We’d spent the night before the race sleeping (?) in a large rabbit hutch type wooden structure with a couple of mattresses on the floor. That was okay, except for the smell. Had a tom cat been shut in there for the previous week? If you know the smell of tom cats, you’ll appreciate the scale of the pungency factor. However, it was inadvisable to open the window, or an army of midges would have eaten us by way of a nocturnal feast. Actually, and fortunately, it wasn’t a very long night – the alarm was set for 04.00hrs, to be ready, and with some food digested, for the 06.00hrs start at Tyndrum, a small village about 50 miles north of Glasgow.

04.00hrs. More than a hint of daylight had emerged from the darkness. Most folk were asleep in their nearby tents, and would spend the next three or four days progressing northwards on the West Highland Way long distance footpath to their journey’s end at Fort William. We, too, were heading for Fort William along WHW – hoping to get there about lunchtime / early afternoon. The distance 43 miles, with some 6,700 feet of ascent along the route. Much of the journey is along the historic General Wade Military Road (hence the subtitle to this piece), constructed in the 18th century to improve communications and to bring some “control” to these far flung parts. Albeit untarmacced, the early miles of this road would be driveable today insofar as the surface is concerned – except that vehicular access is barred. “Dirt road” would be a reasonably accurate description of the surface. But, further north, it’s a different matter. Here we are on a very definable path of loose rough rocks and stones – very easy to twist an ankle / stub a toe (‘ouch!’), especially as the body gets a little wearier and the mental focus blurred a bit around the edges.

05.00hrs. The redoubtably named Green Welly shop in Tyndrum (“Caters for everyone, and sells everything – almost”) has kindly opened its cafeteria for our registration purposes. The smell of fresh coffee permeates. It’s all very civilised! Each runner – 62 of us have signed in to start – is required to have vehicular back up with a support crew of two people responsible for their runner’s safety, feeding, watering, and general wellbeing along the route. So, including the organisers, there are about 200 of us in all. It is now daylight, but the sun has not yet made an appearance. Coolish for standing around, but great conditions for running.

06.00hrs. We’re off…….. and immediately straight up the first (albeit gradual) ascent up to the watershed 2 miles on, which will give us our first panoramic views of the wild and mountainous landscape that lies ahead. Two of the South Africans (veterans of Comrades and Two Oceans) set off at a blistering pace. Behind them, a group of half a dozen or so including William Sichel, Eryk Grant, Jorg Painsipp and Kumar Limbu. I’m hanging in there, in their wake, struggling a bit to maintain contact. No-one in sight behind. I feel we’re going far too fast…..

Over the watershed, and the panorama of peaks is stretched out before us – Beinn Dorain, Stob a Choire Odhair, and Stob Ghabhar (Hill of the streamlet, Peak of the dun coloured corrie, and Goat peak), to name three of them. Wow! Below, though, the glen is shrouded in early morning mist which soon envelops us. Occasionally I see the ‘back marker’ (unidentifiable) of the small group ahead; the South Africans have completely disappeared. No-one behind. We reach Bridge of Orchy uncomfortably ahead of schedule. All the support teams are lavish in their enthusiastic encouragement. From here, though, it’s the first bit of rough track / climb up and over Mam Carraigh hill. I’m following Jorg up as we gradually leave the mist, but there’s no-one else ahead or behind. He storms down the descent, gaining ground rapidly. On reaching the road I pause briefly to take on food & liquid from my ever-reliable lead supporter, Jo. Jorg has departed onwards into the mist.

After half a mile of tarmac road there is an information board telling us about the construction of the Military Road; probably very interesting, but this is definitely not the time to study it in detail. Slowly I jog uphill for about a mile and a half. No loose stones – but a very rough and knobbly surface, the kind of surface that would be agony on any blisters. I have none, but the sharp knobbles are still very noticeable through the supposedly well cushioned footwear. The mist is now slowly burning off, the weak and somewhat watery sun is struggling to emerge as I pass Lochan Mhic Pheadair Ruaidhe to my right. It is very very quiet. The only sign of life – or, more accurately, death – being the thousands of dead midges drowned over my sweat soaked body. It’s now about 08.00hrs. No sign of anyone, ahead or behind. What a privilege to be in the midst of such a landscape! In some ways it is just such a vast expanse of nothingness in all directions; but in others there are so many subtle variations of light, shade and colour constantly shifting across earth, sky and water. And I am somewhere in the middle of it all….. Steady running, but walking briskly up some of the steeper, but short distance, uphill bits; progress is very satisfactory.

Eventually I reach the high point of this section, with an aged cairn of stones up to my left. The ‘road’ has now deteriorated to ‘rough track, with loose rocks’. Far below is the whitewashed oasis of the Kingshouse hotel, in the midst of a moonscape of rock, bog and heather. To my left, the imposing bulk of Buachaille Etive Mor – The big shepherd of Etive – comes into view, standing in sentinel-like guard over the upper reaches of Glen Coe. It would be easy to stand for many minutes just soaking in this panorama of a view, but I pick up the pace, and approach the checkpoint at Kingshouse – where the army of support teams is now assembled. After the peace and tranquillity of just a few minutes ago, it is a bit disorientating to be suddenly surrounded by all these people and activity. Almost half way in distance, but the terrain underfoot, and the ascent / descent will soon be a great deal more challenging.

A couple of other runners are on the scene. Eryk Grant is just leaving; Tony Thistlethwaite approaching. I wolf down some food, and press on – keen not to be caught by Tony; equally keen to pursue Eryk. The main A82 road below us is incredibly fast, dangerous, and runner unfriendly; but we are sticking to the old Military Road, which skirts up, over, and round the hillside before joining the A82 very briefly at Altnafeadh – 3 miles on. Here the A82 speeds westwards down Glen Coe. We head up (‘up’ being the operative word) and northwards, up the zig-zagging ascent of the Devil’s Staircase for about 800 feet. Most folk will walk the whole way. I leave Eryk, who is being fed and watered by his support team by the roadside. Far ahead, and up, I can see Jorg – the first time for many miles. Grit the teeth and climb. Some running, some walking, but the running burns up a mass of energy. By the summit cairn the vista of the Mamores mountain range is stretched out ahead, the direction I am heading. Behind, far below, I see two figures ascending slowly – probably Eryk and Tony, but I cannot identify them for certain. Jorg is far ahead and out of sight.

Now it is the long, long descent to Kinlochleven – from c. 1,750 feet altitude down to sea level. ‘Interesting’ terrain for the knees and quads. Underfoot it is very, very rough and uneven - quietly satisfying when I can string together a sequence of delicate footsteps over the rocks, but every so often – just as I’m getting a little over confident – the rock I have elected to land on slews over and throws me out of kilter. But, taking the rough with the smooth, progress is steady and I’m feeling really good. Nevertheless, it comes as something of a surprise when I round a corner towards the bottom of the descent, and see Jorg just ahead. At Kinlochleven, 14 miles to go, the final checkpoint, I choose not to tarry long. The South Africans are only 5 minutes ahead – the chase is on!

Meantime, the action is hotting up elsewhere – not least the temperature, now at 26 degrees C / 79F. At the front of the field, William and Kumar were all but together at Kingshouse, with William slightly ahead at the bottom of the Devil’s Staircase. But Kumar, from Nepal, ‘likes hills’. By the 6 miles distance covered on the ups and downs to Kinlochleven, he was ten minutes ahead. The first and second slots had pretty much been decided.

Elsewhere, the ladies were battling it out. Debbie Cox had been well ahead of her rivals at Kingshouse, and looked to have things all sewn up. But in such events as this, just when it all seems to be going so well, things can dramatically take a nosedive. Whatever it was happened to Debbie, Sarah Kleeman and Hilary Spenceley were able to come right back into the frame.

Leaving Kinlochleven there is c. 800 feet of gradual ascent up a rocky uneven path. Whilst Kumar probably ran the whole way, most folk probably walked it all. At the top of this climb we emerge on to the infamous Lairig Mor (‘Big pass’), still part of the old Military Road – extremely rough underfoot; okay for quad bikes, but not for any less robust means of mechanical transport. It stretches westwards (and almost always into the wind), undulating, as far as the eye can see, to the high point near Tigh-na-sleubhaich. It was along this stretch that I passed the South Africans. From Tigh-na-sleubhaich the route continues westwards in similar vein – again as far as the eye can see; it can be very demoralising for the already demoralised….. Masses of folk walking the West Highland Way, many of them laden under bulging rucksacks. Most give some encouragement; a few are too engrossed in chit chat with their colleagues to even be aware of my existence. Nasty collisions have been known to take place, but not for me, today.

Into the welcoming shade of the forest – still 8 miles to go with masses of ups and downs, puddles and loose rocks to negotiate. But suddenly, at a high point by Dun Deardail, I emerge from the trees on to a major forestry trail. Down down at speed for 2 miles, then tarmac for the final mile. It’s been a roller coaster of a journey in many senses.

Kumar, meantime, had taken 5 minutes off last year’s excellent record, and won by a 12 minute margin. What’s his secret, I wondered? His day job is working as a porter for trekking tours in the Himalayas, carrying loads of 40 kilos up to about 5,000 metres altitude. But on his latest trek he only had a load of 30 kilos – he was also carrying an elderly lady trekker who was unable to progress under her own power. When he’s not doing this, he indulges in his love of hill running. A somewhat different fitness regime to most of us!

Of the 62 who started, 57 completed the distance within the 12 hour time limit. It’s a great event for anyone who wants to do more than a marathon, and for several of today’s participants this was their first foray beyond the 26.2 miles. They came away with a new awareness of their extended potential, a justifiably great sense of achievement, and a fine race memento for the mantelpiece.

Men
1st Kumar Limbu - Nepal AAC - 6:25:22 record
2nd William Sichel - Orkney AC - 6:37:06
3rd Murdo McEwan - Carnethy HRC - 6:56:20
1st MV Eryk Grant - Unattached - 7:28:40
1stMSV Tony Thistlethwaite - Strathaven Striders - 7:34:00
Ladies
1st Hilary Spenceley - Carnethy HRC - 7:39:50 record
2nd Sarah Kleeman - Unattached - 7:46:40
3rd Debbie Cox - Glasgow TRI Club - 7:51:10
1st LV Lynne Kuz - EZ Carnegie Harriers - 8:03:41
1st LSV Jean Bowman - Beacon RC - 8:41:50