Ochil 2000s

The Ochill 2000s goes over the 10 2000ft peaks in the Ochil hills, which are near Stirling There is no fixed route so you can pick your own as long as you go over the hills in order. Ian from the running club talked me into this one. 18 miles and 5000 ft of ascent across some hills I’d never seen or heard of. What could go wrong? People a work were full of grim pronouncements about how boggy the terrain was. Just to add some extra excitement apparently I was almost certain to break my leg, or look like the worst kind of amateur running it in road shoes. But as road shoes are all I have the die was cast, and in fell running terms I am the worst kind of amateur.

Registration is at Stirling University, this went smoothly, Ian questioned a lot of people about the line to take of Blairdennon hill, then we had a sandwich and waited for the bus to the start.

The race starts from a car park in Glendevon. The bus takes about three quarters of on hour, then you get to hang around in the car park for half an hour or so waiting for the start. It was a nice day so this was fine. Ian took the opportunity to question everyone else about the line to take of Blairdennon hill. I listened but without having seen the ground I couldn't really visualise what to do.

Team Dunbar at the start

Having adequately disturbed the tranquillity of the people camping in the car park we were off. It starts off up a nice forest track, ascending but runnable. Then it gets very muddy on the final stretch up out of the forest to the deer fence - my first bit of walking for the day certainly not the last. I try to position myself somewhere in the middle of the pack, and concentrate on not going to fast but trying to make the most of the runnable terrain.

Emerging from the forest the first of the tops come into view. It looks suitably impressive. A long and straight path going a long way up. But at the same time there is a path and a wall to follow and it doesn't look stupidly steep. I slog up thinking this isn't too bad, sometimes I walk, sometimes I run, sometimes I pass people more rarely they pass me, sometimes it’s the same people.

 

This sets a pattern for the day, whenever the ground is OK and level, slightly up or slightly down I pass people. Whenever it involves proper fell running skills people pass me.

Over the top of Innerdownie and the views over the Forth are spectacular. It doesn't feel like we come down much, but the next top seems a decent amount higher. The rain starts, it doesn't look like anything serious, I vaguely wonder about putting on my waterproof, but struggle to imagine a level of rain that would actually make me stop and get it out of my pack.

 

Over the deer fence with its giant steps and along to Whitewisp and then Tarmangie hill in fairly quick succession. So far my navigation strategy has been to follow someone else. This falls down a bit when we come off Tarmangie, when we reach a fence and the guy in front of me stops and asks the way. The best I can manage is a shrug, but thankfully we are saved when someone in a quartered top who clearly knows what he is doing comes along and confidently hops the fence and heads of downhill.

As I said I've never really done anything like this and I was a bit taken aback by what happened next. Previously we had been following a path, now everyone just heads down hill. I'm surprised by the pace of the guy in front of me and try to keep up. I'm more unnerved when what seems like half the race comes pouring past me bouncing down the hill like kangaroos. I try to keep up, all my doubts about shoes are now confirmed and I'm feeling like this is going to be a long race, but at the same time even though I'm holding back I'm still loving the feeling of half running half falling down the hill and soon just placing the next foot correctly absorbs all of my thoughts.

The climb up Kings Seat is steep, everyone walks pretty much from the start, drinking and eating sweeties.  I have a gel. The rain is coming down and this is bit of a grim slog. It’s about 12 minutes walking up the hill until the path levels out at the top, then it’s a short run along to the control (you have to dib in orienteering style at the top of each hill, the organisers will claim this is for safety and to stop cheating, but I think someone in the organising committee just has a thing for speadsheets). Back along and I'm feeling really cold in just my vest in the rain, I start to believe I might have to put my waterproof on after all. I'm starting to feel like a fish out of water and regretting the shoes and my lack of experience. There is a short out and back and I'm surprised to see the number of people behind me, this makes me feel a bit better I must be doing something OK. Down another steep slope, but this one is rougher and no one seems to be going quite as fast.

I can’t really remember the climb up to Andrew Gannel Hill so it can’t have been too good or too bad. I think this is where I was chatting to someone about the Highland Fling. The rain had started to come back here, so I decide to put my phone safely out of the way in my pack in a waterproof bag. This would have been an excellent idea except for the fact that I think this is what caused me to lose my map, I noticed a few minutes later it wasn’t there. Cue panic, its especially annoying as I know there is another copy of the map in my rucksack at the finish which I actively took out thinking nah I’m not going to need two of these. I instantly regret the fact that I’ve been following people rather than navigating and if I’m being absolutely honest, I’ve lost count of how many hills I’ve done or what the next one is.

Coming off Andrew Gannel is very runnable and I’m feeling quite good here. I can see people heading up to Ben Cleuth, but the route heads off to the left toward the Law. This is again quite runnable there is a path, but in the wet conditions there isn’t that much advantage to following it and I talk a few shortcuts – just like a proper fell runner.

 

Up to The Law over the fence and back down the other side and up to Ben Cleuth this seemed fairly painless. It’s an OK run along to Ben Buck I’m feeling good along here and the run along to Ben Ever is probably the high point of the race for me. The follow like a sheep navigation strategy has been working well so far and to be honest it’s given me a good kick up the arse not to lose sight of the guy in front. I’m running well, too well, I pass the guy in front, and have to run even harder to make up the ground to the guy in front of him.
 

The chap in the fling buff I’d been speaking to earlier had said the race starts at Ben Ever and he was right. Up to this point this had been an enjoyable and challenging day out. I’d done 11.2 miles in just over 2 hours, was feeling good. The published length of the race is 18 miles so I felt I’d broken the back of it. 9 of the 11 summits had been done.
 

I headed off towards Blairdennon. There was no path but you could see where the hill was so I headed in roughly a straight line. It we here I lost my falling head over heels in a somersault, fell running virginity. It felt like it should look impressive but I’ll bet it was anything but. I’ve no idea if the guy behind has noticed or cared, but I give him an “I meant to do that honest” kind of wave and carried on. I was about 5 minutes later I noticed that the fall had cost me one of my shiny new water bottles. I toyed with going back but to be honest I didn’t think I could identify where on the featureless slope I’d tumbled and reckoned you could look for months and not find anything. Suitably cross I carried on along the top of a steep slope which I annoying started to drift down and found myself running across the slope. It was very uncomfortable with my wet feet slipping to the slide of my shoes and in the end I gave up with it and took the line of least resistance down the slope to a substantial track, knowing I’d have to make the height back later.
 

One of the things people had talked about in the run up to the race was peat hags. Now I have a geography degree and am expected to know about stuff like this, but I had no idea what they were on about. So not wanting to look stupid I kept my mouth shut. This next section fully answered all of my peat hag questions. So for anyone else who needs to know a peat hag is terrain which is half calf deep bog, interspersed with more solid higher ground. This promise of solid ground sounds good, but it isn’t because when you are in the bog it is waist high and a pain to climb onto, and when you are on the solid ground it is a decent drop to the bog which tends to exacerbate the sinking.
 

This went on for about two thirds of a mile. It felt like longer. I kept glancing enviously at the guy I’d waved at after my fall, he looked like he knew what he was doing, he was sure to have a better line, I just needed to work my way over to the right then it would be fine. Then he went head over heels so I accepted there was no magic line and got on with it.
 

After a while I reached a gate and then there was a decent path up to the summit. Where another hardy marshal had pitched a tent on what had to be to most remote marshalling point of the course. Clearly a man who had drawn the short straw at the marshals briefing. This next section was the bit everyone had been getting excited about pre race, I asked the marshal if the best line was down to the left, he replied that there was no best line, so I took this as a ringing endorsement of my line and went down to the left of the fence.

There was a steep down and a steep up, and the ground at the bottom was pretty ropey. I was getting worried as I had no map and couldn’t see anyone in front of me. Then as I crested the slope I saw a train of people heading towards me who had clearly contoured round further to the left. The man leading was wearing a purple vest, this meant he was from the local Ochil running club and could be expected to know where to go. He had a big white beard, like a thinner purple vested Santa bringing me the gift of a route off the hills. I shamelessly latched on and followed him.
 

I fell over a few times the Ochil guy seemed to drift over the ground and gradually edged away from me. By now I had my bearings and could see the final hill. The Ochil runner didn’t seem to be heading for the hill but heading west. Dark thoughts entered my head, my earlier complete trust was replaced with thoughts like, what if he’s just out for a run, maybe he thinks it’s funny to run around the hills in a club vest on race day and lead unsuspecting novices astray. More pertinently I’m struggling to keep up over the tough ground and worry I could lose him, so I decide on a more direct route straight down towards Dumyat.
 

It’s at this point I first turn my ankle (ow) and then put my leg into a narrow knee deep ditch. The latter was scary it was knee high and very narrow. I think the only think that saved me from doing some serious damage was the sedate pace I was going at, I could easily have broken a leg.

 

Further down I can see three people emerging from the left. I ask them all if they know where they’re going, they all say no. Still being lost with company sure beats being lost on your own. We run on together across a deep ditch which requires a slight jump. I’m just heading away when there is cry from the guy behind, we hold back, he says it’s just cramp and we should go on. I do but I feel kind of bad about leaving him in a ditch. I hope he’s not still there.
 

We’re in fields now it’s all looking a bit more civilised - well apart from the menacing highland cows - but this section has taken ages, and the sub 4 hours finish I thought was in the bag on top of Ben Ever is looking shakier. This next hill Dumyat, although the smallest (and not a proper 2000) looks like a brute.
 

I run the more gentle early sections but after that it is some of the toughest walking of the day on very tired legs. It’s just a case of getting on with it and eventually the top comes. I ask how far to the finish, “two miles downhill". There is 25 minutes left to get under 4 hours, this should be easy - it isn't.
 

The path off the hill is fine, after so long in the hill seeing only other runners, the general public reappear here and look slightly bemused / scared as we all run down the hill. There are a good few of us in close proximity, but I’m racing the clock, not any of them.
 

The route to the finish goes through some woods. The course is marked here with red and white tape. Some of the forest paths are rough with some steeps muddy slopes, my hopes of an easy run down to the finish fade.
 

We start to see bits of the university then a lady from Dundee comes past running really hard. Confronted with the reality of how fast she is able to run at this stage I pick up the pace and follow. I’m glad I did as there are two tricky turns that I would have missed left to my own devices. Both were marked by after such a long effort it’s hard to keep your wits about you, but you need to pay attention though this last bit. We are both chasing sub 4, there really isn’t long to go, and then it all starts to look familiar and there is the finish. 3:56:35 and I’m pretty pleased.

A quick cup of tea and a cake and my work is done.
 

Thanks to everyone who organised and made the race possible. Especially the marshals on the hilltops. A great job.

My route through the hills