Noonstone

Every five years I get a rush of blood to the head that tells me the time is right to try and score some points in the English fell championship and this was my motivation for entering the Noonstone Fell Race on Saturday, never before having achieved any score.

A look at the results will show that while I may have registered points for the first time it was foolish to think that I might be competitive. I was fifth out of six over 70s and half an hour behind the leader.

That leaves me with a dilemma - whether to try again at Coniston on May 1st or whether to say "I know my place" and give up trying, though I do rather fancy having a go at Coniston.

One thing is clear, the sort of training we do on a Saturday morning is no preparation for a race like Noonstone where there are three major climbs and a long trek of about three miles across boggy heather. The nearest we come to these quagmire conditions is the run from the mast road across to the shooting hut.

Conditions for the race were cold but little wind and on the highest ground visibility was much reduced and about this time, roughly half way round the nine mile route, snow set in and began to whiten the route trampled by the faster runners. Across this desolate tract of moorland I came upon a runner trapped up to his thighs in deep bog. Two other runners were unsuccessful in extricating him as I arrived and with my extra assistance we managed to pull him free. What would have happened if he had this experience while on a solo training run or had inadvertently strayed from the route? I doesn't bear thinking about.

There was a fair amount of snow lying from previous falls and at the highest point of the route permafrost was about six inches below the surface. All in all it was not an easy surface to run on and the final steep descent began with a large snow patch that was almost impossible to keep upright on. I for one went down but did not leave the longest of slide marks.