition for some inexplicable reason the experience begins
to be celestial. Just as the night sky revolves around the Pole
Star, at the top of the island the high Fells on my left provide
the axis; far-off landmarks rise like moons in the east and set
in the west - Kintyre as I round the Cock, later Ailsa Craig
on the south, and finally Holy Island, first a tiny speck in the
distance, then it rises (85 km) to hover over the last leg into
Lamlash. Think out-of-body experience, you'd be right on the mark.
A mile from the end the bus, eternally circling the island in
the opposite direction, comes pounding down the road to stop alongside
where I am tangled in the brambles by the road (90 km). "Why are you
in the hedge?" - I have to confess I was afraid the bus might run
me down. Then, seeing my gloves, headtorch, shorts - "Where's your
bike?" - no bike, I'm running this. A look of disbelief.
Intended journey time was 12 hours, a hopelessly optimistic target.
In the event I arrive back (97 km) at 10.58 pm, that's 16h 21 minutes
on the hoof. Slow. But running solo is different from a race, no
waterstations (fill up from the burns), no change of shoes (unless
you carry them) and if you run out of food, you go hungry! So
a fast time was not the goal, finishing was. If I did it again
I'd practice eating while running, aim for 3 hours faster, and
some tricks - wade the stream at North Sannox (saving a km), crossing
the bay to Lochranza at low tide (saving another) - but there's
a price to pay for getting your feet soaked - and I'd recce the
south beach route in case the horrid climb out of Lagg can be avoided.
Get your shoes on, if I can do it you can too! But how the top
folks do 100 miles I do not know. After nay just less than 100
km my legs
were blitzed. I learned a new respect for anyone who gets to the
end of the WHW or the Mont Blanc tour in one piece. And for the
ultra
solo-unsupported guys and girls, let's leave it there, too much
to be said.
So finally to the campsite, Goat Fell
is back where it belongs, the rotation slows and stops, it's teeming
down, the midges and I share a wet toast.
Video clip: around arran in 4 minutes
A note on the route: The goal was to stick as
closely to the coast as possible. Confusingly, different maps
mark different tracks so I went with the larger scale OS 1/25000 (2001).
This
shows a good route round the Cock of Arran (that I'd recce'd
part of last year) but unfortunately no continuous path round Torr Righ
(just north of
Blackwaterfoot). It's said there is some kind of shoreline trail
round the south of the island, and the OS map does mark smidgins of coastal
tracks
here, but again none of them are continuous. So these latter
sections had to be done on the road. .
