Fadtpack 2

I was going to correct my typo title but fad-packing seems like a good description,  though I hope this fad is here to stay.

This weekend I ran from the bottom of the valley, stopping at the Apple Shack.  I diverted off my usual course at Lodge Moor to take the paths around the reservoir which were more challenging than I remember. Getting caught out crawling through bracken was not a pleasant experience and I stabbed myself in the ancle with my belved poles. DOH!. 

I passed a range of swimmers / beachgoers before heading up the Causeway direct, from where I headed for high Neb for the first time in forever (except for climbing on it in my twenties). 

It was windy on top and as I climbed the stile I considered my options. The wind had gotten gale- force and was threatening to smash me and my heavy pack into the rocks. I'd say "thank goodness for poles" but they were also being blown sideways so their placement was sketchy and threatening to add to the mix by tripping me up. Still, the draw of the Neb was too much so/lay in a grassy hollow out of the gales but in the warm sun to eat the sandwiches I'd brought out. I didn't need my sit mat - the fround was so dry - except I did because I sat on a bee. That got me up and moving again. 

I chatted with climbers upon high Neb then followed my heart off the crag and across the heather to a distant Grouse moor trail to check out the bivi opportunities. There's also a stone circle there somewhere but I saved that for another day. The freedom of just shooting off on a tangent, unencum­bered by a bike -was overwhelm­ing. I traversed Burbage edge on a singletrack path lined with handlebar chocking bracken and filtered over a stile at to Heatherdene carpark to use the toilets and fill up with water. I filled the bladder in my backpack but spent plenty of time on the bench in the sun just drinking from my race cup.

Eventually I checked with another woman that the ice cream van was still at the fishery carpark before heading down out of my way to buy a magnum ice cream which I ate on my way to the dam. 

I considered the run over summer pastures but realised that the shorter route would put me on the radar of the local campsite police or in my other potential spot, facing straight into a bracing breeze so I settled on the very attractive idea of Win Hill direct with a second breakfast at Fairholmes in the morning. I was going up Winn Hill as the last few people were coming down and it's this time of day you feel thankful to be out with all that you need as others make their way home (asking directions). The sunlight dappled through the trees as it turned silver to pale Gold. The summit cairn was already occupied by another hiker - his 60th of 6000 or so. What a challenge!

I picked my way carefully down as the top of Winn Hill was the site of my most epic running crash ever. The poles should help this time.. but I'm pretty sure I stumbled at exactly the same spot. I met a rather impressively tooled up double- leg-amputee MTB rider on my way down-only noticed his Carbon blades after I'd coveted stealing his bike for the last downhill which is funny because I recon I'd have found his cleats impossible.

• • •

After jogging for a while I set off on the downhill only to recall a pretty neat bivi spot in a woodland clearing -if only I could find it... Yes! There it was. I started by doing a few laps-to identify the best spots We must've been pretty tired last time as 3 of us slept here but I concluded there was only one good spot. A bit too on top of a hillock but otherwise mossy and smooth. I sat and lay on my groundshatto test it. It wasba bit curved. I even considered cooking then moving on. It was only 6:30pm after all. The briefest of showers remin­ded me of the forecast.

• • •

Now, I'd practised pitching my old tarp with poles in my small garden at home but THIS-this new tarp was a beast. First, half a metre longer and 20 cms wider. It was light and slippery and the guy ropes were long. I was also trying to pitch it on top of a hillock. It took me 2 circuits to make the thing stand up. Thank god I brought good pegs. Then I needed to drop the windward side, which was seeing quite a breeze still. I also needed to raise the head end as rain was forecast and I wanted to be able to sit up to cook.

After a bit of swearing some more laps and some collapses I was finally pitched. I found a spare peg and string to reduce flapping as the wind ricocheted around the trees and clipped my backpack to another loop-mainly to stop the lightweight tarp getting blown away if it came loose but it also added stability in the breeze. It took me an hour to pitch and unpack all my stuff sacks so I lay on the pile of fluffy bags and had a micro nap. This rest helped me realise that potentially the best use of my Scandinavian Tarp would have been to tie it to one of the many trees around - for which its long guy ropes are designed. Oh well. Nothing like jumping in at the deep end.

I was not sorry to find I'd brought a 1000kcal meal pack along for the day so I ate a lot of chilli, skipped desert, cleaned my teeth, had a pee and was in bed for 8. I Watched the sun go, the flight path die down, the stars come out. Satellites racing, I fell asleep looking for shooting stars only to be woken by the patter of rain on my face so I retreated my pillows shoes inside and curled up to make sure my feet stayed dry at the other end. It was nice not to have the restrictions of the bivi bag or tent and for once I'd got my layers and sleeping bag just right. I was a bit too excited by the whole thing to sleep and occasionally I worried the tarp was going to flap off but my pitch was sound.

I woke up to the Sun breaking over the tops of trees and midges starting to bite my face. As the dawn chorus kicked off I tried to hide in my sleeping bag, cursing myself for forgetting my midgnet. Eventually I remembered the smidge bottle and applied it to face and hands, adding enough layers to cover the rest of my body. I ate my porridge between a buff and a hat

• • •

The midges actually didn't bother me. Still, I packed quickly and headed down the hill to the river where multiple bands of car campers fried bacon over wood fires while I tsked with disapproval, then got on with my day lest I be judged by fine lines.The day started with 2 mtb encounters on the bridleway up to Hagg Farm but from the top I straight-lined it down the side of the hill to the cafe to indulge in 10am pastie with the wildfowl.

• • •

With 22hr "active travel" yesterday, today was all about "finishing the BB20" training. Except it started out ambitious. I really enjoyed the hike to fairholmes for breakfast before the run upto the moors-direct where I realised I'd forgotten water. Still, not to panic. My trusty filter was deployed to scoop up a trickle from the brook. It took me awhile to figure out Derwent edges were still way above me and the best route there was not direct. Still I got to check out a lovely future bivi spot that I have eyed from afar many times. I avoided the masses at Lost Lad so I could sit on a quiet rock for a pee and put compeed on my feet where the skin was worn raw on the side of my soles. 

I needed to go the most direct route to Derwent Edges. I sat on the rocks at the top and consumed the large slice of cake, exported from the caf, whilst mostly hiding from the breeze and bare-chested teens.

The main path was not terrible though the occasional icy wind saw me put on my pertex skirt in public. I soon peeled away for Moscar, leaving the masses to complete their Derwent edge loop.

A hiker passed me while I sat in the grass with my shoes off, wondering what to do. He gave me the answer as he passed with his hands in his pockets. I would enjoy chocolate then saunter down to home. Also I took out my insoles which gave me some light relief. In future I will take some softer ones too.

My sauntering got me as far as Moscar Lodge where realised I had run out of water again. I though of phoning for a pick up but what else to do with a sunny day? The Streams were not forthcoming so I continued by Moscar farm, where the cows had nothing to share, and I baked my way across Rod side in the heat. I dropped down to the valley bottom as soon as I could  and not only did I fill my bottle in the river but I also sat in it for quite some time.

The insoles went back into the shoes since my feet were aching from the hiking without. One of my blister plasters had curled so I pulled it off, not realising the other end was very firmly affixed to sore skin. It was excrutiating. 

I set off again-this time with my socks inside out so the smooth fabric was next to my skin and the cushioning fibres were next to the shoe where it rubbed my feet. I didnt bother to tighten the shoes much as I was no longer running. I leant harder on my poles and picked my way down. 

The water did it's job to cool me but I was soon shivering so I removed my wet shorts, put my skirt on then added a wool top. I stuck with the valley path avoiding the A57 until the reservoirs - including a bench-stop to put moisture onto some rice pudding to fuel my final few kms home. 

My body couldn't stomach more chocolate and I thought it would be useful to know just how much longer it takes to re-hydrate food from cold water. It turns out 20 minutes is not enough, leaving me with a bag of cinnamon-flavoured rice crispies in rehydrated milk. 

I ate as much as I could stomach which was enough to get me moving and promised myself I'd not waste the rest and microwave it when I got in (it went in the bin).

At the reservoirs I took the short-flat-out and recorded my fastest km of the day, walking down the A57 as quickly as possible to get it out of the way whilst snacking on blackberries from the verge.

Back in the valley I pushed myself as fast as my feet would carry me (not very) to get home in time for some dinner - all the way assessing the easiest way back - up and flat or flat then up and down at the end. I went for up and flat despite the risk of bumping into someone I knew whilst dressed as the 17th century plague doctor with my green skirt and hat and pointed cyclist's nose. When the long flat road through the houses came, the body part that had truly had enough was the one that had been working hard all day to save the rest of me - my arms.

I put the poles across my shoulders and hung out my elbows or wrists to relax. Now/looked like green jesus. There was just the one downhill to do. The poles stretched out to 135cm and I lowered myself down the hill with every other stride as my knees buckled with each step. Back at the house I went straight inside and upstairs to lie down. Remarkably I didn't need to sleep, I just had to get the load off my feet.  So even better, I ran a bath and let the water take the nasty gravity away.

What a brilliant weekend.