The walk.
Well, I didn't make it the whole 54 miles, just 42, but I'm still pretty impressed with that. I'd like to thank our awesome support team (Adrian, Marielle and Darren) who made it all possible, and the volunteers who gave so much so people could carry on. I recommend the Caledonian Challenge to anyone who likes hot physiotherapists.
Stage 1 went well, we were all feeling good after starting at 0900 and the midges weren't too much of a bother with our hats on. We took a wrong turn briefly but got back on track and finished the longest stage with a reasonable time. Mostly the stage was about warming up and finding a pace for the rest of the distance. The rest stop was longer than we had planned for but we all took on a load of tasty carbohydrates and I found out that my smoking was actively encouraged to keep the midges at bay.
Stage 2 is where it all started to go wrong for me. Andrew, our leader if you will, was dehydrated coming up Devil's Staircase (550m elevation) so we were a bit worried about that and by the time we'd reached the bottom of the far side my knees were starting to play up. Coming into Glen Coe I could hardly bend my legs and on the long hill up to the rest stop I was making terrible time, barely planting one foot in front of the other. The rest stop was a revelation though. Merielle (one of the support crew and a former finisher and physio at the event) managed to get me in to see one of her mates in the physio tent and two ibuprofen and one massage later I felt like a new man. I forced down some food and we headed out for Stage 3.
Stage 3 was along the old military road and it was hard going on the feet. It has some beautiful views and is mostly flat so it's at least easy on the legs. It was also where we saw our first retirement, a lady from another team who was looking extremely ill. Fortunately her team had it all in hand, one stayed with her whilst the other quickly covered the three miles to the next checkpoint to fetch medical help. The medics were on hand with an ambulance to get it all sorted. Good men. The military road is also notable for every team member needing a toilet break. Yo was first to give in, jumping a gate into a forest to find some cover whilst Andrew and Geoff ran to the rest stop. I remembered some substantial rhododendrum bushes from the practise walk so waited for them. We also met the charming members of a Glaswegian boxing club who were planning to walk the entire West Highland Way. I hope they make it. At the rest stop I decided to have my feet taped up (a blister on each heel and the balls of my feet were aching from the stony road surface) rather than get another massage. That may have been a mistake.
Stage 4 started well, although since it was 2300 by now and I had forgotten my headlight I was worried about how well we were going to do with someone having to light my way. Turns out it was a nice easy track for the first third or so. A nice easy track with wild Highland cattle that is. Honestly, who lets two tons of muscle and big fucking horns wander about when 1500 people are going to come by? We survived our encounter with the local fauna although I wonder at the number of people who must have turned back confronted by a massive mum on one side of the road and her two defenceless calves on the other. Apart from that, and the return of sore knees, I was feeling pretty confident. Then we hit the hard part. Following the track with a sheer drop on one side (and me in the middle of the night with nothing to light my way except my team-mates) was a climb up what appeared to be a riverbed, then a scramble up some rocks before getting to a very uneven footpath. Not good. Still, we survived that (with more ibuprofen my legs were feeling better again) and looked forward to the next rest stop. The signs said six and a half miles to the stop, six and a half miles later the signs said two and a half miles, and two and a half miles after that we were reassured that the stop was ten minutes away. By this time Yo had gone very quiet and Andrew was flagging badly. My legs were feeling alright, not great, but the soles of my feet felt like I'd been testing a hammer on them. When Yo announced her decision to retire at the end of the stage I was surprised, I always thought I'd be first to quit (and at the end of the second stage I thought I was going to be) and Yo is a serious walker. But on the way into the stage end I could see her limping and wondered if a massage was going to be able to fix this one. We sat in the support van to chat about what was going to happen, Andrew was still panting as though he was in the middle of a climb. He knew it was dangerous for him to continue and told us he would be dropping out too. I thought about the ache in my feet, the damage to my knees, the knots in my calves and the new pain in my ankles, then I thought about how the next 12 mile stage to the finish would be over a quarter of the distance we had covered already and decided that I wasn't going to make it. I wasn't sure my mind was there and I really didn't want to end up hating walking. Geoff performed like a star and went to find a team to buddy up with.
I wasn't awake when Geoff finished (being swept across a loch by Royal Marines) but I was very glad he'd managed it. Apparently the fifth stage was the worst by far (for me it was unimaginable that something could be worse than stage four) but he slogged it out to pick up our team's only gold medal. You're a legend Geoff.
I think I'll be back next year, I felt pretty good despite all the aches and pains, I still had a load of energy and it was only the worry of permanent damage and the nagging doubts of finishing the stage that stopped me. Next year people I'm going to do it all.
Stage 1 went well, we were all feeling good after starting at 0900 and the midges weren't too much of a bother with our hats on. We took a wrong turn briefly but got back on track and finished the longest stage with a reasonable time. Mostly the stage was about warming up and finding a pace for the rest of the distance. The rest stop was longer than we had planned for but we all took on a load of tasty carbohydrates and I found out that my smoking was actively encouraged to keep the midges at bay.
Stage 2 is where it all started to go wrong for me. Andrew, our leader if you will, was dehydrated coming up Devil's Staircase (550m elevation) so we were a bit worried about that and by the time we'd reached the bottom of the far side my knees were starting to play up. Coming into Glen Coe I could hardly bend my legs and on the long hill up to the rest stop I was making terrible time, barely planting one foot in front of the other. The rest stop was a revelation though. Merielle (one of the support crew and a former finisher and physio at the event) managed to get me in to see one of her mates in the physio tent and two ibuprofen and one massage later I felt like a new man. I forced down some food and we headed out for Stage 3.
Stage 3 was along the old military road and it was hard going on the feet. It has some beautiful views and is mostly flat so it's at least easy on the legs. It was also where we saw our first retirement, a lady from another team who was looking extremely ill. Fortunately her team had it all in hand, one stayed with her whilst the other quickly covered the three miles to the next checkpoint to fetch medical help. The medics were on hand with an ambulance to get it all sorted. Good men. The military road is also notable for every team member needing a toilet break. Yo was first to give in, jumping a gate into a forest to find some cover whilst Andrew and Geoff ran to the rest stop. I remembered some substantial rhododendrum bushes from the practise walk so waited for them. We also met the charming members of a Glaswegian boxing club who were planning to walk the entire West Highland Way. I hope they make it. At the rest stop I decided to have my feet taped up (a blister on each heel and the balls of my feet were aching from the stony road surface) rather than get another massage. That may have been a mistake.
Stage 4 started well, although since it was 2300 by now and I had forgotten my headlight I was worried about how well we were going to do with someone having to light my way. Turns out it was a nice easy track for the first third or so. A nice easy track with wild Highland cattle that is. Honestly, who lets two tons of muscle and big fucking horns wander about when 1500 people are going to come by? We survived our encounter with the local fauna although I wonder at the number of people who must have turned back confronted by a massive mum on one side of the road and her two defenceless calves on the other. Apart from that, and the return of sore knees, I was feeling pretty confident. Then we hit the hard part. Following the track with a sheer drop on one side (and me in the middle of the night with nothing to light my way except my team-mates) was a climb up what appeared to be a riverbed, then a scramble up some rocks before getting to a very uneven footpath. Not good. Still, we survived that (with more ibuprofen my legs were feeling better again) and looked forward to the next rest stop. The signs said six and a half miles to the stop, six and a half miles later the signs said two and a half miles, and two and a half miles after that we were reassured that the stop was ten minutes away. By this time Yo had gone very quiet and Andrew was flagging badly. My legs were feeling alright, not great, but the soles of my feet felt like I'd been testing a hammer on them. When Yo announced her decision to retire at the end of the stage I was surprised, I always thought I'd be first to quit (and at the end of the second stage I thought I was going to be) and Yo is a serious walker. But on the way into the stage end I could see her limping and wondered if a massage was going to be able to fix this one. We sat in the support van to chat about what was going to happen, Andrew was still panting as though he was in the middle of a climb. He knew it was dangerous for him to continue and told us he would be dropping out too. I thought about the ache in my feet, the damage to my knees, the knots in my calves and the new pain in my ankles, then I thought about how the next 12 mile stage to the finish would be over a quarter of the distance we had covered already and decided that I wasn't going to make it. I wasn't sure my mind was there and I really didn't want to end up hating walking. Geoff performed like a star and went to find a team to buddy up with.
I wasn't awake when Geoff finished (being swept across a loch by Royal Marines) but I was very glad he'd managed it. Apparently the fifth stage was the worst by far (for me it was unimaginable that something could be worse than stage four) but he slogged it out to pick up our team's only gold medal. You're a legend Geoff.
I think I'll be back next year, I felt pretty good despite all the aches and pains, I still had a load of energy and it was only the worry of permanent damage and the nagging doubts of finishing the stage that stopped me. Next year people I'm going to do it all.