Ripl Scavenger Hunt for Pancreatic Cancer Action

Coleridge Way - Nether Stowey to Lynmouth FKT - Female

Staunton Way ... Female FKT ... throwing down the gauntlet to the ladies

The legs are back ... repeat, the legs are back! 🤗

An epic solo adventure ... the elevation should be 3300m but mentally Strava is spot on! 🤣 Full report below ...

Where there's a will there's a 'Way' ...

I quietly planned my hair brained scheme whilst stomping my way along the Staunton Way in July. As all of our races have vaporised, one by one ... all my A races to test my endurance have gradually shifted into next year so I've kept moving the goalposts, kept training and aimed for bigger races in the latter part of the year. I'm not sure my A race in November will actually go ahead. Dartmoor National Park are currently not allowing races to take place, wanting to continue to protect the landscape from the high volume of tourists. My hope is that November, being wild and wet, may mean the race goes ahead so I stuck with my hair brained plan. To qualify for my A race I need to have run a 50 miler. Tsunami 24 would have been my qualifier but it was cancelled until June 2021.

But where there's a will there's a 'Way' ... quite literally. The Coleridge Way in fact. I've wanted to run sections for a while, poring over maps and working out logistics. But up to this point I had never ran or walked any more than the last section from Rockford to Lynmouth. So why not try to run and power hike the full Coleridge Way ... from Nether Stowey to Lynmouth as an FKT? All 50 plus miles of it! I wasn't sure how long it would take me. But as no female had done the full route, the only pressure would be myself. 

I wanted to do my best but it was unknown territory for me. Matt quadruple checked the route. Gave advise. And the training put me in a good place. But it was 20 miles further than I have run before so I was a little bit nervous, super excited. I blame and thank @helloraissa for being such an inspiration for going long and @running_bucky & @ultrarunner_jh for planting the FKT seed 😄 

My Female FKT along the Coleridge Way has been confirmed 🤗 I'm hoping it may be my qualifier (although I'm currently too scared to ask! 🤭)

I'm not the fastest by any means but sometimes it's about being the bravest ... of being the first to try ... of taking that first step to where you want to be! And having an epic adventure along the way 🤗

Savouring every moment of a grand day out etched into my memory, before my selective memory fades, just like childbirth, forgetting the pain and only remembering the highs ...

To say I was nervous was an understatement. I had to remind myself to breathe as Chris drove me to my start point. On our drive we negotiated narrow lanes, swept up and down hills with mist in the valley & blue sky above, lulling me into a false sense of security ... sunshine, sweeping landscapes that I would be passing back across via tracks and trails, views distracting from the steep climbs & tired legs.

We parked at The Ancient Mariner, I clicked the GPS on and Chris checked my dot was live. I then headed down the road avoiding the carcasses being unloaded from a van and delivered to a butchers, turning right at the clock tower & straight up the first hill. Past clipped hedges, cute cottages & finally onto the wooded trail beside a stream. 

Those first steps settled my nerves, finally I could stop thinking, I could just get on with running. As I closed the gate the beautiful sunshine glowed, I was actually doing this, I was actually going to run the Coleridge Way! I turned my back on the sun & headed up through the dense shaded woodland, wrapped in a sense of calm. 

I spilled out high on the moorland ... one of my favourite landscapes, enthralled by the colours of gorse & heather, the mix of summer green & autumn bronze bracken. Soon after this I missed a quill waymarker in the said bracken and merrily ran down to a fairy glen in an enchanted wood of distinctive wispy twisty mossy trunks anchored into steep valley sides, a river glittering below. Frog Combe & Butterfly Wood frustratingly held me in it's spell, disorientated for far too long, all sense of calm erased. 

After running to and fro I finally retraced my steps back up and out of the Glen, discovering where I went wrong! I was so tempted to ring Chris ... call it a day, try again another day. I had wasted time, accumulated unnecessary mileage & elevation. But I figured what was 20 minutes on a long run? I carried on, the sky now grey, crying heavy raindrops ...

And so an adventure begins ...

From blue skies and positive vibes my mood changed. As I emerged from that enchanted wood I was filled with a new sense of urgency! Messages pinged in from friends checking I was ok. If I had been panicking it had been far worse to watch a dot going round & round in circles with no means to help! A reassurance for me that friends cared enough to dot watch & check in on me though.

The grey skies reflected my mood as I stomped along damp lanes & tracks, past Alfoxton Hall that looked derelict, dishevelled, in need of some care & attention ... where Wordsworth stayed in 1797, where Coleridge's Rime of the Ancient Mariner was first performed. It resembled how flustered & messy I mentally felt.

I berated myself for not trusting the route on my watch, for flying down a hill, away with the fairies, not paying attention, making a rookie navigational mistake so early on. I couldn't even blame tiredness. Mistrusting that I had to climb back out of that glen, so sure it was one of the paths criss crossing the river! I learnt a lot in those panicked minutes about myself, about reading the information on my watch. I learnt to stop, to take a deep breath & to think calmly. Comparing maps on phone & watch to work out where I had gone wrong. I was going to keep my mind focussed & eyes sharp for waymarkers from this point on. If I needed a minute or two to double check I would take it to save the long minutes of panic that followed ploughing on down the wrong trail.

The rain fell harder, the waterproof was adorned. I ran what I could, I power hiked what seemed constant up hill, through muddy tracks, puddle riddled lanes, dripping woodland canopies, exposed farmland tracks, lumpy bumpy grassy fields that soaked the socks & shoes, past cows & sheep bemused by my damp appearance, one step in front of the other! Making progress. I was soaked to the skin ...
'My lips were wet, my throat was cold 
My garments all were dank;' 
Coleridge

Everything dripped. Everything was grey. Landscapes had no definition as they disappeared into mist. My focus now was to reach Monksilver ... to tick off the first quarter of the route ...

When you see the 1 3/4 mile Road sign to Monksilver but you're taking the scenic route ...

Monksilver was a tiny pinpoint of familiar that I had driven through the day before my adventure. I had spied where I would spill out onto the lane & where I would pick up the next trail. It was over a half marathon from my starting point & it would be another hilly half marathon to my meeting point with Chris at Wheddon Cross, at my halfway point. 

I bounced down through two very long clumpy grassed fields, the church spire & pub in sight, sodden feet but a full warm heart & a smile from ear to ear. Without pausing for a pint I headed straight for the narrow muddy trail that led back up & out on the other side of the valley, a path that ran up alongside a stream which was overflowing. Halfway up an oak tree blocked my way, brought down by Storm Francis two days prior. There was no way over, no way under, no way around so I had to climb through it, snagging on branches a couple of times ... good job I'm small. The steep muddy river path continued upwards for what felt like miles! I recognised Windwhistle Lane at the top from driving the narrow lanes the day before, another familiar sight to boost the confidence on a completely unfamiliar route! 

Veering off across another field, hugging yet another hillside ... the view down into the next valley to the left, steep hillside dotted with sheep and cows up on my right. Roadwater was the next milestone, a non descript bleak landscape as I descended down to the village Followed by more lumpy bumpy grassland to negotiate, an estate drive that felt like I was trespassing! 😬 which was also a bloody red muddy river of water! As I climbed to the top of another high point threatening black clouds rumbled, thunder echoing down the valley! 😱 At the top were grass filled meadows and grazing sheep surrounded by cloud, the gates for each field hidden by the mist. Wheddon Cross was now a stones throw away & the sun was trying to break through the grey.  

The thought of calling it a day at Wheddon Cross had flitted through my mind a couple of times! I was soaked to the skin but my core was warm. Should I, shouldn't I carry on? At that point perfect blue skies appeared & sealed my fate.

As I started to descend blue sky finally smiled on me. The fields funnelled into a narrow path of exposed slippery bedrock. Twice I slipped, despite taking it slow! Twice I landed heavily! Twice I picked myself up, cursing! The only injury, a bramble thorn in the palm of my hand. I felt ruffled, pissed off! With tears of frustration I threw myself down across the next field & headed up a short diversion to meet Chris at my halfway point. The sound of his voice over the hedge, so welcome after so many solo steps. He hung my waterproof to dry on a fence, emptying the hood of rainwater, whilst I replenished fuel, put on dry socks & shoes, a dry top.

With a kiss he sent me on my way.. Raindrops on bronze bracken glistened. Lush green valleys expanded before me. Dappled woodlands dripping in sparkling diamonds. My feet stayed dry for all of 2km ... deep squishy mud, puddle riddled tracks, paths like streams & river crossings meant the inevitable. The rain from Storm Francis two days prior meant the stepping stones were non existent, I had to wade across the swollen torrent of earthy river water several times. Remembering reading about @annamcnuff river crossings in New Zealand I looked for the shallowest point to cross, for fear of losing my footing, getting swept away or just ending up wet from head to foot! (subject to overdramatisation, maybe)

Climbing back up onto the moor was a killer ... hot, steep, on tired legs ... rewarded by vast blue skies & messages pinging into my phone as I reached the top ... my heart was full. Smile beaming I splashed along paths flowing with run off rainwater  shifting detritus underfoot. Of all the landscapes I run through moorland is my favourite.

Everywhere was sodden. The paths were rivers reflecting the sky. The ground was a saturated bog. As I splashed towards Porlock with glimpses of the sea the sky turned grey & rain began to fall again ...

Water, water, everywhere,
Nor any drop to drink!
Coleridge

Brief glimpses of the salt marshes, the sea & sunset on Porlock Hill, where I was headed, spurred me on to my next milestone ... Porlock ...

Grey skies & rain welcomed me as I descended through the deep dark woodlands at Horner into civilisation ... up to this point I had seen one cyclist, one runner, two hikers, two horses and their riders, one family, a few workers cutting up fallen trees from the storm, two farmers, two dog walkers. Plus Chris. Porlock was a shock to the senses. Cars! Tourists! Noise!

The waymarkers disappeared in Porlock too so I trusted my watch to guide me through the streets. A couple of times I double backed a short way to stay on the right path, finally heading towards Porlock Weir & hill on a seriously muddy, puddled path, very dark from the dense canopies as the light was failing. 

Up to this point (35 miles ish) my legs had felt strong. Porlock Hill sapped any energy reserves I had left as I twisted, turned, zigged & zagged up, around and over Porlock Hill. As the path forked I wished my route to be the flatter option ... ha, instead it was the nigh vertical gravelly path that left you breathless as you took one step forwards, half a step back. The path then disappeared into bracken & brambles, I reached the top with lacerated legs, trail runner scars, tired & cursing. Heading through yet another dense woodland I got my head torch ready for the darkness the shadows foretold.

I was now on the constant up of monotonous drovers tracks that wound up & round the side of the hill, passing farms, funnelled through hedgerows with little view. It was 8:24pm, light was fading & I realised I had been daydreaming ... sleep run walking for far too long. A sense of urgency hit me to speed up as I headed to the top. 

Crossing over the A39 onto what felt like private land in the pitch black a car pulled over ... I thought they were going to shout out 'Get orf my land!' ... to my relief they asked 'have ya seen a golden cockerpoo?' ... nope! I turned & scadaddled into the dark as fast as my little legs would carry me, reaching a stile where the signpost pointed across the moors into the dark ...

And the rain poured down from one black cloud; 
The moon was at its edge.
Coleridge

Over the stile & into the dark on a non descript boggy path across the moor, trusting the route on my watch as the head torch lit my way, cutting through the darkness like a streak of lightening, keeping the pitch black at bay on the periphery of my vision.

The path became more distinct, narrow, uneven as it hugged the hill, a steep drop on my right, then widened as it descended ... a slippy muddy vertical descent with sheeps eyes reflecting back at me, wondering what madness was crashing through their domain. I slipped & sat down sharpish twice, landing in soft soggy bog & sheep droppings. I carried on cursing Mother Nature to the rapturous baaaaing of the sheep ... I took a bow & slip slid my way down to the riverside.  East Lyn River would remain on my left, guiding me from here all the way to Lynmouth. 

That's not to say it was down hill all the way, Oh no!!! There were still hills to climb, where the noise of the water was far below me. There were slimey slugs, snails, frogs & toads crossing my dark path, startled in the sudden torch light as I passed overhead. Owls hooted in the distance. Numerous gates to pass & steps to climb.

On a short section of road I was wary as a car suddenly appeared & stopped ahead of me until I saw Chris' smiling face. Amazingly Chris & Nick intercepted me just before Rockford to give me extra encouragement to reach the finish line. From Rockford the path was familiar. Physically it was still challenging, underfoot was slippery & uneven, sometimes high with vertical drops down into the churning river, sometimes running close alongside the thunderous torrent. Last thing I wanted was the GPS to be the means of finding my body as I was washed out to sea so I took it steady, power hiking as fast as I could. But mentally it was a relief, familiar. 

As soon as I hit the tarmac I ran ... running towards my welcome finish line at Lynmouth harbour!!!! Chris and Nick congratulated me ... I wanted to cry I felt so happy. All the unknowns now known. It wasn't as fast as I'd hoped but I had done it & done it solo!!!

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Rach S

Coleridge Way - Nether Stowey to Lynmouth FKT - Female

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Ripl Scavenger Hunt for Pancreatic Cancer Action

Coleridge Way - Nether Stowey to Lynmouth FKT - Female

Staunton Way ... Female FKT ... throwing down the gauntlet to the ladies

The legs are back ... repeat, the legs are back! 🤗

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